Had It Up 2 Here

Now move up

I had it up to here with why y'all weak ass rappers

DJ's CEOs I want why y'all to know

I had it up to here with why y'all hundred grand producers

Fake ass thugs, dress codes in clubs

I had it up to here with why y'all PDRs

Racist cops cheeba holders don't me start

I had it up to here with why y'all wannabe stars

Trying to be who you ain't just be who you are, man

Who you think your talking be

Get your head bust to the white meat, questioning me

Won't play cause I won't pay what you think I'm a bitch

Never tell who shot you what think I'm a snitch

But I will the order for them to smack you up

Clap you up, yo money lone we snatch you up

Think you hide where, I got family over there and they all think like me

We had it up to here

Ayo, I was a broke working nigga

This rap got me money

I had bitches; my good looks kept the honies

But in the game niggaz with real money

They steal from me, when you mention my name

I changed the real money

In the game after a few years

I'm still hungry, put the band back together

Its bout get real ugly yo

I crush plenty guys, I had plenty wives

I'm on old school tapes I'm only twenty-five

Niggaz would doubt me, bitches talk about me

They both wouldn't be shit without me

Starang One

Yes, Yes why y'all

Why y'all know niggaz ready to brawl why y'all

Hit the floor why y'all

The 4-pound leaving all why y'all wasted

The gun powder can you taste it

The Big Khahuna ready to ride up in your place, bitch

Can you feel me?

These bitch niggaz trying to kill

No what they do to me, to try to fool me see

D.O. stay sharp and on top of my game

Spittin' my flames, so don't throw dirt on my name

I'm trying to hold lot of thing and make a whole lot of cream

All the plots and the schemes got me doing wicked things

Shoot your moms, stab your pops, rape your daughter

Get the moment on the tape recorder

Give copies out to every nigga up in the hood

Let them know I'm not the nigga to fuck with up in the hood

Give me some weed, give some coke, give me some dope

Give your seed; give me your throat, give me some rope

Choking your bitch provoking your click

To get guns, smoking a spliff

You're throwing a fit, now that's fun

Backpack niggaz acting all funny and shit

Till I them that shit is wack they're no money in this

And you female rappers I'm end your careers

Rap my hands around your throat while you get banged from the rear

I'm the type of nigga that will throw a shell in your arm

You the type to snitch, bitch

Why you telling my moms listen

Why y'all bitch niggaz are bout as wack as come

Don't make me clap you in the back of the ass when I'm done

We pack 10 billion, 987 million, 654 thousand

321 hundred fans in housing know how we get down and

What this shit about The Boot Camp sounding it's astounding

But I'm tried of it, questioning why y'all budget

I want to snuff but I look him and be like ah fuck it

But now I ride wit it when I blow I slide wit it

All I know I'm Boot Camp and are niggaz

Now a days I had it up to here (Louieville)