[Mo B. Dick]   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      [Master P]   (Uhhhhhh) 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 C, did a song last week with my nigga Bun B   Twistin on some green spinach   And niggas still trippin, I aint dead, I'm still in it      [Mo B. Dick]   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       [Silkk The Shocker]   See pockets full of dollars already stacked strong gangsta leaning sideways   Today aint 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 cant 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      [Mo B. Dick]   Playa, play on   I can't hate you homie   Playa, play on   I can't hate you homie      [Lil' Gotti Gambino]   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 dont 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      [Mo B. Dick]   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