Lloyd Banks - Playboy



Tekst piosenki:


  
   [Verse One]
  Guess who's the man this winter, straight out the land of sinners
  The Range is tan with spinners, check out the white mirrors
  Blow with the damn winners while you and your man's finished
  Two in your Rams fitteds, turn off your lightswitch
  Holdin my torch down, even when the force 'round
  You let your wife roam, she want a divorce now
  You niggaz ain't this gully, play it I paint your skully
  You never take this from me the riders and all the gangsters love me
  You shouldn't be a problem, I ain't be a problem
  See you later I read your head, you be a {?}
  I know your type, hoppin all over beat screamin
  You call it hypin yourself up, I call it street dreamin
  I do it for all the haters, the players roll with the gators
  They lookin forward to favors, gossip is all they gave us
  You niggaz wasn't quiet, meet the whales and the fishes
  You leak the precinct up, play tattletale with the snitches
  Even my momma knows, I got all kind of hoes
  They wait outside of shows strict after the diner close
  I'll get designer clothes, without the wine or rose
  Take off my baby blue mink, and Carolina vogues
  C'mere, take a look inside a entertainer's closet
  I never trust a bitch, I blame Lorena Bobbitt
  Niggaz stay in pocket, I know you're mad at me
  But shit ain't all peaches and cream, and I ain't Sara Lee
  Bitch!
  
  [Chorus]
  Don't ice me, you starin at the wrong one
  It's a lot of girls here, go and get a grown one
  We at the bar poppin bottles 'til they all gone
  If you ain't leavin here with us, you can walk home
  Cause someone else will, they know how we ride
  If you a playboy, you got one on the Eastside
  Keep your mouth closed, we don't let the beef ride
  
  .. (what) right .. (what) right .. (what) right .. (right, damn!)
  (Let's go)
  
  [Verse Two]
  I do this for the hood, niggaz stuck in the slammer
  I smile cause I'm good, you act tough for the camera
  Run from the lil' kids, they fuckin with Santa
  Cause they like 2Pac more - word? Word to my grandma
  I figure I might as well leave here with my glock drawn
  Cause they'll take to jail, even when you're not wrong
  Dawg you're not this flashy, jux you got to blast me
  Every rock is classy nobody on your block can match me
  You shouldn't want a fight, unless you want to fight
  for your life in the hospital a hundred nights
  I know your type, run behind your girl rushin
  You call it quality time, I call it handcuffin
  I'm on a beach in Miami, so you ain't reachin my family
  All weekend with panties from Puetro Rican Cammie
  You niggaz wasn't tough, I shoulda snapped two flicks
  You wore your pants tight, played pitty-pat with the chicks
  Even my father knows, where the revolver goes
  I bring the beef to your front door like dominoes
  And my diamonds froze, that mean my time is froze
  Me in the club from when it's poppin 'til the time it close
  Half of these so-called real niggaz'll probably sing
  Nah I ain't pullin over, learned that from Rodney King
  So tell your homey chill, you know I hold the steel
  Everything be jabs and hooks, and you ain't Holyfield
  Nigga!
  
  [Chorus]
  
  Everybody on the left get yo' hands up
  Everybody on the right get yo' hands up
  Everybody up front get yo' hands up
  And everybody out back get yo' hands up
  And if you in here with a strap get yo' hands up
  Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!) Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!)
  Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!) Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!)
  Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!) Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!)
  ... man fuck what he said man, put 'em up!
  Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!) Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!)
  Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!) Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!)
  Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!) Now put 'em up! (Put 'em up!)
  ... ohhh-OHH!
  
  Lloyd Banks, what?
  Oooooooooooooh!
  




Lyrics - Nieruchomości - Torebki