Mac Mall - Playa Tip lyrics

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Mac Mall - Playa Tip lyrics

Is this muthaf**a on? (Check-check 1-2 Yeah b**h, go check your muthaf**in puss Yeah, this's your homeboy Jay from the Romper Room Crew We just lounge here in the Country Club right about now You know what I'm sayin? But now I'm gonna pa** this to my young dog Mac Mall) [ VERSE 1 ] Pa**in Mac Mall the mic is like lighting a fuse To a fat pipe bomb in a packed-a** room Full of broke pimpetrators who be all tryin to dis And them hairshop hoes playa-hatin for the dick Now naw, I can't forget all them rumour-spreadin tricks Chocolate nuts for your mouth when this dope album hits Like a ??ho?? out of China, ballers say I am a timer Cause I was shootin game since I was a minor Some of these rappers is liars, candy-coated and sh** Counterfeit-a** n***a, you can't blow up in this sh** I went from bein broke to havin fat accounts ]From Ben Davis to wearin clothes you can't pronounce ]From spittin lines to the ladies to bust the game to a b**h First they hung up in my face, now I got em doin flips So when my cuddies ask, "Mall, you stress offa what s**ers say?" I tell em, "Naw folks, it's all in the game" [ Hook ] I'm comin up on the playa tip Your boy done bubbled, so be prepared for some major sh** n***a, we comin up on the playa tip (So shake them squares and start chosin on some playas, b**h) [ VERSE 1 ] Still got a Tec-9 in my cream creased Dockers Hang with big timers, hustlers and bank-robbers Players who be real about they money, you know My dick get harder with every dollar, so who needs a ho? But sometime I like to get my tip ate And if you ain't careful, it might be your b**h, mayn V-Town hog, so I dog her like a doorway gap I'm from the Crestside, partner, and fool, we do em like that One-time, they be on me, cause my pockets is paroley Sippin Hennessy not 40's, stayin far from the phoneys f** a homie, n***a, but you can be my cuddy, though You got a microphone, some money, or a sack to roll In the Country Club Crest we can have a choke fest Them six figure-digits got a young mac possessed To the point, if it ain't about money, then it ain't mandatory I keep my business and pleasure in different categories Cause once they mix, then you trip, man fool, you lost control Went broke behind a punk-a** ho n***a [ Hook ] [ VERSE 3 ] Dome loaded, ripped off Hen' Hell of g's addin up in my countin machine I count them endless dollars before I have a dream Of a muthaf**in heist or a gafflin scheme P-89 Ruger with the red beam Is the tool I use when I let off steam I'm out here gettin famous, and you're just a fiend That's why everytime you see me you be muggin me Is your system on that morphine? Now did your your lungs get sprung on the ice cream? Now playa-hatin n***as, this rap's for y'all You know I got a middle finger and a cap for y'all As long as my name is young Mac-a** Mall This game won't stop, won't pause, won't stall Now n***a, get rich, read a b**h and k** a snitch But make sure your actin's on the playa tip n***a On the playa tip You know Yeah n***a We live from the muthaf**in Country Club You know what I'm sayin Smokin the dank down to a nud Ain't even trippin We got b**hes all out here [Name] and sh**, you know Ant Banks all around this muthaf**a burpin and fartin and sh** I don't know We just live it, boy