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b2k

Ante Up (Robbin Hoodz Theory)
by B2K



Take minks off, take things off
Take chains off, take rings off
Bracelets is yapped, Fame came off
Ante up, everything off

Fool, what you want? We stifflin' fools
Fool, what you want? Your life or your jewels?
The rules, back 'em down, next thing, clap 'em down
Respect mine, we Brooklyn bound now

Brownsville, home of the brave
Put in work in the street like a slave
Keep a rugged dress code, always in this stress mode
That shit will send you to your grave, so?

You think, I don't know that? Blow
Nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that, blow,
Nigga hold that
From the street cousin, you know the drill
I'm nine hundred and ninety nine thou short of a mil

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them God damn diamonds

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

Them thugs you know, ain't friendly
Them jewels you rock, make 'em envy
You thinkin' it's all good, you creep through a small hood
Goons comin' up outta a cut for your goods and they all should

Ante up, yap that fool
You want big money, kidnap that fool
If you up in the club, back out your pistol money
Catch them fools at the bar for that Crystal money

The '87 stick up kids, what you niggas sayin'?
Get the fuck up, out that 740 shorty, I ain't playin'
It's flash that thing time, bang, bang time
Ante up, nigga, it's game time

Hand over the ring, take over the chain
Gimme the fuckin' watch before I pop one in your brain
Stop playin' these childish games with me
Representin' 1-7-1-8, dangerously, nigga

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them God damn diamonds

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

I'm a, street regulator, true player hater
Get back down, make your ass a mac spray hater
Things that we need, money, clothes, weed indeed
Hats, food, booze, essentials, credentials

Code of the streets, owners who creep
Slow when you sleep, holdin' the heat
Put holes in your jeep, respect the streets
It's the Lil' Fame

Yeah, nigga dance, gave you a chance
'Cause I blazed your man, I'm in the wrong
He said he was strong
I had reason to believe he had some shit up his sleeve all along

So, fuck you, your honor, check my persona
I'm strong enough for old gold and marijuana
I'm a do what I wanna, quiet as kept
Raise hell, til I was tired of stress, yes Lord

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them God damn diamonds

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

The fuck, the fuck, the fuck
Nigga, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?
What?
First family, first family, Brooklyn, yeah
---
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written by JEMAL GERARD GRINNAGE, ERIC MURRAY, DARRYL PITTMAN, LINWOOD K. STARLING, TREVEOR SMITH
Lyrics © SPIRIT MUSIC GROUP, Royalty Network