Birdman - U.P.T lyrics

[Intro: B.G. & Baby] Cash Money slangin nine n***a (Off top playboy) H.B's and The B.G.'s (What's happing little B.G. bring it to these n***as) [Verse 1: B.G.] When I got that iron in my hand I'm goin' to slang it When I got that drama on my mind I'm goin' to bring it I ain't backin' down from no n***a that's nathan' If the n***a say I ain't bout my business look here he hatin' [Verse 2: Baby] Coming uptown playboy we gonna slang it If I catch down n***a bad we gonna leave ya stankin' f**ing wit my H.B's n***a I'm gonna bring it Rollin' uptown stay strap and keep thinkin' [Verse 3: B.G.] Cause a n***a get stolen Better yet get takin' Paper is burn They come fast, ya can't shake it Picture this my brother Cash Money done went nation That come's from seven hard years of dedication [Verse 4: Baby] f**in' with B.G. n***a I'm puttin' on your face and I'm a k** me a n***a That's believin' worth six figures we call hard hitters We uptown riders and we real with this n***a, n***a [Verse 5: B.G.] Police can investigate but they ain't gonna find sh** But a hundred bullet shells without a f**ing fingerprint This Hot Boy click laid back and spy on n***as We see them workin' on somethin' look here we riders Ain't like workin' n***as Any block with a flussy That goes for the boss too We ain't got no picks to choose it We get cha if we gotta Wig split cha if we gotta I know you ain't got word that B.G.'s a rider So keep it on the D.L If you got keys don't serve nobody but off V.L Cause they play for keeps A one way ticket to hizell Six feet deep It's a filthy dirty rizell On the U.P.T I was raised in the streets But I put it on my mind By the time I was nine I was pushin' n***a I was slangin' that nine [Verse 6: Lil Wayne] Na, Na, Na, Na Now them them don't want us They know me and Turk don't fuss in the corners They already know that we brothers, Blood Or whatever you wanna call it Click up wit my dog we get crazy like alcoholics Plus we ballers So whatever we spin the Lex or Benz Its gonna be on twenny, twen, twens [Verse 7: Turk] Get off the block when we come n***a (n***a) To the lane Shots that close shop when the bullets start spraying Run your mouth too much, better watch what cha sayin' Like a n***a on the sideline, n***a we ain't playin' [Interlude: Lil Wayne] Na, Na, Na, Na Now why O why Lord The n***a wanna try and die Lord [Interlude: Turk] n***as wanna learn hard way Give it to 'em like that Make 'em suffer Put that b**h wit a bag [Verse 8: Juvenile] I guess you probably standin' there sayin, "Who's the muthaf**a?" n***a Juv's the muthaf**a, that'll bruise a muthaf**a Either there's been a lot of cross-firin' in the bricks And I'm gonna k** me a n***a If they put me in that sh** Look I'm gonna tell ya like I tell my folks Play with me if you want but Cash Money goin' broke Even if it means creepin' up slow Bustin' out shots out my black Volvo Fo sho, cause ain't nobody gonna run me I don't want nobody going to tell my mama when somebody done me She ain't bring me in the world for that She ain't raise no ho's She could have had a girl for that I been realized, I'm all in Surrounded by the camouflage, in ballin' Make a n***a recognize, I'm starvin' Go in and do a homicide, you fallin', stop callin' Cause ain't no peace treaties whodie You better not leave that forty-five at your house cause you gonna need it whodie I told you boy, I'm a soljah boy U.T.P up on my stomach from the 'Nolia boy [Outro: B.G.] Slangin' nine Fo sho n***a That's how we layin' it down for the ninety-eight all the way to the ninety-nine Worldwide Slangin' nine All you bus pa** n***as better recognize [Outro: Juvenile] This on here bouncin' all out ya heard me Ask my n***a Prime n***a Ask my n***a Lac n***a Ask my n***a B Dog n***a Ask Manny Ask Ruckus Ask my brother Corey Ask B.Geezy n***a Ask Suga Slimm [Outro: B.G.] You ain't got no muthaf**in' heart Got the butcha knife chillin' Slicing throats we doin it like that n***a Ah ha, Ah ha How you love that now n***a? What's up now n***a? Talk that sh** now What, What's up I thought we was what kind of boys n***a what, n***a who what, n***a ha [Outro: Juvenile] I know yall gonna hear me all over the nation So this is for the East Coast, the South Coast, the West Coast, over The world n***a ain't no beef n***a It's bout money n***a if you ain't making no money I can't talk [Outro: B.G.] Shut the f** up n***a ain't got no words for ya It's all about the fetti