Hold Up

Lyrics

[Intro: Havoc & Fredro Starr] Yeah, nigga, uh, ha-ha, uh, yeah (South Suicide Queens) That's right! Uh, uh! QU, nigga (Yeah-yeah, yeah, shit like that) Knowhamsayin', put these drinks up Yaheard? Let's do this right, what, yo [Verse 1: X1] Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block For my one stop niggas that be huggin' the spot Sittin' on crates, gettin loaded, get that cake Dodgin' drinks, spit and hafta cover they face Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side See no games, with real niggas from other hoods Car titles get lost, some niggas get jooked But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam Holdin' the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof To them slick dudes, hot and they workin' the phone booth 'Cause Lord knows I'm gonna reload and bust back Incredible gats, indicted for a federal rap They ain't duck low enough, shots shredded they hat Murdered and gone, nigga, it's a medical fact [Chorus: Havoc] Hold up, this is for my gangsta team And my dime little mamis rockin' Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin' bent, goin' cra-zay! Hold up, this is for my gangsta team And my dime little mamis rockin' Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin' bent, goin' cra-zay! [Verse 2: Fredro Starr] Hold up, this is for my chicks in the spot All my bus stop bitches that be pushin' them drops Playin' the gate, get it ma, get those papes Hustle that face, seven G's below ya waist Project chick, dippin' whips, cruisin' the strip Gettin' money for tuition, go to school and she strip Kill in the club, when niggas dicks get hard Murda mami set you up and niggas bricks get robbed Help her soul if a chick try to set my team I'm tying her up, rep till the death of Queens All my staircase niggas keep flippin' the jun's All my outta state niggas keep gettin' them ones Guns in the air, hit you with invisible Glocks That mean you never see it comin' nigga, 52 shots I'm takin' ya block nigga, if you like it or not You either roll or get rushed, I guess not [Chorus: Havoc] Hold up, this is for my gangsta team And my dime little mamis rockin' Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin' bent, goin' cra-zay! Hold up, this is for my gangsta team And my dime little mamis rockin' Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin' bent, goin' cra-zay! [Verse 3: Sticky Fingaz] Sticky Fingaz—the nigga that be stickin' them spots For all my gun-cock niggas that be bustin' off shots Lay in the straight, black mask raidin' ya gate Show me ya safe before I put two in ya face Dirt on my kicks, hoodies all lookin' for whips Catch a rat nigga, leave his Bentley sittin' on bricks Bloody ice-pick fights in the yard ten times Outta ten, step to me and ya life get scarred Shoot-outs in broad daylight, bustin' at feds Dirty cops with a ki of coke, "Bring 'em out dead" For my jail niggas, stashin' bangers deep in they cots For my grimy niggas, hidin' under cars from cops Empty the Glock, hitchu with disposable gats Bust you, wipe it off, throw it away, it's a rap What nigga? I see you back in the hood scrap Turn ya Benz to a coffin' nigga, straight like that [Chorus: Havoc] Hold up, this is for my gangsta team And my dime little mamis rockin' Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin' bent, goin' cra-zay! Hold up, this is for my gangsta team And my dime little mamis rockin' Timbs and jeans When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things In the club, gettin' bent, goin' cra-zay! Hold up— up— up— [Outro: Fredro Starr & Sonsee] "South Suicide Queens" "Get yours— get yours— get yours!" "South Suicide Queens" "Get yours— get yours— get yours!"