Versuri 504 Boyz - Holla
Artist(Band):504 Boyz
(Print the Lyrics)
[Chorus]: Master P {Choppa}
Them boys on that block holla (ooh ooh)
Them girls that got it hot holla (ooh ooh)
If ya runnin- from them cops holla (ooh ooh)
{Holla...} (ooh ooh) {Holla} (ooh ooh)
[Verse 1]: Master P
Call me trashman cuz I put it up and back
Whodi owe me money I-ma bust his fuckin- ass
I-m allergic to Dr. Pepper, so pass me Dr. Cristale
Hit me on the two-way, whodi, I get wit-cha
Put it on the stove, bake it like a pie
Take it to the hood, slang it 16-5
When niggas snort it boy, they be passin- it to they girls
Wrap it up in Ziploc, back it up and twirl
Send money to the pent. Mac and C be home soon
Bitches start snitchin- I-ma send -em to the moon
I could sell a hoe a green, front a hustler a lake
I could never fall off, I-m the "Ghetto Bill" Gates
[Chorus]
[Verse 2]: Curren$y
These lil- niggas can-t take it anymore
I push through the club iced out, low key with my P. Miller galore
Hoes breakin- down the doors, uhh
Because the 504 Boyz here they can-t wait -til we get on
It-s Curren$y the motherfuckin- rookie of the year
This ain-t the WNBA, ain-t no pussies over here
Yeah, I-m makin- figures fuckin- with the Ghetto Bill
And a truck with some rims that-s bigger than Ferris wheels, holla
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]: Krazy
See this No Limit army nigga, that-s my Kliq
The hoe that you tongue kissin- used to be my bitch
For these sayin- they-ll slay a nigga, they called pricks
And this brown shit I-m sniffin- nigga, it got me sick
And this big truck I-m pushin-, nigga, my tight whip
With a chop of lead on the seat, that-ll make you flip
My alias, believe me, Doc Holliday
If it-s beef, I-m like AIDS, I-ll never go away
[Chorus]
[Verse 4]: Master P
I might be something sly but I won-t forget
Tell Double X-L they can, suck my dick
I might be country but I-m ghetto rich
And when it comes to grindin-, I started this shit
I put the G in Ghetto, nigga, call me Ghetto Fab
Started with some quarters then I flipped it to some halves
Put the Coke in Coca-Cola, no baking soda
Call me Pistol P, cuz I slang them granola-s
[Chorus]
[Verse 5]: T-Bo
I guess them thangs just got dropped off, the block-s hot like hot sauce
Some cop cars keep passin- I promise y-all they not lost
Convicted felons noticed when they tryin- to knock ya socks off
Go braggin- to them hatin- bitches, find how much ya watch cost
Loose lips, sank ships, bitch, so watch what you sayin-
It-s the New No Limit, baby, got us under surveillance
And the Feds ain-t playin- they kickin- down doors daily
Ain-t this a bitch, I just got off probation
[Chorus]
[Verse 6]: Magic
I-m tryin- to get me a whole chicken (chop it down for the dimes)
Then flip that bitch quicker than I (flip these rhymes)
Now I-m on two birds I-ma flip (one more time)
And I-ma cop the bitch you left behind
(I-m tryin-, I-m hustlin-) don-t trust me when I-m broke
And I don-t discriminate I want the money and a goat
Yeah, better hope I wait, I-m ass out (things will get bloody)
(Four to ya tummy, real messy and ugly)
[Chorus]
[Outro]: Master P
If ya East Coast thuggin, holla (ooh ooh)
If ya West Coast thuggin, holla (ooh ooh)
If ya Midwest thuggin- holla (ooh ooh)
If ya Down South hustlïn- holla (ooh ooh)
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