Lyrics:
cops
I'm still around for ya
Keepin' my sound underground for ya
And I'ma throw a change up
Quayle, like you never brought my name up, huh
Now my
an O-G bitch
I'm the motherfuckin' Early Mornin' Stoned Pimp
Now throw your hands in the air and let's rock y'all
Just throw your hands up high, hip
dirty dance on ya
Wanna get my hands on ya
Show ya I can dance
When you get up on the dance floor
I'ma dirty dance for ya
I'ma shake my ass for ya
the club (say what?)
Go and tell that nigga, bump that (say what?)
Throw your hands up, like nigga, what? (Say what?)
Ya'll don't really really want that
to stand up
Stand up
As you stand up
just throw ya hands up
This here is our standing ovation
Ovation we needa ovation
You went to far
Wit no
me that
You aint gotta talk
I can hear ya when you throw it back
Ima drop a band
If you drop it where the flo' is at
That's a helpin' hand
Ba-Ba-Baby
each other wrong though
Wish you stop bgringing old shit up that happened three years ago
I ain't saying that I'm perfect but you got to know I'm worth
Not gonna lie it started as a hobby
Started as my therapy
Wife up n' left me
Notepad n pen, found my new baby
Got me through my grief, now let's
to constantly live chright
Throw ya hands ups, player it was bound to happen
Nigga's drop lock's at me every time I'm rappin'
Getting motherfucking tired
(Raise ya hands),
Raise ya hands you bought a stack an you can throw it,
(Raise ya hands),
Raise ya hands if ya clip be fully loaded
(Raise ya hands
to me friend he the mans with yak
Hold up throw it like this now the stance gotta switch
Hands off ya knees put em it up in the bitch
And look back at it
outta your seat
Then you throw your hands high in the air,
Ya rockin' to the rhythm, shake your derriere
Ya rockin' to the beat without a care,
With
CHORUS
Ya don't stop
To my people in the front
Ya don't stop
To my people in the rear
Say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop
Throw these hand signs up and
My dogs start running
See these eyes, you can't tell me nothing
Throw these hand signs up and
My dawgs start gunning
I got the chronic by the tree, 'cause
(I love it when you call me Big Poppa)
Throw your hands in the air, if you's a true player
(I love it when
and throw the fake out
Raise the stakes up, hit you off from the waste up
That's how it is and how it is is kinda fucked up
Butter beats bangin got ya
Jack jack.. YEAH!
Put em up! Put em up!
Yo yo.. JT Money!
Throw em up! Throw em up!
JT Money!
Aiy ya ya ya ya ya ya (Joe Nutty who 'dat?)
Jack jack.. YEAH!
Put em up! Put em up!
Yo yo.. JT Money!
Throw em up! Throw em up!
JT Money!
Aiy ya ya ya ya ya ya (Joe Nutty who 'dat?)
, throw your hands up, throw your hands up)
Now move in, now move out
Hands up, hands down
Back up, back up
Tell me what ya gonna do now
Breathe in, now
She throw, She throw
She throw, She throw
She throw, She throw
She throw, She throw
She drop it low
Then touch her toes
Than bring it back
And shake
Throw yo hood up if you representin (Northside, Westside, Southside, Eastside)
All my fly day numbered, hustlas baby
Throw yo hood up if you
Jack jack.. YEAH!
Put em up! Put em up!
Yo yo.. JT Money!
Throw em up! Throw em up!
JT Money!
Aiy ya ya ya ya ya ya (Joe Nutty who 'dat?)
un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Tun up, tun un un up
Everybody lemme see yuh
Hand
I'm still around for ya
Keepin my sound underground for ya
And I'mma throw a change up
Quayle ain't do nothing but blow my name up!
Now my homies in
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