Pastor Troy - No More Play in G.A. lyrics

(phone ringing)
Pastor Troy: Y'all watch this, watch this
(laughs) guy on phone: No Limit Studios
Pastor Troy: yea, yea, yea, can I speak to P?
Guy on phone: P ain't here! Pastor Troy:
(chuckles) Hey yo
Tell him that Pastor Troy and them Down South
Georgia Boys said since everybody think
They soldiers then what's up
We'll go to war

My nigga fuck what ya say (We Ready)
Ain't no more play in GA (We Ready)

What's up? Big mouth, big talk, big game
Teacher's pet, takin' names, pop the tec
Takin' aim plenty range, plenty shot
Plenty change, plenty Glocks
Packin heat and I'mma keep em' hot
And I'mma take my cut right off the top
Cuz I'm not, nothing like
Anyone, once on the mic
Wish you might, show ya right
Have y'all thinking I'm Barry White
In the night, pack em' tight, call the fight
TKO we got mo', you ain't know, numero uno
Keep a O we burnin slow, we optimo
Y'all swisher sweets
And don't compete, I'm too unique
Sit back be quiet when the Pastor preach
I make the beat, you beat your meat
Yeah punk you touch yourself
It be Pastor Troy, DSGB
Represent until my death
And anyone else, that want us, you can trust
It ain't no fear you can talk that in my
Ear, but it ain't shit
'til you come down here
And anyone else, that want us, you can trust
It ain't no fear you can talk that in my
Ear, but it ain't shit
'til you come down here

My nigga fuck what ya say (We Ready)
Ain't no more play in GA (We Ready)
My nigga fuck what ya say (We Ready)
Ain't no more play in GA (We Ready)
My nigga fuck what ya say (We Ready)
Ain't no more play in GA (We Ready)
My nigga fuck what ya say (We Ready)
My nigga fuck what ya say (We Ready)
Shit real

Fake gold, fake soul, sold this, sold that
Story grew old, old vogues, old lac
But I'm back, verse two, and you, know me
Ain't no, owe me, you die, slowly
Holy, Bible, assault, rifle
Thou shalt, not kill
Unless they make you feel
Like they superior, naw brah, who you wit'
DSGB my clique, all the money that we can get
In the mix, gone and pick
I'm like Vicks Vapor Rub
Pinch a nick up out your dubb
Who the fuck you think I was
Enough of the talkin', talkin', what's up
If we actin up, you best be backin up
Been buck, re-up, red mouth, straighten me
All these niggas be hatin me
Because we keep all the D
O-P, add a E, OPP we ain't down
None of my folks don't fuck around
Quick to spit every round
Come on clown, you so bad, you so raw
You so mean
In the car, looking mean, all you see
Is the beam
I'm the king, of the throne, still shown
Every song punks do not live too long
Pastor Troy and now it's on

Shit real

I make the ghetto my lobby
Make they habit my hobby
Bought a little Arm & Hammer, cook it
Sell then copy got me watchin for coppers
All I want is to prosper
Niggas clowning with me
Don't know they claimin they "G"
So fuck TV cuz this real
Just change your hand change the station
Watch the story bout hatin'
Then another bout basing
I'm taking risks to get it
But now I'm sick of this shit
So with these last couple dollars
We gone flip it legit
I bought this beat machine
Bout big as a calculator
Who would have ever dreamed we
Hit the studio later
Its like I owe them basers
For making me take this serious
Wasn't for the struggle cuz
You would not be hearing this
In the midst I'm frisked bout
Three times a day
What I'm doing down here? Nigga
This where I stay
I just pray, that I relay, a message to some
And let them know, goddamn
Ain't no more play where I'm from

Now shit's real