We Don't Play That - Jim Jones, Trav, Yd

They say

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

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

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