Throitup (Feat. Yelawolf & Gangsta Boo)

Aye Boo, get these motherfuckers

And pass that jack

I see you bitches talkin’ loud, but you ain’t sayin’ shit

Get the fuck from ‘round here, you don’t rep my shit

You ain’t from my city, you don’t know about this

You don’t want that drama, you ain’t ready for it bitch!

Now throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up!

Throw it up! (Yeah ho) You ain’t ready for it bitch

Throw it up! (Yeah ho) Throw it up! Throw it up!

You ain’t ready for it bitch

I already got 2 cars in a yard that don’t run

So why would I wanna break shit down for you

Better be confused with the punch lines and bars that I lunch

Here the king if archery come

With a cracker dick to fuck you and that pussy carpet you munch

If I’m not hardly the one

You must be barely the one

Billy if really you’re kiddin’

Bitch I’m the prodigal son

And I’m stuntin’ like my daddy

Dr-dr-drinkin’ like my mama

Co-co-country like my uncle

Stuttering like a CD in a dunk

P-p-p-punk

And I’m in a blue Chevy runnin’ over motherfuckers in first

I ain’t even shift gears yet,

I ain’t even here yet I’m outta this earth, right ,yeah hoe

But I just hit the surface and I’m about to walk into a bank,

Wit’ a shank and a black can of paint and check the clerk: where the keys?

Bitch you better check your purse, I got a brick of herb,

And I hit the syrup and I’m feeling like I might just hit the curb

So get the fuck outta my way buddy

You don’t wanna walk around the chicken house with a hawk little puppy dog

I see you bitches talkin’ loud, but you ain’t sayin’ shit

Get the fuck from round’ here, you don’t rep my shit

You ain’t from my city, you don’t know about this

You don’t want that drama, you ain’t ready for it bitch!

Now throw it up! Yeah hoe!Throw it up!

Throw it up! Yeah hoe! You ain’t ready for it bitch

Throw it up! Yeah hoe! Throw it up! Throw it up!

You ain’t ready for it bitch

Bitch please, you don’t want to step up to this Mrs.

G-A-N-G-S-T-A Boo make a nigga hit his knees

I’m up in the building

Preaching to my children

I don’t be taking no shit from you haters

You’ll make me hurt one of your feelings

Naa, naa, ne, naa, naa

Pick your face up off the floor

I got you feeling sad naa

You be on that hokeewag

Hokeewag is bullshit

Run into this gangsta have your preacher at the pulpit, bitch!

I was born on the Mississippi River

Take no shit from a bitch or a nigga

So, so crazy got a fucked up temper

Bipolar, not Nikki, I’m worser, I’ll hurt you

I gotta crazy ass mind game

My nigga, I’m a lion untamed

Hunt your ass down in my jungle

I do this, I tell them hoes

You ain’t ready for it bitch!

I see you bitches talkin’ loud, but you ain’t sayin’ shit

Get the fuck from round’ here, you don’t rep my shit

You ain’t from my city, you don’t know about this

You don’t want that drama, you ain’t ready for it bitch!

Now throw it up! Yeah hoe!Throw it up!

Throw it up! Yeah hoe! You ain’t ready for it bitch

Throw it up! Yeah hoe! Throw it up! Throw it up!

You ain’t ready for it bitch

I see you bitches takin’ loud

But you don’t want that shit

Me and Yelawolf tear the roof of this motherfucker

You ain’t got the oomph you’re a hoof to the foot of an elephant

Hello toots you look so eloquent that’s what I tell a cunt

Come sit up front cause you’re kickin’ my seat

And I’m tryin’ to the tell the cashier what I want!

They say I act like an asshole, when I pull up at the White Castle

And I ask for an appli-cation, throw it back in their face and

Tell the bitch I’m a rapper, then I wrap her

In the head with a Whopper that I bought from BK

You expect me to be proper?

Bitch you better pop in a CD of me immediately, slut hoe

Prada? Not a chance, I was thinkin’ about buyin’ you some clothes

But Target was closed so I decided to mosey on over to K-Mart, but the doors

Was locked, what about some shoes?

I thought, great I suppose

So I go to Payless but what’do you know?

They didn’t carry a size 8 in hoes!

Oh! This is ugly boy swag, puttin’ toe tags on you motherfuckin’ ho bags

What a trailer trash pioneer, I am yeah, that’s why I’m here

I don’t got a rhyme book it’s more like a motherfuckin’ diary that diarrhea

Me, Yelawolf and Gangsta Boo came here to show you a thing or two

About sign language, middle fingers aimed at you

So we don’t gotta scream at you!

Ow! I just bit my bottom lip, it was an accident

I went to go tell them all to go get fucked

But I’m never gonna bite my tongue, little bitch throw it up

I see you bitches takin’ loud

But you don’t want that shit