Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Hands In The Air, artist - 8Ball. Date of issue: 26.05.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Hands In The Air |
| Okay; |
| comin' from the top of my |
| Dome when I’m droppin' my |
| Own type of style, and |
| Ain’t nobody stoppin' my |
| Rise to the very top |
| Hit 'em up wit' all I got |
| Superstar; |
| no I’m not |
| Green weed; |
| black Glock |
| Everybody want a piece |
| Dirty like a pair 'a cleats |
| Niggas run their mouth a lot |
| Like bitches and parakeets |
| (whoa) How you want it pimpin'? |
| (whoa) I’m so cold wit' it |
| (whoa) Make all the boys wanna do it just because I did it |
| I’m like a legend or |
| Some kind of prophecy |
| Sent here to set you free |
| Dress, player, follow me |
| Into another world |
| Deep inside your own soul |
| This shit here way bigger than tattoos and cornrows |
| This not 'bout makin' dough |
| Not 'bout no fakin' yo |
| Not 'bout who’s rich 'o po' |
| Not 'bout who niggas know |
| This here 'bout you and me |
| This here 'bout poetry |
| This here 'bout who we be |
| If you in here with me |
| Keep your ears wide open |
| This is all real no jokin' |
| Throw your motherfuckin' hands up in the air |
| If you feel me throw your hands up in the air |
| Better keep your ears open |
| This is all real no boastin' |
| Throw your hands up in the motherfuckin' air |
| If you feel me throw your hands up in the air |
| The motherfuckin' aaaaair |
| Nigga you don’t know me |
| Why you niggas wanna beef? |
| All in my grill like |
| You the papparazzi |
| Boy I was fulla game |
| Way before this rap thang |
| Real 'fore the money came |
| That’s why I will never change |
| Me, ain’t nobody like |
| Even though they try to be |
| Niggas think they are but they ain’t fuckin' with me lyric’ly |
| (Yo) I was born wit' it |
| Din’t nobody teach it to me |
| Over hot beat |
| Tell you 'bout what the streets did to me |
| (Yo) Chose me to be a |
| Prophet and lead my people |
| Murder non-believers |
| With lyrics that are lethal |
| I hit 'em heavy with it |
| Yo I stay ready wit' it |
| Come try to test me wit' it |
| Regret you ever did it |
| Call who pimpin'? |
| I got my own back |
| You got them baby paper? |
| I got them grown stacks |
| But this ain’t 'bout no bread |
| Not 'bout what niggas said |
| Not 'bout what hoes believe |
| If you in here with me |
| Yeah I gotta come again |
| Just to let you know the deal |
| 8 Ways to company |
| Beats come from Du Real (yeah) |
| We’re them niggas should not nobody be fuckin' with |
| Slayer riders Chopper city |
| Had you bitches doubled quick |
| This ain’t 'bout who rap the best |
| This ain’t 'bout who got the most |
| This is not no gangsta rap |
| This ain’t 'bout no pimps and hoes |
| This here ain’t no country shit |
| Ain’t no way to label this |
| Memphis where I come from |
| Orange Mound veteran |
| What I represent — whoever live in poverty |
| Hard working niggas that |
| Try to hustle honestly |
| Man, I represent who |
| Lookin' good and feelin' nice |
| Niggas on that drank 'n 'dro |
| Fresh clothes; |
| full of ice |
| (Yeah) We gon' keep this slummin' comin' with the dirtiest |
| (Yeah) If you from the gutter then I know you heard of this |
| This ain’t bout where you from |
| This ain’t bout where you be |
| This here 'bout feelin' free |
| If you in here with me |
| Go 'head and put 'em up |
| Put your hands where I can see 'em |
| Put your hands where I can see 'em |
| Go 'head and put 'em up |
| Put your hands where I can see 'em |
| Put your hands where I can see 'em |
| Yeah, 8 Ways, Du Realla |
| Cold Lab |
| Slab 2 is goin' down baby |
| This your boy Du Martin |
| Stop playin' |