Juvenile - 4 Minutes lyrics
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Lyrics to 4 Minutes : (feat. Hot Boys) [B.G.] 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 niggaz I fuck with they bling bling But yet it's 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 niggaz 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!) [Juvenile] Dis bitch off the hook! Nigga never sleep Dis bitch full of crooks, they hunt for the weak Niggaz comin home tryin to hit 'em a lick Wanna bounce from a quarter ounce up to a brick Dem old side niggaz, them new side niggaz Might get loaded but they do ride niggaz They stuck in 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 niggaz gon' get mad and, never let you leave A bill mine, 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!) [Lil Wayne] Yes, one-seven nigga, look Niggaz 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!) [Turk] Look.. look, look Plenty got 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 niggaz 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'ma peel it nigga you can run cousin Gun click get hit and you get stung cousin, stung cousin (I hope you got the message!) [ 4 Minutes Lyrics on http://www.lyricsmania.com/ ]
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