Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song 4 Minutes, artist - Juvenile. Album song Project English, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 31.12.2000
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
4 Minutes |
| You know we don’t drop hits, uh-uh |
| We drop classics nigga, uh-huh |
| Cash Money, c’mon, get at me nigga |
| Nigga thuggin, is in my blood and my genes |
| All the niggas I fuck with they bling bling |
| V.L. |
| is my block my hood my set nigga |
| Uptown is the spot where you get put to the test nigga |
| Best be bout unloadin a Tec nigga |
| You better protect your head, fuck the chest nigga |
| I run with the killers guerillas and the headbusters |
| I grew up with murderers and hustlers you can’t trust 'em |
| I been cut-throatin niggas for a while now |
| I stay to tapin and whoopin ballers who got plots |
| Of birds or chickens or ki’s or bricks, whatever |
| Click clack! |
| I got to have it, no matter |
| What, the, situation be |
| I’m bout my fetti my dollars my loot my grip my green |
| UPT 13 and CMB |
| Is what I represent for life and I’m H-O-T nigga |
| (4, minutes, left!) |
| Dis bitch off the hook! |
| Nigga never sleep |
| Dis bitch full of crooks, they hunt for the weak |
| Niggas comin home tryin to hit 'em a lick |
| Wanna bounce from a quarter ounce up to a brick |
| Dem old side niggas, them new side niggas |
| Might get loaded but they do ride niggas |
| They second line, but right after it’s all over |
| The block party jumpin at Washington in Magnolia |
| They smokin weed, they slangin D they sellin ki’s |
| While bitches shakin they ass in the middle of the street |
| You representin? |
| It better be M-A-G |
| Or niggas gon' get mad and, never let you leave |
| Where am I? |
| 6th Street and Hadley |
| Willow Street, Robertson and T. C |
| It’s on fire from the wars they cause |
| A bunch of ignorant motherfuckers wearin camoflauge |
| (3, minutes, left!) |
| Yes, one-seven nigga, look |
| Niggas step down to the nasty, filthy, dirty |
| Holly Grove, Carrington, 17 you heard me? |
| Need them, birdies? |
| You should see Weezy |
| Prices, cheaper than the average, ki’s be |
| We be, thuggers, stunners, hustlers |
| Kidnap mothers, rape with no rubbers |
| What the, hell? |
| What is that I smell? |
| No it’s not but it’s a dead body by the canal |
| My grill, platinum; |
| necklace, platinum |
| Rolex, platinum; |
| Hot Boy, ask him |
| Blunts, we pass 'em; |
| guns, we have 'em |
| We do not flash 'em unless we gon' blast 'em |
| My clothes, Rees, Tees, Girbauds |
| Fo'-fo's, semi-automatic calicos |
| Brrrrrrr! |
| Reload — *tch-chk* explode |
| Let it be told, I’m from Holly Grove, what? |
| (2, minutes, left!) |
| Look. |
| look, look |
| Plenty of diamonds in my Rolex |
| Two karats on my finger, ten around my fuckin neck |
| It’s a must everyday that I keep my pockets fat |
| Got so many haters that’s why I stay strapped on my gat |
| I bust back back leave yo' bitch ass flat |
| Trust that if you play with me I dress in black |
| That’s a fact don’t make me click up with Karen and Brad-Brad (?) |
| You head your lose that, ain’t no comin back back, I’m tellin you |
| Play with me your people people gon' be smellin you |
| Make me pop and throw, six niggas gon' carry you |
| People don’t have no money they can’t bury you |
| Don’t have no insurance you be in the freezer a week or two |
| Bought that insurin yourself cousin |
| Get it how you live it nigga when they come cousin |
| Gun I’mma peel it nigga you can run cousin |
| Gun click get hit and you get stung cousin, stung cousin |
| (I hope you got the message!) |