a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

big sant - hold up lyrics

i told n-gg-s hold up, hold up
hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up
hold up
bring a bottle, time to pour up
pour up, pour up
if you smoking, player
roll up, roll up, roll up
roll up, roll up, roll up
’cause a check got the chick, man
hold it, gonna flex, think i’m going too hard

‘fore i call your b-tch, straight to your face
all this and no chase
fly eagle, pump b-ss, boy, you better pump breaks
or you better call jake, fat n-gg- eat cake
i said fat n-gg- eat cake
bad b-tch named stacy wanna f-cking, don’t break
make her come and don’t fake, clear table, break plates
and she don’t wanna be saved, h-ll no
i try to tell y’all that i ain’t no play toy
ace straight boy, boy, landed in the grace, boy
everything working, bunch of climbing to the top
fire everybody in the way, tell ’em get the f-ck
high n-gg-s back, give ’em mops, tell ’em clean it up
call scotty back at atl bout to beamer up
new money, use my old rocks, see a n-gg-‘s truck
name a rapper f-cking with big sant

hold up, you drinking something, pour up
i don’t really smoke like them but f-ck it, roll up
lose the control up, leather seats, seat here
all about my broads, only b-tches get here
money in my blue jeans, i count it by the stacks
it’s still in the back of the club ’cause we ain’t learned how to act
i ride around in your side of town with your b-tch facing my leather
i pop trunk with these ‘ i crank it to the max, i do it like i’m supposed to
i don’t know if you noticed, we been at this sh-t since ’02
bustle moves on the block to hustling these bro, too’
pressure on your b-tch, now she really wanna hop in
arkansas to mississippi, country n-gg-s pop in ‘and i ride real slow so they can see the real child

i’m sick of being average, hustling’s a habit
catch me on the floor with the motherf-cking mavericks
f-ck all that bullsh-t, just tryna get rich
in my two-door chevy still smell like your b-tch
i’m cruising down east, leaning to the least
them jack boys know i got my pistol on me
the fat boy with it, creeping on the ticket
count money all night long like lionel richie
we lean to the left, lean to the right
po for life in a one little sprite
texas motherf-cker, yeah, that’s where i stay
the home of pimp c, anybody but me
‘swisher house all in the trunk
man hold up, man, man, hold up

- big sant lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS