lirik lagu skilla baby – detroit playa
[intro]
huh?
(okay jones)
huh?
[verse]
i get real money, these n~ggas gon’ k!ll for me
my daddy sold dope, my auntie was a real junkie
if i want, i’ll take it, ain’t gon’ steal nothin’
the music make the pill money look like deal money
i know if n~ggas sin for me, we gon’ win somethin’
she gon’ treat you like a lame if you don’t spin nothin’
me and brother split it fifty~fifty, we gon’ get money
the first fiend i od’d gave me a sick stomach
i got a cold b~tch, i got a froze wrist
that boy cannot compete with me, he ain’t sold sh~t
a hundred~thousand~dollar kit, i bought my own sh~t
i got ‘bows in, it look likе i sold bricks
i got a fetish for fashion, prada my shoes
if you snitch, get your rat ass bl!ckеd, you know the rules
r.i.p. to nip, i got a pocket full of blues
play with us and put n~ggas on the news, no kizzy
i don’t fake kick it with no n~gga, don’t care who he is
started with a zip of dope, i turned that to a bid
a lot of n~ggas tough until they gotta do a bid
catch a n~gga out and put a bullet through his lid
all my b~tches pretty, thicker than tahiri, huh?
audemars piguet, all my pants mike amiri
i was done rappin’, my young n~ggas say they wanna hear me
don’t hang with a lot of rappers, real street n~ggas only
leave the studio at two o’clock and pull up to the coney
i know real tweakers, they’ll run up on you for your rollie
i provide the guns for the slide, they come with the stollie
huh? huh? nowadays, we call ’em strikers
backwoods, ’42, and fried chicken in my rider
b~tch sn~tcher, lil’ boy, i’m takin’ your b~tch if i like her
to the mall, buy her somethin’ that you can’t afford to buy her
real city n~gga, that’s just how them boys raised
add some more diamonds to my neck when that pressure on
all my b~tches bad as f~ck, i ain’t hittin’ regular hoes
b~tches ratted out, n~ggas rats, where is pest control?
open up a stadium when i point the bl!cky at his dome
i don’t like out of town, i’m only comfortable at home
if i start robbin’ these outsiders, i’d be wrong
i like city b~tches, out of town b~tches leave me ‘lone
young n~gga, i like all my hoes grown
[outro]
(okay jones)
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