Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Throw 'Em Up , by - Master P. Release date: 31.12.2006
Song language: English
Throw 'Em Up |
| Throw em up if you a soldier, |
| if you dodging these niggas, these bitches 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 motherfucker talkin shit and working with the rollers |
| You better duck down quick when the tank pops |
| Cause we be slanging automatic fucking slangshots |
| I went from halves, to hoes with weed to working water |
| From selling grams, to motherfuckin quarters |
| From quarter keys, to really tapes and cd’s |
| Not every nigga in the hood knows me Uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy |
| Stayin TRU to the game, and still bout it bout it |
| 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, nigga Master P A ghetto nigga, 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 niggas in the ghetto live like Al Capone |
| I be breaking niggas like ice in Iceland |
| Crushing niggas 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 alot of movies, but this shit is real |
| And only cars get brand new grills |
| Automatic gats for combat what we pack |
| Flip niggas like flapjacks, with oz’s and crack |
| We killing with tatooes our guns and balls |
| 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 |
| I’m cold bro, even sold my mamma a boulder |
| 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 fuck till the world blow up Game over, Kane and Abel, no limit soldiers |
| No Limit soldiers, I thought I told ya! |