Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song We Don't Play That, artist - Jim Jones. Album song Miami Vampin, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 19.05.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Vampire Life
Song language: English
We Don't Play That |
They say |
I like my bitches by the toast |
I pay three hundred for the fame |
And now my niggas gonna show |
We don’t play that (bodies on top of bodies) |
(Bodies on top of bodies) We don’t play that |
(Bodies on top of bodies, bodies on top of bodies) |
We don’t play that (all I see is blood and murder) |
(And bodies on top of bodies) We don’t play that |
(All I see is blood and murder, and bodies on top of bodies) |
We don’t play that |
Maseratis on Maseratis |
Morazi’s and more Moradies |
Hotties on top of hotties |
That’s a body on top of body |
I ran shotty and I gotta shotty |
Got ladders on top of ladders |
Keep the cat on top of bladder |
And I drop it bad where it doesn’t matter, nigga |
Wearing cappa now matching robbers |
To play, imma catch a body |
I pull up, I drive up, the choppers |
They pouncing, the kilos, don’t tell nobody |
Put a beam on a fucking shotty |
That coke we sell in Mali |
I need a lot of money, don’t play with that bag |
Cause tomorrow I go see Pappy |
For the two five, hit him with the tek shot |
Run down when I’m trying to get the best shot |
For them Benz I hit him with the hay shot |
We’d a made a hundred Benz at the next spot |
If you put it on the script, make sure the bread coming back |
The chemical nigga, dump the lead off the strap |
Just got word that the feds coming back |
Imma hold them with some dose and drugs in the back |
I’m all in the biz with my feeder |
Running my fingers through a C-cup |
Sipping my drink out a tea cup |
You bitch won’t fuck with a G huh? |
Nigga I show you, probably got a half of the ton |
Let a nigga get none, same color |
Seek some, hope another trap in town |
Let a young nigga get none |
I put bodies on bodies |
Seeing shooters on shooters |
I put hitters on hitters, and killers that kill us |
We load up them choppas |
Then we hop on like ninjas that never surrender |
No pris for reason, that three how he handle his business |
I never look slapping, I’m leaving no winners |
I bow with the oak on the ginny |
Bodies on top of bodies |
Shoot up them motherrati |
[?[ on barrel like old Jorabi |
When I’m on the block, I feel like Shaqueil |
You flexing on Twitter that beef ain’t for real |
I’m still in the hood, and I’m keeping it real |
I don’t know what you want |
But I’m showing it kill |