I'm rollin' in a Nine-Oh van. California, that's my plan

Got memories Mixalot left in limbo, first stop Sacremento

Here we go, hit a club called Bentleys

Want a skirt to git wit' me, hit me

There's a girl with a back like a Cadillac

I walked up and got pushed back

Her boyfriend tell her I'm a play-a

Dropped salt on a dope rhyme say-a

My reputation offends this man

Next day hit Williamland Park

Creepin' like a shark

Spot a bad freak and I swoop like a hawk

"What up?", "Howya like to roll wit' a champ?"

"Please! All ya'll rappers is tramps"

My reputation is stoppin' my mission

Every freak in Sac is dissin'

Back on the four lane freeway

Next stop, the two-one-three, L.A.

The two-one-three is rough

But the Mixalot game is tough

Spot a young girl and I start that gamin'

Baby girl asks what set am I claimin'

"Just cuz I rap, I gotta be in gang?"

It ain't a black thang, it's a rap thang

Censorship is sweepin' the nation

Messin' up a rap stars reputation



A rappers reputation, that's what I got



So I'm finished with the two-one-three

I knock, baby, but it's time to leave

Two days on the hard rock, boys is cruisin'

Interstate Ten, straight to Houston

They tell me 'bout the girls in the fifth ward

You know the boys must score

So we hit a fly club called Guchies

Lookin' for the skirts with the largest booties

Girlies in the club wasn't takin' no shorts

Showin' no remorse

For a brother like Mix, lookin' for the smooth

Didn't need a Houston skirt to get with me

But the nights still young

And the hunk ain't done

So we stepped to the van

Attitude's out of it

The next club, The Main Event

We never think about a dress code

Just step up in the club and let the game roll

But as soon as my boy Maharaji pulls up

Some punk starts runnin' up

He said you don't wanna be with a rap star

They play you for your money and your car

Well my boy got crushed but the girl stepped off

With a rap stars rep, the girls are lost

"Hey yo, what's up, this is Mix I had to make a run

right quick, but leave your name and number 'n I'll

getcha right back, peace."



So the posse left Houston Texas

All the girls keep callin' us sexist

Houston media is givin' us rappers no pity

So we all hit Kansas City

In K.C. we go The Gates and Suns

Gotta get grub 'fore we run

Met a little freak named Stacy

I said I'm not just here for the Barbecue baby

She gave me that look, like Pebbles

I'm acked with bass not treble

So I say, Oogley-goo oogley-doo-goo-doo

"What'd you say?" I ain't tellin' you

You see the Mix game is laced with riddles

It ain't moaney, it's Mix in the middle

In walked my ex named Wendy

She got a fresh Dooney Bag

'Cause she's tired of Fendi

Oooh, could a brother be busted

Because Wendy trusted, Me?

An' ah told a lit'l lie 'n

Said I was a loyal guy

Wendy got mad and she wants to dis me

In Kansas City

Wendy starts to groovin'

Hands on her hips and her hair starts movin'

She said the Mixalot game is phony

Just 'cause I said I'm runnin' girls like ponies

But talkin' that stuff is my occupation

That's how I got this reputation



A rappers reputation, got a rappers reputation

Bring it on down. A rappers reputation, bring it back

A rappers reputation, that's what I got. A rappers

reputation, peace