Lyrics of 'Holla What's Up' by Kid Frost

[ Frost ]
Hm-hm-hm-he-he-he-ha-ha-ha-ha
Yeah
Check it out
Ha-ha-ha
N2Deep
Latino Velvet cliqua
Frost
D.B.A.
From the Bay to L.A.
From the Northpole all the way to the muthafuckin Southpole
This is how we roll

[ Frost ]
Oh-oh, I'm back in this bitch, baby
With a new steelo and a brand new ride
No matter where you from, throw it up, represent yo side
Peep out the dum-didi, it's me and Boskolini
Rollin down the street with them nickel-plated chrome nini
About to hook up with my partners from the Lleyo
Sit down at the table, figure ways to stack the mail
Just another classic tale of a man and his money
Cause you gotta have a con in this land of milk and honey

[ Baby Beesh ]
Well, I don't know about y'all, but mayn, I knows about moi
I keep a deep repertoire and keep some dank in my jar
The coldest Latin to ball, the mack handles the law
I spend a g at the mall and give your breezy a call
And mayn I calls it how I see em from my hustler mausoleum
From the West coast to the East coast, from the AM to the PM
What's really.. laced up from the waist up, never see me goin bancrupt
Wake up and break up a bud so I can blaze up

[ CHORUS: Baby Beesh ]
That's just the way we get down, we serve it up by the pound
We stack g's and we clown and if you see us around
Say what's up, partner, I'ma give you some dap
Because we puttin this West coast back on the map

[ Jay Tee ]
Now please believe it when I tell ya, uncut coke is what I sell ya
Even if ya out of town that good game should never fail ya
Call me yankee, bread stackin, boss mackin
Got a superbad up in the Cadillac and
You know I pop that con hella quick to her
You know before I'm gone I sold that dick to her
I like ya just like I liked my last bitch
Jay Tee is who I'm doin business as, biatch

[ Bosko ]
Slippin ??? hypnosis pull Testarossas out your nana
Piranha, ferocious, put the chains on her
For green guys the mean thighs and d-size
I need my batter till my bread start to rise
Tellin true lies and extort for sport
Got contempt for court, 'biatch' - Too $hort
Pimp with force like Vader and never paid her a nickel
Mouthpiece that have you fuckin for pickles

[ CHORUS ]

[ Cool Nutz ]
Pure bread, posted with a bottle and some bomb head
Smoked a broad out and turned the broad out
Pimpin ain't dead, the broads is just scared
Beat your heels on the track, increase the sack
Be a trendbroker, from the womb, fuck the smokers
The tender chose up and the bread rose up
I was born to rap, secondary to this shit
If the music don't work, I retire, then pimp
Big work, strip club dancin escort
You was perked off the E, dowsed in Hennessy
Fuck your simp tendencies, we bring street remedies
D boys and pimps took flight with Vegas strips
Burned vogues on the turf, screech and peel off
Check my trap money, get scratch and roll off
Be a boss, get the fetti at all cost
Recognize the game, get scrill and then floss