Burbons And Lacs Lyrics - Master P

This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac's 

With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back 

This is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macks 

With the Benz makin' ends I mean them paper stacks 

This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac's 

With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back 

This is for the players smokin' doolamac 

Slappin' skins, makin' dividends and riding strapped 

(Uh) wood grain with the leather seats 

Windows so dark you need a flashlight to see me 

Smokin' on that doshia, four niggas in the back screaming No Limit soldiers! 

True to the gizzame, stopped in the projects, sold a half an ounce of cocaine 

Hit interstate ten, to Texas 

Listening to DJ Screw just raised the Lexus 

Called up Pimp see, did a song last week with my nigga Bun be 

Twistin' on some green spinach 

And niggas still trippin', I ain't dead, I'm still in it 

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This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac's 

With the tens and twelves bumpin in the back 

This is for the players, hustlas, pimps and macks 

With the Benz makin ends and them paper stacks 

See pockets full of dollars already stacked strong gangsta leaning sideways 

Today ain't Friday, ten it is and today is my day 

Take it from mister high spoke rider 

Cadillac Suburban driver, pussy diver 

Push the glock inside when I'm riding 

Flossing down the block, holla at my boys up in the third 

Got the latest word, swerve to the side of the curb 

A fiend that wanted me to serve him, I said bitch can't tell I'm off? 

But I still gave him five dollars to wipe my white walls 

And then I burst up out the block, dropped the top cause it was hot 

Hit the spot with the most hoes at the sideshow, abouts to plot 

Spin donuts, you know I'm macking, a straight up nigga 

Catch me spinnin', you can tell I was there cause I clocked smoke when I was finished 

I seen five-O, and man he tried to sweat me 

Thinkin' he'd be nice and all cause I gotta 185 in the hood 

And you know they can't catch me 

And if you see me chilling you can stop me 

But I keep that glock, 40 up on the dashboard you never know who might not be 

This is for the playas 

Photos 

Playa, play on 

I can't hate you homie 

Playa, play on 

I can't hate you homie 

Burbans and Lacs, mansions and bitches, money and weed 

A made life is all I dream, paper chasing for that green 

I'm thugging on the scene, nigga 

Whatcha don't believe, well check the credents, they'll tell ya 

A niggas living presidential, I'm on the level that you bustas will never feel 

My daughter thought I'd get caught up in the game and get killed 

But reverse that shit and hit the studio and make a mill 

For real, I'm slanging platinum shit until I'm old and ill 

Lil' Gotti, I'm gonna make you feel what I say, I got time to parlay 

Chill off in the bay, smoke some hay, I wouldn't have that shit no other way 

The made life, the game tight, No Limit for life 

This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac's 

With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back 

This is for the players smokin' doolamac 

With the Benz makin' ends I mean them paper stacks 

This is for the Burbans and the Cadillac's 

With the tens and twelves bumpin' in the back 

This is for the players smokin' doolamac 

With the Benz makin ends I mean them paper stacks 

Playa play on 

I can't hate you homie