Master P - Bourbans & 'llacs Lyrics
[mo b. dick]This is for the burbans and the cadillacsWith the tens and twelves bumpin in the backThis is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macksWith the benz makin ends I mean them paper stacksThis is for the burbans and the cadillacsWith the tens and twelves bumpin in the backThis is for the players smokin doolamacSlappin skins, makin dividends and riding strapped[master p](uhhhhhh) wood grain with the leather seatsWindows so dark you need a flashlight to see meSmokin 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 cocaineHit interstate ten, to texasListening to dj screw just raised the lexusCalled up pimp c, did a song last week with my nigga bun bTwistin on some green spinachAnd niggas still trippin, I aint dead, Im still in it[mo b. dick]This is for the burbans and the cadillacsWith the tens and twelves bumpin in the backThis is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macksWith the benz makin ends and them paper stacks[silkk the shocker]See pockets full of dollars already stacked strong gangsta leaning sidewaysToday aint friday, ten it is and today is my dayTake it from mister high spoke riderCadillac suburban driver, ***** diverPush the glock inside when Im ridingFlossing down the block, holla at my boys up in the thirdGot the latest word, swerve to the side of the curbA fiend that wanted me to serve him, I said ***** cant tell Im off?But I still gave him five dollars to wipe my white wallsAnd then I burst up out the block, dropped the top cause it was hotHit the spot with the most hoes at the sideshow, abouts to plotHittin donuts, you know Im macking, a straight up niggaCatch me spinnin, you can tell I was there cause I clocked smoke when I wasFinishedI seen five-o, and man he tried to sweat meThinkin hed be nice and all cause I gotta 185 in the hood and you know theyCant catch meAnd if you see me chilling you can stop meBut I keep that glock, 40 up on the dashboard you never know who might not beThis is for the playas[mo b. dick]Playa, play onI cant hate you homiePlaya, play onI cant hate you homie[lil gotti gambino]Burbans and lacs, mansions and *****es, money and weedA made life is all I dream, paper chasing for that greenIm thugging on the scene, niggaWhatcha dont believe, well check the credents, theyll tell yaA niggas living presidential, Im on the level that you bustas will never feelMy daughter thought Id get caught up in the game and get killedBut reverse that shit and hit the studio and make a millFor real, Im slanging platinum shit until Im old and illLil gotti, Im gonna make you feel what I say, I got time to parlayChill off in the bay, smoke some hay, I wouldnt have that shit no other wayThe made life, the game tight, no limit for life[mo b. dick]This is for the burbans and the cadillacsWith the tens and twelves bumpin in the backThis is for the players smokin doolamacWith the benz makin ends I mean them paper stacksThis is for the burbans and the cadillacsWith the tens and twelves bumpin in the backThis is for the players smokin doolamacWith the benz makin ends I mean them paper stacksPlaya play onI cant hate you homie
