Ja Rule - Sing A Player 4 Me lyrics

rate me

I know you niggaz ain't fuckin' with me

How dare these niggaz try to fuckin hate on me

Come out and make records sound just like me

But nobody does this here quite like me

Now let me tell a little something 'bout me

Pops tags, things fresh to death like me

Who pulls more whips out the stash than me

Y'all bitches wanna ride, c'mon it's on me

I guess it's my time, all eyes is on me

Man everybody wanna rhyme like Rule, sing like Rule

Talk some shit to get they name on the news

Papers, haters never pay they dues

Always got to be in somebdy shoes

Walk with me, or ride this on Bentley

With the rims you can sit in

Or the Enzo with them TV's that's hidden

I stay in menages with various women

Huh, I'm just kiddin' that's not how I'm livin'

The realest, the nigga in the realest state

I got real estates in different states, go figure

Cause I ain't singing you'se a +Gold Digger+

But bitches, +you ain't fuckin' with no broke niggaz+

That's why I ride, ain't you see I put you on the CLS

We on the point your voice sound like sex, yes

There's no real way to stop me, that's why y'all copy

I know you niggaz ain't fuckin' with me

Yea, I know, one more gin, bitch you better come on in

Relax a while, sip on hypno and henn

I like your style, you're so old school

In them Sasson Vidals, fiftyfour eleven

Reebok classics Remind me of '87 when

Niggaz was playing with blocks like little kids and

Even though we men we still big wheelin'

Still cop cribs, six beds, four baths, high ceilings

All of the art of drug-dealin' cause every mil

Is two for me, when it's all tax-free

Pray for God's children, all except for me

I'm a walk in the path the Lord has paved for me

One foot at a time, niggaz follow my footsteps

Put the world on my shoulders, leave one set of footprints

Man, y'all motherfuckers can't stop me, that's why y'all copy

I know you niggaz ain't fuckin' with me

I know what niggaz to do right, can't do no wrong

And everything's alright, then lyrically goes wrong

No part to piss in, no shoulder to cry on

You get to thinkin' why can't we let by-gones be by-gones

Rule the icon, who killed the industry like iPods

Had these niggaz runnin' like track stars

Except runnin' backwards when I sit back rollin' the backwoods

Loadin' my trey-duece for them niggaz that act hood

Ridin' my six-duece uptown, I'm so hood

Bitches love the coupes when them doors swing upwards

Money long, I'm putting from the green like T-Woods

White gold should never be percieved as platinum

And cubic-zirconia never gon' shine like diamonds

Cause, no matter how hard they copy, they still not me

Y'all bitch niggaz ain't fuckin' with me