Текст пісні
This is for the Burbons and the Cadillacs
With the tens and the twelves bumpin' in the back
This is for the players, hustlas, pimps, and macks
With the Benz, makin' ends, I mean them paper stacks
This is for the Burbons and the Cadillacs
With the tens and the twelves bumpin' in the back
This is for the players smokin' doolamac
Slappin' skins, make dividends and ridin' with my straps
(Uh) wood grain with the leather seats
Windows so dark you need a flashlight to see me
Smokin' on that doja
Four niggas in the back screamin', "No Limit soldiers!"
True to the gizzame
Stopped in the projects, sold a half an ounce of cocaine
Hit interstate ten to Texas
Listenin' to DJ Screw, just raced a Lexus
Called up Pimp C
Did a song last week with my nigga Bun B
Twistin' on some green spinach
And niggas still trippin', I ain't dead, I'm still in it
This is for the Burbons and the Cadillacs
With the tens and the twelves bumpin' in the back
This is for the players, hustlas, pimps, and macks
With the Benz, makin' ends and them paper stacks
See pockets full of dollars already stacked
So I'm gangsta leanin' sideways
Today ain't Friday
Ten it is and today is my day
Take it from Mr. Hundred-Spoke-Rider
Cadillac and Suburban driver, pussy diver
Mr. Glock Beside When I'm Ridin'
Flossin' down the block
Holla at my boys up in the Third
Got the latest word, swerve
To the side of the curb
A fiend that wanted me to serve him
I said, "Bitch, can't tell I'm off?"
But I still gave him five dollars to wipe my white walls
And then I burst up out the block
Dropped the top 'cause it was hot
Hit the spot with the most hoes
At the sideshow, abouts to plot
Hittin' donuts and you know I'm actin' a straight-up menace
Catch me spinnin', you can tell I was there
'Cause there was a cloud of smoke when I finished
I seen 5-0 and they ain't even try to sweat me
Thinkin' they bein' nice and all
'Cause I got a hundred and eighty-five under hood and you know they can't catch me
And if you see me chillin' you can stop me
But I keep that Glock 40 up on the dash
You never know who it might not be
And this is for the playas
Playa, play on
I can't hate you, homie
Playa, play on
I can't hate you, homie
Bourbons and 'Lacs, mansions and bitches, money and weed
A made life is all I dream
Paper chasin' for that green
I'm thuggin' on the scene, nigga
Whatcha don't believe? Well check the credentials, they'll tell ya
A nigga's livin' presidential
I'm on the level that you bustas will never feel
My daughter thought I'd get caught up in the game and get killed
But reverse that shit and hit the studio and make a mil'
For real, I'm slangin' platinum shit until I'm old and ill
Lil Gotti, I'ma make you feel what I say, I got time to parlay
Chill off in the bay, smoke some hay
I wouldn't have that shit no other way
The made life, the game tight, No Limit for life
This is for the Burbons and the Cadillacs
With the tens and the twelves bumpin' in the back
This is for the players smokin' doolamac
With the Benz, makin' ends, I mean them paper stacks
This is for the Burbons and the Cadillacs
With the tens and the twelves bumpin' in the back
This is for the players smokin' doolamac
With the Benz, makin' ends, I mean them paper stacks
Playa, play on
I can't hate you, homie
You rollin' on chrome and candy