Throw Up Ya Gunz lyrics

[Verse 1: Jay Z]
If you having girl problems I feel bad for you son
I got 99 problems but a b*tch ain't one
I've got the Rap Patrol on the gat patrol
Foes that wanna make sure my casket's closed
Rap critics that say he's Money, Cash, Hoes
I'm from the hood stupid, what type of facts are those
If you grew up with holes in your zapatos
You'd celebrate the minute you was having dough
I'm like f*ck critics, you can kiss my whole as*h*le
If you don't like my lyrics, you can press fast forward
Got beef with radio if I don't play they show
They don't play my hits, well I don't give a sh*t, so
Rap mags try and use my black ass
So advertisers can give em more cash for ads, f*ckers

[Verse Two: Notorious B.I.G & Busta Rhymes]
Uhh (Check it out) uhh
Diamonds on my neck, chrome drop-top
Chillin' on the scene, smokin' pounds of green
Oooh-wee, you see, the ugliest
Money-hungriest, Brooklyn Loch Ness
Nine millimeter c*ck test, wan fi' test?
And the winner is...
[Busta Rhymes]
Y'all n*ggas know the rules
I blast on n*ggas so --
[Notorious B.I.G.]
-- my fist never bruise
Land-still-cruise, Frank White paid his dues
Ask who's the raw, bet they say Poppa very
Look forward to me like commissary
All of a sudden, now every-body Big Willie
Done did it, come widdit, get yo' head splitted
Or get your neck slitted, admit it, you overdid it
Your sh*t it, just ain't got that LOUD
Gold tooth shine like TA-DOW!
Biggie Smalls the illest and how, phrase raise your eyebrow
By now you figure, he talkin' bout that n*gga
But your weak-ass assumptions, lead led to dumpin'
IV to pump-in, you're feeling something
Catch my drift, or catch my four-fifth lift
At least six inches, above project fences
Turn meat to minces, jumps turn to flinches
When I rain I drenches, cleared your park benches (HAH)
Missed you by pinches (HOO) your talk is senseless (RRUFF)
Actor needs chiropractor (HAH, HOO) for cracked jaw
Yes I rocked, you tried to box (Hah)
Dangerous you're not I gets down (HOO)
Twist your body {*singing*} round and round, upside down
[Verse Three: Busta Rhymes]
C'mon, yo, throw your hands, c'mon
b*tch grab your tits, c'mon
Let me know you in the spot
Bump your fists, c'mon
Thugs tote yo' sh*t
We bout to get mo' rich, c'mon
Let's blow the club, c'mon
f*ck the place up, c'mon
Shake yo' nasty ass
And make it swing all around, c'mon
Yo, make this money
Throw yo' loot on the ground, c'mon
Bounce in your whips, c'mon
b*tch lick yo' lips, c'mon
Dangerous MC's
My n*gga this be the sh*t, c'mon
Dangerous MC's
My n*gga this be the sh*t, c'mon

[Verse Four: Jay Z]
I don't know what you take me as
Or understand the intelligence that Jay-Z has
I'm from rags to riches, n*ggas I ain't dumb
I got 99 problems, but a b*tch ain't one, hit me
*Beat Fades Out*

[2Pac]
Westsiiiiddee! Haha

[Verse Five: Snoop Dogg]
Top Dogg, bite em all
n*gga burn the sh*t up
D-P-G-C my n*gga turn that sh*t up
C-P-T, L-B-C
Yeah we hooking back up
And when they bang this in the club baby you got to get up
Thug n*ggas drug dealers yeah they giving it up
Lowlife, yo life
Boy we living it up
Taking chances while we dancing in the party for sure
Slip my ho a forty-fo' and she got in the back do'
b*tches looking at me strange but you know I don't care
Step up in this motherf*cker just a-swanging my hair
b*tch quit talking, Crip walk, stay down with the set
Take a bullet with some di*k and take this dope from this jet
Out of town, put it down for the Father of Rap
And if yo' ass get cracked, b*tch shut yo' trap
Come back, get back, that's the part of success
If you believe in the S you'll be relieving your stress
[Bridge: 2Pac]
All my n*ggas on the East Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas on the West Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas from the West Side, throw your guns up
n*ggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas from the West Side, throw your guns up
All my n*ggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas from the West Side, throw your guns up
n*ggas from the West Side, throw up your guns
All n*ggas from the East Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas from the West Side, throw up your guns
All my n*ggas from the East Side, throw your guns up
Ha ha ha, yeah n*gga, Outlawz yeah, Thug Life
Ha ha ha ha ha, yeah, energy makes plenty of enemies, you feel me?
Throw your guns up!!

[Outro: Nas]
(Live Hip Hop, Live) Ain't got nothing to do with Old School
(Live Hip Hop, Live) New School, Dirty South
(Give Hip Hop, Give) West Coast, East Coast, this about us
(Give Hip Hop, Give) This our thing, you know what I'm saying
(Stay Hip Hop, Stay) This came from the gut, from the blood
(Stay Hip Hop, Stay) From the soul, right here, man
(I Pray Hip Hop, Pray) This is our thing, man