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"We Don't Play" lyrics by STYLES P
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"We Don't Play"
[feat. Lloyd Banks]

[Styles P:]
Do the same thing, get the same results!
Creepin' like Batman, stronger than The Hulk.
Runnin' to the bank teller dump it for the vault;
On my "Town" shit, Ben Affleck. - Whole nigga cause
Most men just half-step,
I ride hard, Motherfucker and I ain't crash yet.
You don't know or you do know.
I'm like Mario Puzo with Cujo!
You don't get it? I'm a prolific animal. - Every verse flammable!
Weird like Murdoch. - Thinkin' like Hannibal!
Man like Face but I'm wild like B.A.
Bullet to your head when you talkin' to the D.A.
Talkin' to the judge, - and I be in the cab
Cause I think the car bugged. - I don't play with hard luck!
Killin' your homeboy, now you call it hard love;
Treat you like a blunt how I'm gettin' you sparked up!

[Chorus: Lloyd Bank$]
Nigga we don't play! - We handle problems the worst way
We'll get you shot, stabbed, robbed on your birthday!
Nigga you ain't got no bidness 'round here in the first place;
Look at everybody chillin'! - Well fuck that!
I'm a play the villain. - Fuck that! - I'm here to make a killin'
All money's good money, weed and liquor stealin'!
Small money, tall money, nigga we want it all;
Left hand on the wheel. - Other hand on the drawer!

[Lloyd Bank$:]
Nino icepick through your writin' hand
Heart like a rock, hard to drop like Spider-Man.
Park your pretty cars up. - Hop inside the rider van;
Punctuate you lung for a couple hundred dollars, fam'!
Drive of a street lord. - Knowledge of a college man;
Almighty dollars get you dead, make your momma plan.
Nuttin' like the sound of dough. - I'm a make the commas dance;
Numbers jump high numb and drunk in my drama stance!
The no fly zone. - You don't get a city chance;
Show up at your show, make you hoes piss your skinny pants.
I'm with Sammy so my haters can't stand me
And jam me! - I'm runnin' niggaz over like Brandy.
Mother-fuck a Grammy! - Give me weed and eye candy;
Coca-Cola daughter, pussy from a very nice family.
Won't last steppin' in the street without the swammy;
From SouthDide to Y.O. - niggaz die daily!


[Styles P:]
I'm hard and the problem like algebra;
Only use the gun if it's a high enough caliber.
You ain't a "Dodge" car, and you ain't no "Challenger"
Play witcha life, nigga, but you ain't no gambler!
Die any day of the week. - Go get a calendar!
Harder than Russian Roulette. - Nigga fuck a Gilette!
I take a gun and put a buck to your neck
Or.50 to your grill, bring the blicky to the hill!
These young niggaz is buggin'. - Tipsy off the pills,
I bring the fire like a motherfuckin' Bic lighter.
Paper shredder eraser to any sick writer;
Ghost is Apocalypse; - holdin' your esophagus!
Runnin' through the shit like a motherfuckin' rhinoceros.
Nasty like a hippo is. - Show you what a sicko is!
Barrel to your girl clit. - Bitch, is you ticklish?
You gon' fuck around and get - burned like syphilis!


[Beat fades-out]

[Thanks to Big TaMá$ for these lyrics]

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