lirik lagu detroit playa – skilla baby
[intro]
huh?
(okay jones)
huh?
[verse]
i get real money, these n*ggas gon’ k!ll for me
my daddy sold dope, my auntie was a real junkie
if i want, i’ll take it, ain’t gon’ steal nothin’
the music make the pill money look like deal money
i know if n*ggas sin for me, we gon’ win somethin’
she gon’ treat you like a lame if you don’t spin nothin’
me and brother split it fifty*fifty, we gon’ get money
the first fiend i od’d gave me a sick stomach
i got a cold b*tch, i got a froze wrist
that boy cannot compete with me, he ain’t sold sh*t
a hundred*thousand*dollar kit, i bought my own sh*t
i got ‘bows in, it look likе i sold bricks
i got a fetish for fashion, prada my shoes
if you snitch, get your rat ass bl!ckеd, you know the rules
r.i.p. to nip, i got a pocket full of blues
play with us and put n*ggas on the news, no kizzy
i don’t fake kick it with no n*gga, don’t care who he is
started with a zip of dope, i turned that to a bid
a lot of n*ggas tough until they gotta do a bid
catch a n*gga out and put a bullet through his lid
all my b*tches pretty, thicker than tahiri, huh?
audemars piguet, all my pants mike amiri
i was done rappin’, my young n*ggas say they wanna hear me
don’t hang with a lot of rappers, real street n*ggas only
leave the studio at two o’clock and pull up to the coney
i know real tweakers, they’ll run up on you for your rollie
i provide the guns for the slide, they come with the stollie
huh? huh? nowadays, we call ’em strikers
backwoods, ’42, and fried chicken in my rider
b*tch sn*tcher, lil’ boy, i’m takin’ your b*tch if i like her
to the mall, buy her somethin’ that you can’t afford to buy her
real city n*gga, that’s just how them boys raised
add some more diamonds to my neck when that pressure on
all my b*tches bad as f*ck, i ain’t hittin’ regular hoes
b*tches ratted out, n*ggas rats, where is pest control?
open up a stadium when i point the bl!cky at his dome
i don’t like out of town, i’m only comfortable at home
if i start robbin’ these outsiders, i’d be wrong
i like city b*tches, out of town b*tches leave me ‘lone
young n*gga, i like all my hoes grown
[outro]
(okay jones)
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