Video musical

Project Pat - Whatever Ho (Feat. Hypnotize Camp Posse)
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Créditos

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Project Pat
Project Pat
Vocals
Crunchy Black
Crunchy Black
Vocals
DJ Paul
DJ Paul
Vocals
Gangsta Boo
Gangsta Boo
Vocals
Juicy J
Juicy J
Vocals
Lord Infamous
Lord Infamous
Vocals
MC Mack
MC Mack
Vocals
Scan Man
Scan Man
Vocals
T-Rock
T-Rock
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Donell Barton
Donell Barton
Songwriter
Jordan Houston
Jordan Houston
Songwriter
Patrick Houston
Patrick Houston
Songwriter
Paul Beauregard
Paul Beauregard
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
DJ Paul
DJ Paul
Producer
Juicy J
Juicy J
Producer
Lil' Pat
Lil' Pat
Mixing Engineer

Letra

Yeah you muthafuckin' hoes Y'all know the muthafuckin' dead Hypnotize Camp and Profit Posse in this muthafucka Get one of these gold plaques on the wall before you talk some old Muthafuckin' shit Bitch, it's whatever nigga We in this muthafucka for the 9-9, 9's to your head ho (Mafia, Mafia, Mafi-ya, ya, Mafia, Mafia, Mafi-ya, ya) Glock 9's, Tech 9's, any kinda gun bitch Evergreen gats have got these cowards on the run bitch Kill 'em like they convicts Know they hear them guns click Doped up like a muthafucka (Cough, Cough, Snort) You could catch me in the same hood, on the fuckin' same block With a pearl Rolex watch, and a knot, and a Glock 9 o'clock clock nigga like to slang cuz I be hustlin' weight and We gon' put a end to you hoes and you niggas hatin' I'mma be every fuckin' piece of skrilla cheese out here I can make I'mma break every fuckin' bitch, fatalities that I can bring I'mma millie my pillie but killie, killin' everything that I wanna kill You weak ass niggas don't want Lord Infamous from South Parkway to get ill Long from the norm, we get dumb with a bomb, with the guns you bitches y'all best get steel Scarecrow, Club House, yes it gets ill So, all y'all listen closely don't you ever forget Y'all wouldn't, Y'all never be shit with out us bitch Don't forget Killin' ain't shit, bitches ain't shit Niggas ain't shit, bodies in a ditch How any niggas gonna talk dat shit About da Cruchy fuckin' Black, Thug Posse ya bitch Niggas gon' talk, bitches gon' start Muthafuckaz gonna get they bodies in a trunk All I want is cash Muthafuckaz have Get down on your knees Gimme all your cash Whoa, muthafucka watch yourself, just watch your back Cause still we chillin' with Pat Straped with them gats Be ready to attack All you hatin' ass niggas that wanna jump, yo punk what's up You better come up real with your muthatfuckin' shit, cause boy, it's gonna get rough Situation's gone bad, for you niggas claimin' killaz Automatic triggaz pullin' drillin' holes inside your liver How you figure, I was gon' let you talk that shit and peep these streets Sayin' "That ScanMan boy's a bitch" know watch them throw lights out in my head Killin', buckin', buckin up in Gunfire Bullets rickin' off the walls, nigga this is Warfare Suckaz claimin' they got nuts You don't know these elephants Specialize in takin' notes Specialize in nappy hoes Niggas this is serious, I can't play no games no more Niggas actin' curious, but I think they know the score Bitches know the Hypnotize medallion show what click you claim Hold it up strong, only those, who stay real, or maintain', in this game Alot of niggas talk that shit and end up gettin' the wig split It's MC Mack, the nigga known for smackin', jackin', Cracker Jacks Busta ass nigga, run you mouth and get your ass blowed off Watch me put my ski mask on, come a gat back now trick now drop it off Shoot a super soaker in a minute don't you give a fuck about another nigga If he's speakin' use your counter attack Rollin' like a nigga smack a nigga like a nigga smack a bitch, you crump, you ain't no busta Ain't no love lost off in my heart, there's no place colder Won't you come a little closer nigga, you won't be rollin' our Socialists up actin' miss servin' sevens Have 'em in jail suspended, in the middle Started rivalries civil Homies swithin', actin' fickle But if you fuck with family ties, we leave you triple That nigga there know his gun a missle, Lord don't flash on him, only man ain't chival Erasin' ample businesses all in the name of the T-Rock Suckaz eat pot, swallow D, and get punished for three rocks Bangin' the hit stops, it won't be over, 'til your heat pops Away from the gravity, stand and point your a Tech and see him drop Yeah I know, I know Down, down, baby goin' down, down Sweet dreams baby, Rock-a-bye baby Niggas wanna run up, we be flexin' the Tech and Be pointed at ya we comin', and I bitch, I bet ya, I bet ya You wanna hit 'em, but nigga you an't forget 'em, forget 'em Because you sorry, and sorry ain't nothin' but venom I know bitches out there lovin' me, niggas got dreams of fuckin' me Fuckin' me ain't the story gon' fuck you up more than me It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever, whatever ho It's whatever, whatever ho Whatever Alot of gunfire, bustin' on you hoes to get my point across Ridin' in your hood and let the muthafuckin' bullets toss Tossin' me a berries pack, now I'm tossin' you some dramma Ridin' with my congregation, and we smokin' on marijuana If you wanna go to war with us, we prepared to bust Caught that niggas slippin' at his place, shot him in his face Now I race, from the scenery, blowin' on greenery Know I got a temper but you tricks wanna be mean to me It's the weak, told to tell 'em, Julius Caesar, how he rolls Newspaper, told to tell 'em, how he just got lnocked of his toes You should know, that we rollin' deep, hittin' like a train Kiss the floor, don't be lookin' dumb cause I don't explain I maintain, killaz catchin' drinks, Project cathin' cappers Shootin' at your muthafuckin' lane, they be catching vapors Playa Haters, violatiers, bullshiters, this for y'all Boy I keep a big gun, you don't want none
Writer(s): Patrick Houston, Jordan Houston, Paul D. Beauregard, Paul Duane Beauregard Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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