I wouldn't have that shit no other way
Whatcha don't believe, well check the credents, they'll tell ya
Playa play on
With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back
With the Benz makin' ends and them paper stacks
Wood grain with the leather seats
Slappin' skins, makin' dividends and riding strapped
A fiend that wanted me to serve him, I said bitch can't tell I'm off?
This is for the Bourbans and the 'Llac's
For real, I'm slanging platinum shit until I'm old and ill
With the Benz makin' ends I mean them paper stacks
The made life, the game tight, No Limit for life
Listening to DJ Screw just raised the Lexus
This is for the playas
With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back
With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back
'Cause I gotta 185 in the hood and you know they can't catch me
Called up Pimp C, did a song last week with my nigga Bun B
This is for the Bourbans and the 'Llac's
Windows so dark you need a flashlight to see me
Playa, play on
(Uhh)
Cadillac Suburban driver, pussy diver
Twistin' on some green spinach
Chill off in the bay, smoke some hay
Hittin' donuts, you know I'm macking, a straight up nigga
Flossing down the block, holla at my boys up in the third
Sold a half an ounce of cocaine
40 up on the dashboard you never know who might not be
Already stacked strong gangsta leaning sideways
I'm thugging on the scene, nigga
This is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macks
Take it from mister high spoke rider
But reverse that shit and hit the studio and make a mill
With the Benz makin' ends I mean them paper stacks
Got the latest word, swerve to the side of the curb
Thinkin' he'd be nice and all
A made life is all I dream, paper chasing for that green
Hit interstate ten, to Texas
My daughter thought I'd get caught up in the game and get killed
Today ain't Friday, ten it is and today is my day
This is for the players smokin' doolamac
But I still gave him five dollars to wipe my white walls
And niggas still trippin', I aint dead, I'm still in it
Catch me spinnin', you can tell I was there
And if you see me chilling you can stop me
Bourbans and 'Llacs, mansions and bitches, money and weed
See pockets full of dollars
I can't hate you homie
This is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macks
This is for the players smokin doolamac
This is for the Bourbans and the 'Llac's
Lil' Gotti, I'm gonna make you feel what I say, I got time to parlay
I can't hate you homie
'Cause I clocked smoke when I was finished
And then I burst up out the block, dropped the top 'cause it was hot
This is for the Bourbans and the 'Llac's
With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back
Four niggas in the back screaming No Limit soldiers!
A niggas living presidential
This is for the players smokin' doolamac
Push the glock inside when I'm riding
Smokin' on that doshia
True to the gizzame, stopped in the projects
But I keep that glock
I'm on the level that you bustas will never feel
With the Benz makin' ends I mean them paper stacks
Playa, play on
Hit the spot with the most hoes at the sideshow, abouts to plot
I seen five-o, and man he tried to sweat me
