Lyrics Throw It Up - Twisted Black, Yo Gotti, Chyna Whyte

Throw It Up

Uh-huh
I got four or five hustlers that I feed on my team
That I feed on my team, that I feed on my team
And never leave the crib without a pistol in lean
Without a pistol in lean, pistol in lean
I bet I hustle harder than you do in your dreams
Than you do in your dreams, nigga, do in your dreams
I’m a killer but right now, I’m murderin' ink
I’m murderin' ink, I’m murderin' ink
Now you can catch me on the brake of a 'Vette or a Beemer
With a fine ghetto bitch that look better than Trina
She a booster, sell pussy if I threaten to leave her
And I keep her cookied up like the bitch was a keeper
Either love or hate me, either way, your boy cool with it
Better ask somebody though 'cause I’m a fool with it
(Oh you’s a snitch, nigga?) Not me
Oh you say you boys got that work?
Well, let me cop three, that’s how we livin',
nigga
[Chorus: Twisted Black &
Yo Gotti
If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up
If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers (
Yeah, yeah
And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up (
Knahmtalkin' 'bout?
If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up (
I’m from the nawf, dog
If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up (
Ay, this yo boy, Gotti
If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers (
You Knahmtalkin' 'bout?
And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up
Look, I’m a hustler, and I hustle hard, I’m talkin' seven figure home
Four car garage, I’m stuntin' hard
My chain worth that Mastera', if you ain’t know
That’s a hun’ed thousand dollar car, look this your boy Yo Gotti
Man, my grind tight, I seen my first thirty-six O’s
And got my mind right, bakin' soda, boilin' water
Fish scalin', too, one to the right, two to the left
I bet my shit won’t lose, and I ain’t lyin'
My ounces jumpin' thirty-five, I keep that ether potent
Jumpin' like the
Soul Train
line, we rob for rock and on the block
Servin' one at a time, we Glock for Glock and straight up
Pop until somebody die, I throw it up
I represent that nitty north, where we shoot dice and we serve work
Straight off the same porch, but I’m in Dallas
And I’m fuckin' 'round with Twisted Black, I know his situation
Plus I can relate to that, fuck them conspiracies
If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up
If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up
If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up
If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up
I gotta get this money, they ain’t gon' give you nothin'
Them two-sixes on the whip, yeah I did that hustlin'
No homie, they know the white ain’t touchin'
No lips on them nuts, but I lick up the blunts, yeah
I hustle hard, got a bag of them ones
So much sick from the smell, gotta eat up them Tums, look
I grind like RK, you know my pedigree
I talk that money greedy yes, them boys like butterbeans
Like Papi, what it do?
You know mami 'bout her B. I
Take P ad-lib and shit on these hoes
I’ve been on these roads, look, I got a hand on the stove
I’m Santa Clause in them streets and my dro’s full of heat
And it’s not from that Snapple, boy, that Moss’ll put you deep
Bust it all out the Magnum, break you virgin, make you bleed, haha
You know the name, you see 'em throwin' up that «C»
It’s Whyte House, fade to black, nigga, welcome to the trap
If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up
If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up
If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up
If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up
If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers
And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up