Big Pokey & Chris Ward

Don't Play
[talking:] I don't play, make way AK, Sensei [Big Pokey:] Pimping ain't a thang, so I swang on these youngsters I bang on these heffers, and make these hoes swim The bitch can't swim, she's bound to drown A crock might lock on, and spin her round and round Thirteen can't find me, I drowned the hounds Put the weed in the commode, and drown the pounds Fo' hundred rounds, two two-hundred clips Whoever my target is, gon do two hundred flips My 15's bang, like two hundred Crips On your block, sounding like two hundred whips My pockets swoll, like they done two hundred dips And I don't use money clips, just plastic bags These niggaz jumping fly, but they crashing fast Don't make me tell my set snipers, to blast the Mags I'm a toe tagger, move 'fore that ass get dagged Pistol whipped, stomped and whipped I don't play [Hook x2:] I don't play, one deep I'll rock your block Make way, it's the cat that they got to stop AK, that's for cats that don't like to box SongtexteSensei, I'm a crock bull I got's to lock [Big Pokey:] Hard times and pain, got a nigga mind locked I'm frustrated, about to pull that iron out I'm trying not, to lose my cool But I'ma grind it out, I refuse to lose And I'm a hog dog, and do what I do You better watch out, 'fore I do it to you Cause when I come through, your do' on the lake It's feather weight, letting off eight in your chest plate Might choke your scwol, till the tramp suffocate Then C4 the place, cause that'll close the case I rock glocks, I don't fuck with beepers I pull boulders out my sneakers, and feed deakers I rap now nigga, I bleed speakers Majors trying to peep us, FED's trying to keep us Treat us how you meet us, real know real Take it how it come, nigga move up the field [Hook x2] [Big Pokey:] M.O.B. me, I'm the Boss of the click I'm in the kitchen tossing a brick, my ounces are thick All I need is pyrex gaws, to fork all with I'm throwing hard to the block, like Bret Favre or Vick I got a mean gauge game, my Revolver sick It keep throwing up bullets, my Revolver sick Don't involve your click, them niggaz'll get it I run with a mobbish click, them niggaz is with it Niggaz get hit, when I cock my fo' back Franko chain and a fitted, when I rock my throwback I keep it gutter, ounces of yay like toast I keep it butter, big ol' slab when I cut her I come from the street nigga, in a hard way Is how I eat niggaz, so you know I might cheat niggaz Light on my feet nigga, hands like pipes Break niggaz off, and it's on on sight nigga [Hook x4] [talking:] Make way nigga, straight up I'm coming at ya, I ain't stopping You know me, M.O.B. I don't play make way, AK Senei Aus Songtexte Mania