Don't Ever Play Yourself

[Intro: DJ Khaled]

D-D-DJ

D-D-DJ Khaled!

[Verse 1: Jadakiss]

Uh

Pat them down, count the money, let 'em see the work, yeah

That's the definition of a major key alert

Another nigga gotta die, won't be the first, nah

Won't be the last, all we see is cash, yeah

Your real story don't match what you rappin' 'bout (Liar)

So keep the movies in, stop actin' out

And I ain't talking 'bout no watch or no cars neither

Everything will get copped at Allah's leisure

Was a crack monster, I had the hard fever

Switch from the bald head to the dark Caesar

Used to be the capsules, now they love the plastics

I ain't tryna get caught up in this thug-rap shit (Never)

Rather be bumper-to-bumper in drug traffic

Cash on deck, whenever the plug ask, kid

You don't sweat the small things, they become drastic

Next thing is cremation or a casket

Fuck fallin' back, I need all of that

I need my name in the cocaine almanac

Jada – real dope boy, put me in the hall of smack

Went to job interviews, they ain't call us back (Hahaha)

Either way, I ain't never evil

Why do you think the streets love me? I ain't never leave 'em (Never)

Heart stops, but the words are forever breathing (Forever)

You hatin' 'cause we the best, find a better reason

[Verse 2: Fabolous]

First thing first, don't ever play yourself (Ever)

Oh, another thing, I ain't ever play myself (Never)

Even when they all changed up, I stayed myself (It's me)

Did what worked for me, then bossed up and paid myself (Woo)

See I’m showing the Piguet off, gave the Rollie a day off

Still got that work, I don't know about no layoffs (Nah)

Team still ballin', so I guess we in the playoffs (Swish)

Team full of baddies, all my bitches in a slay-off (Ahh)

See, we be in the party wasted, no part of fake shit (Yeah)

Nothin' but love 'round me, Cartier bracelets (Oh)

I feel like Frank White walkin' into Arty Clay shit (Oh)

You niggas got fat while everybody starved

My city don't sleep, I ain't ever noddin' off

When you're in the Benz, it piss everybody off

So I ain't stall, I do me, I ain't y'all (Nah)

This New York, nigga – let 'em hang, giant balls (Ahh)

Odell Beckham – respect him, you can't check him (You can't)

Blindside hoes hit me when I don't expect 'em (Hey bighead)

Then I hit 'em with the curve from the major league (Hol' up)

Gotta wait your turn, that's a major key

[Verse 3: Fat Joe]

Mami yellin' I'm the greatest, back to back with the slow cum

In the lane, I got her so strung

I don't even know her

Every night I meet a new wife

Now ask your wife what this dick like

Balmain Joe, every time you see, a nigga flee

Mr. Officer, I was only grabbin' ID

Mami only listen to Romeo

Wild cowboy, I be speakin' through the yayo

'Bout to let the cans go, woah

Fuck your bitch and let your mans know, so

Yeah, now it's the Don in the Don, couple laughs in the Uber

Only drivin' Uber 'cause I'm franchised in Cuba

This is big money talk and you tied to the sideline

Brian Scalabrine, niggas always tryna high five

Gotta stay away from they driftin' – all sauce

Every day Vera Wang, nigga – cloth talk

[Verse 4: Busta Rhymes]

(The Conglomerate)

Now I'm takin' over everything, like that's my callin'

Wakin' up in pussy like beautiful Sunday mornin'

Now we swimmin' in the money like a line of dolphins (Closed caskets, nigga)

Prepare for killin', now please line up all of the coffins (Closed caskets, nigga)

Think we playin'? Niggas think it's funny?

Pop you in your shit, brotha, now make room for the money – MOVE!

If you don't make room, I'll beat a nigga past painful

Make a fool of yourself, I'll beat you past shameful

I get this bread and shine like an angel

One of the last with bars, you niggas better be grateful

(Thank you so much)

I Diddy bop and drop on you niggas

I count bread and take it to the top on you niggas (Mountaintop)

"Blah blah blah blah," you sound alike, my niggas

"Blah, blah," but when I do it, I finesse, I got it locked, my niggas

I give you new brand shit, fuck you gon' do?

And know we love the boom bap, oh yeah, we do this too

Yeah, fuck with the realer side, oh, you against us, nigga?

You better run and hide, until I'm finished, nigga

Don't play yourself

Play yourself and lay yourself dead in a casket

Pray yourself, end in a basket

Hate yourself

'Cause you ain't ask if you could possess you a heater

Or you could be you a leader for the people

You talk a lot, I've seen the truth like Sevyn Streeter

Don't you ever play yourself

[Verse 5: Kent Jones]

I saw a lot of niggas fade out right after I put my tape out

I offered to help you shape up

I see that you'd rather flake out

Sellin' stories on them tracks

That nobody can seem to make out

That's why I keep a good Head and Shoulders

To keep all the flakes out

Seen a lot of singles chart on and off durin' the climb up

I bet if I had the clippers, they prolly all had a line-up

You worried 'bout your followers, so hurt when I follow up

It's the ones with the most pride, end up bein' the swallowers

Fuck "a beat for a verse" when I could do all three

No pop artist, but Pop is what you rappers do call me

A lot of washed out niggas tryna find hope in

I'm just tryna raise a son like my blinds' open

I know the hood well, but glad I ain't stuck in the streets

I'm pop chartin', but hood niggas got my song on repeat

I'm still loaded with illest ammo up under the seat

I'm playin' hopscotch with all the charts up under my feet

While you do it for the 'Gram, I do it for my Grammy

Fuck a gold trophy, I'm talkin' my mom's mammy (Haha)

You gotta finish bigger than you start

Or fall victim to bench stories, you ain't even part of it all

Start from the bottom or–oh, please, don't start at all

I build a ship just to survive my own flood, I feel like Noah

Cause all he had was little rocks, an ark, and saw

Road to riches, I'm still in gear while you park your car

Your baby wanna get nailed in the sprinter Lexus

Text back and told her, "Please be hammered, so you can sex us"

My arm strong, if Louisiana then tell her Texas

And if it's not immediate, then don't even send a message

F.Y.I. – I'll be free 'round 2 or 3

And two things you gotta be, uh, New Orleans

I'm an organ donor, I'm alive with no heart in me

So never say my name in vain

'Cause, bitch – there's no arteries

Jones