Imaginary Player

(álbum: In My Lifetime Vol. 1 - 1997)

Yeah, I mean like
I gotta be like the pioneer to this shit, you know
I was popping that Cristal
When all y'all niggas thought it was beer and shit, you know
Wearing that platinum shit
When all y'all chicks thought it was silver and shit
(Imaginary playmates)
I got, I got to be the pioneer to this shit, man
Bottom line (Imaginary playmates)
I'ma show you how to do it, check it

Yo, I spit that other shit
That's a nice motherfucker shit
That Fed time follow me around, Deep Cover shit, nigga
You beer money, I'm all year money
I'm "Papi, you ain't got to count it, it's all there" money
I never change money 'cause niggas got strange money
NARC'd up, marked up, fucked up in the game money
I got bail money, double-XL money
You got flash now, but time will reveal money
I spit the hottest shit, you need it I got it shit
That down-South, Master P, Bout It Bout It shit
I got blood money, straight up thug money
That brown paper bag under your mattress drug money
You got show dough, little to no dough
Sell a bunch of records and you still owe dough
I got 900 and 96 plus 4 more dough
You crazy, you fugazi, I'm loco with dough papo

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And now you got these young cats acting like they slung caps
All in their dumb raps, talking about how their funds stack
When I see them in the street, I don't see none of that
Damn playboy, where the fuck is the Hummer at?
Where's all the ice with all the platinum under that?
Those ain't Rolex diamonds, what the fuck you done to that?
Y'all rapping-ass niggas, y'all funny to me
You're selling records being you, but still you wanna be me
I guess for every buck you make it's like a hundred for me
And still you running around thinking you got something on me
But I done did it
And y'all want to take my flow, and run with it
That's cool, I was the first one with it
Original, Jigga's the future, flow digital
Still busting a gat when shit gets critical
Sit it down, I don't want y'all to get it confused
I rip it down, like I ain't got nothing to lose
(Y'all get it now?)

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Groupies I leave 'em all fucked; niggas, awe-struck
Your single was 99 cents, mines was 4 bucks
Last year, when niggas thought it was all up
But this year I've done it again, Jigga! What the fuck?
Nigga stop whining, Jigga, still shining
Niggas kept complaining so I copped more diamonds
Rock more Versace, ain't nothing sweet
I still throw t'ree in your body, fleeing the party
Y'all can't go with me, nope, flow with me
Bet 50, not dollars either I brought some dough with me
I flow like the 5 Series, in various areas
And blow holes in your weak niggas theories
It's funny how one verse can fuck up the game
You bought a 4.0 you better get your change
Ain't no platinum in those Cartiers, switch your frames
Ain't no manicures on board, then switch your plane

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I mean, like, be truthful, man: how you think you gon' feel, right?
You pull up in your 4.0 with your bitch
I pull up in the 4.6 with my bitch with the seat back
Bumping some other shit, you know, some other shit
You'll probably hop on my dick right there, right in front of your bitch
Ask me some stupid shit like
"Yo, yo dog, what's the difference between a 4.0 and a 4.6?"
Like 30 to 40 grand, cocksucker, beat it! Ha ha
Yo, them shits even got leathers?