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master p - throw em up lyrics

[master p]
chorus x4
throw em up if you a soldier, if you dodging these n-gg-s, these b-tches and
the rollers

the clock hits twelve, i’m on the grind
punching your code if you want these nickles, quarters and dimes
i got the ghetto soed up like mack diamonds and windy
and i got more sealers than jc pennies
throw it up if you a soldier
but if you a punk motherf-cker talkin sh-t and working with the rollers
you better duck down quick when the tank pops
cause we be slanging automatic f-cking slangshots
i went from halves, to hoes with weed to working water
from selling grams, to motherf-ckin quarters
from quarter keys, to really tapes and cd’s
not every n-gg- in the hood knows me
uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy
stayin tru to the game, and still bout it bout it

chorus x4

i’m a represent my hood till i die
and when i’m gone put it on the blimp and let it ride
third ward, calliope, n-gg- master p
a ghetto n-gg-, live and made history
aint no mugging, just thugs with me
aint no hugging, aint no loving p
these ghetto heroes is dead and gone
that’s why n-gg-s in the ghetto live like al capone
i be breaking n-gg-s like ice in iceland
crushing n-gg-s like sevens in dice games
nickel plated meters knocking down doors
with hoes and gators, jaboes and polo’s
so watch your back when you hustling crack
cause jackers take your life away and aint no coming back
uh, i seen a lot of movies, but this sh-t is real
and only cars get brand new grills

chorus x4

[kane & abel]
automatic gats for combat what we pack
flip n-gg-s like flapjacks, with oz’s and crack
we killing with tatooes our guns and b-lls
the car with the tek-nine in my droor
went from selling double up’s to going double platimum
for selling crack and, jack and gun clapping and rapping
watch me smoke my little weed, got my drink and bud
what’s up to all the slangers, the bangers, bloods and cuz
i was a soldier, i still remain a soldier
a cobra, even sold my mamma a bowl a
down a fifty of hennesee and blow a bag of doshia
quarter keys with five g’s which a hustle for d
now selling gold lp’s, that’s a hustling for cheese
g’s don’t give a f-ck till the world blow up
game over, kane and abel, no limit soldiers

[master p]
no limit soldiers, i thought i told ya!

chorus 4x

- master p lyrics

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