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Remix Hot runners My nigga TL Uh, MF shit, uh uh Like that here, uh Aleta! [Chorus] Yo who them playas makin money now? (Yeah that's us) Wrist glis when its sunny now (Yeah that's us) Cristal at the bar now (Yeah that's us) 20 inches on the car now (Yeah that's us) But who them playas most hated now? (Yeah that's us) Straight from the hood but we made it now (Yeah that's us) Plaques platinum plated now (Yeah that's us) MF come on baby say it now (Yeah that's us) [Spade] Ayo yeah that's us We leave the lanes in the back Play the range wit the rack Or the Benz wit the hatch Chrome the rims to match Wit that shit in the ear Yeah that's us fresh dressed when its jiggy affairs Cause I'm a hot boy Letras de cancionesStayin warm in a cold land Wit the D on any baller wit a cold hand Die young? I wanna be a rich old man Two grand, blue and tan Picture me rollin [Dutch] Yeah that's U to the S M to the F Niggas hate us Cause we are what they tryin to be It's us again BET, videos, and broads It's us again Billboards, stares gettin hard It's our time Land jets on and off Girl where you wanna go? Aint to worry bout the cost S-5 wit the cranberry gloss Double nadas on top of it all [Chorus] [Bumpie Johnson] Yeah that's B-U-M-P-I-E You know how I be playa Slanted eye 5 Bandana high tied Goddamn it I'm fly! Keep the stash in the car Blow stacks at the bar Jewels rock Don't know? Better ask who we are Hard as shit Hate to see me ballin, bitch Pinky rings get "ooohs" But they applaud the wrist Standin O for the chain I floss the pits Only fuck wit the Figgas I aint got no friends Who dem playas waitin for yo ass in a parked Benz? Turn yo head Think we floggin out But we them same cats that be ridin out While you all up in the bar on your fake ass hemi rot Run up the in the bar give you a real ass semi-shot In this game niggas can't be trust Who them playas comin for the title? [Chorus] [Bianca] First bitch Never salute me as a lady Glass tint, pass vent Jag coupe doin 80, shit Yall know the name Nigga the first and the last For all of that I draw back The first one to blast See I blow high, blow pie All on yo set Sho shot, throw rocks All on the neck The show stop When we ball in the 'vettes Eleven karats on the chest And it's all in bigettes [Gillie] Last but not least The Kid on that Philly shit Nine milli on the hip Know the name Gillie, Beitch! Like Trinidad Stick the jab Back these niggas off me Spin the jag Sugar white Slippers glossy Link flossy Wheel tinted Bitches salty All they see is a mink hood over the baldy Then blazin We drop, yall see nathan Fuckin wit M dot F, the amazin, shit [Chorus] MF, future of the rap game Yeah that's us at the bar Yeah that's us wearin watches you can't even tell the time on, that's us If you lookin around and you wonder why its like it is its cause of us So either roll over or get rolled over, playboy That's the way its gonna be in 2000 You know they gonna feel this one From Letras Mania