"Do What Playas Do" as written by Mason Betha, Premro Vonzellaire Smith and Maysonne Linen....
[mysonne] Uhh (uhh) Wanna blow? (wanna blow? ) pretty tone (pretty tone) Suave house (suave house) eightball (eightball) tony draper (draper) All out (all out), murder (murder) Harlem world (harlem world), problem children (problem children) Y'all niggaz got problems (y'all niggaz got problems) Uhh (uhh) uhh (uhh) yo (yo) Now I can play with these hoes, or spray four-fours Whatever the situation, may call for I can sport linen, pimp hard, court women Have the ice, hand to waves all spinnin Or I can get in, to some real thug shit Armed robbery, slash, deal drug shit Peel slugs quick, cause I'm versatile I can ice grill, but I'm worse when I smile Expert with style, y'all give hoes cash All I give em, is hard dick and coke in they ass Bitch, move that, true playa, true dat Niggaz catch feelings, when they chick say, "who dat? " Representin from the bronx, to the dirty south Spittin drug flows, with my dirty mouth We got it all, from grams to eightballs Yeah we players, and refs, we make calls Chorus: eightball (repeat 2x) Now everybody wanna do what a playa do But everybody can't do what a playa do (I see you playa) all in the mix right I see you playa (yeah I got my shit tight) [eightball] Bring it to niggaz I don't be slippin on my literary Sick when I'm gone off that jane first name mary Eightball, ain't no other like this southern brother Crazy motherfucker, pooh butt booty duster Never been a point shaver or a hoe saver Just a weed craver, suave house assassinator To the dirt, and we gon' put that on the house bitch Gold in the mouth shit, straight south shit Orange mound slow the flow down to pull the fo'-pound Beat a hoe down, and fall up in the club to' down I like them dirty hoes, down to get buck for a dollar Thick yella cinderella, hair shop scholar Pimp shit, and I'ma keep it straight +space age+ Every year, turn the book of life to a new page Kick rhymes hotter than texas in July Suave house playa til the day that I die, uhh Chorus [mase] Sauve house motherfucker, all out motherfucker Wanna blow motherfucker? team nigga til I'm low motherfucker Yo, I went from o-t to o-see to all the paper Leads to fatigue then ? the gators If ain't about the money nigga? call me later How many niggaz talk benzes? seen them one Not videos and picture shit, those don't count I'm the nigga talkin millions and, own the amount Mr. frosty, the nigga never fold for chips When the money on the line bitch I roll trips Cut a bitch off for a week and let her know what she miss Hundred grand worth of shit nigga glow on my wrist Bought a range just to go with the six When I flip for these chips, shit is never over a bitch You got some nerve, I can give a kiler one word, get em You will see how many niggaz miss him I put pellets in the air let the shit hit em Put the gun inside his mouth and let the clip kiss him Shit you drive all tinted, I put my honey in it Won't, stop your bank, ain't enough money in it Live a lifestyle rarely told, what you know about Floatin down eighth, gettin head in the rolls You had, money like that you wouldn't be measurin those You motherfuckin barely sold, barely gold Niggaz send it rough I send it back the same way it came You ain't dissin me until you say my name, motherfucker Chorus

Lyrics submitted by spliphstar

"Do What Playas Do" as written by Mason Betha, Premro Vonzellaire Smith, Maysonne Linen

Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing

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