Lyrics

DJ Khaled Ft Paul Wall & Bun B – Hit ’Em Up Lyrics

Updated

November 22, 2024

Mpo SA

Hit ’Em Up Lyrics by DJ Khaled Ft Paul Wall & Bun B

[Chorus: Paul Wall]
I’m comin down (I’m comin down), I’m actin bad (I’m actin bad)
I’m chunkin dueces and I’m choppin up the slab (up the slab)
I’m comin through (I’m comin through), I’m tippin dime (I’m tippin dime)
I’m sho a naked and I’m straight actin a clown (actin a clown)
I’m comin down (I’m comin down), I’m actin bad (I’m actin bad)
I’m chunkin dueces and I’m choppin up the slab (up the slab)
I’m comin through (I’m comin through), I’m tippin dime (I’m tippin dime)
I’m sho a naked and I’m straight actin a clown (actin a clown)

[Verse 1: Bun B]
I’m a certified D-boy, a real big nutta (nutta)
A candy car strutta that be sittin’ on butta
Comin’ straight up out the gutta with the cordaless cutta
Man, what is that? The Chinese choppa that likens Mr. Studda
What a fucked up predicament (Damn), a scary scenario
Automatics in ya face have you preparin’ ya burial (hol up)
They tracin’ tha weapon after you scratch off the serial
Leaves you up like cereal, there it is and there we go (there we go)
Some bad Didos ridin’ off in tha wind and
Nigga we got all ya soft in ya hands so don’t pretend
Like this ain’t what it was (was) or we ain’t what you say (say)
I’ll make a high cappa or court fraud light in tha day (day)
Cause in the middle of the street in height of tha traffic
Watch what you say when we meet cause they know might get yo ass kicked (huh)
End up in a pickle like a Vlasic, UGK nigga
We cost like a foreign but get respect like a classic muthafucka
[Chorus: Paul Wall]
I’m comin down (I’m comin down), I’m actin bad (I’m actin bad)
I’m chunkin dueces and I’m choppin up the slab (up the slab)
I’m comin through (I’m comin through), I’m tippin dime (I’m tippin dime)
I’m sho a naked and I’m straight actin a clown (actin a clown)
I’m comin down (I’m comin down), I’m actin bad (I’m actin bad)
I’m chunkin dueces and I’m choppin up the slab (up the slab)
I’m comin through (I’m comin through), I’m tippin dime (I’m tippin dime)
I’m sho a naked and I’m straight actin a clown (actin a clown)

[Verse 2: Paul Wall]
This Paul Wall, baby, Swishahouse spokesperson
Choppin up tha slab, spokes turnin, bobbies searchin
Shoppers splergin, caked up cause my pockets swoll
I’m callin plays, pullin broads, I just think and roll
I’m from that lone star, tippin dime dat candy car
Get it shined on 59, lean and tuck I’ll cut some more
Hoes wanna who we are, fathers wanna know what we get
Hatas wanna talk down a knot, but they just mad cause they ain’t hot
They ain’t got the cash that I got, they don’t know what my hood ’bout
They don’t know about trunks that pop on Lambo’s that blaze tha chop
Countin cash and stackin not, South victory back to Scott
Crawlin like big crocodile, I’m diamond smile and Johnny watch
I’m with my partner, box, you and you and not with ‘cho
Rick boy, yeah that’s fo’ sho’, breakin em off, you already know
Drive slow like Kanye West, and Branyan Wayans, and Manny Mesh
A swishahouse chain on my chest, I keep it fresh, We are the best