P.A.P.I. Songtext
von Bodega Bamz

All my tan Boyz, Vámonos
Chandon and Plátanos
We drink good, we look good, we eat good, we smell rich
Aviators hang on my face
Was Louie my killer?
They all wear Versace (Donatella bitch)
Roll Up, Hold up, you talking low, Dont E bluff
You not real and we are, got tattoos right next to scars
We bear arms, they call me paul
What that be like nigga
Where you be at nigga?
Im with the B′s Latino Kings my nigga!
One man army, ODB
Su wu tang in the 4 with lean
First they come then they leave
First they want then they need
Im the best already, hope the best are ready
That game we play is chess, and check the cheque its made already. PAPI


P-A-P-I P-A-P-I
Uptown B-way Downtown NY
Eastside All Day P-A-P-I
They Call me when they need that yay P-A-P-I


Its Hex and im bout my scrilla
No one in the X thats realer
No one from the south thats trilla
Lyrically the motherfuckin Illa
White paper, Dark Paper Filler
I smoke herb call the kush Godzilla
You smokin on the reggie no miller
I catch ya shawty while she alone
I take her home n she probably wanna bone
And I put her on the cam no Killa
Take her to my hood like Attila
I sold pounds of the herb, and keys indeed
Pull up to the curb, fiends flock to me
A shooter that got shooters, my niggas G
From the burrough where boy George got it in with that D
South bronx representer, if you wanna enter you better put your vest on
And bring your weapons, cause you will get flexed on
These niggas gassed like Exon
Motherfucker im the realest
Way realer then the so called realest
.45 on my hip deuce deuce in the boot
Motherfucker im the south bronx Illest UHHHHH