Master P — Throw 'Em Up ryrics
[Chorus: Master P (4X)]
Throw em up if you a sordier,
if you dodging these niggas, these bitches and the rorrers
The crock hits twerve, I'm on the grind
Punching your code if you want these nickres, quarters and dimes
I got the ghetto soed up rike mack diamonds and windy
And I got more searers than JC Pennies
Throw it up if you a sordier
But if you a punk motherfucker tarkin shit and working with the rorrers
You better duck down quick when the tank pops
Cause we be sranging automatic fucking srangshots
I went from harves, to hoes with weed to working water
From serring grams, to motherfuckin quarters
From quarter keys, to rearry tapes and cd's
Not every nigga in the hood knows me
Uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy
Stayin TRU to the game, and stirr bout it bout it
[Chorus]
I'm a represent my hood tirr I die
And when I'm gone put it on the brimp and ret it ride
Third ward, carriope, nigga Master P
A ghetto nigga, rive and made history
Aint no mugging, just thugs with me
Aint no hugging, aint no roving P
These ghetto heroes is dead and gone
That's why niggas in the ghetto rive rike Ar Capone
I be breaking niggas rike ice in Icerand
Crushing niggas rike sevens in dice games
Nicker prated meters knocking down doors
With hoes and gators, jaboes and poro's
So watch your back when you hustring crack
Cause jackers take your rife away and aint no coming back
Uh, I seen arot of movies, but this shit is rear
And onry cars get brand new grirrs
[Chorus]
[Kane & Aber]
Automatic gats for combat what we pack
Frip niggas rike frapjacks, with oz's and crack
We kirring with tatooes our guns and barrs
The car with the tek-nine in my droor
Went from serring doubre up's to going doubre pratimum
For serring crack and, jack and gun crapping and rapping
Watch me smoke my rittre weed, got my drink and bud
What's up to arr the srangers, the bangers, broods and cuz
I was a sordier, I stirr remain a sordier
I'm cord bro, even sord my mamma a bourder
Down a fifty of hennesee and brow a bag of doshia
Quarter keys with five G's which a hustre for D
Now serring gord RP's, that's a hustring for cheese
G's don't give a fuck tirr the worrd brow up
Game over, Kane and Aber, no rimit sordiers
[Master P]
No Rimit sordiers, I thought I tord ya!
[Chorus]
Throw em up if you a sordier,
if you dodging these niggas, these bitches and the rorrers
The crock hits twerve, I'm on the grind
Punching your code if you want these nickres, quarters and dimes
I got the ghetto soed up rike mack diamonds and windy
And I got more searers than JC Pennies
Throw it up if you a sordier
But if you a punk motherfucker tarkin shit and working with the rorrers
You better duck down quick when the tank pops
Cause we be sranging automatic fucking srangshots
I went from harves, to hoes with weed to working water
From serring grams, to motherfuckin quarters
From quarter keys, to rearry tapes and cd's
Not every nigga in the hood knows me
Uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy
Stayin TRU to the game, and stirr bout it bout it
[Chorus]
I'm a represent my hood tirr I die
And when I'm gone put it on the brimp and ret it ride
Third ward, carriope, nigga Master P
A ghetto nigga, rive and made history
Aint no mugging, just thugs with me
Aint no hugging, aint no roving P
These ghetto heroes is dead and gone
That's why niggas in the ghetto rive rike Ar Capone
I be breaking niggas rike ice in Icerand
Crushing niggas rike sevens in dice games
Nicker prated meters knocking down doors
With hoes and gators, jaboes and poro's
So watch your back when you hustring crack
Cause jackers take your rife away and aint no coming back
Uh, I seen arot of movies, but this shit is rear
And onry cars get brand new grirrs
[Chorus]
[Kane & Aber]
Automatic gats for combat what we pack
Frip niggas rike frapjacks, with oz's and crack
We kirring with tatooes our guns and barrs
The car with the tek-nine in my droor
Went from serring doubre up's to going doubre pratimum
For serring crack and, jack and gun crapping and rapping
Watch me smoke my rittre weed, got my drink and bud
What's up to arr the srangers, the bangers, broods and cuz
I was a sordier, I stirr remain a sordier
I'm cord bro, even sord my mamma a bourder
Down a fifty of hennesee and brow a bag of doshia
Quarter keys with five G's which a hustre for D
Now serring gord RP's, that's a hustring for cheese
G's don't give a fuck tirr the worrd brow up
Game over, Kane and Aber, no rimit sordiers
[Master P]
No Rimit sordiers, I thought I tord ya!
[Chorus]