Holla Back Lyrics
| Song | Holla Back |
| Artist | Kool G Rap |
| Album | The Giancana Story |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Yeah.. it's 2G | |
| Brooklyn-Queens connection | |
| Y'all bout to feel somethin, y'all never felt before | |
| Aiyyo G, you know I'm like a trey-eight special | |
| I'm close range | |
| Fuckin with you I gotta get AK material, banana clip style | |
| Let's do this, let's do this | |
| [Tito] | |
| Blow the spot like tea kettle whistles | |
| Federal slugs, the lead'll kiss you | |
| Infrared burners'll never miss you | |
| All digital, hard physical, spittle you riddle you | |
| Priest prayin over your body while you in critical | |
| Come in a few, give out a doz this what the semi do | |
| See what the Henny and Rémy do | |
| BGF, Black Gorilla Family jet, Black Godfather finesse | |
| Fifty caliber hole surroundin your chest | |
| Bentley blue steel armored cars with boulder baguettes | |
| We live in effect, blaze a gun while poppin a Tec | |
| Recognize killers, nigga, pop a collar to that | |
| Gorilla breed to the death, that's the shit that I rep | |
| Code of silence, addicted to havin fattened the violence | |
| AK-47 rapidly firin, got love for bloodshed and the sirens | |
| Take banana clips to my gun, to keep my shit off balance | |
| My heart filled with malice | |
| [Chorus: Kool G Rap - repeat 2X] | |
| Yo, if you livin thug, holla back (Holla back) | |
| My bitches strippin in the clubs, let the dollars stack (Let em stack y'all) | |
| This one's for all my OG's and street scholar cats (All my street cats) | |
| And if a nigga act up, funeral parlor cat | |
| Pop a collar to that (Pop a collar to that) | |
| [Nawz] | |
| Yo, wavin cash, gun in the stash, the click on smash | |
| From rockets that blast, yo we in your pockets for cash | |
| Burgundy mask, bullets like a surgery slash | |
| Internally burn your staff and dismember your ass | |
| Coroners bag from autops' to medical lab | |
| I leave you leakin like Carlito watch your memory flash | |
| Quicksand for fam, tied a fuckin brick to your hands | |
| I'm sicker with the Henny liquor with the clip to your man | |
| When it's on it's on, do your moms bodily harm | |
| Firstborn'll be your first gone, beef goes on | |
| Permanent cash, put you in the tourniquet fast | |
| Feed you glass and use you to fertilize the grass | |
| Puff green when we fiendin to murder ya whole team | |
| For cream, the infrared beams'll shatter your dreams | |
| I flatter your queen and rip her right out of her jeans | |
| Intervene and it's the homicide scene for your team | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [AZ] | |
| From hideous acts on the one gettin rid of the gats | |
| A nigga back, no parole, now how pretty is that? | |
| The city is trapped, bottles popped, Phillies is cracked | |
| Niggaz is strapped, half bent, illin, spillin they 'gnac | |
| Cars tinted, my rap image too large to mimmick | |
| We mob in it, fake niggaz dissolve in minutes | |
| It's codes to it, real killers they know music | |
| Even hoes on the low at the shows lose it | |
| Courvoisier-sippin, this slim nigga stay flippin | |
| My ways different, duck when the AK spittin | |
| It's more to it, verbal wisely, all fluent | |
| In real life this is how the dogs do it | |
| Double-edged sword, rep for y'all seein the board | |
| See y'all home soon, it's better than seein the morgue | |
| So what's the conflict, who wanna Don with this? | |
| For the streets strictly we got the bombest shit | |
| [Chorus] | |
| [Kool G Rap] | |
| Two violent niggaz sit at the round table, in brown sables | |
| Chains hangin down to the navel | |
| Brooklyn and Queens connect get down fatal | |
| Hold the four-pound stable | |
| Won't hesitate to rock a clown's cradle | |
| Get put in the dirt like ground cable | |
| Found from bloodhound nasals | |
| Or deep in the river get found naval | |
| That shit y'all spit sound fable | |
| "American Me" style, knife in the anal; who 'round to save you? | |
| I leave you from waist down disabled | |
| Face split like a round bagel | |
| Found in a hospital gown witcha crown stapled | |
| Wrong one to tangle with, a gym star, spangle your shit | |
| Use your handkerchief to strangle your bitch | |
| Single niggaz out on the strip and bang in a clip | |
| Slugs from a Desert Eagle mingle the click | |
| A force of habit, for me to let it rip across your attic | |
| Never violent with a silent but I toss your cabbage | |
| [Chorus] | |
| (Beotch!) |
| Yeah.. it' s 2G | |
| BrooklynQueens connection | |
| Y' all bout to feel somethin, y' all never felt before | |
| Aiyyo G, you know I' m like a treyeight special | |
| I' m close range | |
| Fuckin with you I gotta get AK material, banana clip style | |
| Let' s do this, let' s do this | |
| Tito | |
| Blow the spot like tea kettle whistles | |
| Federal slugs, the lead' ll kiss you | |
| Infrared burners' ll never miss you | |
| All digital, hard physical, spittle you riddle you | |
| Priest prayin over your body while you in critical | |
| Come in a few, give out a doz this what the semi do | |
| See what the Henny and Re my do | |
| BGF, Black Gorilla Family jet, Black Godfather finesse | |
| Fifty caliber hole surroundin your chest | |
| Bentley blue steel armored cars with boulder baguettes | |
| We live in effect, blaze a gun while poppin a Tec | |
| Recognize killers, nigga, pop a collar to that | |
| Gorilla breed to the death, that' s the shit that I rep | |
| Code of silence, addicted to havin fattened the violence | |
| AK47 rapidly firin, got love for bloodshed and the sirens | |
| Take banana clips to my gun, to keep my shit off balance | |
| My heart filled with malice | |
| Chorus: Kool G Rap repeat 2X | |
| Yo, if you livin thug, holla back Holla back | |
| My bitches strippin in the clubs, let the dollars stack Let em stack y' all | |
| This one' s for all my OG' s and street scholar cats All my street cats | |
| And if a nigga act up, funeral parlor cat | |
| Pop a collar to that Pop a collar to that | |
| Nawz | |
| Yo, wavin cash, gun in the stash, the click on smash | |
| From rockets that blast, yo we in your pockets for cash | |
| Burgundy mask, bullets like a surgery slash | |
| Internally burn your staff and dismember your ass | |
| Coroners bag from autops' to medical lab | |
| I leave you leakin like Carlito watch your memory flash | |
| Quicksand for fam, tied a fuckin brick to your hands | |
| I' m sicker with the Henny liquor with the clip to your man | |
| When it' s on it' s on, do your moms bodily harm | |
| Firstborn' ll be your first gone, beef goes on | |
| Permanent cash, put you in the tourniquet fast | |
| Feed you glass and use you to fertilize the grass | |
| Puff green when we fiendin to murder ya whole team | |
| For cream, the infrared beams' ll shatter your dreams | |
| I flatter your queen and rip her right out of her jeans | |
| Intervene and it' s the homicide scene for your team | |
| Chorus | |
| AZ | |
| From hideous acts on the one gettin rid of the gats | |
| A nigga back, no parole, now how pretty is that? | |
| The city is trapped, bottles popped, Phillies is cracked | |
| Niggaz is strapped, half bent, illin, spillin they ' gnac | |
| Cars tinted, my rap image too large to mimmick | |
| We mob in it, fake niggaz dissolve in minutes | |
| It' s codes to it, real killers they know music | |
| Even hoes on the low at the shows lose it | |
| Courvoisiersippin, this slim nigga stay flippin | |
| My ways different, duck when the AK spittin | |
| It' s more to it, verbal wisely, all fluent | |
| In real life this is how the dogs do it | |
| Doubleedged sword, rep for y' all seein the board | |
| See y' all home soon, it' s better than seein the morgue | |
| So what' s the conflict, who wanna Don with this? | |
| For the streets strictly we got the bombest shit | |
| Chorus | |
| Kool G Rap | |
| Two violent niggaz sit at the round table, in brown sables | |
| Chains hangin down to the navel | |
| Brooklyn and Queens connect get down fatal | |
| Hold the fourpound stable | |
| Won' t hesitate to rock a clown' s cradle | |
| Get put in the dirt like ground cable | |
| Found from bloodhound nasals | |
| Or deep in the river get found naval | |
| That shit y' all spit sound fable | |
| " American Me" style, knife in the anal who ' round to save you? | |
| I leave you from waist down disabled | |
| Face split like a round bagel | |
| Found in a hospital gown witcha crown stapled | |
| Wrong one to tangle with, a gym star, spangle your shit | |
| Use your handkerchief to strangle your bitch | |
| Single niggaz out on the strip and bang in a clip | |
| Slugs from a Desert Eagle mingle the click | |
| A force of habit, for me to let it rip across your attic | |
| Never violent with a silent but I toss your cabbage | |
| Chorus | |
| Beotch! |
| Yeah.. it' s 2G | |
| BrooklynQueens connection | |
| Y' all bout to feel somethin, y' all never felt before | |
| Aiyyo G, you know I' m like a treyeight special | |
| I' m close range | |
| Fuckin with you I gotta get AK material, banana clip style | |
| Let' s do this, let' s do this | |
| Tito | |
| Blow the spot like tea kettle whistles | |
| Federal slugs, the lead' ll kiss you | |
| Infrared burners' ll never miss you | |
| All digital, hard physical, spittle you riddle you | |
| Priest prayin over your body while you in critical | |
| Come in a few, give out a doz this what the semi do | |
| See what the Henny and Ré my do | |
| BGF, Black Gorilla Family jet, Black Godfather finesse | |
| Fifty caliber hole surroundin your chest | |
| Bentley blue steel armored cars with boulder baguettes | |
| We live in effect, blaze a gun while poppin a Tec | |
| Recognize killers, nigga, pop a collar to that | |
| Gorilla breed to the death, that' s the shit that I rep | |
| Code of silence, addicted to havin fattened the violence | |
| AK47 rapidly firin, got love for bloodshed and the sirens | |
| Take banana clips to my gun, to keep my shit off balance | |
| My heart filled with malice | |
| Chorus: Kool G Rap repeat 2X | |
| Yo, if you livin thug, holla back Holla back | |
| My bitches strippin in the clubs, let the dollars stack Let em stack y' all | |
| This one' s for all my OG' s and street scholar cats All my street cats | |
| And if a nigga act up, funeral parlor cat | |
| Pop a collar to that Pop a collar to that | |
| Nawz | |
| Yo, wavin cash, gun in the stash, the click on smash | |
| From rockets that blast, yo we in your pockets for cash | |
| Burgundy mask, bullets like a surgery slash | |
| Internally burn your staff and dismember your ass | |
| Coroners bag from autops' to medical lab | |
| I leave you leakin like Carlito watch your memory flash | |
| Quicksand for fam, tied a fuckin brick to your hands | |
| I' m sicker with the Henny liquor with the clip to your man | |
| When it' s on it' s on, do your moms bodily harm | |
| Firstborn' ll be your first gone, beef goes on | |
| Permanent cash, put you in the tourniquet fast | |
| Feed you glass and use you to fertilize the grass | |
| Puff green when we fiendin to murder ya whole team | |
| For cream, the infrared beams' ll shatter your dreams | |
| I flatter your queen and rip her right out of her jeans | |
| Intervene and it' s the homicide scene for your team | |
| Chorus | |
| AZ | |
| From hideous acts on the one gettin rid of the gats | |
| A nigga back, no parole, now how pretty is that? | |
| The city is trapped, bottles popped, Phillies is cracked | |
| Niggaz is strapped, half bent, illin, spillin they ' gnac | |
| Cars tinted, my rap image too large to mimmick | |
| We mob in it, fake niggaz dissolve in minutes | |
| It' s codes to it, real killers they know music | |
| Even hoes on the low at the shows lose it | |
| Courvoisiersippin, this slim nigga stay flippin | |
| My ways different, duck when the AK spittin | |
| It' s more to it, verbal wisely, all fluent | |
| In real life this is how the dogs do it | |
| Doubleedged sword, rep for y' all seein the board | |
| See y' all home soon, it' s better than seein the morgue | |
| So what' s the conflict, who wanna Don with this? | |
| For the streets strictly we got the bombest shit | |
| Chorus | |
| Kool G Rap | |
| Two violent niggaz sit at the round table, in brown sables | |
| Chains hangin down to the navel | |
| Brooklyn and Queens connect get down fatal | |
| Hold the fourpound stable | |
| Won' t hesitate to rock a clown' s cradle | |
| Get put in the dirt like ground cable | |
| Found from bloodhound nasals | |
| Or deep in the river get found naval | |
| That shit y' all spit sound fable | |
| " American Me" style, knife in the anal who ' round to save you? | |
| I leave you from waist down disabled | |
| Face split like a round bagel | |
| Found in a hospital gown witcha crown stapled | |
| Wrong one to tangle with, a gym star, spangle your shit | |
| Use your handkerchief to strangle your bitch | |
| Single niggaz out on the strip and bang in a clip | |
| Slugs from a Desert Eagle mingle the click | |
| A force of habit, for me to let it rip across your attic | |
| Never violent with a silent but I toss your cabbage | |
| Chorus | |
| Beotch! |
Similar Songs
YouTube Results (More on YouTube)