Letras Confidential Playa - Big Moe, Z-Ro, Ronnie Spencer

Confidential Playa

I’m still a playa, a confidential playa\nI’m just tryin' to do somethin' right, so let me live my life\nEven though I’m still hustlin', I know you want to see me strugglin'\nBut at least I’m tryin' to do somethin' right so let me live my life\nLord knows I had my share of doin' the wrong things\nBut a bonafide playa that finds the life in me\nCasualties make us cry but still we got to mash\nKeep my eyes up on the sparrow and mind up on my cash\nPenetrate, finish last, maintain a steady pace\nKeep the busters out your business and haters up out your face\nIn this last rat race, the lord some’s got to come\nShrivel my signature, I call it rapping refunds\nThe ones that criticize be the ones you call your friends\nThe ones that ride it out ain’t gone always be your kin\nBut then you got to know, if it’s yours you gone get it\nBut also you got to know that everyday ain’t terrific\nSpecific about your plans, keep it real with your fans\nWatchin' my baby boy grow to be a young man\nMy daughter got to know from the jump, you a queen\nAnd f**k what them niggas say you, tell them your daddy is a king and\nI’m still a playa, a confidential playa\nI’m just tryin' to do somethin' right, so let me live my life\nEven though I’m still hustlin', I know you want to see me strugglin'\nBut at least I’m tryin' to do somethin' right, so let me live my life\nEvery time I look around\nThese haters, they be talkin' down\nBig Moe doesn’t bring more light\nI even had a, had a harder time\nBut I’m still here, still goin' strong\nYou can’t believe what you hear in the song\nAbout the year two, triple O, three\nWhole wide world sippin', drank with me\nI got money but I’m still a little stressed\nI thank the Lord 'cause you know I’m the best\nA little love set with the press\nWhy you want less 'cause through\nI guess it’s best for me to stay calm\nAnd hold it down till the day that I’m gone\nI got a white cup in my palm\nFeel what a peach crush, Mo Yo’s just a\nPlaya, playa, playa, playa\nMoney, the rule to all evil, that’s what I need\nBetween the hours of 3 to 7, that’s when I bleed\nMotherf**kers gone makin' the block hot, so I stay and move around\nTyte Eyez and Z-Ro stackin' paper, it’s goin' down\nBreak the shop of a nigga that’s short stoppin' my change\nBut me and him to the fullest, duckin' bullets at close range\nFeelin' crazy like I’m a lose my life to a bitch nigga\nBut while I’m here, I be a rich nigga\nNephews and nieces, nice, cool clothes and chains and pieces\nI break bread with my family when my record releases\nBesides skills in the west, nigga got mouths to feed\nAnythin' against the grain, just light a finger spot over seas\nSaturday mornin' as a youngster, I ain’t have no bike\nAnd I ain’t have no Nikes but in the triple I’ma have more ice\nAround my neck and my wrist with fern doors\nZ-Ro, confidentially your’s a playa\nI’m still a playa, a confidential playa\nI’m just tryin' to do somethin' right, so let me live my life\nEven though I’m still hustlin', I know you want to see me strugglin'\nBut at least I’m tryin' to do somethin' right, so let me live my life