Lyrics:
got it by the pidound
Straight up out the midound, make everybody get down
Sandy brown blades ways in a daze damn
Ain't Eightball at the mall with
Yeah, this for all my mixshow DJ's, underground DJ's and wannabe DJ's
Who know how to get the party started, then spin it
This is an introduction,
Yeah
Yeah, yeah (DJ Durel)
(Yeah, Pluto)
Put a fifty round in that Glock
Plush leather when you droppin' the top
I push a button, now I can't
blunts for me to get high
Feel a bump when I ride by (I'm so hood)
I got 'em hatin' talking like plies
Niggas keep dropping like flies
Snitching ain't
tycoon you
Ain't never seen these.
Put da Luis on like I'm bout to go runnin' runnin to da
Money why da money steady commin' hey, checkerboad
Jacket
shown for years that we are def
But here's some more for ya'll
To just come get it
Rip the wheels J ("hit it")
Beat changes to Rob Base & DJ
EZ Rock's
The money that's comin to feel like I won the Lotto
Now I'm about to put the slay on auto
Swoop down on the DJ's, Tell 'em all to quit the replays
Make 'em
why y'all acting so deprived?
Get my money, mind my business, I'm just tryna catch a vibe
Ninth inning, bases loaded, y'all gon' make a nigga slide
So we took the fuckin' ceiling off
Lil Wayne, DJ Khaled
No Ceilings 3, B-Side
Another one, 'pon your head
Five white girls but they not Spice
bestfriends tryna get a bag by the day
Brand new women Ima get em right away
I'm a boujee ass nigga I don't even tell em hey
She be acting fooley put the camera
know I’m
Getting ratchet with it
Cause everybody got some ratchet in 'em
Everybody, everybody got some
Ratchet in 'em, ratchet in 'em
Everybody got some
DJ Play My Song
Written and Produced by Johnnie B. Marshall, Jr.
Verse : The system is pumping, the party is jumping
And all of that's
the beat, baby came to get with it
I'm in cherry red Chucks, Anaheim fitted
Brim low, drive by, tell 'em Anaheim did it
Game the banger, part time
Don't want love
I want respect
Man that's how you get check
Wont always my best
But I'm doing better
Tell by the way that I'm dressed
This not to impress
Dj khaled, we're the best, nigga we're the best man
Whoo we nikka (listen)
Just got a hundred of that brown paper bag money
You niggas really
(DJ on the beat, so it's a banger)
my bitch be mad the way I be mixin' these meds (man, what?)
It's a glitch in the streets (let's get it)
I can't
to get this off my chest
You a bitch if I'm rappin'
And you say you not impressed
Your input does not add money to my check
Who the fuck about to do this
on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowin' up our phones, phones
Drop-toppin', playin' our favorite CDs
Pullin' up to the parties
Tryna get a little bit
cookin I stay inna kitchen
I swear this content
I promise this shit is so infinite
I gotta make em remember dis
I gotta dive in that shit by the face
even (tryna get even)
Haters mad for whatever reason (let it go)
Smoke in the air (hey), binge drinkin' (ah)
They lose it when the DJ drops the needle
Let's make these girls get crazy
C'mon!
Put yo hands up high for the dj
Put yo hands up high for the dj
Put yo hands up high for the dj
Put yo
it
Don't get no better than this, you catch my drift
You get stripped by ballhandlers ruled by swackhammer
Danger, you're dealin' with official
never hear back might as well get some interns teach'em whatcha learned from turning music into money, money, money, money, money, money, money show'em
on all our clothes, clothes
Boys blowin' up our phones, phones
Drop-toppin', playin' our favorite CDs
Pullin' up to the parties
Tryna get a little bit
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