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LETRA INTERNATIONAL PLAYERS

[Pimp C]
Uh...hol' up (hol' up)
For all them niggas out there ridin' candy
Know what I'm talkin' about?
Uh...Uh...Blowin' on somethin' sweet, (uh)
Goin' down (goin' down)
Hol' up (hol' up)....uh
Check it..

[Pimp C]
Boys kickin' back, layin' in the shade
Ain't nobody trippin' 'cause the money already made
The 90s was for jackin', 2000 for the ballers:
The drop top Jag or the candy red Impala
If you sellin' big cheese, keep pushin', my nigga
Polo horses on my bed - f*** Hilfiger
I'm Pimp C, bitch, in the ghetto I'm a star
I made this for the niggas tryin' ta chop in they cars...cars...cars..

Chorus: (Pimp C)
Could I, Would I, Should I break 'em?
Uh...I wanna chop blades
Could I, Would I, Should I break 'em?
Uh...I wanna chop blades
Could I, Would I, Should I break 'em?
Uh...I wanna chop blades
Could I, Would I, Should I break 'em?
Uh...I wanna chop blades

[Bun B]
Now, when I turn my knock up, and bangin' yo' block up
Without pickin' my Glock up, I'm raisin' my stock up
I got haters on lock-up...boy, they slangin' rock up
And bangin' Makaveli 7, crankin' my 'Pac up
Now, ain't no stoppin' when the tops start droppin'
Hearin' Fat Pat rappin', your hat back capin'
In a black 'Lac mackin' wit' a bop in a fade
Boy, we fat stack packin', steady choppin' on blades...blades...blades..

Chorus: (x4)

[Pimp C]
It's time to hit the slab
Benz sittin' low
I'm puffin' on the 'dro, I got the pistol in the do'
I pulled up in my ride, these hoes lookin' hot
If she get up on my leatha, then her panties gon' drop
I just can't stop...bleedin' my block
Got some prime cut cock, I mean some private-ass stock
They put it in they mouth and never say no
Some nut-suckin' hoes, I mean some dick-suckin' pros
That like to get exposed, and play with they nose
And bend they pussy over, for my nigga, and touch they toes
She do that shit for daddy, but them tricks gotta pay
Just like E-40: Pimpin' in a major way
It's all for the money
She tryin' ta stay paid
She steady breakin' niggas on them shiny-ass thangs
I'm deep up in the street
I'm tryin' to fill my nuts
And later on I'ma try to skeet it on her butt...her butt..

Chorus: (x4)

[Bun B]
Say, nigga, I keeps my rims clean
Shinin through a dim scene
Got yo' bitch wetter than the captain of the swim team
Steppin' out the Caddy, bitch, I'm fresher than Dentyne
Slicker than Crisco, sweeter than Nabisco
From Philly to 'Frisco where the Don be a Sisqo
You better get some Blades if you still ridin' this ho
Boys puttin' Swangers on Benzes, it gotta stop
If you fittin' ta ride foreign, then, nigga, you gotta chop
And Southern niggas still got the nerve to ride D's
I ain't hatin' on Daytons, but it's 2000, nigga please
It's all about the candy paint, it's all about the Vogues
It's all about the slab, baby, it's all about the hoes
Got some cars and some pros: some real and some fraud;
Hated on by a nigga, hated on by a broad
So long as J's sell, and them boppin' hoes slut
I'll be ridin' chromin' blades, steady choppin' hoes up...hoes
up...hoes up..

Chorus: (x16)

[Bun B]
Yeah...dedicated to boys choppin' on chromin' thangs
Damn blades, know what I'm sayin'?
Boys choppin' in the ???
Choppin' in that 4th
Choppin' in the 5th
Acres Home
Southside MLK
Southwest ???
Club ???
Boys choppin' on blades in P.A
Up and down Gulf Way
On the Westside
Eastside
Boys choppin' in D-town
In that Oakcliff
In that North Dallas
Boys choppin' all over this damn South
Boys even be choppin' up in New York
Know what I'm sayin'? And that L.A.
fuente: musica.com

INTERNATIONAL PLAYERS

U.G.K.

Letra añadida por:
winddixi

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