Play My Cards Lyrics by Kurupt

Play My Cards Lyrics

    (to) (to) (to)
    (to the tic)
    (to the tic-tic) --> slick rick

    Yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
    Kurupt young gotti
    Hell yeah

    Raw dawg
    You know
    You know me
    Raw dawg assassin
    Comin atcha, baby
    Cat, kick it in
    Kick it in

    [ verse 1 ]
    Pull up...
    Soon as i park shit sparks
    Spit fire, gangbang affiliation, retalitation
    Spit sparks till shit's dark forever
    What's up, homie
    Why you walkin up on me?
    Postin up in the shade
    We can draw or get paid
    You ain't movin not a thing, homeboy
    Click em with automatics and automatic toys
    Bounce, rock, rollerskatin
    Dippin down the streets on platinum daytons
    (yo, what up?)
    I'm just a gee
    Oh yeah, that's me
    Don't forget it
    Act like you knew it 'fore i set it
    I put the needle on top of the wax
    Before i turn around
    And burn everything to the ground
    I seen it comin
    A fool over to the right gunnin
    The homies whistled
    We all draw pistols

    [ chorus ]
    Gotta stay in charge
    Gotta play my cards
    On the grind all day, babe
    Oh, gots to get paid

    [ verse 2 ]
    You got a stash to hid, you got some hash to hit?
    Cash to get, glocks to pop and shit
    (what you talkin bout?) everybody's got questions and shit
    (hey yo, what's up with...?) muthafuckas questionin shit
    (shut the fuck up, homie) worryin bout me and my wife
    (my wife) all i wanna do is live my life
    (that's all) raise up off me, homie
    (yeah) ease back softly, homie
    (check it out) i'm a gee from the d.p.g.
    And no matter what you say, you can't fuck with me
    Hey loco, i see you wanna loc out
    Coastin, movin in locomotion
    In the cut dippin, the homeboys trippin
    Spittin, waitin for a shot to get called
    The homie spit a plot to us
    Then passed the 16-shots to us

    Uh-u-uh
    Uh-u-uh
    Uh-u-uh

    [ verse 3 ]
    I got scams for hundreds of gramms
    Me and my man, me and my pistol, a plan
    For about a
    Whole ki load of some powder
    Stashin, dippin, dashin, smashin, tryin to cash in
    >from the front to the back, and packin
    Pull the strap and start clappin
    I'm about to move a little somethin
    A little sumptin-sumpin
    For the homie, pack the pump and get to dumpin
    Hit the liquor store, i wanna get paid
    A fifth of hen, then back to the shade
    What you got, smoke, loc, let's blaze up
    Let me get a toke, loc, and let's raise up
    Punks stop and get popped when funk pop
    I'm worldwide while you thinkin: either he is or he's not
    International like [???]
    You can feel me
    In the real way

    [ chorus ]

    Bitches, get your ride on, on

    Kurupt young gotti
    Raw dawg

    Just get your ride on
    Just get your ride on, homie

    My nigga battlecat
    Ha-ha

    Just get your ride on, homie

    (to the tic-tic
    And you don't quit
    Hit it)

    This is for the riders
    Riders
    The riders

    Hustlers
    Hustlers
    The hustlers

    This is the one, baby!

    (tic-toc)
    (ya) (ya) (ya don't)
    (ya) (ya) (ya) (ya don't stop) (stop) (stop)
    Bitch

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