Bay Area Playaz - JT The Bigga Figga

Ay, what’s up, man?

To all my Bay Area muthafuckin' playas, mayne

I wanna send a shout out and just say 'one love' to all y’all, mayne

Keep pimpin' a hoe

Nevertheless, though, it’s that JD muthafucka comin' strictly outta Fillmoe,

mayne

And y’all gon' love me when I drop this new shit

I’m still milking y’all like cereal, nigga, E.N.E.S.E.A.T

Financial status for Seff is looking slim

Should I grab the sack, post up over by the gym?

Every day that I maintain, evil thoughts pollute my brain

Should I grab the mic or should I go and grab the 'caine?

True to the game, so many know of my authority

Straight up out the left, it’s Get Low Playaz less Priority

San Francisco, Cali, FilthyMoe, that is my area

Tryna gain some stripes with the strike and I’ma bury ya

Now I’ve been fuckin' around with these Bay Area players for quite some time

That nigga peepin' the game, about my fetti, and I ain’t getting bigger

In the industry, they’ll remember when I spark

Ant D.O.G. in your deck while you chillin' at the park

Ain’t it wasn’t no lying the way I defined a hustler

A nigga that’s deep on game, Northern Bay ballin' bubbler

Ain’t it a shame how their game stay the same

Along with these real niggas 'cause only them fakers change

Define me as a hustler, mayne, young nigga in the game

Selling better than cocaine, I put that on my family name

Other players did the same

Made some mail, ghetto fame

Wanna plea, who’s to blame? Now they found ain’t nothing changed

Niggas out to flip it quick 'cause ain’t no time just to kick it

If she can’t make them riches, y’all best shake them bitches

Hustle cash, dividends, buy that house you living in

Young Ray Luv, LC and Bay Area player 'til the end, nigga

Well, if you did not know, the Heatman’s gon' wreck shop

Keep on dropping this until I get all my props

From the East O, Killa Cali, where dope fiends will rock you

And leave you shot in the alley, 'cause ain’t no time to play

In the vicinity of the Bay

Area playas and Pizzo smoke nothing but indo stuffed in a green leaf Vega

Comin' out the Bay, we got those players and those player haters, biatch

Night and day, I think about money to make

Pimp shit raps and mac beat breaks

Daytons and Vogues, scandalous hoes

Bitches when they see me getting freaky at shows

Young niggas like myself getting major paid

P.H.'n ass bustas with their scandalous ways

Messy muthafuckas spreading rumors

And them punk police that be lovin' to do ya

I wonder why they wanna shut me down

Jealousy is like a doozy running through my town

You could bet your life that a sucker gon' save her

How can you say you got game and you be hatin' a player?

Straps on top of straps to get your money on

Overcoming obstacles so we could carry on

Game tight when things get hectic

Coming up so fast, so unexpected

In Fillmore, Cali, we maneuver to pursue the top notch status

Which consist of living lavish, it’s some suckers and some savages

The savages is having it, establisihing their paper

From slanging crack to pulling jacks and even major capers

No one’s catching the vapors

Came up in the game and flipped some thangs

And dissed you player haters who can’t maintain but still they claim

They top notch, equivalent to highest?

Yo, Trev the G from the KLP is among the nation’s finest

Delinquents, outta control, going nation

Predicted by radio station but destined to be the shit on compilation

You gots to be about your scrilla, but niggas ain’t never came realer

Than them dank or die killers

And the niggas in the Bay, they feel us

Simp ass pimp on a punk ass bitch

Quick to shelter two hoe shit

Heater light your ass like BIC

Then take your broads 'cause it’s the shit

It’s Delin-Q-U-E-N-T, we’re flossing major

It’s the East Oakland flavor, kicking it with Get Low Playaz

Well, it’s that TRU player Master P

Kickin' it in Fillmoe with that young nigga JT

I’m from the Rich, got the town

Where them niggas smoke weed and get danked out

They gets mad 'cause I’m rich and famous

Riding on Daynas but P’s still a fuckin' gangsta

Cuttin' up ki’s in the kitchen

Counting riches, and fuckin' bitches

Elevate after I meditate, now watch you get blazed

Contemplated 'bout my scrilla so I had to paid

It don’t matter, so get to the spot and I might get wit’cha

Get 'em up from the back, I’m the one with the sack

So take that fuckin' picture

So I can hit ya, millimeter-meter, you know they won’t stop playin'

Mini-Mac 10, you might not wanna take that ride because they ready to lay ya

Because these niggas from the Bay don’t play

We gots to get our paper each and every fuckin' day

See, it’s the nigga with the gat blastin', checking cash in

But right now a nigga flashin'

Thinkin' about them bustas, hoe trusters, infiltrators

Mack killer player haters

See, I got that Glock that go pop when a nigga like blast, nigga

My shit hit like the muthafuckin' Task, nigga

Ask my homie JT

Can you fade me when a nigga like workin' with .380?

Kickin' up the dust but on the daily I bust

Whenever the microphone disperses, we game tight with verses

Rehearse this for factors, dispose of these jackers

These hard times, these actors

Chapters to make me smack the

Checks break necks and run in the 'jects, pack TECs

And cover their bets, no sweats

And rippin' the sets now best

You can get yourself together, whatever

'Cause players in the Bay, we stick together on a muthafuckin' daily

Biatch!