Wais P - b**h I Don't Play lyrics

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Wais P - b**h I Don't Play lyrics

Chorus: (x2) b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money You better have my paper! You better have my paper! (Verse 1:Wais P) b**h, I don't play around, I got car notes Drop two Gs every week at the bar, hoe Wais P I twist Ketel One Vodka Known at the sea food house for cracking lobsters Five pounders, mushrooms stuffed flounders Living like a boss it's a habit to floss I'm the life of every party Four hoes with bad bodies, jumping off the Ducati's Living life like the young John Gotti Except, I ain't here to pop clips Just to break me a b**h, sh**! Chorus: (x2) b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money You better have my paper! You better have my paper! (Verse 2:Wais P) Baby girl, we both need money in this world And I ain't got no perm, or no curl All I got is dick for a b**h if she making me rich If she ain't paying me cash, I ain't touching that a**! I don't care how fly you are, how shy you are If you're a lawyer, a doctor, your body is so proper! If you ain't paying me, you're deader than Hoffa Can't be on my team, can't be on my roster Can't go platinum, can't win no Oscar Can't be no step child, can't be no foster Unless you got paper to offer to these pimp squad monster Macking on somebody's daughter I'm yelling that: Chorus: (x2) b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money You better have my paper! You better have my paper! (Verse 3:Mistah F.A.B.) Hey hoe, listen, there ain't no games with me I get paid if a b**h try to hang with me Son of a pimp,pimping in my veins you see Cause I'mma pimp my blood, not relation, I'm G! And momma said Fab never love a bad hoe Daddy was a pimp, nicknamed San Pablo My last hoe gave me cash out the a**hole So when rap dough math slow I turn to John Stockton with the dimes, I pa** hoes! Corn rows, micro braids, or afro's Long as the math grows I ain't tripping, I'm pimping, trying to knock me a fast hoe! Chorus: (x2) b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money b**h, I don't play around, I get money You better have my paper! You better have my paper!