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Juvenile - 400 Degreez Album Lyrics



Juvenile - 400 Degreez Lyrics






Intro (Big Tymers)

Bitches is pullin' out they best suits
Gangstas is gettin' dressed too
Don't even underestimate the power of a test tube
It's a fo' sho' shot, some of these niggas know not
That's why they so hot, always up in them dope spots
I hope my niggas really feel what I'm sayin'
I'm tryin' to put lil' wodie up on this game
And dick suckers ain't playin'
And duck nigga, look I won't remain
You're stuck even if it don't restrain
I'ma be in the cut
Some of you got it, some of you f*ckin' up
Better get your life together 'fore you lose that bruh
You got cocaine you better move that bruh
You got a ring you better lose that bruh
You got a habit, better lose that bruh
Don't even choose that bruh, so move on
I did this album right here for keepin' me and you strong...

That's right cousin
I did this album right here
For me and my people, ya heard me?
And we got the Lord on our side
So can't nothin' you do or say to me bother me
Cousin, I'ma be here 'til it's all over with
I've been through a lot the past few years
But I ain't holdin' no grudges
It's all about me and my family, U.T.P
This is how we eat, cousin
What?!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: TERUIS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave




HA

That's you with that bad ass Benz ha
That's you that can't keep yo' old lady
cause you keep f*ckin her friends ha
You gotta go to court ha
You got served a subpeona for child support ha
That was that nerve ha
You ain't even much get a chance to say a word ha
I know i ain't trippin don't your brother got them birds ha
You ready to bust one of them niggaz head ha
You ain't scared ha
You know how to play it ha
I know you ain't just gonna let a nigga come and punk you ha
Stunt and front you ha
Straight up run you ha
You know who got that fire green ha
You know how to use a triple beam ha
Shit ain't hard as it seems ha
You keep your body clean ha
You got a lot of girbaud jeans ha
Some of your partners dope fiends ha
You really don't want to f*ck with them niggaz ha
You come up with them niggaz ha
You stuck with them niggaz ha

[Chorus x2]
You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G until the moment you expire
You know what it is yo make nothing out of something
You handle your biz and don't be cryin and suffering

You can't do nothing but love fresh ha
You want to know what we gonna do next ha
You brought my tape with a check ha
You wearing a vest ha
You tryin to protect your chest ha
You spent 70 on your benz ha
That ain't yours that's for your friends ha
You wanna stop these niggaz from playing wit you ha
You wanna run the block ha
You wanna be the only nigga with rocks ha]
You keep your gun cocked ha
You count the money at the end of the night ha
You on a three day flight ha
You full of that diesel ha
You duckin them people ha
Your face was on the news last night ha
You the one that robbed them little dudes out they shoes last night ha
You don't go in the projects when it's dark ha
You claim you thug and you ain't got no heart ha
You came in the Nolia on new years eve ha
You got stuck in that bitch and couldn't leave ha
It was hard for youto breathe ha

[Chorus x2]
You a paper chaser, you got you block on fire
Remaining a G until the moment you expire
You know what it is to make nothing out of something
You handle your biz and don't be cryin and suffering

You got a trespassing charge ha
That dick got hard ha
When you were looking at them little broads ha
You don't know when to quit ha
That's you with that shot calling shit ha
That's you with that balling shit ha
That's you that's taking them hits ha
That hoe don't know when to shut up her mouth ha
You gonna knock that hoe teeth out ha
You done switched from Nike to Reebok ha
You twinkle you golds everytime you leave your house ha
Them income tax checks ha
You bout to flip that ha
You bout to go score you a gram ha
You gonna treat your nose ha
You bout to go put the dope dick on one of these hoe ha
When you broke you drove ha
When you paid you got bookoo places to go ha
You on top ha
You rob somebody shop ha
You don't think you can be stopped ha
You ridin in the Benz on 20 inch rims ha

[Chorus x2]
You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G until the moment you expire
You know what it is to make nothing out of something
You handle you biz and don't be cryin and suffering
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group,




Gone Ride With Me

[Juvenile]
I'm charging 600 for some big hoe
You do business with me, you coming back to get more
My shit is fire, cause it's jogging back to twenty-nine
So when niggaz shouldn't have no problem 'bout me getting mine
If you come at me with a shot I must say shop closed
Motherf*ckers try to get smart you gon' get popped hoe
I buck with niggaz out the Jake like Will and Paco
Have conversations for bitches until they got drove
Picture me gently getting twisted off the indo
Baby, Lil Wayne, B.G., and me committing sins though
Better beware because we 'bout to spend a billion though
Don't get caught out without the shit cause you will end though
Me and my people got to hustle just to pay the rent
Some of us not in the position that we say we in
Can't have no bill collectors through my residence
That's why everyday I be running for the president
All in I ain't another nigga, shits irrelevant
You get your head busted for playing with my intelligence
Yeah

[Chorus]
My nine is gonna die with me
Pick up the supply with me
Be up in the ride with me
Do a homicide with me, who, me
My nine is gonna die with me
Pick up the supply with me
Be up in the ride with me
Do a homicide with me, who, me
My nine is gonna die with me
Pick up the supply with me

[Juvenile]
You making shit more complicated than it should be
You feel your death is coming soon only it could be
Nigga got killed because they never understood me
I know your block is similar to how my hood be
This nigga with all of this playing getting on my nerves
He calling me up on the phone saying he want a Burb
I told his daddy that's not how I handle business, man
How I know you not turning, say that you be with me saying
Doing business with you I'm not even considering
How to be in the safe get around that you niggaz in
I move too fast, remember patience is a virtue
And keep your eyes open cause niggaz gon' observe you
They waiting for the perfect time that they can hurt you
And if they catch you off your basis they gon' serve you
I wonder if my people locked up still remember me
I'm talking 'bout you laying in rotten penitentiaries
All my niggaz

[Chorus]
My nine is gonna die with me
Pick up the supply with me
Do a homicide with me
Be up in the ride with me, who, me
My nine is gonna die with me
Pick up the supply with me
Do a homicide with me
Be up in the ride with me, who, me

[Juvenile]
I already got you listening to what I said
You better straighten up, there, soldier 'fore I bust your head
Hoe if you got something you better not even show your face
Cause a nigga been doing bad and might explore your place
Look, you know you not a body cause they know you fake
If you want to go to war I know what it take
Come with a team of choppers, not no thirty-eight
And we gon' turn this 211 into a murder case
And me a Russell gon' get dizzy out the Thunderbird
And start a nuclear revolution right up on your curb
niggaz keep f*cking with me cause they know I'm hitting laws
My truck is sitting on twenties, and I'm hitting broads
If you get beside yourself, then you got to go
You creeping on the C-M-P's that's not possible
I hit a fifty out my chopper and I got some more
You say you ready for me Woo-dey I don't really know
Know

[Chorus]
My nine is gonna die with me
Do a homicide with me
Pick up the supply with me
Be up in the ride with me, who, me
My nine is gonna die with me
Pick up the supply with me
Do a homicide with me
Be up in the ride with me, who, me
My nine is gonna ride with me
My nine is gonna die with me
Be up in the ride with me
Do a homicide with me, who, me
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Flossin Season

Mannie Fresh playboy
I know you love these diamonds (they beautiful ha)
Nigga, "How You Luv That?"
All that stuntin and frontin
It's all about them diamonds boy

[Baby]
Nigga it's a pretty day, and it's flossin season
Added six tires to my new machinery
Double R like to ball like it's no tomorrow
Pretty broads and we f*ckin these superstars
Chrome rims, niggaz ridin new Benz
TV's, Cadillacs with the new fends
Wet paint, niggaz takin trips to the banks
Hittin malls spendin twenty G's like stars
Rolex, PlayStations in the Hummer
Just to show these stupid hoes that we worth somethin
My stuntin name Evel Knievel, keep it real
Let me pop a wheelie, hoes love stuntin cause I got love
Gold slugs, stuntin cause we got love
Motorbike button rims cause we livin right
Game tight take a tramp make her out a champ
Overnight got the yole if your money right
Solid TV's PlayStation with the B.G.
It's all gravy playboy cause it's flossin season
A million dollars ain't nothin to me nigga
but a million hoes is game to me playboy

[Chorus: Lil Wayne]
Nahh nahh - flossers, let me see you rollin your rims
Ballers, helicopters, bikes, and Bourbans
It's on us, C-M-R are millionaires
Let 'em know it's flossin season everywhere
We flossers, let me see you rollin your rims
Ballers, helicopters, bikes, and bourbans
It's on us, C-M-R are millionaires
Let 'em know it's flossin season everywhere

[B.G.]
I got to get my shine on, do it every time
Seventeens on up, that's all I ride
In ninety-eight, I been havin them hoes throwin up
They don't know if I'm in a helicopter or in a truck
I f*ck they head up, cause I floss so much
Police had me up cause a nigga so young (ha bruh?)
But you know me nigga..
that ain't gon' stop B.G. nigga (at all)
Cause the next day you will see nigga
me in somethin else with a TV nigga (f'real)
F*ck it, I'ma floss like that I got scrilla
Come try to take it, you're f*ckin with a guerilla
I got a watch you can see from a block away
I got a chain you'll see that'll shock the day
My click do what we say, we don't stunt wit it
Off top Big Tymers gon' come with it
Layin it down this month cause we got a reason (fo' sho')
and we gon' rip shit up cause it's flossin season

[Chorus]

[B.G.]
We flossers, what what what?
I say we ballers, what what what?

[Juvenile]
This is the season for the flossers nigga
Ride top notch shit, f*ck what it cost you nigga
Ain't got no TV's or CD's in it - I ain't gon' ride in it
If it ain't no overseas type shits - I ain't gon' drive it
This ain't the summer to swing the top off
This the season niggaz come out on them 20's and ball
It ain't no secret I'ma stunter, like Evel Knievel
Jumpin out Lex's and Hummer's, showin off for my people
When I pull up in V.I.P. they say that's a nice car
Bitches all in my face can't even make it to the bar
Me, broke and assed-out? Never that man
I got some shit up in my ear you can see from a airplane
I don't think Super D. can pull a stunt like me
Got karats on both of my pinkies, ten thousand ap-iece
Today I might lay low with Kent I built my house in the East
F*ck that, I'ma play bourban it's a thousand a suite

[Mannie Fresh]
Who had the, first bourban with the livin room set
Who the only nigga you know that drive a burgundy jet
How many cities you know, named after me? (uhh..)
It's gon' be a bunch of them motherf*ckers when I finish G
Now baby - I know you missed us
Big daddy light up a room like Christmas
Shine like a light bulb - rich thug
Let that little girl come over here and give a millionaire a hug
McGyver ain't liver than a, Big Tymer
Big dick a million dollars and a, Pathfinder
Mr. Betty Crocker cake maker, casino breaker
Tell Shaq I got a half a mill' ridin on the Lakers
Pack my bitches up and move to the hills
Thirty days a month - thirty Automobiles
The Lexus or Benz that come out in the year two thousand
I got one of them bitches parked around corner by the housin
The bike I got come out in the year two thousand ten
Eleven fifty zoop with the batman fin
The ring I got, Liberace want it
He couln't afford that bitch but I can afford to flaunt it

[Chorus]

[B.G.]
We flossers, what what?
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, BRYAN WILLIAMS, TERIUS GRAY, CHRISTOPHER DORSEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes




Ghetto Children

[Verse 1]

In these times we gotta hustle cuz our pockets be hurt
Lil niggas wanna get fronted from who got work
Is she ready for that, you wanna wash the bus
Let a nigga know where they at so aint no stoppin' us
If you handle yo business right I'ma promote yo ass
You bitch out and try to kite I'ma come smoke yo ass
The shit that I'm givin' you they tryin' blood ta get
The vicks be runnin' through because they love the shit
So don't come with that no one bout it shit was cool
Niggas tried ta rob me nobody was comin' through
Snitches I can't have that
Bitches I can't have that
Riches you can have that
Just bring me my cash back
Look its all gravy with me go head and shine
Thats how you play it with me ya big time
All I want is the Gs
With a trunk full of keys
A benz on 20s
You got something you can lend me
Shit nigga I aint doing nothin' for me for free
Can't put no trust in you niggas cuz yall be tryin' ta run G
Cuz I don't like dreamin' bout makin' no cheese
Wanna see my muthaf*ckin' bank account O.D.ed [over dosed]

[Chorus x2]
Until then I'ma be thuggin' behind a project buildin'
Smokin' that fire be with the ghetto children
Plottin' on a way that we can make a million (million lawd lawd)

[Verse 2]

Now I'm on some shit again
Leave a nigga stranded like Gilligan
Hundreds I'm considerin'
Lex it for a millian
Catch it nigga I'm killin'em
They spot but I aint feelin'em
My jacket off appearin them
Some a say its numerary
Parntnas in for sipperin'
Juvenile is different
Look at what I did to them
Niggas wearin' reeboks instead of nikes and timbalands
Bitch niggas I be tippin'em
My mac 9 it be flippin'em
Some of these niggas is tryin ta run G
So I be gippin'em
They would do the same to me
Niggas aint no family
Shit is all a game to me
But nobody gone handle me
400 degreez
Tottin' guns runnin' with me
No wonder we need
Mo money one could receive
Nigga wanna deal with this christ
I'ma put it open in his life
Never should I f*ck with me right
Why you keep duckin' me shy
I'ma knock ya head off
Nigga tryin' ta get to ya f*ck tryin' ta play it off
You made the beef nigga so why is you scared
If you mind yo f*ckin' business then yo life would be spared
I can't see it
Nigga try ta make me out a bitch I can't be it
I had a muthaf*ckin' problem with niggas like freed me
You probably can save yall self but you can't save yall neighbors
Um, and now I got cha spinnin' on round like a baseball playa
Put on this the table I'ma hit'em a nine
Foolish I had ta tame ta keep these niggas in line
Look cuz I don't like dreamin' about makin' no cheese
Wanna see my muthaf*ckin bank account ODed [over dosed]

[Chorus x2]

Ask them niggas bout me
Bet them bitches know me
Magnolia head buster out that wild T.C.
I'ma young nigga
Look at what ya done nigga
You done made me mad
Now I'm goin' get my gun nigga
Betta watch cha tongue nigga
Cuz I'm gettin' dumb nigga
Killed one nigga
Represent where I'm from nigga
See thangs don't cha never do f*ck with a man his change or his mamma
You do that you won't drama
F*ck with a big tyma, fo sho you gone see
I'm out cha which one of you boys want me
I'ma keep it real with ya
Ya say you the man, I know I'm the man and I'm ready ta deal with cha
I'm prepared for the toe taggin'
Keep my reeboks strapped tight with my gibauds saggin'
Now, I done rocked a couple of Gs and done flipped that two times
I know I'm in a problem and they gonna persuit mine
I got bills ta pay I can't be playin' with you jokers
These youngsters somethin' else now ya bout ta get promoka
You can't understand how a nigga my age
Can hit the streets psyhced up bustin' with the twelve gage
But I don't like ta dream about makin' no cheese
In the future wanna see my f*ckin' pockets Oded [over dosed]

[Chorus x1]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Follow Me Now

I want me a mill
To see just how it feel
No worries bout no bills, negotiating deals
Buy me some shit
Stuntin' in this bitch
20s be on hit
Everything legit
I don't want no war
But I can take it far
Put bullets in your car, whoever that you are
Woodie get in line
Make sure you aint gone shine
We be slangin iron
Everyday and everytime
Just because I'ma bad
I rammy after jags
When I get a sack
To niggas I'ma threat
Keep on gettin' blowed
Aint worried bout these hoes
Boy you know thats cold
The way I got'em drove
Shinin' like white diamonds
Nothin' but big tymin
My situation climbing
But simply cuz I'm rhymin'
The shit done hit the fan
They callin' me the man
Ya'll boys don't understand
This shit's going as planned

[Chorus:]
Now follow me now if you want it on
Salute at ease, then you carry on
Nigga drop and gimme 50 if you do it wrong
I'm into weapons I control the dome

Give me all my chesse
With no static please
Go off with these reeds
In between your knees
You playin' you gone learn
Yo partners aint gone turn
Right after you get burned
We gone get them some churn
I'ma tell you once
I'm bout pullin' stunts
Got golds on my fronts
Stay full of them blunts
I don't want be broke
I gotta feed my folks
Cuttin' niggas throats
Then runnin' by these hoes
Open up yo chase
Let me get a taste
A lot of niggas fake
Can't let it go to waste
I wont let it be
Give that there to me
All of ya'll gone see
Me in luxury
Look me in my eyes
Don't tell me no lies
You wanna take my life
You tryin' to get some trife
None of you I fear
I'm runnin' this right chea
Aint gone shed no tears
When you disappear

[Chorus:]

I try to leave that lone
But you did that wrong
You call me on the phone
And told me it was on
Now I'm in them streets
Bringin' all that heat
Straight to where you sleep
Won't even let you eat
Somebody gonna snitch
And go out like a bitch
But I'ma get'em quick
And hit'em with my shit
Them laws gonna try to bust
But I don't give a f*ck
He would of shot me up
If he'd of got me stuck
I'ma take my charge
Aint cryin' like no broad
And holla at them boys
On the boulevard
Woodie I'm in jail
Get all off my mail
See about my bail
Get me out this hell
So I can see the block
And open up my shop
I hope that bitch aint hot
Nobody got my spot
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group




Cash Money Concert (skit)

[Announcer]
Last week on As the Magnolia Turns
As we remember...

[Bouncer]
Back the line up, whoadie son, back the line up
Back the line up, you bitch, son of bitches
Who do you want? What do you want?

[Juvenile]
Say bruh, how much it cost to get in here, whoadie?

[Bouncer]
It is 20 yen tonight

[Juvenile]
20 yen?!

[Bouncer]
20 yen. You do not speak English? 20 f*cking yen

[Juvenile]
Call Baby, man...

[Crosstalk and arguing]

[XXX]
Get out my goddamn way!

[Bouncer]
Whoadie, whoadie, you look, you look
There is no Baby here tonight
I feel sorry for your mother

[Juvenile]
What?!

[Bouncer]
I will call security for you, you heard me

[Juvenile]
Man, f*ck you and security!

[Bouncer]
I feel sorry for your sister

[XXX]
Hey bruh, I'ma have to ask you to back up now
He done asked you real nicely, back up
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




Welcome 2 Tha Nolia

[Juvenile]
It's world war III where I'ma be with 2 stars
better tighten up your act, you bout to get loose, fool
Move all your valuables, cuz them boyz at your throat with them calicos
I mean, me myself, i just don't wanna see nobody get hurt
Wanna live? Keep your black ass from out of my turf
You look like wanna of them boyz that ain't never been f*cked over
I'm bout to change that, send that boy to THA NOLIA
Put a pistol in his face, make em' empty out his pockets
If he think we fakin, he gon' know after we cock it
And come to the PJ's, if you wanna score something
Get my peeps laid cuz we make motherf*ckers catch the cut quick
Might laugh with ya but we ain't to be trusted
I tie my solja rag tight around my head man
Now I'm gettin processed with a red band

[CHORUS: Juvenile]

We release with amminition when our beef is in site
Way up in your jurisdiction, bout to turn up the light
No vest, no chest wootay, jeopardize your life
Now we ain't got to explain it to ya, this for everybody
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up

[Turk]
Solja's be camoflaugin'
Hittin blocks realla, they be bout ridin
YOu get chopped realla, at any timein'
Cuz in THAT NOLIA they play tha game raw
No more beats closin shop when the beef start
Ah, ah, I don't think you're ready for these niggaz
LDTC-6 coated wild willas
Head bustas, and wig spltitas where I'm from
Choppas max, with red dots in the drum
Playinin it raw with dope
That's how we play it, duckin Chris, flat top & big red
Wootay ain't nothin nice
Spin corners in broad light, can't move stiff like ice
Get killed if the price on yo face, me & Juve burn with case, from the scene
with fled
Take hits like black & moe did back in the dayz
At night in tha nolia, niggaz be in tha hallwayz

[CHORUS: Juvenile]

We release with ammunition when our beef is in site
Way up in your jurisdiction bout to turn up the light
NO vest, no chest wootay jeopardize your life
Now we ain't gotta explain to ya, this for everybody
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up

[Turk]
Nigga done flashed up, I had to deal with the bitch
Catch em' down bad, and put some steel on tha bitch
Let em' know this young nigga, ain't to be f*cked wit
2 time I'm comin through, 1 time you gettin ya wig split
When I release, aimin straight for your top
Non stop hollin purse nigga, you gon' drop
THA MAGNOLIA chest opena', glock toatera', block soakera'
Down for a murdera'
In tha rover, choppin ya down, put your sets up nigga
Represent that uptown

[JUVENILE]
F*ckin wit theze real boyz, I'ma kill ya
You don't want me hot at you, you know I'ma GORILLA
I've been trained to get way low in the mud
Molded on tha streets and used to runnin wit thugs
Nigga you f*ck wit Turk, you gotta f*ck wit me what
Where is you gonna be when them boks (reeboks) in tha mud
Don't make me come down there and show one of you bitches
Don't make me come down there and blow one of you bitches

[CHORUS: Juvenile]

We release with ammunition when our beef is in site
Way up in your jurisdiction, bout to turn up the light
No vest, no chest wootay, jeopardize your life
Now we ain't got to explain it to ya, this for everybody
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya side up nigga, throw ya side up
But throw ya ward up, nigga throw ya ward up

[CHORUS: Juvenile]

We release with ammunition when our beef is in site
Way up in your jurisdiction, bout to turn up the light
No vest, no chest wootay, jeopardize your life
Now we ain't got to explain it to ya, this for everybody
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
Throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up
But throw ya sets up nigga, throw ya sets up

We release wit ammunition...we release wit ammunition
When our beef is in site...when our beef is in site...
We release wit ammunition when our beef is in site
We release wit ammunition when our beef is in site
When our beef is in site...
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




U.P.T

[B.G. (Baby)]
Cash Money slangin nine nigga
(Off top playboy)
H.B's and The B.G.'s
(What's happing little B.G. bring it to these niggas)

[B.G.]
When I got that iron in my hand I'm going to slang it
When I got that drama on my mind I'm going to bring it
I ain't backing down from no nigga that's hatin
If the nigga say I ain't bout my buisness look here he hatin

[Baby]
Comin uptown playboy we gonna slang it
If I catch down nigga bad we gonna leave ya stainin
F*ckin wit my H.B's nigga I'm gonna bring it
Rollin uptown stay strap and keep thinkin'

[B.G.]
Cause a nigga get stolen
Better yet get takin
Paper is burn
They come fast, ya cant shake it
Picture this my brother Cash Money done went nation
That come's from 7 hard years of dedication

[Baby]
F*ckin with B.G. nigga
I'm puttin on your viece and I'm a kill me a nigga
That's believing worth 6 figures we call hard hitters
We uptown riders and we real with this nigga (nigga)

[B.G.]
Police can investigate but they ain't gonna find shit
But a 100 bullet shells without a f*cking fingerprint
This Hot Boy click laid back and spy on niggas
We see them working on something look here we riders
Ain't like working niggas
Any block with a flussy
That goes for the boss too
We ain't got no picks to choose it
We get cha if we gotta
Wig split cha if we gotta
I know you ain't got word that B.G.'s a rider
So keep it on the D.L
If you got keys don't serve nobody but off V.L
'Cause they play for keeps
A one way ticket to hizell
6 ft. deep
It's a filthy dirty rizell
On the U.P.T
I was raised in the streets
But I put it on my mind
By the time I was nine
I was pushin nigga
I was slangin that nine

[Lil Wayne]
Na, Na, Na, Na
Now them them don't want us
They know me and Turk don't fuss in the corners
They already know that we brothers, Blood
Or whatever you wanna call it
Click up wit my dog we get crazy like alcholics
Plus we ballers
So whatever we spin the Lex or Benz
Its gonna be on twenny, twen, twens

[Turk]
Get off the block when we come nigga (nigga)
To the lane
Shots that close shop when the bullets start sparying
Run your mouth too much, better watch what cha sayin
Like a nigga on the sideline, nigga we ain't playin

[Lil Wayne]
Na, Na, Na, Na
Now why O why Lord
The nigga wanna try and die Lord

[Turk]
Niggaz wanna learn hard way
Give it to 'em like that
Make 'em suffer
Put that bitch wit a bag

[Juvenile]
I guess you probably standin there sayin, "Who's the muthaf*cka?"
Nigga Juv's the muthaf*cka, thata bruise a muthaf*cka
Either there's been a lot of cross-firing in the bricks
And I'm gonna kill me a nigga
If they put me in that shit
Look I'm gonna tell ya like I tell my folks
Play with me if you want but Cash Money going broke
Even if it means creepin up slow
Busting out shots out my black Volvo
Fo sho, 'cause ain't nobody gonna run me
I don't want nobody going to tell my mama when somebody done me
She ain't bring me in the world for that
She ain't raise no ho's
She could have had a girl for that
I been realized, I'm all in
Surrounded by the camoufalge, in ballin
Make a nigga recognize, I'm starvin
Go in and do a homicide, you fallin, stop callin
Cause ain't no peace treaties wodie
You better leave that 45 at your house cause you gonna need it wodie
I told you boy, I'm a souljah boy
U.T.P up on my stomach from the Nolia boy

[B.G.: Talking]
Slangin nine
Fo sho nigga
That's how we layin it down for the '98 all the way to the '99
Worldwide
Slangin nine
All you bus pass niggas better recognize

[Juvenile: Talking]
This on here bouncin all out ya heard me
Ask my nigga Prime nigga
Ask my nigga Lac nigga
Ask my nigga B Dog nigga
Ask Manny
Ask Ruckus
Ask my brother Corey
Ask B.G.'s nigga
Ask Suga Slimm

[B.G. Talking]
You ain't got no muthaf*ckin heart
Got the butcha knife chillin
Slicing throats we doin it like that nigga
Ah ha, Ah ha
How You Luv That now nigga?
What's up now nigga?
Talk that shit now
What, What's up
I thought we was what kind of boys
Nigga what, nigga who what, nigga ha

[Juvenile: Talking]
I know yall gonna hear me all over the nation
So this is for the East Coast, the South Coast, the West Coast, over
the world
Nigga ain't no beef nigga
It's bout money
Nigga if you ain't making no money I can't talk

[B.G.: Talking]
Shut the f*ck
Nigga ain't got no words for ya
It's all about the fetti
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: CHRISTOPHER DORSEY, D CARTER, C DORSEY, T GREY, V TAB, B THOMAS, B WILLIAMS
Copyright: Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group




Run For It

[Juvenile]
I be comin' up wit da glock toy
You can stop boy
You ain't heard I'm off tha block boy
Chipp-pedy chop boy
Off in ya cut is where I'm layin
Ready fo' sprayin'
Soon as I see yo face and hand
I ain't wit dat playin'
My daddy showed me how to play it in a situation
My daddy tol' me I ain't shit wit outta occupation
So I played the game
Bust yo head if you said my name
I had some of deez niggaz scared I came
I kno' some niggaaz out tha (mag)nolia that'll ride fo' me
I kno' some niggaz hollin' solja dat a die fo' me
T.C., L.T., Magnolia and six
Oh you want some of dat fire dope you can score in da bricks
You disrespectin' my mind cuz you keep comin' short
I might hitcha wit dat iron cuz you need ta be taught
You keep showing yo teeth cuz you thank its a joke
You mus thank deez bullets ain't real and you ain't gon git smoke

[Chorus]
Now if ya at dat second line and dem boyz gotta gun
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if ya too deep in some beef and dem boyz bout ta come
You betta run for it, run for it, run
If ya ain't gotta strap but cho enemy got one
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if you git into it wit a cash money brotha
You betta run for it, run for it, run

[Lil Wayne]
I be in all black sometimes
Sometimes I be jumpin out trees in camouflage
Me and Juvenile got two keys we bout ta ride
Dem boyz playin wit da U.P.T. well dey gots to die
Man its that deep
It's a tragedy
That you can test me
Heard I run in houses don't put it past me
Hell look boy you betta tell deez niggaz
Fo' I mask up and try ta kill deez niggaz
You'ont' want my stress troubles
I be back in 2 hummers and 5 lex-bubbles
Wa my big brother Juvy
Tol' me not to eva letta nigga screw me
Tol' me if I eva did he would do me
Gave me two guns and sent me round dey shootin'
And then they start runnin'
Hardest niggaz on tha block started actin like a woman
Tha 4-foot stranger in ya area bustin'
Load it up and slide it in
Cock it back pop it out we ridin
??? ? I'll run in a busta spot
I'll sit on a busta porch
I'll sleep on a busta block
Apply five and then let go
!Bang! Lil' cowards keep playin, get hurt
Motha-flirk see I'ont' curse
But'll wet up yo shirt
Look all my enemy's see me comin
All my enemy's peeeeeeeeeuuuunggggggghhhhh be runnin'

[Chorus]

[Juvenile]
You thank I'm playin-a somthin Lil Woo dey' I ain't trippin'
Tha beef started last week and dem niggaz still be hittin'
Two children got killed and a ol' lady got hit
Look I'm bout ta git tha f*ck cuz I ain' got no time fo' dis shit
Now you can be comin' through
And runnin to a gun if you feel
That they ain't gon' do you shit cuz ya real
I'ont' wanna be witcha when its hapning either
I probally be some where ducked off takin a nap wit my people
I'd rather see it on T.V. than see it in person
Having my f*cking' head hurtin'
When dem 30's be burstin'
Bet if yo beef see ya he ain't gon wait fo' ya dog
Our all gon' try to rearrange ja face fo' ya dog
2nd line and round dem clubs ain't no place fo ya dog
Dem same niggaz you come up wit playa-hatin ya dog
I see em comin wit choppers and I know they gon' bust
Lil' Wayne hol' up
We kiting out sho' nuff'

[Chorus] 2x

Run for it
Ya betta run for it, run for it
Ya betta run for it, run for it
Go git cha gun for it

Ya betta run for it, run for it, run
Run for it, run for it, run, run for it
Run for it, run, run for it, run for it, run
Get cha gun for it , gun for it, gun
Get cha gun for it gun for it
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: ANDRE GRAY, IRIS JAMES, KUNLEY MCCARTHY, CHAD SIMPSON
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Ha (Hot Boys Remix)

Bounce, bounce, bounce
Juvenile and Jigga
The remix

You at the point of no return, ha?
If your daddy get out the way with you
You gon' see that he learn, ha?
Life's a bitch, ha?
Niggas be beggin' but you ain't givin' 'em shit, ha?
You stealin' the bricks, ha?
You got a wife and three kids, ha?
But you be f*ckin' around right in the neighborhood you live, ha?
You own a truck, ha?
With TV's and cd's rimmed up, ha?
F*ckin' em up, ha?
You wanna be stuntin' on your cell, ha?
Get your partner some money orders and commence to jail, ha?
You 'bout ready to roll a draw, ha?
Some of that dro, ha?
You 'bout to get you some more, ha?
You that nigga with all that cheese, ha?
You that nigga that whipped that girl and she called the police, ha?
You understand, ha?
You ain't gon' cry like a bitch, you gon be a man, ha?
Wherever you stand, ha?

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire (uh, uh, uh)
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something (uh, bounce)
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering (bounce, bounce, bounce)

You done got yourself in some deep shit
Now you stuck in your house, you gotta peep the remix
You can't go out 'cause they gon' leave you in a deep ditch
They hit you with consignment, you decide to keep shit
The only reason you alive 'cause you read lips
And you drove on the block low in yo' seat and shit
Seen 'em mouthin' off, they don't need this shit
Now they sick of you duckin', dodgin', and weavin' and shit
How they call you when you don't return they beeps?
Now they ready to kill you and all your peeps
You done f*cked around with some wild niggas
You done f*cked off the dough of Juvenile and Jigga's
You better get it back, or sleep where the river's at
They send shots through your fitted cap
They got big guns that go brrap, brrap, brrap
Where your niggas at?

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You gotta get up off your ass, ha?
And make the cash, ha?
And stay away from them bags, ha?
Two and two done come together, ha?
Juvi and Jigga, ha?
Straight up guerrillas, ha?
That nigga Mannie Fresh a fool, ha?
He be bringin' it to the bitches on every song that he do, ha?
My f*ckin' album going plat', ha?
You bought the tape, ha?
Tell em ain't none of it fake, ha?
You got a shipment coming in, ha?
During the week, ha?
Got a little something for me, ha?
Your boy and them be drawin' heat, ha?
But that's your whoadie so you gotta find you someone to creep, ha?
Nigga tired of livin' fast, ha?
Your boy hit the stash, ha?
Now you wanna go bust his ass, ha?
You keep it real, ha?
You don't f*ck with no nigga but you will kill, ha?
You know how it feel, ha?

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa
(Woadie)
(How you lovin' that?)
Run, run
Ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha
Jump, jump, jump, jump
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa

1998, don't that sound great?
Another hook-up

Whoa, whoa, whoa
Woadie
Woadie
Woadie
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Byron Thomas, Terius Gray, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.




Rich Niggaz

Why, why, why
Why, why, why
Why, why
Cash Money, Rich Niggaz
Look

[Lil' Wayne]
Loud pipes, big rims
Nigga, that's my life
When I pull up at the club sorry that's my night
I know a lot of haters probably sayin that that's not right
Well, my diamonds so much bigger
So, that's my life
Gleam, gleam
Now, only carry big face and you hear the ching, ching
Now, you can ask your wife and she will say the same thing
And your children be amazed when they see me on the big screen
Ha, ha, ha
I crack myself up
I know I talk lot but I can back myself up
Got a little house on the beach that's where I shack myself up
You ain't really got more money than me
Think about it
Let's just say somebody gave me a check to think about it
So I just bought a new Rollie and got to take a link up out it
And me with no ice is like a Prince concert that ain't crowded
They see the Beam, and the truck, and the B-12
And we was next
Then that's when I pull up in the B-E-L
Le-Le-Lex
Ha

[1st Chorus]
I'm on Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
We on Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot

[Juvenile]
Juvenile used to be R-E-T-A bound
Now I be bustin these bitches head when I come 'round
Acting like a nigga that ain't never had shit
Look into my bed sayin that's a mad hit
I'll damned if these diamonds and golds ain't shinin
My Rollie ain't mine and my bank ain't climbin
You lookin at a multi-millionaire in the flesh
Might don't have it now, but I just got me a check
I can walk it like I talk it, play it how I say it
Teach it like I preach it; now, put that in your head
Nigga, bet a thousand, shoot a thousand - ain't nuttin
Smoke a pound, pop the Cristal and drink somethin
Meet me in the casino, way in the back
Losin money like a motherf*cker, still shooting craps
Tomorrow I'll be back, I got millionaire status
We make so much money IRS be lookin at us

[1st Chorus: x1]

[Turk]
I got more ends than Bonnie have in a factory
I'm Lil Turk, I'm living large, got the baddest hoes after me
Picture me, a young nigga bawling out of control
Playing with millions, laying in condos
Nigga I shine, shine through the f*cking week
The flyiest ride with crystal in the passenger seat
Don't hate me, 'cause I'm a little bawler
Got more weight than Angola
F*cking your girl Carla
Nigga I stunt,
And I'm a stunt 'til I can't no more
Chest lit up like the oaks
From the diamonds I sport
Yo, I can't be touched
Don't think I'm too much, nigga I'm rich what the f*ck
Rolex crushed out with the bezel
And all the foes that get close to me got to be on my schedule
I got so much money
I don't know what to do
Buy isles and cars
And break bread with my crew

[2nd Chorus]
I'm on Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
We on Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot
B.G. on Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire
Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, hot

[Paparue]
Uh, uh, uh
Hear me
It's like, monkey see, monkey do
Rolling with the Cash Money Runners I stay true
Cause when were running and climbing on the million-dollar scene
Holding together, mo-de-ming, mo-de-ming
When I bring out the rubber around the Hummer
??? Benz, or in the Lex Bubble
When I start they said I had no fame
Now all the girls just end up calling my name
10 G's to ???
Fax the contract to big Cash Money
Cause you know this whole clique right with me
They're right with me
Sip-pe-di-dy
Won't count the diamonds just around my neck
X amount-a dollars on a bankroll check
If you want to really come and sing with me
Those that got me wicked, then I do some free
For free!
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Back That Azz Up

Girl you workin' with some ass, yeah, you bad, yeah
Make a nigga spend his cash, yeah, his last, yeah
Hoes frown when you pass, yeah, they mad, yeah
You gon' ride in the Jag, yeah, with that head
You could smoke or buy a bag, yeah, of grass, yeah
Got money I can flash, yeah, and trash, yeah
I'ma big timer nigga, yeah, pull the trigger, yeah
A playa hata flipper, yeah, grave filla, yeah
I be slangin' wood, yeah, out the hood, yeah
Let it be understood, yeah, it's all good, yeah
Got a nigga schemin' large, yeah, on the hard, yeah
A smooth little broad, yeah from out the projects
A nigga do a trick, yeah, on the dick, yeah
You claimin' you want a picture, that ain't shit, yeah
The nigga with the money, yeah, don't act funny, yeah
Got birds and I'm runnin', yeah, bout a hundred, yeah

Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
Call me Big Daddy when you back that azz up
Hoe, who is you playin wit? Back that azz up
Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
Call me Big Daddy when you back that azz up
Girl, who is you playin wit? Back that azz up

Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
You got a stupid ass, yeah, make me laugh, yeah
Make a nigga want to grab that, autograph that
I'm sweatin' in the drawers, yeah, hard and long, yeah
Want to walk it like a dog, yeah, break you off, yeah
Get - mine you gon' get yours, yeah, that for sure, yeah
You f*ckin' with my nerves, yeah and to the curb, yeah
I know you bitches know, yeah, and it show, yeah
But a nigga got some more, yeah, I'm out to flow, yeah
Fresh brought some shit, yeah, and his bitch, yeah
We be making hit, yeah after hit, yeah
Them titties sittin' nice, yeah, I want to bite, yeah
I could f*ck you right, yeah, all night, yeah
Want to bring it to my house, yeah, on the couch, yeah
Knock the pussy out, yeah, get them out, yeah
I want to see these hoes, yeah, bend it low, yeah
Let me run it in the hole, yeah, and let me know, yeah

Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
Call me Big Daddy when you back that azz up
Hoe, who is you playin wit? Back that azz up
Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
Call me Big Daddy when you back that azz up
Hoe, who is you playin wit? Back that azz up

I know you can't stand it, dick bandit
Done landed, see your drawers handed
Freak to get it y'all, game spit at y'all
Put the bitch on the wall and I hit it y'all
Lookin' kind of lonely, I'm feelin horny
Put the dick "in the Middle" like "Monie"
Big thick plumber chick, and a Hummer chick
Beat the dick like a motherf*ckin' drummer chick
See dat puddy-cat? Look at dat
I love a f*ckin hoodie-rat, that's a fact
You'se a motherf*ckin' get it girl, quit it girl
I'm the nigga, the nigga, nigga, that hit it girl

Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
Call me Big Daddy when you back that azz up
Hoe, who is you playin wit? Back that azz up
Girl, you looks good, won't you back that azz up
You'se a fine motherf*cker, won't you back that azz up
Call me Big Daddy when you back that azz up
Hoe, who is you playin wit? Back that azz up

Now now now now now
After you back it up, then stop
Then wha-wha-what, drop drop it like it's hot
Now after you back it up, then stop
Now, wha-wha-wha-what drop it like it's hot
Now drop it like it's hot, drop drop it like it's hot
C-M-B make you drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot, drop drop it like it's hot
Drop it like it's hot, drop drop it like it's hot
Ha
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Dwayne Carter, Byron O. Thomas, Terius Gray
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network




Off Top

[Juvenile]
Wodie we get down but to a certain extent
All that cha shoin' with them hoes be gettin my name bent
I'm showin' you love but I love my money even mo
Disrespect me or play me off the top you gotta go
My people played me, we ain't getting down no more
Look that aint how its 'posed to be but thats the way its gone go
I aint with that front shit
That playin' with gun shit
That f*ckin' with niggas who think they run shit
All that tongue shit
When my gun click, niggas silencing down
You was hollin' like a motherf*cker bitch holla at me now
Peep, what made a nigga wanna go and mess with me bone
And he gettin' on my nerves, I'm bout to go in his home
Bitch my brother aint no hoe
Bitch my mother aint no hoe
Bitch my father aint no hoe
Why you try ta play me like a hoe
Shit, I might as well just go head on and bust his head
Cuz them people gone give me the charge anyway
If he come up dead
Now tell'em bout that beemer I got
Tell'em bout that new home I got
Tell'em bout that Cutlass on chrome I got
You ta show ya shit
Thats why you showed you was a bitch
Now you runnin with yo melon cuz you know you gone get it split

[Baby]
Niggas ridin' impala's with them rattler stripes
Passin' hollin at hoes with the f*ck finger sayin f*ck'em black
I'm stackin' Gs movin keys thats my life black
Niggas orderin' vests
Just ta protect they chests
And duckin' these niggas tryin ta use they smith-n-wessons
Playboy, I'm ridin' in suburbans
To Land Rovers to Range Rovers, niggas with automatics
Niggas ridin' big bodies I done did that
I'm ridin' jags drop top and I can do that
I'm lettin' these hoes hair blow if they got that
I don't f*ck with bald head hoes I aint with that
I talk shit and I got the cream and the jewels to do that
I walk it like I talk playboy you can believe that
The new ice, yellow diamonds and I'm loving that
Blue diamonds Big Tymin and I'm with that
I done made more money independent than a major nigga went gold
I put that on my soul and my gold
And my 20 inch rims on my Range Rover with TVs
And I'm lovin' these hoes I flip mo keys
than a acrobat ten nigga you can believe that
Me and my brother go rock for rock
Walk block for block
And if we got beef with a nigga we'll go glock for glock
No mo sellin' keys on the d.l.
I wanna holla at v.l.
Lets say rest in peace to L and T nigga

[Manny Fresh]
I live my life on full
Unzip my pants and I pull
A big dick baby
You look sick maybe
You can use a nigga that'll hold ya hand
I tell ya what ya suck my dick I'll be your man
Now here it is diamonds for the bithces that I f*ck
Not , I get the pussy make like donald and duck
To the next project scattered site or crib
Slangin' dick where you live
I don't really give, a precious second of my pimp playa time
You can taste the kool-aid but don't drink the wine
Holy Roley diamond bezel, 20 inch whezel
98 cromed out gangsta grizeal
Take one of my bitches and I'm f*ckin
Sistas anties grandmas and cousins
Mommas baby mommas family members and all that shit
If the bitch need guidance them I'm her pimp

[Manny Fresh]
Whoa check this out ya dig
Its a lot of niggas out here baller blockin
see what I'm sayin' standin' in the way
let the f*ckin' ballas through see what I'm sayin
ya'll niggas had the catalogs
see what I'm sayin' now pass that bitch on man
let a real nigga you know play his thang man
its some niggas out here ridin' on 20s ya dig on yokahamas
skinnys and all that kinda shit see what I'm sayin'
I mean wood ever f*ckin where
See what I'm sayin' bro you love that huh.

[Juve] Yeah I love that
[Manny] Convertable tops
[Juve] I love that Cash Money symbol on my chest
and these diamonds shinin' from here to Magnolia Projects
Ya heard me?
[Manny] That's what I'm talkin' bout man aint nothin' like man,
Cause you know sometimes I let these lil girls
lick my chains man you know
You can't be kissin on me but you can kiss my diamonds
and shit aint nothin' wrong with that that's beautiful baby
That is truly beautiful
This shit is pimpalicious see what I'm sayin
[Juve] I just love that
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




After Cash Money Concert (skit)

[Skit]
Narrator: As we continue after the second episode of As the Magnolia Turns
Ya dig?
Guy 1: Man, we gon' get caught in rain
Guy 2: Man, my Reeboks gon' get goddamn wet
Guy 1: Man, f*ck yo' Reeboks, man, look at this cop slowin' down
Guy 2: Shit, just keep walkin', damn
Gang member: Ah! Voila! You thought you were bad ass, huh, in the club?
Guy 1: F*ck, motherf*cker gotta catch me
Guy 2: No, come back, come back! Man, come back
Gang member: I'm goin' to pump a cap in a nigga's ass tonight
Guy 1: You better run nigga
Gang member: It gon' be one of you. I am from the Magnolia too, you bitch
Guy 3: Boss, boss, boss, we ain't gotta kill him, you know
Guy 2: I'm sorry, bruh
Gang member: What you mean? You actin' like a bitch right now. You actin' like a bitch
Guy 2: None of that
Guy 3: I'm just sayin', you know, you ain't gotta kill him man
Gang member: I want them dead. I want their mothers dead. I want their grandmothers dead
Guy 2 It ain't gotta be all that, bruh
Gang member: Son of a cousins of bitches
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Copyright: Lyrics © Original Writer and Publisher




400 Degreez

[Robotic Voice: 400 degreez]

[Verse 1:]
Ya see me I eat sleep shit and talk rap
Ya seen that 98 mercedes on t.v. I bought that
I had some felony charges I fought that
Been sent to no return but still was bought back
Nigga threw some slangs at me woodie I caught that
I punished them lil bitches before they can car jack
Now I'm lookin for they family and pile up the war bat
If I aint a hotboy then what do you call that
Nigga disrespect me I'ma be in all black
Companied by some niggas bout killin' and all that
Me Cory and mercy gettin' dunked on
Ride top down so we let the trucks pause
In the jepp ridin' four deep
I booted up at these nigga claimin' they know me

[Chorus: Robotic Voice]
You don't want to f*ck wit me
Hot, Hot, Hot Boyz
Hot, Hot, Hot Boyz [x2]

[Verse 2]

Bitch what I'll bust yo ass up
Don't even go there woodie cuz I'm ready to mas up
I heard about the money thats some nice change
For the right price I'll bust the right frame
Why must a nigga try I can't do the right thing
Only God knows what the future might bring
Nigga might be shot, nigga might be triffling
Nigga might survive if he bout that right flame
Whats up that'll stop a nigga from playin'
Sumin like a chopper or a grenade in his hand
Boy look nigga don't play no games no mo
Nigga'll bust ya head if you bang his hoe
Attitude adjustments we all need
Don't call the enforcements nigga call me
I bet cha I'll get them niggas off yo block
I bet cha I'll show them niggas this boy hot

[Chorus]

Alright stop it cuz I done had enough
When it comes to my partners I'm ready to bust
Baby let me get the keys to the roover truck
Man let me get this beef shit over bro
Aint no bit this year I'm from the 'nolia bro
Whats yo beef plan cuz it was told to us
How I'ma be runnin' with these killas and backin' down
How I'ma look in front of my people, like a clown
The G code what we live by and we die by
The book is what we will never abide by
Niggas drive by, gettin loose
Keep'em with each other like a checker board in use
Come in compton or the watts nigga
Up in New York ya keep'em open watch nigga
Foe ya played by a hit or retalion
All fine young black females stallions
Give me the keys to ya car and ya medallion
You far away from ya home yous a alien

[Chorus]
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Juvenile On Fire

[Juvenile]
Lets say I'm in a room with a bitch
And the hoe don't wanna f*ck
Like a man I'ma beat my meat
And get my f*ckin nut
Fo'sho she gonna be drove then
And I'ma cut the TV off
And got to sleep on that hoe then
Now tell that to your girlfriend
You tell her everything else
She goin to be with her boyfriend
You goin to be by your damn self
While I'm in my benz with your friend
And she bout to get nervous
Baby I don't want nothing
But some mouth and lip service
Don't act bad
Don't get mad
Thats all I can do with you
Cause I don't want your ass
Look you kinda fine
With a nigga name on your spine
Now respect my f*ckin mind
How I'ma hit that from behind
Got a hoe across the court
And Molly boots the next door
I'm getting tired of you rappers
Its time for me to restore
I done fixed these bitches house up
And have them living swell
But and still a nigga like me was eating a taco bell
But after that shit
All that trick shit I stopped it
And lock my f*ckin pockets
You can't kick it or pop it
Now I get what I can get
Out of these hoes and I'm up
And if she wanna flex up
I'ma back the hoe up

[Chorus: x4]

Girl thats Juvenile
You don't know he on fire
17 inch Momo's
like magic on his tires

[Juvenile]
See I know how to treat a hoe
Just talkin and great a hoe
Niggas know I don't need a hoe
Don't mix up your people hoe
If I tell you do something
You better do what I say
If you plannin on playin me
Better get out my way
A bitch will get you killed
Thats the way I think
From some old bitch ass nigga
Trying to receive my bank
Pussy come and it go
It been like that before I got here
Pussy don't wait for me or no nigga
But its gonna stop here
For a little while
So I'ma get what I could
And if she bout sucking some dick
I ain't hatin its all good
Now can I get that out you
It ain't hard to do
You a fine muthaf*cka
And it starts with you
I'm trying to f*ck something till it can't see
What I'ma show you with this dick
You gonna thank me
A nigga gonna be like that untill the moment I retire
Ask them bitches bout me
And they gonna say that I'm on fire

[Chorus]

[Juvenile]
If I even f*ck with a bitch
She gonna know
Not to conversate with niggas
And to open my door
My business is my business
It ain't to be heard
My niggas is my niggas
So you don't say a word
And you don't touch my shit
You don't drive my shit
I got dope in the house
And I hide my shit
I have bad nerves
I hope you don't try my shit
Do right and nice things I'ma buy my bitch
Some bitches you gotta play'em with a long string
You play them close
And you gonna be bangin wrong things
You got something that I hear you don't wanna bring
You not a muthaf*ckin player you a punk main
Let me get one of them hoes up on this dope dick
Stop handcuffin that bitch let her approach this
You know when Juvenile comes he has to smoke shit
I'm on fire on fire
And you know this

[Chorus x1.5]

[Juvenile]
You can f*ck my bitch
You can f*ck my bitch
You can f*ck my bitch

You can f*ck my bitch
Let me f*ck your bitch
I don't love that bitch
I don't trust that bitch

You can f*ck my bitch
Let me f*ck your bitch
I don't love that bitch
I don't trust that bitch

You can f*ck my bitch
Let me f*ck your bitch
I don't love that bitch
I don't trust that bitch

You can f*ck my bitch
Let me f*ck your bitch
I don't love that bitch
I don't trust that bitch

You don't know he on fire
You don't know he on fire
You don't know he on fire
You don't know he on fire

[Hot Hot Hot Hot Hot Hot Hot]

My bitch is your bitch
My bitch is your bitch
Your bitch is my bitch
My bitch is your bitch
My bitch is your bitch
Your bitch is my bitch
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: BYRON O. THOMAS, TERIUS GRAY
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group




Ha (Remix)

Bounce, bounce, bounce
Juvenile and Jigga
The remix

You at the point of no return, ha?
If your daddy get out the way with you
You gon' see that he learn, ha?
Life's a bitch, ha?
Niggas be beggin' but you ain't givin' 'em shit, ha?
You stealin' the bricks, ha?
You got a wife and three kids, ha?
But you be f*ckin' around right in the neighborhood you live, ha?
You own a truck, ha?
With TV's and cd's rimmed up, ha?
F*ckin' em up, ha?
You wanna be stuntin' on your cell, ha?
Get your partner some money orders and commence to jail, ha?
You 'bout ready to roll a draw, ha?
Some of that dro, ha?
You 'bout to get you some more, ha?
You that nigga with all that cheese, ha?
You that nigga that whipped that girl and she called the police, ha?
You understand, ha?
You ain't gon' cry like a bitch, you gon be a man, ha?
Wherever you stand, ha?

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire (uh, uh, uh)
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something (uh, bounce)
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering (bounce, bounce, bounce)

You done got yourself in some deep shit
Now you stuck in your house, you gotta peep the remix
You can't go out 'cause they gon' leave you in a deep ditch
They hit you with consignment, you decide to keep shit
The only reason you alive 'cause you read lips
And you drove on the block low in yo' seat and shit
Seen 'em mouthin' off, they don't need this shit
Now they sick of you duckin', dodgin', and weavin' and shit
How they call you when you don't return they beeps?
Now they ready to kill you and all your peeps
You done f*cked around with some wild niggas
You done f*cked off the dough of Juvenile and Jigga's
You better get it back, or sleep where the river's at
They send shots through your fitted cap
They got big guns that go brrap, brrap, brrap
Where your niggas at?

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You gotta get up off your ass, ha?
And make the cash, ha?
And stay away from them bags, ha?
Two and two done come together, ha?
Juvi and Jigga, ha?
Straight up guerrillas, ha?
That nigga Mannie Fresh a fool, ha?
He be bringin' it to the bitches on every song that he do, ha?
My f*ckin' album going plat', ha?
You bought the tape, ha?
Tell em ain't none of it fake, ha?
You got a shipment coming in, ha?
During the week, ha?
Got a little something for me, ha?
Your boy and them be drawin' heat, ha?
But that's your whoadie so you gotta find you someone to creep, ha?
Nigga tired of livin' fast, ha?
Your boy hit the stash, ha?
Now you wanna go bust his ass, ha?
You keep it real, ha?
You don't f*ck with no nigga but you will kill, ha?
You know how it feel, ha?

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire
Remaining a G, until the moment you expire
You know what it is, to make nothing outta something
You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering

Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa
(Woadie)
(How you lovin' that?)
Run, run
Ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha, ha
Ha, ha
Jump, jump, jump, jump
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa, whoa
Whoa, whoa

1998, don't that sound great?
Another hook-up

Whoa, whoa, whoa
Woadie
Woadie
Woadie
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

Writer: Byron Thomas, Terius Gray, Shawn Carter
Copyright: Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Reservoir Media Management, Inc.




Back to: Juvenile


400 Degreez is the commercial debut and overall third studio album by American rapper Juvenile. The album was released on November 3, 1998, by Universal Records and Bryan "Baby" Williams' Cash Money Records. It remains Juvenile's best-selling album of his solo career, with six million copies sold as of 2021. The album received quadruple platinum certification by the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) on December 19, 2000.

Its two preceding singles, "Ha" and "Back That Azz Up" (censored as "Back That Thang Up") peaked at numbers 68 and 19 on the Billboard Hot 100, respectively. The album peaked at number nine on the Billboard 200 and number two on Billboard's Top R&B/Hip Hop Albums; it peaked atop the latter chart for its Year-End list of 1999. The album also features the remix of the single "Ha" with New York rapper Jay-Z, its only guest appearance from outside the Cash Money roster and the first time a rapper from the label worked with an East Coast rapper on a song. The album won the Billboard Music Award for Top R&B Album in 1999. The explicit version of the album was not totally uncensored; lines such as "do a (homicide) with me" on "Gone Ride with Me" and "put a (pistol) in his face" can be heard in "Welcome 2 tha Nolia".

In 2020, Rolling Stone ranked the album number 470 on their list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time. Consequence in 2023 and Billboard in 2024 ranked 400 Degreez 38 and 44 in their respective all-time best hip hop album lists. In 2017, The Ringer ranked it as the third-best Southern hip hop album of all time. HipHopDX named it among 18 of the best hip hop and R&B albums of 1998.
Performed By: Juvenile
Genre(s): Southern hip hop
Length: 72:29
Released: November 3rd, 1998
Year: 1998

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