Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Player's Anthem, artist - Junior M.A.F.I.A.. Album song Conspiracy, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.08.1995
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Big Beat
Song language: English
Player's Anthem |
Niggas, grab your dick if you love hip-hop |
Bitches, rub your titties if you love Big Poppa |
Gotcha open off the words I say because |
This type of shit, it happens every day (Check it out, uh) |
Now who smoke more blunts than a little bit? |
What are you a idiot? |
Listen to the lyrics I spit like M1's |
Got mad guns up in the cabin |
'Cause Cease ain’t the one for the dibbin' and dabbin' shit |
I make it happen, you got your ass caught |
All you saw was fire from the Honda Passport |
Or the M.P., what if you see, then I miss ya |
I blow up spots like little sisters |
Gwaan grit ya teeth, gwaan bite ya nails to the cuticles |
Like Murray, my killings be the most beautiful |
Junior M.A.F.I.A. |
clique thick like Luke dancers |
Niggas grab your gats, bitches take a glance at |
The little one, pullin' over in the Land Rover |
Playin' Big Willie style with the chauffeur, you know what I mean? |
Stack the green, read all between the lines |
A nigga act up, makes the bastard hard to find |
Niggas, grab your dicks if you love hip-hop |
Bitches, rub your titties if you love Big Poppa |
Gotcha open off the words I say because |
This type of shit, it happens every day |
Niggas, grab your dicks if you love hip-hop |
Bitches, rub your titties if you love Big Poppa |
Gotcha open off the words I say because |
This type of shit, it happens every day |
How ya livin' Biggie Smalls? |
I’m surrounded by criminals |
Heavy rollers, even the sheisty individuals |
Smokin' skunk and mad Phillies |
Beatin' down Billy Badasses, cracks and stacks in masses |
If robbery’s a class, bet I pass it |
Shit get drastic, I’m buryin' you bastards |
Big Poppa never softenin' |
Take you to the church, rob the preacher for the offerin' |
Leave the fucker coughin' up blood and his pockets like rabbit ears |
Covet the wife, Kleenex for the kid’s tears |
Versace wear, Moschino on my bitches |
She whippin' my ride, countin' my ones, thinkin' I’m richest |
Just the way players play, all day, every day |
I don’t know what else to say |
I’ve been robbin' niggas since Run and them was singin' «Here We Go» |
Snatchin' ropes at the Roxy, homeboy, you didn’t know? |
My flow, detrimental to your health |
Usually roll for self, I have son ridin' shotgun |
My mind’s my nine, my pen’s my MAC-10 |
My target, all you wack niggas who started rappin' |
Junior M.A.F.I.A. |
steelo, niggas know the half |
Caviar for breakfast, champagne bubble baths |
Runnin' up in pretty bitches constantly |
The Smalls, bitch, who the fuck it was supposed to be? |
Niggas, grab your dicks if you love hip-hop |
Bitches, rub your titties if you love Big Poppa |
Gotcha open off the words I say because |
This type of shit, it happens every day |
Niggas, grab your dicks if you love hip-hop |
Bitches, rub your titties if you love Big Poppa |
Gotcha open off the words I say because |
This type of shit, it happens every day |
I used to pack MACs in Cadillacs |
Now I pimp gats in the Ac’s, watch my niggas backs |
Nines in the stores, Glocks in the bags |
Maxin' mini-markets, gettin' money with the Arabs |
No question, confession, yes it’s the lyrical |
Bitches, squeeze your tits, niggas, grab your genitals |
Proteins and minerals, exclude subliminals |
Big Momma shoots the game to all you Willies and criminals |
I kick the really with my peeps all day |
325's roll by with the windows down halfway |
D-K-N-Y, oh my, I’m jiggy |
It’s all about the Smalls and my fuckin' nigga Biggie |
Bitches love the way I bust a rhyme |
'Cause they all in line screamin', «One more time!» |
Niggas, grab your dicks if you love hip-hop |
Bitches rub-a-dub in the back of the club, straight up |