Lyrics:
feat. Goldtoes
Chorus: Goldtoes
I'm a playa
I'm a hustler
I'm a gangsta making paper
I'm a rider
I'm a hustler
I'm a playa making paper
I'm a gangsta
sleep, but
Through the amplifier
And every nigga got something to say
I'm like, yeah okay, y'all corny anyway
Doc
People say
Love is just a energy
with you
Keep Shania on yo chest
And allow her to shine through you
You are going to live Sharii Marie
I love you
I love you
I love you so much
I love
Is that I'm tryna feel your body every way
Don't have to make love to me
You just gotta fuck with me
If you tryna fuck with me
Show me what them others
of love, no lie
Appreciate you more, as time goes by
When it's truly true, it don't die
I see you in L.A., I see you in NY
I see you in the A, I see you
Chorus: Deep down south in da hood niggas slang
Hustlin' and game
Tryin ta stack some change
Land of tha Lost Full of Gangstas n killas
(Get on your knees, nigga, get on your knees and pray)
Em, you claim you mother's a crackhead and Kim is a known slut
So what's Hailie gon' be
They keep asking for the smoke
We might light one at your funeral
All they do is talk on me but I ain't never heard of you
A fake gangsta, fake playa,
All the gangstas on deck
Always bang for my set
All the dames wanna take all my time I see that all the dames wanna sex
All the gangstas love the drama
the pimps
Look
CHORUS
This that gangsta shit but don’t stop dancing
This ain’t no hoe shit
Nigga this the pimp anthem(x4)
VERSE 1
What you looking at
Lil dude
hundred bars
About the things that you might wanna hear
Love to swear they gangsta
But they coming from a good home
Ain’t no violence on they block
When I go to heaven
Put some gangstas in my section im like
Whatever
Tell the reverend its whatever
And if I go to hell
Im having shootouts with
the truth
You ain't liking how we getting to the paper
Mayne Ya boy see all the hate cause I'm surrounded by love
Some close people changed like 2 tens for
as fresh, I belong in a morgue
Say you the plug, Where is the cord
100 on the way, Be gone by the morn
Trappin' be my fitness, Sellin' dope be the sport
Live
bitches
That just love the hoes
Set her out on town, she gonna get that dough
And this is for my niggas who be burnt out
Duckin' warrents and shit
Living
soldiers on the front line
Doing what you got to do to get by (listen)
This is for the struggle it don't stop
This one's for Malcolm, Martin and Tupac
My name is Reginald Lafayette Bullock (Thomas/Mack). Son of cnnie Marie Bullock-Pompey and son of a father whom I've never met, cllen Mack. On my
by envy n greed
Real love is what I need
Mike amiri no supreme
Spank a dummy if he think that I'm playing
Damn bro better watch what u sayin
They ain't
as ca-cancer
You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop
But you fit me better than my favorite sweater, and I know
That love is mean (oh oh) and love
as ca-cancer
You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop
But you fit me better than my favorite sweater, and I know
That love is mean and love hurts
But
as ca-cancer
You were sorta punk rock, I grew up on hip hop
But you fit me better than my favorite sweater, and I know
That love is mean (oh oh) and love
she whips her hair
I really can't help it, I'm so in love again
Sweet Marie, living is high
When the loving is low and there's no cloud in the sky
You
money to respect a bitch
Fall in love, get married, and watch her take half my shit
But you a gangsta - yeah you hard as fuck!
A straight killa to your
is, nigga. Here it is. What you
gonna do with it?
Bizzy:
Well it must be close to the Armageddon, Lord. No, then I won't fly by
that lesson, you
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