Artist/Band:
Lloyd Banks
Lyrics for Song: Playboy
Lyrics for Album: Hunger for more [2004]
[Intro - DJ Whoo Kid]
Aw man, can I get a raw please
Y'all ready, for the main event...
DAMN, LLOYD, BANKS
[Verse 1 - Lloyd Banks]
Guess who's the man this winter, straight out the land of sinners
The ranger's tan wit spinners, check out the white wheels
Roll wit the damn winners, or you and your man's finished
You and your ram's fitteds, turn off the light switch
Holdin my torch down, even when the force 'round
You let your wife roam, she want a divorce now
You niggaz ain't this gully, playin to paint ya skully
You'll never take this from me, the riders and all the gangstas from me
You shouldnt be a problem, I ain't be a problem
See ya later I read your head, you be a rodman
I know your type, hoppin all over the beach screamin
You call it hypin yourself up, I call it street dreamin
I do it for all of the haters, the playas roll wit the gators
They lookin foward to favors, gossip is all they gave us
You niggaz wasn't quiet, meet the whales and the fishes
You lit the precinct up, playin tattle-tail wit the snitches
Even my momma knows, I got all kinda hoes
They wait outside the shows, stripped after the diner close
Out their designer clothes, without the winer rules
Take off my baby blue mink, and carolina boots
C'mere, take a look inside an entertainer's closet
I never trust a bitch, I blame Lorainna Bobbit
Niggaz stay and pocket, I know you mad at me
But shit ain't peaches 'n' cream, and I ain't Sarah Lee bitch
[Chorus]
Don't ice me, you starin at the wrong one
There's alot of girls here, go and get up on one
We at the bar poppin, bottles till they all gone
If you aint leavin here wit us, you can walk home
Cause someone else will, they know how we ride
If you a playboy, you got one on each side
Keep your mouth closed, we don't let the beef ride
Ride... ride... ride
DAMN, LET'S GO
(Verse 2)
I do this for the hood, niggaz stuck in the slammer
I smile cause I'm good, you act tough for the camera
Where I'm from the little kids, they fuckin wit'santa
Cause they like 2Pac more, word?, word to my grandma
I figure I might as well leave here wit my glock drawn
Cause they'll take you to jail even when you're not wrong
Dawg you're not this flashy, but you got to blast me
Every rock is classy, nobody on your block can match me
You shouldn't want a fight, unless you wanna fight
For your life in a hospital 100 nights
I know your type, run behind your girlfriend rushin
You call it quality time, I call it handcuffin
I'm on the beach of miami, cellular reachin my family
All weekend wit panties, from Puerto Rican candy
You niggaz wasn't tough, I shoulda snapped some flicks
You wore your pants tight, play pitty-pat wit the chicks
Even my father knows, where the revolver goes
I bring the beef to your front door like dominoes
And my diamonds froze, that means my time froze
We in the club from when its poppin, till when the time its closed
Half of these so-called real niggaz can hardly sing
Naw I ain't pullin over, learnt that from Rodney King
So tell your homey chill, you know I hold it still
Everything ain't jabs and hooks, and you ain't holyfield nigga
[Chorus]
Don't ice me, you starin at the wrong one
There's alot of girls here, go and get up on one
We at the bar poppin, bottles till they all gone
If you aint leavin here wit us, you can walk home
Cause someone else will, they know how we ride
If you a playboy, you got one on each side
Keep your mouth closed, we don't let the beef ride
[Outro]
Everybody on the left get your hands up
Everybody on the right get your hands up
Everybody up front get your hands up
And everybody out back get your hands up
And if you in here wit a strap get your hands up
NOW PUT 'EM UP, PUT 'EM UP
What? Man fuck what he said
NOW PUT 'EM UP, PUT 'EM UP
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