Twista - The Come Up lyrics

rate me


Let me take you to the wicked wicked Westside

Where them niggaz carry chrome and the best die

Where we push up in the corners that we fight for

City from the shores breeds gangsters and Vice Lords

Bustin pistols while we runnin from the five-oh

Hit the adversaries up because we drive slow

Oh I'm a killa mayne, standin on these corners

Hustlin for my denim mayne, and if you try to move

Soon as I hear one shot

I'ma let the tec and desert eagle ride non-stop

If I have to I'll commit a murder just to maintain

Tell me what you thought I'm from a city where they gangbang

And I got that thang thang

Get it however you want it cop a fo' and then split

Hustle hard and work your way up 'til you holdin a brick

Cop an ounce of this 'dro I got the flyest shit in town

Bet you within a week you'll be able to get a pound

Go ahead and drop you can whip on 24's to get around

Gettin paper make me feel like... {la-da-da-dahhh-deeeee}


Let me see all of my gangsters come up - in Chi-Town

Let me see all of my hustlers come up - in Brooklyn

Let me see all of my riders come up - in the Bay

Let me see all of my killers come up - in Houston

Let me see all of my bitches come up - in A-T-L

Let me see all of my niggaz come up - M-I-A


Now let me take you to the motherfuckin Southside

City of the chrome, get shot up for standin outside

Don't talk no shit or you can end up on primetime

My nigga Ty Nitti be holdin down the nine-nine

That's where the thugs lurks

I done been out there and seen them niggaz put in bloodwork

When I'm in the 100's you can always smell the scent of purple

These niggaz always gettin money in they inner circle

Fuck with 'em they fin' to hurt you; gotta get they cash on

Necessary evil they quick to put the mask on

Then they gotta put the mash on; steady bustin at each other

I take a tool and bust my strap and scream out "Free my brother~!"

Bitch-ass motherfuckers; I'm about to break 'em out

If they hit me before they get me I'ma take 'em out

If we successful we gon' smoke a blunt and cruise home

Introduce him to his new Charger with no shoes on

'Til the haters move on

Fin' to set up shop now, gotsta hold the block down

Gettin paper make me feel like... {la-da-da-dahhh-deeeee}



Now let me take you to the motherfuckin projects

Where the true thugs, and the elite members of the mob at

Know somebody; better call them out or try to tell them later

When they tell you "Where you from" when they catch you on the elevator

The fiends lurkin, niggaz serve in pissy hallways

Can't say shit cause they be gettin money all day

Mercedes parked out front, chillin with a hat cocked to the left

In the ride with the glock cocked smokin a blunt

300Z with the Lamborghini do's and some hoes with a big ol' project booty

And the beat kinda hot but the cops wanna come

To hold the work he got that duty

So they can't do nothin to me

Seventh flo' with the 'dro now, nineteenth flo' by the rocks now

Gettin paper make me feel like... {la-da-da-dahhh-deeeee}



Yeah, some oh-six shit

For all the real niggaz and bitches to ride to

Not none of that ol' lame-ass, metaphoric-ass ol' goofy shit~!

This some of that real shit, that Chi-Town shit

That gangster shit, fool!

Twista bitch...

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