Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Player's Anthem , by - Junior M.A.F.I.A.. Release date: 05.06.2006
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Player's Anthem |
| Niggas… uhh, bitches… ha |
| Uhh |
| (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 everyday |
| 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 |
| G’wan grit ya teeth, g’wan 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, yaknahmean? |
| Stack the green, read all between the lines |
| A nigga act up, makes the bastard hard to find |
| (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 everyday |
| (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 everyday |
| (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 in stacks and masses |
| If robbery’s a class, bet I pass it |
| Shit get drastic, I’m buryin' ya bastards |
| Big Poppa never softenin' |
| Take you to the church, rob the preacher for the offering |
| 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 one’s, thinkin' I’m richest |
| Just the way players play, all day everyday |
| 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 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 everyday |
| (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 everyday |
| 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 rilli 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 |