Imaginary Player - Intellectual

[Intro]

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

[Verse 1]

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, XXL 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 mo' dough

You crazy, you fugazi, I'm loco with dough, papo

[Chorus: René & Angela sample]

Imaginary playmates

[Verse 2]

And now you got these young cats, acting like they slung caps

All in they dumb raps, talking about how they 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're 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

Origin-al, Jigga's the future, flow digit-al

Still busting a gat when shit gets criti-cal

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?)

[Chorus: René & Angela sample]

Imaginary playmates

[Verse 3]

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 manicurist on board? Then switch your plane

[Chorus: René & Angela sample]

Imaginary playmates

[Outro]

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 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?