Playaz from the South lyrics

by

Master P


[Verse 1: Bun B]
Well live and direct, break yo neck to get a peep
Of a true and livin' Goddamn fool
I came to sweep you off yo Goddamn feet
Now pass that Sweet and get back
Lookin' for action, retaliation, and reaction
That's where that sh*t at
Click-clack, that's that pistol
Bullets cuttin' wind, make a f*cked up ass whistle
You know it's yo' dismissal
Now this'll nip it in the bud
For my brothers in the pen
Every day I gots to bust two nuts n*gga, what
I put it down, keep puttin' it down
So I advise hoes to not f*ck around
This that Underground
b*tch you couldn't cut the sound
Would blow up, hold up
Wrong move, but it's time
To call the first family to handle these n*ggas
Because we are the worst
You b*tch n*ggas laid yo' eyes on
I'm so fo' sure
That these G's goin' 4 fo' 4, and blow for blow
It's Silkk, Master P, and U.G.K
Front door, front row, slow it down ho, you know
[Hook: Master P]
Playaz from the South stack G's
Flippin' tight on that white
With that Candy on them gold D's
Playaz from the South stack G's
Flippin' tight on that white
With that Candy on them gold D's
Playaz from the South stack G's
Flippin' tight on that white
With that Candy on them gold D's
Playaz from the South stack G's
Flippin' tight on that white
With that Candy on them gold D's

[Verse 2: Master P]
Fools hate the P cause I'm 'bout it ('bout it)
I got them black soldiers on and I'm rowdy
Ready to bust on the n*gga that talkin' sh*t
I'm bad, like Jason
Don't compare with them other n*ggas
'Cause I ain't freebasin'
Y'all n*ggas gone on that fried black
I had f*cked mo' n*ggas in the game than a quarterback
I got them G's, them killers, them keys
I'm f*ckin' doublin' them D's
I'm triplin' them T's
Tryin' to make this dope into quarter keys
Ask me where I'm from, New Orleans (New Orleans)
Where them n*ggas in the projects be ballin' (ballin')
Slangin' that Iceberg and Plirens
Runnin' from the sirens
Don't know how to comp
But work the f*ck out a triple beam
Eliminate n*ggas like Calgon (Calgon)
If there was a motherf*ckin' band I'd be a baritone
See the P is from that motherf*ckin' Calliope (Calliope)
Where them n*ggas boot up and gold teeth
Don't give a f*ck about a ho
And n*ggas stuntin' on that water (water)
You know we 'bout it, 'bout it
Don't give a f*ck about seein' no motherf*ckin' tomorrow
And won't stop, send me to the pen
I won't stop 'til them motherf*ckin' Saints go marchin' in
[Hook]

[Silkk the Shocker]
1-2-3, you know Silkk a G (G)
All about that motherf*ckin' mail (mail)
Gold on my ride, front, back, side-to-side
You know a n*gga all about them sales
I don't f*ck around with them n*ggas that front and stunt
n*gga ain't ask yo b*tch ass to come
I'm from that Third Ward n*gga (Uptown)
In other words I run this sh*t right chea'
For them n*ggas that boast, I be like blast it
Watch the ground gets full of smoke
And watch y'all get ghost like Casper
sh*t ain't gonna f*ckin' change n*gga
Uh, I think not
'Cause I be on the same block, same house
Same spot, same Glock, cook more rock
f*ck what ya heard recognize what I be sayin'
b*tch ain't gon' never gon' die
So when U.G.K, Master P called me up
Be on Down South Hustlers, I wasn't surprised
'Cause I'mma be the man to stand
I'm bound to make a mill'
Whoop, there it is y'all haven't heard
But y'all b*tches will
Believe me, I got two for three, four for five
Holla at cha' boy if ya need me
And b*tch I'm out
[Hook]

[Pimp C]
Now if ya gave me a Sweet for every b*tch that I f*cked
You'd have to bring four eighteen wheelers
Fill em' from back to front
'Cause I'm Pimp C b*tch, ain't no mistakin'
n*ggas tryin' to get the cheese
But b*tch I'm gettin' the bacon
And wood and candy just an every day thing rubbin' bud
Because she like the way that fifth wheel
And that grill look
'Cause I be comin' down, n*gga my heart be true
I'm f*ckin' ya boo, I'm bumpin' that Screw
n*gga what's up with you
I left it wet for ya n*gga, he had it comin' though
I represent my sh*t 'cause n*gga I can't be no ho
And just because we do perform
b*tches be thinkin'
That we don't have a f*ckin' pocket full of stones
I done drunk Miller with killers
Sipped syrup with murderers
Keepin' food in my mouth
In case you b*tches ain't heard of us
n*gga, I live for the rush, I live for the crush
I'm down with Ricky Royal and the motherf*ckin' Flush
Yeah, and the motherf*ckin' Organized Noize boy, what's up

[Hook x4]

[Outro: Pimp C]
Now I got holla at Port Arthur
And all them motherf*ckin' n*ggas in Texas
Know what I'm talkin' about
I know n*ggas be hollerin' Texas
Just because it rhymes with Lexus
But see, we just cool like that
And uh understand that, uh
It ain't all about this rap boy
I'm tellin' you, I'm tellin' you, I told you, huh
Comin' down boy, fifth wheel
Grill, candy, ha ha
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