Holla Lyrics

Holla lyrics

[Chorus]:  Master P {Choppa

Them boys on that block holla (ooh ooh)

Them girls that got it hot holla (ooh ooh)

If ya runnin' from them cops holla (ooh ooh)

{Holla... (ooh ooh) {Holla (ooh ooh)



[Verse 1]:  Master P

Call me trashman cuz I put it up and back

Whodi owe me money I'ma bust his fuckin' ass

I'm allergic to Dr. Pepper, so pass me Dr. Cristale

Hit me on the two-way, whodi, I get wit'cha

Put it on the stove, bake it like a pie

Take it to the hood, slang it 16-5

When niggas snort it boy, they be passin' it to they girls

Wrap it up in Ziploc, back it up and twirl

Send money to the pent. Mac and C be home soon

Bitches start snitchin' I'ma send 'em to the moon

I could sell a hoe a green, front a hustler a lake

I could never fall off, I'm the "Ghetto Bill" Gates



[Chorus]



[Verse 2]:  Curren$y

These lil' niggas can't take it anymore

I push through the club iced out, low key with my P. Miller galore

Hoes breakin' down the doors, uhh

Because the 504 Boyz here they can't wait 'til we get on

It's Curren$y the motherfuckin' rookie of the year

This ain't the WNBA, ain't no pussies over here

Yeah, I'm makin' figures fuckin' with the Ghetto Bill

And a truck with some rims that's bigger than Ferris wheels, holla



[Chorus]



[Verse 3]:  Krazy

See this No Limit army nigga, that's my Kliq

The hoe that you tongue kissin' used to be my bitch

For these sayin' they'll slay a nigga, they called pricks

And this brown shit I'm sniffin' nigga, it got me sick

And this big truck I'm pushin', nigga, my tight whip

With a chop of lead on the seat, that'll make you flip

My alias, believe me, Doc Holliday

If it's beef, I'm like AIDS, I'll never go away



[Chorus]



[Verse 4]:  Master P

I might be something sly but I won't forget

Tell Double X-L they can, suck my dick

I might be country but I'm ghetto rich

And when it comes to grindin', I started this shit

I put the G in Ghetto, nigga, call me Ghetto Fab

Started with some quarters then I flipped it to some halves

Put the Coke in Coca-Cola, no baking soda

Call me Pistol P, cuz I slang them granola's



[Chorus]



[Verse 5]:  T-Bo

I guess them thangs just got dropped off, the block's hot like hot sauce

Some cop cars keep passin' I promise y'all they not lost

Convicted felons noticed when they tryin' to knock ya socks off

Go braggin' to them hatin' bitches, find how much ya watch cost

Loose lips, sank ships, bitch, so watch what you sayin'

It's the New No Limit, baby, got us under surveillance

And the Feds ain't playin' they kickin' down doors daily

Ain't this a bitch, I just got off probation



[Chorus]



[Verse 6]:  Magic

I'm tryin' to get me a whole chicken (chop it down for the dimes)

Then flip that bitch quicker than I (flip these rhymes)

Now I'm on two birds I'ma flip (one more time)

And I'ma cop the bitch you left behind

(I'm tryin', I'm hustlin') don't trust me when I'm broke

And I don't discriminate I want the money and a goat

Yeah, better hope I wait, I'm ass out (things will get bloody)

(Four to ya tummy, real messy and ugly)



[Chorus]



[Outro]:  Master P

If ya East Coast thuggin, holla (ooh ooh)

If ya West Coast thuggin, holla (ooh ooh)

If ya Midwest thuggin' holla (ooh ooh)

If ya Down South hustlin' holla (ooh ooh)