Lyrics Think We Playin - Bad Boy, RYU, Kree

Think We Playin

You recognize this yet, you better find respect
I’ll let it slide, I guess, I’ll set aside the tech
I’m dead up if they let us in this place, I’m mashin'
When you rappers gonna learn to stop playin’in traffic
Suck my dick
Better yet, swallow a cactus
Sip Jack with a big fat bottle of aspirin
Matter of fact
Bring a six-pack and a magmun
For the cops, cause I’m click-clack
Comin', I’m blastin'
Bottom line, killer, I’m hot
Who can’t be touched
Unlike Missy, we hot cause we cook that dutch
And them hammers don’t make a dudes ooze like pus
And the streets talkin', got some of drugs and such
Bought a ounce of kilo and how they stack they books
The game is like goin’through laggin', cause you got no luck
Fight the fuss
Can’t go bite the dust
Cause there’s just some things that you cannot touch
Bitch
Chorus: Scoop DeVille
These muh’fuckers think we playin'
I got
My mack, my gun go clack when my A.K.
Start sprayin'
Get the fuck back
Killer, I’m a boss, wanna talk back, stay strap
Bitch, we ain’t playin'
I’m sayin'
If you wanna get ya ass blown up and laid down
It’s nathin'
So we can get it in here
I got my vest on my chest, don’t be testing the fear
Bitch
Tonic shots, and I’m outside your favorite rapper’s
Mansion
With a handgun, holdin’your wife for ransom
We never talk, we walk, look at ya dancin'
Your fad is in and out of fashion, quicker than Hanson
Fasten your seatbelts for the ride of the life
I talk shit, I might slide in your wife, for the right price
I might of ride with a .45, this calibre chrome
The style is beyond, with house and home
If I, shoot, you going to tell the gunshots
So I Bring the lead up out of the shell
Take the wind up Out of your cell
Shot it from the mack 10
Spin up, out of the barrel
They say the odds are against me, so I ain’t leaving until
My odd flow make them minds even
Look, it’s K-R, two E’s in my name
Been out of Cali for four years, I’m back through a main
Repeat Chorus
It’s spit one, part two
That’s what’s up Some homeboys grab ya straps
And ride with us Put ya nickels, dimes and dubs up There’s two twisted in the middle
With the thumb tucked
Bow down, or run up Catch me in a big body Benz
Holla at my .45
Suckers better duck
It’s no trickin'
It’s big pimpin', ask the homie Snoop, he know
Be Gettin’It like Short
Here are them two Latinos
At the player’s ball, two hawks
Hear us real dawgs
Gettin’it on Like G. Dub
Let’s get high, roll the weed up
(???) ride the P.C.
up Died down in the cut
Fresh from the cannibus cup
Either she’s rolling with me Or I’m rolling with her
At this point, pass the joint
Anything can occur
My mic’s bangin’in the car like my rims on the curb