Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Throw Your Hands Up , by - Eightball & MJGRelease date: 17.05.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Throw Your Hands Up |
| Bitch, I ain’t got nothing but time, so I’ma get out on these cuts |
| and grind, keep my mind on cloud twenty-nine |
| my player ways keep me with plenty dimes, |
| see I’ma shine like all six of my gold teeth, |
| when a nigga get through cooking up, this O-Z, |
| all night on the block til the sun rise, |
| my only friend is a glock with the 4−5 |
| Four five in the mornin it don’t stop, |
| day dreamin bout flousin tha drop top, (woop) |
| blue lights snap me back to reality |
| I hit the alley quick and toss what I got on me Tricks ain’t got shit to do but harass, |
| search tha nigga and took about a three in cash, |
| I guess that’s better than gettin locked up, |
| or gettin jammed with that shit I had rocked up, huh! |
| Now I heard that the South is where yo folks from, |
| down in the bottoms where they broke some, |
| whips cross a nigga back, way back, |
| and now they wonder why we act, how we act, |
| gold teeth and heavy chevys, and talking slow, |
| afros &loud ass Italian clothes, |
| People bar-be-quein in the front yard |
| Money from the first of the month card! |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up! |
| I got a maid cooking grits, with a, outfit, |
| so tight my niggas wanna stay the whole nite |
| Dice game in the kitchen, nigga, T. Lee |
| Nigga drunk singin sounding like tha Bee Gees |
| Ham sam’ich in the driveway, drop top |
| naked women in tha den playing, hop scotch |
| Thirty bustas in my yard, they be, long gone |
| So hit me and I’ma keep my, phone on I be out turning corners, dranking, one fifth |
| Got some scratches on my rims, cause of one dip |
| Met a broad yesterday, she hit me, ten times, |
| if I diss her it’ll take a nigga ten lines |
| MJG standing tall and I, won’t fold |
| You can have all the bitches, cause I, don’t hold |
| on to any woman like a human hand cuff |
| You got ya hair down baby fuck it, stand up! |
| (Repeat chorus) |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up! |
| How many flows can I compose, I drop this slang like lyrical bows, |
| stickin out just like an OUTKAST, over thornt from StimmerGroves, |
| like nachos, the lyrics are crispy, crackin when y’all bite, |
| been had a coke and a smile, now I’m trippin off Yak &Sprite, |
| y’all just might seem to skunk out, with a girl who chunked out, |
| below the Mason-Dixon line, real niggas know what I’m talkin about, |
| from Texas, Atlanta, oh man, Alabama, Savannah, |
| The deeper the darker tha dirty south is what I’m after, |
| no laughter, the content of the rhyme may be contagious |
| The Space Age is pimpin this, players comin major, |
| they shot the psycho that sprayed, cut ya wife and played her |
| The player the B.I.G, B.O.I, dope boy rhyme maker, |
| beats by the layers, of music right here to please you, |
| but if ain’t that dirty then patna see we don’t need you, |
| you know I’m talkin bout |
| OutKast, Eightball, MJG on y’all punk motherfuckers! |
| (Repeat chorus) |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up! |
| You wouldn’t understand, if you stood under it (ooh), |
| it’s like the more that I talk to you tha dumber that I get, |
| the closer that I walk to you, the further that we stand, |
| apart distance, nobody has the upper hand but my bodies resistance, |
| so now, throw your filangies in tha ground, |
| I’m still abound, un-believers stay from hell around |
| I found negatives niggas they only keep ya down, |
| transmitting from Native American burial grounds |
| I carry around, the weight of all worlds on my shoulderpads |
| um post ta blast space invaders up somebodys dad |
| Serious as Aa-Bb-Cc, if knowledge be the key then |
| but it roasted on the porch, and wait for ya momma to get off work |
| So she can roast yo ass, either to finda open window fast |
| Word to the motherfucker, word to the motherfucker |
| Word to the motherfucker! |
| (Repeat chorus) |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their hear me get ya hands up, |
| If anybody out their feel me get ya hands up! |