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Versuri Holla

[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 hustlin' holla (ooh ooh)

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