Throw It Up - Twisted Black, Yo Gotti, Chyna Whyte

Uh-huh

I got four or five hustlers that I feed on my team

That I feed on my team, that I feed on my team

And never leave the crib without a pistol in lean

Without a pistol in lean, pistol in lean

I bet I hustle harder than you do in your dreams

Than you do in your dreams, nigga, do in your dreams

I’m a killer but right now, I’m murderin' ink

I’m murderin' ink, I’m murderin' ink

Now you can catch me on the brake of a 'Vette or a Beemer

With a fine ghetto bitch that look better than Trina

She a booster, sell pussy if I threaten to leave her

And I keep her cookied up like the bitch was a keeper

Either love or hate me, either way, your boy cool with it

Better ask somebody though 'cause I’m a fool with it

(Oh you’s a snitch, nigga?) Not me

Oh you say you boys got that work?

Well, let me cop three, that’s how we livin',

nigga

[Chorus: Twisted Black &

Yo Gotti

If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up

If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up

If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers (

Yeah, yeah

And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up (

Knahmtalkin' 'bout?

If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up (

I’m from the nawf, dog

If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up (

Ay, this yo boy, Gotti

If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers (

You Knahmtalkin' 'bout?

And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up

Look, I’m a hustler, and I hustle hard, I’m talkin' seven figure home

Four car garage, I’m stuntin' hard

My chain worth that Mastera', if you ain’t know

That’s a hun’ed thousand dollar car, look this your boy Yo Gotti

Man, my grind tight, I seen my first thirty-six O’s

And got my mind right, bakin' soda, boilin' water

Fish scalin', too, one to the right, two to the left

I bet my shit won’t lose, and I ain’t lyin'

My ounces jumpin' thirty-five, I keep that ether potent

Jumpin' like the

Soul Train

line, we rob for rock and on the block

Servin' one at a time, we Glock for Glock and straight up

Pop until somebody die, I throw it up

I represent that nitty north, where we shoot dice and we serve work

Straight off the same porch, but I’m in Dallas

And I’m fuckin' 'round with Twisted Black, I know his situation

Plus I can relate to that, fuck them conspiracies

If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up

If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up

If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers

And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up

If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up

If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up

If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers

And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up

I gotta get this money, they ain’t gon' give you nothin'

Them two-sixes on the whip, yeah I did that hustlin'

No homie, they know the white ain’t touchin'

No lips on them nuts, but I lick up the blunts, yeah

I hustle hard, got a bag of them ones

So much sick from the smell, gotta eat up them Tums, look

I grind like RK, you know my pedigree

I talk that money greedy yes, them boys like butterbeans

Like Papi, what it do?

You know mami 'bout her B. I

Take P ad-lib and shit on these hoes

I’ve been on these roads, look, I got a hand on the stove

I’m Santa Clause in them streets and my dro’s full of heat

And it’s not from that Snapple, boy, that Moss’ll put you deep

Bust it all out the Magnum, break you virgin, make you bleed, haha

You know the name, you see 'em throwin' up that «C»

It’s Whyte House, fade to black, nigga, welcome to the trap

If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up

If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up

If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers

And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up

If you a hustlin' ass nigga, throw it up

If you a gangsta ass nigga, throw it up

If you’re both of these niggas, and you will squeeze triggers

And you don’t bar niggas, throw it up