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Текст песни Lloyd Banks - Playboy

Lloyd Banks - Playboy слова песни

[Verse One]Guess who`s the man this winter, straight out the land of sinnersThe Range is tan with spinners, check out the white mirrorsBlow with the damn winners while you and your man`s finishedTwo in your Rams fitteds, turn off your lightswitchHoldin my torch down, even when the force `roundYou let your wife roam, she want a divorce nowYou niggaz ain`t this gully, play it I paint your skullyYou never take this from me the riders and all the gangsters love meYou shouldn`t be a problem, I ain`t be a problemSee you later I`ll red your head, you`ll be a RodmanI know your type, hoppin all over beat screaminYou call it hypin yourself up, I call it street dreaminI do it for all the haters, the players roll with the gatorsThey lookin forward to favors, gossip is all they gave usYou niggaz wasn`t quiet, meet the whales and the fishesYou leak the precinct up, play tattletale with the snitchesEven my momma knows, I got all kind of hoesThey wait outside of shows strict after the diner closeI`ll get designer clothes, without the wine or roseTake off my baby blue mink, and Carolina voguesC`mere, take a look inside a entertainer`s closetI never trust a bitch, I blame Lorena BobbittNiggaz stay in pocket, I know you`re mad at meBut shit ain`t all peaches and cream, and I ain`t Sara LeeBitch![Chorus]Don`t ice me, you starin at the wrong oneIt`s a lot of girls here, go and get a grown oneWe at the bar poppin bottles `til they all goneIf you ain`t leavin here with us, you can walk homeCause someone else will, they know how we rideIf you a playboy, you got one on the EastsideKeep your mouth closed, we don`t let the beef ride.. (what) right .. (what) right .. (what) right .. (right, damn!)(Let`s go)[Verse Two]I do this for the hood, niggaz stuck in the slammerI smile cause I`m good, you act tough for the cameraRun from the lil` kids, they fuckin with SantaCause they like 2Pac more - word? Word to my grandmaI figure I might as well leave here with my glock drawnCause they`ll take to jail, even when you`re not wrongDawg you`re not this flashy, jux you got to blast meEvery rock is classy nobody on your block can match meYou shouldn`t want a fight, unless you want to fightfor your life in the hospital a hundred nightsI know your type, run behind your girl rushinYou call it quality time, I call it handcuffinI`m on a beach in Miami, so you ain`t reachin my familyAll weekend with panties from Puetro Rican CammieYou niggaz wasn`t tough, I shoulda snapped two flicksYou wore your pants tight, played pitty-pat with the chicksEven my father knows, where the revolver goesI bring the beef to your front door like dominoesAnd my diamonds froze, that mean my time is frozeMe in the club from when it`s poppin `til the time it closeHalf of these so-called real niggaz`ll probably singNah I ain`t pullin over, learned that from Rodney KingSo tell your homey chill, you know I hold the steelEverything be jabs and hooks, and you ain`t HolyfieldNigga![Chorus]Everybody on the left get yo` hands upEverybody on the right get yo` hands upEverybody up front get yo` hands upAnd everybody out back get yo` hands upAnd if you in here with a strap get yo` hands upNow put `em up! (Put `em up!) Now put `em up! (Put `em up!)Now put `em up! (Put `em up!) Now put `em up! (Put `em up!)Now put `em up! (Put `em up!) Now put `em up! (Put `em up!)... man fuck what he said man, put `em up!Now put `em up! (Put `em up!) Now put `em up! (Put `em up!)Now put `em up! (Put `em up!) Now put `em up! (Put `em up!)Now put `em up! (Put `em up!) Now put `em up! (Put `em up!)... ohhh-OHH!Lloyd Banks, what?Oooooooooooooh!

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