Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Burbans and Lacs, artist - Mo B. DickDate of issue: 14.07.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Burbans and Lacs |
| This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac’s |
| With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back |
| This is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macks |
| With the Benz makin ends I mean them paper stacks |
| This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac’s |
| With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back |
| This is for the players smokin doolamac |
| Slappin skins, makin dividends and riding strapped |
| (Uhhhhhh) wood grain with the leather seats |
| Windows so dark you need a flashlight to see me Smokin on that doshia, four niggas in the back screaming No Limit |
| soldiers! |
| True to the gizzame, stopped in the projects, sold a half an ounce of cocaine |
| Hit interstate ten, to Texas |
| Listening to DJ Screw just raised the Lexus |
| Called up Pimp C, did a song last week with my nigga Bun B Twistin on some green spinach |
| And niggas still trippin, I aint dead, I’m still in it This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac’s |
| With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back |
| This is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macks |
| With the Benz makin ends and them paper stacks |
| See pockets full of dollars already stacked strong gangsta leaning |
| sideways |
| Today aint Friday, ten it is and today is my day |
| Take it from mister high spoke rider |
| Cadillac Suburban driver, pussy diver |
| Push the glock inside when I’m riding |
| Flossing down the block, holla at my boys up in the third |
| Got the latest word, swerve to the side of the curb |
| A fiend that wanted me to serve him, I said bitch cant tell I’m off? |
| But I still gave him five dollars to wipe my white walls |
| And then I burst up out the block, dropped the top cause it was hot |
| Hit the spot with the most hoes at the sideshow, abouts to plot |
| Spin donuts, you know I’m macking, a straight up nigga |
| Catch me spinnin, you can tell I was there cause I clocked smoke when |
| I was |
| finished |
| I seen five-O, and man he tried to sweat me Thinkin he’d be nice and all cause I gotta 185 in the hood and you |
| know they |
| can’t catch me And if you see me chilling you can stop me But i keep that glock, 40 up on the dashboard you never know who might |
| not be This is for the playas |
| Playa, play on I can’t hate you homie |
| Playa, play on I can’t hate you homie |
| Burbans and Lacs, mansions and bitches, money and weed |
| A made life is all I dream, paper chasing for that green |
| I’m thugging on the scene, nigga |
| Whatcha dont believe, well check the credents, they’ll tell ya A niggas living presidential, I’m on the level that you bustas will |
| never feel |
| My daughter thought I’d get caught up in the game and get killed |
| But reverse that shit and hit the studio and make a mill |
| For real, I’m slanging platinum shit until I’m old and ill |
| Lil’Gotti, I’m gonna make you feel what I say, I got time to parlay |
| Chill off in the bay, smoke some hay, I wouldn’t have that shit no other way |
| The made life, the game tight, No Limit for life |
| This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac’s |
| With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back |
| This is for the players smokin doolamac |
| With the Benz makin ends I mean them paper stacks |
| This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac’s |
| With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back |
| This is for the players smokin doolamac |
| With the Benz makin ends I mean them paper stacks |
| Playa play on I can’t hate you homie |