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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » K » Kurupt
Play My Cards - текст песни



Play My Cards


(to) (to) (to)


(to the tic)


(to the tic-tic) -





Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah


Kurupt young gotti


Hell yeah





Raw dawg


You know


You know me


Raw dawg assassin


Comin atcha, baby


Cat, kick it in


Kick it in








Pull up...


Soon as i park shit sparks


Spit fire, gangbang affiliation, retalitation


Spit sparks till shit's dark forever


What's up, homie


Why you walkin up on me?


Postin up in the shade


We can draw or get paid


You ain't movin not a thing, homeboy


Click em with automatics and automatic toys


Bounce, rock, rollerskatin


Dippin down the streets on platinum daytons


(yo, what up?)


I'm just a gee


Oh yeah, that's me


Don't forget it


Act like you knew it 'fore i set it


I put the needle on top of the wax


Before i turn around


And burn everything to the ground


I seen it comin


A fool over to the right gunnin


The homies whistled


We all draw pistols








Gotta stay in charge


Gotta play my cards


On the grind all day, babe


Oh, gots to get paid








You got a stash to hid, you got some hash to hit?


Cash to get, glocks to pop and shit


(what you talkin bout?) everybody's got questions and shit


(hey yo, what's up with...?) muthafuckas questionin shit


(shut the fuck up, homie) worryin bout me and my wife


(my wife) all i wanna do is live my life


(that's all) raise up off me, homie


(yeah) ease back softly, homie


(check it out) i'm a gee from the d.p.g.


And no matter what you say, you can't fuck with me


Hey loco, i see you wanna loc out


Coastin, movin in locomotion


In the cut dippin, the homeboys trippin


Spittin, waitin for a shot to get called


The homie spit a plot to us


Then passed the 16-shots to us





Uh-u-uh


Uh-u-uh


Uh-u-uh








I got scams for hundreds of gramms


Me and my man, me and my pistol, a plan


For about a


Whole ki load of some powder


Stashin, dippin, dashin, smashin, tryin to cash in


from the front to the back, and packin


Pull the strap and start clappin


I'm about to move a little somethin


A little sumptin-sumpin


For the homie, pack the pump and get to dumpin


Hit the liquor store, i wanna get paid


A fifth of hen, then back to the shade


What you got, smoke, loc, let's blaze up


Let me get a toke, loc, and let's raise up


Punks stop and get popped when funk pop


I'm worldwide while you thinkin: either he is or he's not


International like ??


You can feel me


In the real way











Bitches, get your ride on, on





Kurupt young gotti


Raw dawg





Just get your ride on


Just get your ride on, homie





My nigga battlecat


Ha-ha





Just get your ride on, homie





(to the tic-tic


And you don't quit


Hit it)





This is for the riders


Riders


The riders





Hustlers


Hustlers


The hustlers





This is the one, baby!





(tic-toc)


(ya) (ya) (ya don't)


(ya) (ya) (ya) (ya don't stop) (stop) (stop)


Bitch



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