| Ay, what’s up, man?
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| To all my Bay Area muthafuckin' playas, mayne
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| I wanna send a shout out and just say 'one love' to all y’all, mayne
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| Keep pimpin' a hoe
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| Nevertheless, though, it’s that JD muthafucka comin' strictly outta Fillmoe,
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| mayne
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| And y’all gon' love me when I drop this new shit
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| I’m still milking y’all like cereal, nigga, E.N.E.S.E.A.T
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| Financial status for Seff is looking slim
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| Should I grab the sack, post up over by the gym?
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| Every day that I maintain, evil thoughts pollute my brain
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| Should I grab the mic or should I go and grab the 'caine?
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| True to the game, so many know of my authority
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| Straight up out the left, it’s Get Low Playaz less Priority
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| San Francisco, Cali, FilthyMoe, that is my area
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| Tryna gain some stripes with the strike and I’ma bury ya
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| Now I’ve been fuckin' around with these Bay Area players for quite some time
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| That nigga peepin' the game, about my fetti, and I ain’t getting bigger
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| In the industry, they’ll remember when I spark
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| Ant D.O.G. |
| in your deck while you chillin' at the park
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| Ain’t it wasn’t no lying the way I defined a hustler
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| A nigga that’s deep on game, Northern Bay ballin' bubbler
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| Ain’t it a shame how their game stay the same
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| Along with these real niggas 'cause only them fakers change
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| Define me as a hustler, mayne, young nigga in the game
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| Selling better than cocaine, I put that on my family name
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| Other players did the same
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| Made some mail, ghetto fame
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| Wanna plea, who’s to blame? |
| Now they found ain’t nothing changed
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| Niggas out to flip it quick 'cause ain’t no time just to kick it
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| If she can’t make them riches, y’all best shake them bitches
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| Hustle cash, dividends, buy that house you living in
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| Young Ray Luv, LC and Bay Area player 'til the end, nigga
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| Well, if you did not know, the Heatman’s gon' wreck shop
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| Keep on dropping this until I get all my props
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| From the East O, Killa Cali, where dope fiends will rock you
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| And leave you shot in the alley, 'cause ain’t no time to play
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| In the vicinity of the Bay
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| Area playas and Pizzo smoke nothing but indo stuffed in a green leaf Vega
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| Comin' out the Bay, we got those players and those player haters, biatch
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| Night and day, I think about money to make
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| Pimp shit raps and mac beat breaks
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| Daytons and Vogues, scandalous hoes
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| Bitches when they see me getting freaky at shows
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| Young niggas like myself getting major paid
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| P.H.'n ass bustas with their scandalous ways
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| Messy muthafuckas spreading rumors
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| And them punk police that be lovin' to do ya
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| I wonder why they wanna shut me down
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| Jealousy is like a doozy running through my town
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| You could bet your life that a sucker gon' save her
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| How can you say you got game and you be hatin' a player?
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| Straps on top of straps to get your money on
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| Overcoming obstacles so we could carry on
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| Game tight when things get hectic
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| Coming up so fast, so unexpected
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| In Fillmore, Cali, we maneuver to pursue the top notch status
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| Which consist of living lavish, it’s some suckers and some savages
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| The savages is having it, establisihing their paper
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| From slanging crack to pulling jacks and even major capers
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| No one’s catching the vapors
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| Came up in the game and flipped some thangs
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| And dissed you player haters who can’t maintain but still they claim
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| They top notch, equivalent to highest?
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| Yo, Trev the G from the KLP is among the nation’s finest
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| Delinquents, outta control, going nation
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| Predicted by radio station but destined to be the shit on compilation
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| You gots to be about your scrilla, but niggas ain’t never came realer
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| Than them dank or die killers
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| And the niggas in the Bay, they feel us
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| Simp ass pimp on a punk ass bitch
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| Quick to shelter two hoe shit
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| Heater light your ass like BIC
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| Then take your broads 'cause it’s the shit
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| It’s Delin-Q-U-E-N-T, we’re flossing major
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| It’s the East Oakland flavor, kicking it with Get Low Playaz
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| Well, it’s that TRU player Master P
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| Kickin' it in Fillmoe with that young nigga JT
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| I’m from the Rich, got the town
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| Where them niggas smoke weed and get danked out
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| They gets mad 'cause I’m rich and famous
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| Riding on Daynas but P’s still a fuckin' gangsta |
| Cuttin' up ki’s in the kitchen
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| Counting riches, and fuckin' bitches
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| Elevate after I meditate, now watch you get blazed
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| Contemplated 'bout my scrilla so I had to paid
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| It don’t matter, so get to the spot and I might get wit’cha
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| Get 'em up from the back, I’m the one with the sack
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| So take that fuckin' picture
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| So I can hit ya, millimeter-meter, you know they won’t stop playin'
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| Mini-Mac 10, you might not wanna take that ride because they ready to lay ya
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| Because these niggas from the Bay don’t play
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| We gots to get our paper each and every fuckin' day
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| See, it’s the nigga with the gat blastin', checking cash in
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| But right now a nigga flashin'
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| Thinkin' about them bustas, hoe trusters, infiltrators
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| Mack killer player haters
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| See, I got that Glock that go pop when a nigga like blast, nigga
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| My shit hit like the muthafuckin' Task, nigga
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| Ask my homie JT
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| Can you fade me when a nigga like workin' with .380?
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| Kickin' up the dust but on the daily I bust
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| Whenever the microphone disperses, we game tight with verses
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| Rehearse this for factors, dispose of these jackers
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| These hard times, these actors
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| Chapters to make me smack the
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| Checks break necks and run in the 'jects, pack TECs
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| And cover their bets, no sweats
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| And rippin' the sets now best
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| You can get yourself together, whatever
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| 'Cause players in the Bay, we stick together on a muthafuckin' daily
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| Biatch! |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bay Area Playaz (Featuring Mac Mall, Master P, Ray Luv, Black C, Delinquentz, Get Low Playaz) , by - JT The Bigga Figga. Song from the album Dwellin' In Tha Labb, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп