Lyrics:
No cars driving by with the boomin' systems,
No prison coz non of us would be in 'em,
No one would be advertisng that rap to our children.
Sure there
And then you're gone hook (clay perry)
I'mma dog i'mma get it
A'int a thought i'mma dog
It Don't matter what it costs i'mma dog
Tell these cats
I'm the boss
mardi Gras party hard
I'm laughing at ya'll, hardy har
Bar for bar body all of ya'll, frequent!
I'ma need participation here
Hands in the air can I get
three repeat
Tha Likwit up in ya all night
Number four repeat
DJ spin the record all night
Number five repeat
We'll have sex on the beach all
chased away all of my blues
Now I can breathe again thanks to you
Sippin' on this love, my new favorite booze
Get by on the shit that we try
Got a lil
like my Netflix loaded
(Get em')
Telling your boss brick city boys is fire
Never mind
Half of y'all be talking through the wire
Media slandered me
So
on them pills
Dade County dope-boy, best believe I'm 'bout dat doe
Chose come up get em yep, we ain't really by that def
Yeah, I'm the future, got
the door
Let's go this is raw y'all
Know what time this is
When KRS-One comes to spit
You DJ's with no breaks
I don't wanna hear that shit the radio?
I
Mr. DJ, song pon de replay
Mr. DJ, won't you turn the music up?
All the gyal pon the dancefloor wantin' some more what
Mr. DJ, won't you turn
broke em all down and we all got high
And niggas don't be trippin don't be doin no drive-bys
Cause we don't gangbang, don't wear blue or red
We like
DJ Khaled
Pat 'em down, count the money, let 'em see the work (yeah)
That's the definition of a major key alert
Another nigga gotta die, won't
Come, Mr. DJ, song pon de replay
Come, Mr. DJ, won't you turn the music up?
All the gyal pon the dancefloor wantin' some more what
Come, Mr. DJ
I won’t flop / too slick got 'em on lock /
Right here/ if u wanna find me/ chains glare / kno I’m all shiny / she stare cuz your girl like me / don’t
white
I might just break em off, when I come dripped out right
Im talkin shoes by Hirachi, shirts by Versace
Hoes they gone watch me, but they all wanna
crew
So what you do, is back up if you work for Bush
Cause all the Presidential prison pushin politicians
gotta get MUSHED, gimme back my land you
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
addibles
Get's shoot out by a catapult
Each soul to the outer vault
Each body covered in guilty clay
Somewhere into the Milky Way
Roman, Chinese Empires
to me
I got Bobby by the pound, Whitney by the key
DJ Screw by the gallon, bitch the game belong to me
Man I pull up in your city and get my Bush
Glide on the dance floor- a D.J that's my song
but it aint play all the way cuz he say its to long.
Hoes sliding em twenties winking, buying drinks.
He
the DJ grab the record by the fist full
By the crate full, and we grateful
When you hear the stuff of records get a tasteful
(Last night the DJ saved
weed, but blow ether, spit ashes
cause young Rule in his prime like 'Clay Cassius'
Hated by the masses, but overwhelmed with love and passion
For when I
Bum Squad DJ family
Shout to Loud Prince, Crystal Bubblin', (Paul Wall)
All of the heavy hitters, (Trey Songz), all of the Murda Mamis
Can't forget
die from fright
There's things that crawl and things that fly
And things that creep around on the ground
And they say the ghost of Lucias Clay gets
of the young man young Carter and the great man Mannie Fresh
So what I want y'all out there to do for me is say this
[Hook]
Say go DJ, cuz that's my DJ
Say go
.jpg/300px-Arsonists_Get_All_the_Girls_(2011).jpg "Arsonists Get All the Girls")
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