Lyrics:
your hands up to the ceiling
Everybody get down if you feel me
Come and put your hands up to the ceiling
Come, Mr. DJ, song pon di replay (come, Mr
your hands up to the ceiling
Everybody get down if you feel me
Come and put your hands up to the ceiling
Come, Mr. DJ, song pon di replay (come, Mr
gotta make it
Couple racks up on them (?)
Your bitch here smoked my trippy stick
Ridiculous, put dick on tit, spit on clit
And it's over with, I
and put your hands up to di ceiling
Come, Mr. DJ, song pon di replay (come, Mr. DJ, song pon di replay)
Come, Mr. DJ, won't you turn di music up?
All
to di ceiling
Everybody get down if you feel me
Come and put your hands up to di ceiling
Come, Mr. DJ, song pon di replay (come, Mr. DJ, song pon di
what
Come Mr. DJ won't you turn the music up
It goes one by one even two by two
Everybody on the floor let me show you how we do
Lets go dip it low
the fuck up
I'm taking yo black ass back to the office
Keep talking shit
Aight bet
Fuck Mr. Clynch said by a minority
Cause he don't wanna punish
is
Her specialty, after all hands come up
One by one "Oh my god, Rihmeek, "
Nicki groans exaggeratedly, invoking Meek's
Middle name for effect "Every
Get up, stand up throw your hands up
I want to rock right now
My name's Vein and I came to get down
I'm not internationally known
But I'm known to get
to the ceiling
Everybody get down if you feel me
Put your hands up to the ceiling
Everybody get down if you feel me
Come and put your hands up to the ceiling
Mr
Mister
Yeah, hey Mister
Mr. Fourth Quarter, Mr. Make-It-Happen
Mr. Clean, what's the addy? Mr. I-Keep-Your-Bitch-Happy
Mr. Cool, damn, that Mister
we live by ( gun shot )
Chorus:
""K Chrys""
Everybody put them L's up .... You rockin wit da Lost Boyz (put em up)
Everybody put ya hands up
""K Chrys""
Everybody put them L's up .... You rockin wit da Lost Boyz (put em up)
Everybody put ya hands up ..... You rockin wit da Lost Boyz
you up, you know I'm sayin')
Mr. Lover (let's fog up some window sills, girl, uh) (uh, yeah)
Mr. Lover (catch your groove back now)
Mr. Lover, Mr
you up, you know I'm sayin')
Mr. Lover (let's fog up some window sills, girl, uh) (uh, yeah)
Mr. Lover (catch your groove back now)
Mr. Lover, Mr
to the ceiling
Everybody get down if you feel me
Put your hands up to the ceiling
Mr. DJ, song pon de replay (come, Mr. DJ, song pon de replay)
Mr. DJ, won't
I just put in work she call me Mister
(Hey Mister!)
Mr. 4th quarter
Mr. Make it happen
Mr. Clean, what's the addict
Mr. I keep your bitch
And I ain't leavin' the house
Without that in my hand
And it ain't only the cops
It's niggas on your block
That talk like a lil' bitch and
Act like they
killers, every gang with me lil nigga
War time, shooters that's four-nine
Put a murder on bro that's more time
Up mine, I'ma shoot thirty four time
. please, Mr. DJ
Tell me if you hear me
Turn the music up
Okay everybody, get down if you feel me
Put your hands up to the ceiling
Everybody, get down if you
gentleman is going to be famous.
Knox: I’m sure you’re right, Mr. President.
Roosevelt: So, Attorney General, Knox, to what do I owe the honor of your
your thing
I said put your hands in the motherfucking air, where?
Put your hands in the motherfucking air
I know you like hoes yes I know you got
you ain't never gave no fucks
Get behind her, put it in her butt
Then beat it up
Wamp-wamp, she, wet-wet
(Mr. Jeffery)
Wamp-wamp, oh, bet that
Hands up, hands up
Uh, pass that weed to a real nigga
Your girl is my biggest fan, windmill nigga
Lil Tunechi in this bitch, where my skateboard?
I jack
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