Jim Jones - We Don't Play That lyrics
[Jim Jones - We Don't Play That lyrics]
They say i like my bitches by the toast
I pay three hundred for the fame
And now my niggas gonna show
We don't play that (bodies on top of bodies)
(Bodies on top of bodies) We don't play that
(Bodies on top of bodies
Bodies on top of bodies) we don't play that
(all I see is blood and murder)
(And bodies on top of bodies)
We don't play that
(All I see is blood and murder
And bodies on top of bodies)
We don't play that
Maseratis on Maseratis
Morazi's and more Moradies
Hotties on top of hotties
That’s a body on top of body
I ran shotty and I gotta shotty
Got ladders on top of ladders
Keep the cat on top of bladder
And I drop it bad where it doesn't matter
Nigga wearing cappa now matching robbers
To play, imma catch a body
I pull up, I drive up, the choppers
They pouncing, the kilos, don’t tell nobody
Put a beam on a fucking shotty
That coke we sell in Mali
I need a lot of money
Don’t play with that bag
Cause tomorrow I go see Pappy
For the two five, hit him with the tek shot
Run down when I’m trying to get the best shot
For them Benz I hit him with the hay shot
We’d a made a hundred Benz at the next spot
If you put it on the script
Make sure the bread coming back
The chemical nigga
Dump the lead off the strap
Just got word that the feds coming back
Imma hold them with some dose
And drugs in the back
I’m all in the biz with my feeder
Running my fingers through a C-cup
Sipping my drink out a tea cup
You bitch won’t fuck with a G huh?
Nigga I show you
Probably got a half of the ton
Let a nigga get none, same color
Seek some, hope another trap in town
Let a young nigga get none
I put bodies on bodies
Seeing shooters on shooters
I put hitters on hitters
And killers that kill us
We load up them choppas then we hop on like
Ninjas that never surrender
No pris for reason
That three how he handle his business
I never look slapping, I’m leaving no winners
I bow with the oak on the ginny
Bodies on top of bodies
Shoot up them motherrati
On barrel like old Jorabi
When I’m on the block, I feel like Shaqueil
You flexing on Twitter that
Beef ain’t for real i’m still in the hood
And I’m keeping it real
I don’t know what you want
But I’m showing it kill
I pay three hundred for the fame
And now my niggas gonna show
We don't play that (bodies on top of bodies)
(Bodies on top of bodies) We don't play that
(Bodies on top of bodies
Bodies on top of bodies) we don't play that
(all I see is blood and murder)
(And bodies on top of bodies)
We don't play that
(All I see is blood and murder
And bodies on top of bodies)
We don't play that
Maseratis on Maseratis
Morazi's and more Moradies
Hotties on top of hotties
That’s a body on top of body
I ran shotty and I gotta shotty
Got ladders on top of ladders
Keep the cat on top of bladder
And I drop it bad where it doesn't matter
Nigga wearing cappa now matching robbers
To play, imma catch a body
I pull up, I drive up, the choppers
They pouncing, the kilos, don’t tell nobody
Put a beam on a fucking shotty
That coke we sell in Mali
I need a lot of money
Don’t play with that bag
Cause tomorrow I go see Pappy
For the two five, hit him with the tek shot
Run down when I’m trying to get the best shot
For them Benz I hit him with the hay shot
We’d a made a hundred Benz at the next spot
If you put it on the script
Make sure the bread coming back
The chemical nigga
Dump the lead off the strap
Just got word that the feds coming back
Imma hold them with some dose
And drugs in the back
I’m all in the biz with my feeder
Running my fingers through a C-cup
Sipping my drink out a tea cup
You bitch won’t fuck with a G huh?
Nigga I show you
Probably got a half of the ton
Let a nigga get none, same color
Seek some, hope another trap in town
Let a young nigga get none
I put bodies on bodies
Seeing shooters on shooters
I put hitters on hitters
And killers that kill us
We load up them choppas then we hop on like
Ninjas that never surrender
No pris for reason
That three how he handle his business
I never look slapping, I’m leaving no winners
I bow with the oak on the ginny
Bodies on top of bodies
Shoot up them motherrati
On barrel like old Jorabi
When I’m on the block, I feel like Shaqueil
You flexing on Twitter that
Beef ain’t for real i’m still in the hood
And I’m keeping it real
I don’t know what you want
But I’m showing it kill