Papoose - Turn It Up lyrics

Turn it up [x6] I let the fifth go You know my MO This Lou sneaky a** dudes tryin' to tip toe Catch 'em in the disco stamp 'em in the tim bows I pale rappers out and pull 'em all misinformed Ye I heard him flow but I got a sick flow This Louie prick flow ain't harder then my chick flow I was on strip though letting the fifth go Since jamaicans was in the club singing dimbo Turn it up and get low homie I rip shows I ain't hard to find man you know my zip code 1123 3 official If you ain't know your chick know you jumping out the window Riding into whip slow iced out fitted low Like a chick with some nice hips like Miss Jones Throw the flow like bro man from the fifth floor Stiff blows like vitaly clips go bust your whole sh** wow Turn it up [x6] I bust their a** on the mixtapes Now I'm 'bout to bust them on their album They calling a hip hop cops I see 'em dialing Puff daddy said bad boys move in silence So I put the silencer on when I get villin Streets know the album is hot that's why they willin Got the chills right from Clinton to writing sillin 'Cause I free their minds from the fountains This style represent freedom, you can call it freestyle Thuga, thuga we the best just like Khaled Deep like the Woo when they first came out of Shilen Big truck I'm riding 'em east housing I don't feed no pie holes I'm straight lounging Y'all acting like y'all wolves then start howling Attack like a cat react when they smell salmon Before the deal, show money hundreds of thousands Laughed all the way to the bank and still smiling Turn it up [x6] Light skin girls like it from the back Brown skin girls ride it like a cadillac But the dark skin girls yea they the truth You know it's the blacker the berry the sweeter the juice Now we can order sore food and eat on a stu Or we can hit the highway in the seat of the coupe Talk about your childhood go deepen your roots I'm layed back you ma**aging me, feeding me fruit Your ex-man keep calling he beef and he loose But he a telephone thug I ain't beefing with you I'm gully as hell why you all bummy as hell Y'all ugly and frail while pop dummies and shell The block want me to sale what's not for me to fail Ain't locked up in a cell you co*ks**ers would tell The cops want me in jail I got money for bail This track was produced by Sha Money XL Turn it up [x6]