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[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

[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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