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YUNG JOC : Don't Play Wit It lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

YUNG JOC lyrics : "Don't Play Wit It"

(feat. Big Gee)

[Yung Joc:]

What it is man (sup?)
Yung Joc, Block Entertainment
Yeah, you wan' know somethin? (What'chu wanna know ^!$$%?)

I'ma take this mother$#&@in time to let y'all ^!$$%z know
I'm tired of playin games.. I'm tired of playin wit'chu man
(Preach on) Y'all ^!$$%z comin up short on your money

Your re-up %#@! ain't right (nope, nope)
Your grams off ^!$$%, get that %#@! right
(Tell 'em shawty) Let me talk to y'all


This ain't make believe so why the $#&@ is you playin
You better listen close to what the $#&@ I'm sayin

Cause really all it takes is a couple grand
Like AT&T I reach out and I touch a man
Or I can let it go cause it ain't nuttin man

But naw it's the principle so $#&@ what you sayin
E'ry dollar I want it, e'ry dime I need that
So when it's time to break bread gimme no feedback (shhh)

Cause you don't want to piss me off
Nine get to poppin' like we poppin' cristal
See I cain't help it, that's just how we get down

Let off a couple rounds, turn your smile to a frown
Yeahhh I know, you think I'm bluffin
'Til I kick the do' and the goons they rush in

Lay down on the flo' where you keep the [email protected]%!e in
You say "I don't know" then your blood start gushin


[Chorus x2: Yung Joc]
I done told your $$# once (once) told your $$# twice (twice)
$#&@in with my paper, you're $#&@in wit'cha life (wit'cha life)

Gone play with it (blam) gone play with it (blam)
Gone play with it (blam) ^!$$% gone play with it (blam)


[Big Gee:]
Here he come once again Mr. Murder Man
Smokin on the purple bad, pistol in my other hand

$#&@in with my rubberbands get your $$# murdered fast
Chop you up and chop ya, then stuff ya in a duffel bag
Ride wit'cha in the trunk 'til ya smellin bad

Get your daughter after class, ride by snatch her $$#
I know a #[email protected] ^!$$% owe me a couple stack
Pop him like he never had, but the ^!$$% holdin back (nah)

I ain't trippin now I'm lettin 'em pass, got that $$#
So I'm in the good, ^!$$% smokin like a thermostat
Flashin hella stacks, pie ^!$$% Pontiac

Actin for these hoes with my money, what kinda %#@! is that?
I ain't feelin that, pay me for my $#&@in pack
E'ry dime off e'ry zone, don't gimme that (nah)

See it time for the chrome, go on pull it out
Sad Sunday service for the sucker in the parking lot


[Chorus]

[Yung Joc:]

Better know the repercussions $#&@in with my dividends
Yeah I got a hitman for the hitmen
Leave your baby mamma numb in the Dodge Mini Van

If ye ain't tryin to see it I suggest you start prayin
All I'm sayin; don't try to play me like I'm soft
Treat you like mosquitoes when I skeet you with that Off

That Joc crawl blood, ^!$$% call me Red Cross
Leave your wig leakin like you spilled spaghetti sauce


[x2:]
$#&@in with my paper - ye ain't right
I'ma send them gators - in the middle of the night

Let 'em split your tater - in front your wife
No one can save ya - put out your lights


[Chorus]

[voice speaking over Chorus: to end]

C'mon man
That ain't how you do the %#@! bruh
Out'chea playin with a ^!$$% money and %#@!
That ain't the %#@! to be $#&@in with
It's hard out'chea in these streets ^!$$%

$#&@in people $#&@in wit'cha
^!$$%z rattin and %#@!
That ain't what's up dawg
It's the big dawg Diesel
Yung Joc in the building, ya heard me?

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