Lil B - Ho Stop Playin' lyrics
[Lil B - Ho Stop Playin' lyrics]
Ho stop playin' (Yes) ho stop playin'
Ho stop playin' (Bitch)
Ho stop playin' (Bitch) ho stop playin'
Ho stop playin' (Yes) ho stop playin'
Ho stop playin'
Bitch, well you play too much
Yeah, I'm the Based God, yeah I bang too much
Take you out right fast, so smooth to touch
Sometimes I disappear, are you in a rush?
Can you picture foreign whips with
You in the front?
I'm like a old Porsche, I don't front
Meet me in the front in ten minutes
I can open up my hand you
See nothin' up in it
When I close that motherfucker
Bet there's money up in it
Who the pimp? Bitch, I pimp myself
Ask what's up, only a nigga with the GTC
You can't even, you never seen me
Ho you wish
Ho you a myth to most people come out
Of the lights at night
I be on that 40 L like the dope taste right
Bitch I'm in the new Maybach
Tint suede black hit you with the kayda asap
Ten cellphones
Every motherfuckin' bill’s paid
Ho ya know that
(Ooh, does this feel like December 85th)
Bitch bitch you know a bitch that might know
A bitch that know a bitch
That really knows the bitch
That owes the bitch
She a nosey bitch that's why I love the bitch
Did I mention more money in different spots?
I be on the sax fifth and block ain't hot
And I be out in Paris while
They be out on hop i be hustlin' all day
Bitch put down them rocks ask Kriss Kross
My OG got robbed for his watch
And his bitch took that charge (Damn)
And she brought them boys pain
Bitch, open up your eyes and serve
A life to the game
I don't pout or complain just get money
Yeah, like I said, uh, this that classic
Really this that classic west coast music
You know you can ride to it
Like I said, it's ya boy, Lil B
Yeah, turn your stereos up
If you're playin' this at the party
Turn this shit up
If you're cruising in your car
Might be chillin' with a fine lady
You know, you might just
Be chillin' by yourself, you know
Zonin' out, got a blunt rolled
Like I said, this that #1 Bitch mixtape
You ain't got nothin' to worry about
You know, this all gangsta, you know
Can't be no fakin' around here, you feel me?
Can't be no fakin', no player hatin'
(Don't this sound like that Troy Aikmen shit
Remember the Cowboys, man
Niggas used to be out there goin' crazy
Uh, like bitch, smack, smack, bitch)
Ho stop playin' (Bitch)
Ho stop playin' (Bitch) ho stop playin'
Ho stop playin' (Yes) ho stop playin'
Ho stop playin'
Bitch, well you play too much
Yeah, I'm the Based God, yeah I bang too much
Take you out right fast, so smooth to touch
Sometimes I disappear, are you in a rush?
Can you picture foreign whips with
You in the front?
I'm like a old Porsche, I don't front
Meet me in the front in ten minutes
I can open up my hand you
See nothin' up in it
When I close that motherfucker
Bet there's money up in it
Who the pimp? Bitch, I pimp myself
Ask what's up, only a nigga with the GTC
You can't even, you never seen me
Ho you wish
Ho you a myth to most people come out
Of the lights at night
I be on that 40 L like the dope taste right
Bitch I'm in the new Maybach
Tint suede black hit you with the kayda asap
Ten cellphones
Every motherfuckin' bill’s paid
Ho ya know that
(Ooh, does this feel like December 85th)
Bitch bitch you know a bitch that might know
A bitch that know a bitch
That really knows the bitch
That owes the bitch
She a nosey bitch that's why I love the bitch
Did I mention more money in different spots?
I be on the sax fifth and block ain't hot
And I be out in Paris while
They be out on hop i be hustlin' all day
Bitch put down them rocks ask Kriss Kross
My OG got robbed for his watch
And his bitch took that charge (Damn)
And she brought them boys pain
Bitch, open up your eyes and serve
A life to the game
I don't pout or complain just get money
Yeah, like I said, uh, this that classic
Really this that classic west coast music
You know you can ride to it
Like I said, it's ya boy, Lil B
Yeah, turn your stereos up
If you're playin' this at the party
Turn this shit up
If you're cruising in your car
Might be chillin' with a fine lady
You know, you might just
Be chillin' by yourself, you know
Zonin' out, got a blunt rolled
Like I said, this that #1 Bitch mixtape
You ain't got nothin' to worry about
You know, this all gangsta, you know
Can't be no fakin' around here, you feel me?
Can't be no fakin', no player hatin'
(Don't this sound like that Troy Aikmen shit
Remember the Cowboys, man
Niggas used to be out there goin' crazy
Uh, like bitch, smack, smack, bitch)