Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Think We Playin, artist - Bad Boy. Date of issue: 16.05.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Thump
Song language: English
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 |