Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Paper Plates, artist - Mr. MauricioDate of issue: 05.06.2016
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Paper Plates |
| Ricky Rozay aka Pharaoh Dinero |
| Mauricio, I got this, nigga, sit back |
| A.I. |
| on the crossover |
| Name a nigga floss more |
| The crib worth 30 |
| The record label burnin' |
| Hottest team on the turf |
| Fat Trel, put in work |
| Trill nigga still on the rise |
| Throwback, black Karl Kani |
| Got these sticks back in '96 |
| Cocaine cowboy, howdy howdy, bitch |
| Trappin' so long 'til it’s in the pores |
| Made a hundred racks before you hit the chorus |
| Maybach, 5 lives in the Taurus |
| Niggas froze up when they saw us |
| We the ones started out the poets |
| Poor student, natural born poet |
| Blue SL, got the centerfold |
| Sittin' passenger, got a centerfold |
| New model Benz, new model bitch |
| We just livin' life, dope dealer rich |
| Who got it? |
| We got it |
| Who done it? |
| We did it |
| One hunnid, we livin' |
| Get money, do business |
| Real niggas love me, fake niggas hate me |
| I’m still in the streets eatin', paper plates |
| The chopper make a nigga Milly Rock |
| I’m tryna buy the whole city block |
| I got fed allegations, nigga |
| And you a mothafuckin' city cop |
| Mauricio! |
| Let the beat drop |
| I’ma Smurda dance till the Lamborghini lot |
| SKRRRRT! |
| Closed lips, we don’t talk a lot |
| Nigga used to whip it out the coffee pot |
| Can’t remove black youngster |
| This money turned a nigga to a monster, I am |
| I got the game from my mama |
| Hundred round, nigga I’m the drummer |
| Battle of the bands |
| I’ll never take the stance |
| Told you niggas I’m a general |
| Got the soldiers on command |
| Blue SL, got the centerfold |
| Sittin' passenger, got a centerfold |
| New model Benz, new model bitch |
| We just livin' life, dope dealer rich |
| Who got it? |
| We got it |
| Who done it? |
| We did it |
| One hunnid, we livin' |
| Get money, do business |
| Real niggas love me, fake niggas hate me |
| I’m still in the streets eatin', paper plates |
| Dope boy Troy, you ain’t nothin' like me |
| I buy a pack of white tees and pack some white keys (coke!) |
| One when it’s hot, one in the pot, sizzle |
| You can find either one in the drop, riddle |
| I just bought a Benz with the price of Lamb' |
| But show the new 'Rari, I was like, «Damn!» |
| I could fuck up the hood, they won’t understand |
| Backdoor, the feds might come for a nigga, man |
| I’ma do it, fuck it, I’ma do it |
| I just had a half a million and I ran through it |
| 350 on my condo, I paid cash |
| A hundred on the car, another 50 just for laughs |
| Hahahahaha I’m laughin' straight to the bank |
| And I don’t give a fuck what a pussy nigga think |
| And I will shoot a nigga dead if they even fuckin' blink |
| I’m the wrong one, but the right one to get you play |
| Blue SL, got the centerfold |
| Sittin' passenger, got a centerfold |
| New model Benz, new model bitch |
| We just livin' life, dope dealer rich |
| Who got it? |
| We got it |
| Who done it? |
| We did it |
| One hunnid, we livin' |
| Get money, do business |
| Real niggas love me, fake niggas hate me |
| I’m still in the streets eatin', paper plates |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |
| All gas, no brakes |