Playas Only (Single Version)

Lyrics

[Intro: Don Mykel & Dyme-A-Duzin] …soul lil baby …you know lil baby (Young Dyma) (Swank Sinatra) (You invited to the barbeque) (Crown fried) (Playas only) (Sheesh) Dyma, uh [Verse 1: Dyme-A-Duzin] Picture me rollin' A spliff bigger than BIG's fingers Mind frame aimed at the land of the big spenders Wrist on froze, oh my God, did it hit winter? Album bout to drop this fall, it's a hit, nigga I'm tired of these clowns, this is it Won the Olympics need a Gold medal, endless Crown chicken and thick strippers The living in their lyrics is fictitious, I'm authentic It's not a role, if the boy said it, I just did it Bridging these gaps too big for britches Flow Chris Rivers, a lil pun No way I can spark anticipation and then show up to the station like I'm Biggie's son Make too many bands for you to send me on a Diddy run Seasoned, see why I can feel some type of way Giving singers and MCs that roam my streets the light of day The reason for Dymez by the duzin, the Don of this shit Astonishin';astronomical, the dollars thats spent', illogical My only goals to uplift 'em, inspire the gifted, never Settle for less in this wicked land that we live in If getting paid in blue Benjamins to focus, I'm the only elite Train for the Wimbledon, streets claiming my innocence Damn I swear this shit got me feelin just like Sha'Carri Talented and black, knowing most could never come near me Dealing in industries insensitive to our feelings In the process of adaptin', they after me tryna [kill me] [Verse 2: Rome Streetz] Players only, macaroni All facts while your bitch wan kick back and mac on Romey Been shinin hoes call me Goldie Name ringing all over the internet like the best goalie So it's a large fee for the flow, pay the dough, b Get the picture like Adobe The dough be, on my mind Potent OG left my crown fried We two kings in a county, Rome Streetz and Dymes A dozen hoes tryna slide out their underclothes I put 'em in a figure ford then I vamanos 4 figures for the clothes and it's Abilos When niggas punch out your fit then it's adios (run it) Be with hats and locs, out for blue notes On the side, niggas shootin like cool coach Over bread, they grip triggers on a new toast Light you up like national grid, then they get ghost