Artist/Band:
Yelawolf
Lyrics for Song: Throw It Up
Lyrics for Album: Radioactive [2011]
[Intro: Yelawolf]
Aye Boo, get these motherf*ckers
And pass that jack
[Hook: Gangsta Boo]
I see you b*tches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' shit
Get the f*ck from 'round here, you don't rep my shit
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it b*tch!
Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain't ready for it b*tch
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!
You ain't ready for it b*tch
[Verse 1: Yelawolf]
I already got 2 cars in a yard that don't run
So why would I wanna break shit down for you
Better be confused with the punch lines and bars that I lunch
Here the king if archery come
Wit' a cracker d*ck to f*ck you and that pussy carpet you munch
If I'm not hardly the one
You must be barely the one
Billy if really you're kiddin'
B*tch I'm the prodigal son
And I'm stuntin' like my daddy
Dr-dr-drinkin' like my mama
Co-co-country like my uncle
Stuttering like a CD in a dunk
P-p-p-punk
And I'm in a blue Chevy runnin' over motherf*ckers in first
I ain't even shift gears yet,
I ain't even here yet I'm outta this earth, right (yeah ho)
But I just hit the surface and I'm bout to walk into a bank,
Wit' a shank and a black can of paint and check the clerk: where the keys?
B*tch you better check your purse, I got a brick of herb,
And I hit the syrup and I'm feeling like I might just hit the curb
So get the f*ck outta my way buddy
You don't wanna walk around the chicken house
With a hawk little puppy dog
Yelawolf and Eminem shit
Sufferin' succotash, yeah, suck a d*ck b*tch
[Hook: Gangsta Boo]
I see you b*tches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' shit
Get the f*ck from round' here, you don't rep my shit
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it b*tch!
Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain't ready for it b*tch
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!
You ain't ready for it b*tch
[Verse 2: Gangsta Boo]
B*tch please, you don't want to step up to this Mrs.
G-A-N-G-S-T-A Boo make a n*gga hit his knees
When I'm up in the building
Preaching to my children
I don't be taking no shit from you haters
You'll make me hurt one of your feelings (ha, ha, ha, ha, ha)
Naa, naa, ne, naa, naa
Pick yo face up off the flo'
I got you feeling sad naa
You be on that hokeewag
Hokeewag is bullshit
Run into this gangsta have your preacher at the pulpit, b*tch!
I was born on the Mississippi River
Take no shit from a b*tch or a n*gga
So, so crazy got a f*cked up temper
Bipolar, not Nikki, I'm worsa, I'll hurt cha
I gotta crazy ass mind game
My n*gga, I'm a lion untamed
Hunt your ass down in my jungle
I do this, I tell them hoes,
You ain't ready for it b*tch!
[Hook: Gangsta Boo]
I see you b*tches talkin' loud, but you ain't sayin' shit
Get the f*ck from round' here, you don't rep my shit
You ain't from my city, you don't know about this
You don't want that drama, you ain't ready for it b*tch!
Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain't ready for it b*tch
Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!
You ain't ready for it b*tch
[Verse 3: Eminem]
Me and Yelawolf tear the roof of this motherf*cker
You ain't got the oomph you're a hoof to the foot of an elephant
Hello toots you look so eloquent that's what I tell a cunt
Come sit up front cause you're kickin' my seat
And I'm tryin' to the tell the cashier what I want!
They say I act like an asshole, when I pull up at the White Castle
And I ask for an appli-cation, throw it back in their face and
Tell the b*tch I'm a rapper, then I wrap her
In the head with a Whopper that I bought from BK
You expect me to be proper?
B*tch you better pop in a CD of me immediately, slut hoe skeedideedada
Prada? Not a chance, I was thinkin' about buyin' you some clothes
But Target was closed so I decided to mosey on over
to K-Mart, but the doors
Was locked, what about some shoes I thought, great I suppose
So I go to Payless but what'dya know, they didn't carry a size 8 in hoes!
Oh! This is ugly boy swag, puttin' toe tags on you motherf*ckin' ho bags
What a trailer trash pioneer, I am yeah, that's why I'm here
I don't got a rhyme book it's more like a motherf*ckin'
diary that diarrhea
Me, Yelawolf and Gangsta Boo came here to show you a thing or two
'Bout sign language, middle fingers aimed at you
So we don't gotta scream at you!
Ow! I just bit my bottom lip, it was an accident
I went to go tell 'em all to go get f*cked
But I'm never gonna bite my tongue, little b*tch throw it up
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