paroles de chanson Playa Tip - Mac Mall
Is
this
muthafucka
on?
(Check-check
1-2
Yeah
bitch,
go
check
your
muthafuckin
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
pass
this
to
my
young
dog
Mac
Mall)
[VERSE
1]
Passin
Mac
Mall
the
mic
is
like
lighting
a
fuse
To
a
fat
pipe
bomb
in
a
packed-ass
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?
hoe?
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
shit
Counterfeit-ass
nigga,
you
can't
blow
up
in
this
shit
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
bitch
First
they
hung
up
in
my
face,
now
I
got
em
doin
flips
So
when
my
cuddies
ask,
"Mall,
you
stress
offa
what
suckers
say?"
I
tell
em,
"Naw
folks,
it's
all
in
the
game"
[CHORUS]
I'm
comin
up
on
the
playa
tip
Your
boy
done
bubbled,
so
be
prepared
for
some
major
shit
Nigga,
we
comin
up
on
the
playa
tip
(So
shake
them
squares
and
start
chosin
on
some
playas,
bitch)
[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
hoe?
But
sometime
I
like
to
get
my
tip
ate
And
if
you
ain't
careful,
it
might
be
your
bitch,
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
Fuck
a
homie,
nigga,
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-ass
hoe
Nigga
[CHORUS]
[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
muthafuckin
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
niggas,
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-ass
Mall
This
game
won't
stop,
won't
pause,
won't
stall
Now
nigga,
get
rich,
read
a
bitch
and
kill
a
snitch
But
make
sure
your
actin's
on
the
playa
tip
Nigga
On
the
playa
tip
You
know
Yeah
nigga
We
live
from
the
muthafuckin
Country
Club
You
know
what
I'm
sayin
Smokin
the
dank
down
to
a
nud
Ain't
even
trippin
We
got
bitches
all
out
here
[Name]
and
shit,
you
know
Ant
Banks
all
around
this
muthafucka
burpin
and
fartin
and
shit
I
don't
know
We
just
live
it,
boy
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