About This Track
"We Don't Play That" is a track by Jim Jones, from the album Miami Vampin, released 2015. Full lyrics are available below.
About the Artist
Lyrics
[Chorus:] They say [words unclear] I like my bitches by the toast I pay three hundred for the fame And now my niggas gonna show We don't play that(bodies on top of bodies) (Bodies on top of bodies) We don't play that (Bodies on top of bodies, bodies on top of bodies) We don't play that(all I see is blood and murder) (And bodies on top of bodies) We don't play that (All I see is blood and murder, and bodies on top of bodies) We don't play that [Verse 1:] Maseratis on Maseratis Morazi's and more Moradies Hotties on top of hotties That’s a body on top of body I ran shotty and I gotta shotty Got ladders on top of ladders Keep the cat on top of bladder And I drop it bad where it doesn't matter, nigga Wearing cappa now matching robbers To play, imma catch a body I pull up, I drive up, the choppers They pouncing, the kilos, don’t tell nobody Put a beam on a fucking shotty That coke we sell in Mali I need a lot of money, don’t play with that bag Cause tomorrow I go see Pappy For the two five, hit him with the tek shot Run down when I’m trying to get the best shot For them Benz I hit him with the hay shot We’d a made a hundred Benz at the next spot If you put it on the script, make sure the bread coming back The chemical nigga, dump the lead off the strap Just got word that the feds coming back Imma hold them with some dose and drugs in the back [Chorus] [Verse 2:] I’m all in the biz with my feeder Running my fingers through a C-cup Sipping my drink out a tea cup You bitch won’t fuck with a G huh? Nigga I show you, probably got a half of the ton Let a nigga get none, same color Seek some , hope another trap in town Let a young nigga get none I put bodies on bodies Seeing shooters on shooters I put hitters on hitters, and killers that kill us We load up them choppas Then we hop on like ninjas that never surrender No pris for reason, that three how he handle his business I never look slapping, I’m leaving no winners I bow with the oak on the ginny Bodies on top of bodies Shoot up them motherrati [?[ on barrel like old Jorabi When I’m on the block, I feel like Shaqueil You flexing on Twitter that beef ain’t for real I’m still in the hood, and I’m keeping it real I don’t know what you want But I’m showing it kill [Chorus]
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