Stick 'Em Up

Yeah nigga got that Ludacris Got that UGK that Disturbing the Peace Click And you know what I'm tired of? I'm tired of these flashing ass flossing ass niggas So if you see one you know what you do? Chorus: Stick em up stick em up bitch stick em up Put ya hands up where I can see em see em see em Stick em up stick em up bitch stick em up Target niggas wouldn't wanna be em be em be em (repeat) (Pimp C) Uh, I want the money and the power they hittin me every hour For the silt resin powder chasing them dirty dollars I'm from Texas nigga it get hectic nigga People depending on me I can't neglect it niggas Cause the game is deeper than just working off the beeper If the paper ain't right then we calling a sweeper To clean up the problems and straighten the mess So nigga come wit ya pistol and nigga come wit ya vest This ain't the east or the west the 'bama weed or the stress I'm Young Pimp from Port Arthur and we done passed the test And we smoking the best everywhere that we go And when our records come out them bitches sell out the sto' Stayin throat on the 'dro and keep that thang on the flo' Want my momey up front when we come for the show Y'all can play wit ya paper but I'm dyin for mine So while y'all buying them watches I'mma stay on the grind Fuck Nigga Chorus (Ludacris) Hallow laid hollow sprayed I'm the hollow man I get to the hollow point wit my hollow plan Hollow bullets I pull it I'm about to live in vain And then I drill em refill em make sure they feel the pain It's mighty strange how your peephole is my fuckin gauge Catch you in concert and then wipe you off the fuckin stage I feel a ghetto rage let's turn the ghetto page My bitch will stick you wit ghetto metal stilleto thangs And I got a ghetto aim with diamond 'bezeled rangs So while my index is working my pinky's blinding thangs I hit em at close range I spit em at most brains You think you real rich nigga we gonna make some chump change You think it's a fucking game you think it's a blood sport You gasping for breath and I'm puffin on one of these Newports And I see a red dot aimed at yo head Then bright lights oh no po-po and guess what they said They said Chorus (Bun-B) Say nigga you think it's a joke? Trill niggas be going for broke Twist this whistle loc and them muthafuckin pistols smoke And it's just a matter of time, before you labeled a busta I just the nigga that couldn't catch up, and cut the mustard Now I got confidence, I don't need no condiments All I need is common sense, to see through your incompetence Nigga, keep your compliments, they don't flatter me, fuck with me And that'll be the day, bitch, we don't play, you know where the gat'll be Huh, right on the side of me (side of me), right where it's 'posed to be ('posed to be) Bitch niggas die for me (die for me), just for getting too close to me (close to me) So kiss your rosery beads and sing a silent one, cause I promise if you get it, it's gone be a violent one Coroner catching his breath, like he's got asthma When they cut on the blue light, and see all that fucking plasma Millenium murda master, nigga I ain't new to this So when you see that Bun-B, Young Pimp, or that Ludacris, just Chorus ATL the PAT UGK and DTP (I wouldn't wanna be em be em be em) Shawn Drey I twenty Ludacris and Fake Fees (I wouldn't wanna be em be em be em) Down South how we do it Pimp C and Bun-B (I wouldn't wanna be em be em be em) Roll trees ride D's make cheese and shake fleas (I wouldn't wanna be em be em be em)