We Don't Play chords by Mr. Criminal
Verse 1
Am
Dm
Am
Dm
I keep
Am
it gangsta with two pistols,
I could make you dance
Dm
to leave you crippled.
Am
Standing on the block with
a beam and a treble.
Dm
On the real, I've been on the bus
like a teenager with pimples.
Am
Ever since my adolescence,
money and gunplay
Dm
are the only two things that made sense.
Am
Knew my destiny was
bangin' since the playpen
Dm
Hit the state pen an d got laced
by some A -men
Am
Sometimes I can't
believe the cinnamon
Head smellin' with a Mac
Dm
11 under my Pendleton
Am
Vodka and orange juice with
a little bit of cinnamon
Dm
Two -striker, homie,
I ain't tryin' to hit the pen again
Am
Eastside us, empire riders
Dm
Screamin' fuck my enemies
and all these haters
Am
Keepin' it solid like concrete
While you soft like some downulators
Dm
You can try if you want,
but you can never fade us
Am
Homie, we all play
Dm
In the land of the sick,
run your mouth, you can't eat me
Am
California, ay
The Golden State,
Dm
where we put it down the West Coast way
Am
Homie, we all play
Dm
You'll find out real quick who's
Am
listening shit
California, ay
Dm
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Am
Listen up homies,
from them yos's to them OG's
Dm
We don't play everyday,
rolling in them cold streets
Am
From west of LA, to east side of IE
Homies just don't play,
Dm
that's why they just don't try me
Am
We rollin' 5 deep,
Dm
rollin' in a black caddy creepin'
Hollaboy tips hittin' bottles
Am
till they fuckin' sleepin'
Gang unit people trippin' on
Dm
these brown thugs
Middle fingers up, best to fuck em,
Am
they get no love
How they gonna hate on these bottles?
Dm
Mr. Criminal hooked up with the
homies from the sopper
Am
We put it down, town to town,
fathers gettin' clowned
Dm
Find out we don't play,
Am
Dm
when you catch these Hollaboy grounds
Am
They found, they couldn't keep
some solid bottles down
Dm
Never fallin' on these feet,
planted on the ground
Am
These clowns found out that
these homies don't play
Dm
Roll your little bucket through the hood,
it's gettin' sprayed, homie
Am
Homie, we don't play
Dm
In the land of the sick, run your mouth,
Am
can't hit me California, ay
The Golden State,
Dm
where we runnin' down the
West Coast way
Am
Homie, we don't play
Dm
You'll find out, real hype,
Am
blue lipstick shit
California, ay
Dm
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Am
We don't play like them
kids on a sunny day
So in California,
Dm
you gotta watch what the fuck you say
Am
A lot of dirty hinders on me,
so watch where you lay
Dm
All the weak will get ate up
G
like some Frito -Lays
Dm
Am
I'ma stay with the same clique,
never gonna change this
Dm
Am
Ridin' with my boys,
Dm
so there's gotta be a full clip
Am
Loose lips, go ahead and miss
me with that bullshit
I'm movin',
Dm
somethin' sorta like a big train
Am
Across the tracks,
where we gotta keep that good name
Dm
Already got a whole lotta hood fame
Am
We gotta put these rappers to the side
like loose chains
Dm
Or roll em up,
Am
Dm
smoke em up like some Mary Jane
Am
Dm
Am
Mr. Criminal on the track,
you know it's official
Dm
It's kinda like shootin' at
Am
your fools with a missile
You know you're fucked
by the sounds of the whistle
Dm
So here we come, load it up,
we're gonna get you
Am
Homie, we don't play
Dm
In the land of the sick, run your mouth,
Am
you can't hit me California
The Golden State,
Dm
where we put it down the
West Coast way
Am
Homie, we don't play
Dm
You'll find out real quick
who's lipstick shit
Am
California
Dm
I'ma always represent it
to my judgment day
Am
This gang bang shit, yeah,
blood's in my blood
Dm
The way I was raised,
I was bound to be a thug
Am
Ball head tatted with my face all mud
Dm
I'm a G from the turf,
I don't show no love
Am
Bandits east side,
where them killers reside
Dm
California crazy and I'm quick to ride
Am
A real low G, so I'll never retire
Dm
I gotta keep it true, I could never be a liar
Am
Full -blooded frog until my life expires
Dm
Where violence is constant
and a stripe is compatible
Am
Livin' on the edge in
the Three Strikes Capital
Dm
Moms couldn't stop me,
gang tats neither
Am
Thought I was Scarface
when I got my first heater
Dm
They shot me to the pen,
got stretched for ten
Am
Refused to deuce cause
real G's don't bend
Dm
Back on the streets, fuckin' up again
Am
Homie, we don't play
Dm
In the land of the sick,
run your mouth, you can't get me
Am
Telephone, I ain't The Golden State,
Dm
where we put it down,
the West Coast way
Am
Call me, we don't play
Dm
You'll find out real quick
Who's lipstick shit
Am
Telephone 9 -8
Dm
I'mma always represent it
to my judgment day
We Don't Play
Mr. Criminal
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