| I’m hoppin' out in a fendi suit
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| I got DVD’s in my bentley coupe
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| I got hoes that’s 22
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| they buy me clothes and tennis shoes
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| I’m so throwed when it come to hoes
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| before I get they phone number they come outta they clothes
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| I might take 'em to Papa Deaux’s
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| but only if she a proper hoe
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| I gotta lac (what kind), a cadillac escalade
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| I’m wearin' jordans (which ones), very first ones made
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| I gotta watch (what kind), iced out cartier
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| I gotta rolley but that’s somethin' that I hardly wear
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| I’m Lil' Flip, the coldest freestyle ever
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| Since day one I was programmed to get this cheddar
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| Who you drive? |
| Platinum cars
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| Who you pull? |
| Platinum stars
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| Who you write? |
| Platinum bars
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| Platinum teeth, inside yo jaws
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| Diamond gon' rock my platinum wrist
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| Platinum toilet to take a ish
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| Gold is gold, and platinum is happenin'
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| so whodi watch this
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| Yeah, ay, it’s Koopa
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| Gotta green back, stack in my palm
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| I come in Yukon black with alarm
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| Ice on the arm and a platinum charm
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| And you prolly had a thought about jackin' it nah
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| Of course you didn’t nigga the force is hittin'
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| behind the throwback I show that the boys is trippin'
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| sky hit a force and lift him
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| Top on the drop yeah of course it’s missin'
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| Don’t want her man to know
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| that I’ma hit when I’m finished I’ma hand the hoe
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| Back to her man before, he even have to know
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| A weddin' ring ain’t somethin' I’ma hand the hoe
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| Do money grow on trees? |
| nigga the answers no
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| I treat g’s like seeds get a grand to grow
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| Car lookin' like a zoo in a candy store
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| Alligator on the floor with a candy door
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| Can’t stand me no, cuz I’m havin' dough
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| I keep a tune on me just like a mechanic flow
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| You ain’t gettin' paper what you up in the game fa'?
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| Gettin' paper now couldn’t be a complainer
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| Trunk lift up at a acute angle
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| Isoceles triangle pokin' outta my swangers
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| Chain cost me 10 g’s
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| Independent no label could pimp me
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| So it really ain’t a thing you could get free
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| Unless you tryna get them chains off of Pimp C
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| We, jammin UGK you see the jewlrey ay!
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| Cover ya eyes it’ll blind like a U.T. |
| Ray
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| Stay throwed in the game, holdin' the grain (yeah)
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| Ice and the white gold in my chain
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| Raisin' the trunk and showin' my bang
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| Hoes on the swangs while the doors color change
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| Nah I won’t let the change go to my brain
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| Respect better be somethin' you hope in the game
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| You gon' mess around and get choked with ya chain
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| Flip, Bun and Chamillion in control in the game
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| U (Under), G (Ground), K (Kings)
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| Bitch I’m the King of the underground
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| and the pope of Port Arthur
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| Keep that fire heat on ya street
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| and a meat in your daughter
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| Got no love for a hater, got no hate for a lover
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| Just distrubute my pollution, keepin' weight undercover
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| My brother, now we back up on the block again
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| I got them rocks again, and the blocks again
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| until' the cops come in
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| but see the better bring the SWAT my friend
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| Because I promise that we not runnin'
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| Nigga we gon' be here all day
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| posted in this hallway
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| Keep them cluckers comin' in cuz we serve 'em all yay
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| Them nickles and dimes and quarters
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| That pop of the rock you a boughta
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| But we oughta, nigga we turnin' ya projects into the Carter
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| Got automatic starters, for they automatics choppers
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| And the Texas boy a automatic to break you off somethin' proper
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| I knock off a bopper, break down a bird and bust me a flow
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| I’m down with the Pimp and the Prince
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| from now forever you don’t like it you must be a hoe so |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Platinum Stars , by - Lil' Flip. Song from the album Texas Mafia, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп