Free Lyrics 2026

Master P ~ Throw Em Up


[Chorus: Master P (4X)] Throw em up if you a soldier, if you dodging these niggas, these bitches and the rollers The clock hits twelve, I'm on the grind Punching your code if you want these nickles, quarters and dimes I got the ghetto soed up like mack diamonds and windy And I got more sealers than JC Pennies Throw it up if you a soldier But if you a punk motherfucker talkin shit and working with the rollers You better duck down quick when the tank pops Cause we be slanging automatic fucking slangshots I went from halves, to hoes with weed to working water From selling grams, to motherfuckin quarters From quarter keys, to really tapes and cd's Not every nigga in the hood knows me Uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy Stayin TRU to the game, and still bout it bout it Chorus I'm a represent my hood till I die And when I'm gone put it on the blimp and let it ride Third ward, calliope, nigga Master P A ghetto nigga, live and made history Aint no mugging, just thugs with me Aint no hugging, aint no loving P These ghetto heroes is dead and gone That's why niggas in the ghetto live like Al Capone I be breaking niggas like ice in Iceland Crushing niggas like sevens in dice games Nickel plated meters knocking down doors With hoes and gators, jaboes and polo's So watch your back when you hustling crack Cause jackers take your life away and aint no coming back Uh, I seen alot of movies, but this shit is real And only cars get brand new grills Chorus [Kane & Abel] Automatic gats for combat what we pack Flip niggas like flapjacks, with oz's and crack We killing with tatooes our guns and balls The car with the tek-nine in my droor Went from selling double up's to going double platimum For selling crack and, jack and gun clapping and rapping Watch me smoke my little weed, got my drink and bud What's up to all the slangers, the bangers, bloods and cuz I was a soldier, I still remain a soldier I'm cold bro, even sold my mamma a boulder Down a fifty of hennesee and blow a bag of doshia Quarter keys with five G's which a hustle for D Now selling gold LP's, that's a hustling for cheese G's don't give a fuck till the world blow up Game over, Kane and Abel, no limit soldiers [Master P] No Limit soldiers, I thought I told ya! Chorus more free lyrics

[Chorus: Master P (4X)]
Throw em up if you a soldier,
if you dodging these niggas, these bitches and the rollers

The clock hits twelve, I'm on the grind
Punching your code if you want these nickles, quarters and dimes
I got the ghetto soed up like mack diamonds and windy
And I got more sealers than JC Pennies
Throw it up if you a soldier
But if you a punk motherfucker talkin shit and working with the rollers
You better duck down quick when the tank pops
Cause we be slanging automatic fucking slangshots
I went from halves, to hoes with weed to working water
From selling grams, to motherfuckin quarters
From quarter keys, to really tapes and cd's
Not every nigga in the hood knows me
Uhhhhhh, but getting rowdy
Stayin TRU to the game, and still bout it bout it

Chorus

I'm a represent my hood till I die
And when I'm gone put it on the blimp and let it ride
Third ward, calliope, nigga Master P
A ghetto nigga, live and made history
Aint no mugging, just thugs with me
Aint no hugging, aint no loving P
These ghetto heroes is dead and gone
That's why niggas in the ghetto live like Al Capone
I be breaking niggas like ice in Iceland
Crushing niggas like sevens in dice games
Nickel plated meters knocking down doors
With hoes and gators, jaboes and polo's
So watch your back when you hustling crack
Cause jackers take your life away and aint no coming back
Uh, I seen alot of movies, but this shit is real
And only cars get brand new grills

Chorus

[Kane & Abel]
Automatic gats for combat what we pack
Flip niggas like flapjacks, with oz's and crack
We killing with tatooes our guns and balls
The car with the tek-nine in my droor
Went from selling double up's to going double platimum
For selling crack and, jack and gun clapping and rapping
Watch me smoke my little weed, got my drink and bud
What's up to all the slangers, the bangers, bloods and cuz
I was a soldier, I still remain a soldier
I'm cold bro, even sold my mamma a boulder
Down a fifty of hennesee and blow a bag of doshia
Quarter keys with five G's which a hustle for D
Now selling gold LP's, that's a hustling for cheese
G's don't give a fuck till the world blow up
Game over, Kane and Abel, no limit soldiers

[Master P]
No Limit soldiers, I thought I told ya!

Chorus

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