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