J.R. - Throw Up Ya Gunz lyrics

[Verse 1: Jay Z] If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son I got 99 problems but a b**h ain't one I've got the Rap Patrol on the gat patrol Foes that wanna make sure my casket's closed Rap critics that say he's Money, Cash, Hoes I'm from the hood stupid, what type of facts are those If you grew up with holes in your zapatos You'd celebrate the minute you was having dough I'm like f** critics, you can kiss my whole a**hole If you don't like my lyrics, you can press fast forward Got beef with radio if I don't play they show They don't play my hits, well I don't give a sh**, so Rap mags try and use my black a** So advertisers can give em more cash for ads, f**ers [Verse Two: Notorious B.I.G & Busta Rhymes] Uhh (Check it out) uhh Diamonds on my neck, chrome drop-top Chillin' on the scene, smokin' pounds of green Oooh-wee, you see, the ugliest Money-hungriest, Brooklyn Loch Ness Nine millimeter co*k test, wan fi' test? And the winner is... [Busta Rhymes] Y'all n***as know the rules I blast on n***as so -- [Notorious B.I.G.] -- my fist never bruise Land-still-cruise, Frank White paid his dues Ask who's the raw, bet they say Poppa very Look forward to me like commissary All of a sudden, now every-body Big Willie Done did it, come widdit, get yo' head splitted Or get your neck slitted, admit it, you overdid it Your sh** it, just ain't got that LOUD Gold tooth shine like TA-DOW! Biggie Smalls the illest and how, phrase raise your eyebrow By now you figure, he talkin' bout that n***a But your weak-a** a**umptions, lead led to dumpin' IV to pump-in, you're feeling something Catch my drift, or catch my four-fifth lift At least six inches, above project fences Turn meat to minces, jumps turn to flinches When I rain I drenches, cleared your park benches (HAH) Missed you by pinches (HOO) your talk is senseless (RRUFF) Actor needs chiropractor (HAH, HOO) for cracked jaw Yes I rocked, you tried to box (Hah) Dangerous you're not I gets down (HOO) Twist your body {*singing*} round and round, upside down [Verse Three: Busta Rhymes] C'mon, yo, throw your hands, c'mon b**h grab your tits, c'mon Let me know you in the spot Bump your fists, c'mon Thugs tote yo' sh** We bout to get mo' rich, c'mon Let's blow the club, c'mon f** the place up, c'mon Shake yo' nasty a** And make it swing all around, c'mon Yo, make this money Throw yo' loot on the ground, c'mon Bounce in your whips, c'mon b**h lick yo' lips, c'mon Dangerous MC's My n***a this be the sh**, c'mon Dangerous MC's My n***a this be the sh**, c'mon [Verse Four: Jay Z] I don't know what you take me as Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has I'm from rags to riches, n***as I ain't dumb I got 99 problems, but a b**h ain't one, hit me *Beat Fades Out* [2Pac] Westsiiiiddee! Haha [Verse Five: Snoop Dogg] Top Dogg, bite em all n***a burn the sh** up D-P-G-C my n***a turn that sh** up C-P-T, L-B-C Yeah we hooking back up And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up Thug n***as drug dealers yeah they giving it up Lowlife, yo life Boy we living it up Taking chances while we dancing in the party for sure Slip my ho a forty-fo' and she got in the back do' b**hes looking at me strange but you know I don't care Step up in this motherf**er just a-swanging my hair b**h quit talking, Crip walk, stay down with the set Take a bullet with some dick and take this dope from this jet Out of town, put it down for the Father of Rap And if yo' a** get cracked, b**h shut yo' trap Come back, get back, that's the part of success If you believe in the S you'll be relieving your stress [Bridge: 2Pac] All my n***as on the East Side, throw up your guns All my n***as on the West Side, throw up your guns All my n***as from the East Side, throw up your guns All my n***as from the West Side, throw your guns up n***as from the East Side, throw up your guns All my n***as from the West Side, throw your guns up All my n***as from the East Side, throw up your guns All my n***as from the West Side, throw your guns up n***as from the West Side, throw up your guns All n***as from the East Side, throw up your guns All my n***as from the West Side, throw up your guns All my n***as from the East Side, throw your guns up Ha ha ha, yeah n***a, Outlawz yeah, Thug Life Ha ha ha ha ha, yeah, energy makes plenty of enemies, you feel me? Throw your guns up!! [Outro: Nas] (Live Hip Hop, Live) Ain't got nothing to do with Old School (Live Hip Hop, Live) New School, Dirty South (Give Hip Hop, Give) West Coast, East Coast, this about us (Give Hip Hop, Give) This our thing, you know what I'm saying (Stay Hip Hop, Stay) This came from the gut, from the blood (Stay Hip Hop, Stay) From the soul, right here, man (I Pray Hip Hop, Pray) This is our thing, man