U.P.T.

Album cover art for "U.P.T." by Juvenile & Birdman & Hot Boys

Juvenile & Birdman & Hot Boys - Rap, In English

U.P.T.

13.5K Plays

Duration: 4:17

Lyrics

[Intro: B.G. & Birdman] Cash Money slangin' iron, nigga (Off top, playboy) HBs and the BTs, Lil Weezy What's happenin', lil' B. Geezy? Bring it to these niggas [Verse 1: B.G.] When I got that iron in my hand, I'ma slang it When I got that drama on my mind, I'ma bring it (Bring it) I ain't backin' down from no nigga, that's nathan If a nigga say I ain't 'bout my business, look here, he hatin' [Verse 2: Birdman] Comin' Uptown, playboy, we gon' slang it I catch you down bad, nigga, we gon' leave you stankin' Fuckin' with my HBs nigga, I'ma bring it Rollin' Uptown, stay strapped and keep thinkin' [Verse 3: B.G.] 'Cause a nigga get stolen, better yet, get taken K bullets burn, they come fast, you can't shake it Picture this, my brother, Cash Money done went nation But that come from seven hard years of dedication [Verse 4: Birdman] Fuckin' with my B.G. nigga I'm puttin' it on your face and I'ma bleach me a nigga Best believe we worth six figures and we call hard hitters We Uptown riders and we real with this, nigga (Nigga, nigga) [Verse 5: B.G.] Police could investigate but they ain't gon' find shit But a hundred bullet shells without a fuckin' fingerprint This Hot Boy clique lay back and spy on niggas We see they workin' with somethin', look, we ride on niggas Ain't like rookie niggas, any block, we abuse it That go for the boss too, we ain't got no picks and chooses We'll get you if you got it, we'll split you if we gotta I know you done got word that B. Geezy is a rider So keep it on the DL If you got keys, don't serve nobody off VL 'Cause they play for keeps A one-way ticket to hiz-ell, six feet deep It's a filthy dirty wiz-orld on the UPT I was raised in the streets, brought up with it on my mind By the time I was nine, pussy nigga, I was slangin' that iron [Verse 6: Lil Wayne & Turk] Them-them-them don't want us They know me and Turk known bust, spinnin' corners They already know we brothers, blood, or whatever you wan' call it Drink up with my dog, we get crazy like alcoholics Plus we ballin', so whatever we spin the bend in Lex or Benz, it's gon' be on twinny-twin-twins Get off the block when we come, nigga (Come, nigga), to the lane Shots that close shop when the bullets start sprayin' Run your mouth too much, better watch what you're sayin' Like a nigga on the sideline, nigga, we ain't playin' Now why, oh, why, Lord? Did the nigga wanna try and die hard? (Nigga, nigga) Biddy-bye-bye-bye Niggas wan' learn hard way, give it to 'em like that Make 'em suffer, chop his hands and hit the bitch with a bat [Verse 7: Juvenile] I guess you probably standin' there sayin', "Who's the motherfucker?" Nigga, Juv's the motherfucker that'll bruise a motherfucker (What?) Lately there's been a lot of cross throwin' in the bricks But I'm gonna kill me a nigga if they put me in that shit Look, I'ma tell you like I tell my folks Play with me if you want, Cash Money goin' broke Even if it means creepin' up slow Biddy-bye-bye, bustin' out shots out my black Volvo, for sure 'Cause ain't nobody gonna run me I don't want nobody goin' to tell my mama when somebody done me She ain't bring me in the world for that She ain't raise no ho, she could've had a girl for that I been realized I'm all in Surrounded by the camouflage and ballin' Make a nigga recognize I'm starvin' Go in and do a homicide, you fallin', stop callin' 'Cause ain't no peace treaties, whoadie You better not leave that forty-five at your house 'cause you're gonna need it, whoadie I told you, boy, I'm a soldier, boy UTP up on my stomach, from the 'Nolia, boy I'm slangin' iron [Outro: B.G. & Juvenile] For sure, nigga That's how we layin' it down for the '98 all the way to the '99 Worldwide, slangin' iron All you buster-ass niggas better recognize This one here bezeled out, you heard me? Ask my nigga Prime, nigga Ask my nigga Lac, nigga Ask my nigga B-Dog, nigga Ask Mannie, ask Rusty Ask my thug Corey Ask B. Geezy, nigga Ask Suga Slim We ain't got no motherfuckin' heart Got the butcher-knife killer in the back, you heard me? Slicin' throats, we doin' it like that, nigga Uh-huh, uh-huh How you love that, nigga? (Bezeled out, bitch) What's up now, nigga? Talk that shit now What-what's up? I thought we was what kind of boys? Go for what, nigga? Who, what, nigga? Huh? I know y'all gon' hear me all over the nation So this for the East Coast, the South Coast, the West Coast, over the world Nigga, it ain't no beef, nigga, it's 'bout money Nigga, if you ain't makin' no money, I can't talk Shut the fuck up Nigga ain't got no, no words for you It's all about the fetty

Rate this song

Rate this song

0/5.0 - 0 Ratings

5
0.0% (0)
4
0.0% (0)
3
0.0% (0)
2
0.0% (0)
1
0.0% (0)

Loading comments...

Credits

Writers
  • Juvenile
  • Hot Boys
  • Birdman