[Chorus: Master P (4X)]
Throw em up if you a soldier
If you dodging these n***as, these b**hes and the rollers
The clock hits twelve, I'm on the grind
Punch in your code if you want these nickles, quarters and dimes
I got the ghetto sewed up like McDonald's and Wendy's
And I got more sales than JC Penney's
Throw it up if you a soldier
But if you a punk motherf**er talkin sh** and working with the rollers
You better duck down quick when the tank pops
Cause we be slanging automatic f**ing slangshots
I went from halves, to hoes with weed to working water
From selling grams, to motherf**in quarters
From quarter keys, to really tapes and cd's
Now every n***a in the hood knows me
Uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy
Stayin true to the game, and still bout it bout it
Chorus
I'm a represent my hood till I die
And when I'm gone put it on the blimp and let it ride
Third ward, calliope, n***a Master P
A ghetto n***a, live and made history
Ain't no mugging, just thugs with me
Ain't no hugging, ain't no love in P
These ghetto heroes is dead and gone
That's why n***as in the ghetto live like Al Capone
I be breaking n***as like ice in Iceland
Crushing n***as like sevens in dice games
Nickel plated ninas knocking down doors
With hoes and gators, Girbauds and Polos
So watch your back when you hustling crack
Cause jackers take your life away and ain't no coming back
Uh, I seen alot of movies, but this sh** is real
And only cars get brand new grills
Chorus
[Kane & Abel]
Automatic gats for combat what we pack
Flip n***as like flapjacks, or oz's and crack
We k**ing with tattoos, our guns, and balls
Dick hard with the tech-nine in my draws
Went from selling double up's to going double platimum
From selling crack and, jack and gun clapping and rapping
Watch me smoke my little weed, got my drink and bud
What's up to all the slangers, the bangers, bloods and cuz
I was a soldier, I still remain a soldier
I'm cold bro, even sold my mamma a boulder
Down a fifth of hennessy and blow a bag of doja
Quarter keys with five G's was a hustle for me
Now selling gold LP's, that's a hustle for cheese
G's don't give a f** till the world blow up
Game over, Kane and Abel, no limit soldiers
[Master P]
No Limit soldiers, I thought I told ya!
Chorus