- Lyrics
- Album list
- Singer Intro
MASTER P( Percy Robert Miller )
-
Bourbans and 'Llacs
Lyricist:Odell Elliott Jr Brown, Marvin P Gaye, Lawrence Johnson, King Miller Vyshonn, Percy Miller, David Ritz
This is for the Bourbans and the 'Llac'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 Bourbans and the 'Llac's With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back This is for the players smokin' doolamac Slappin' skins, makin' dividends and riding strapped
(Uhh) 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 Bourbans and the 'Llac'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 ain't 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 can't 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
Hittin' donuts, you know I'm macking, a straight up nigga Find more lyrics at ※ Mojim.com 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
Bourbans and 'Llacs, 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 don't 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 Bourbans and the 'Llac'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 Bourbans and the 'Llac'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
-
|