Lyrics
Put It Up Lyrics – Written by Igloo
(Verse 1)
Whoa, on your marks, get ready, set, go/
I-g-l-double-o with a killa illa flow/
Build up dough, triple 0s, in my f-funds/
Reason number one, like Christina Milian I dip it low/
Reason number two, I switch the flow when I needs to/
See through people’s skin into their soul/
Keep two things in mind, lethal when I rhyme/
Peaceful most the time, evil in the night/
Speak to one of my affiliates, M3 can vouch, no doubt, im killing it/
I spit it out the mouth till I know yall feeling it/
Man i know im ill and sh** , still it fit to keep it real with kids/
Back for the first time like Luda, who da/
Kid, big fish in the pond like a barracuda/
Move ova, skills like Hova/
I feel like so what, I already know ya/ all
(Hook)
Put it up now in the air/
Drop it down, on top the ground/
Then make it stomp, you sway along/
When I say come on, get ready, here we go/
Come on/
Put it up now in the air/
Cops come round, we stop the sound/
Then play the song, till break of dawn/
This place the bomb, its on/
(Verse 2)
You already know what im about, if you don’t, you will/
Trust me boy, you’ll find out soon, I’ll get you high like pills/
Or cooked coke crack, I don’t smoke man/
I hope you know that, I write my own raps/
No ghostwritin or bitin, well maybe a little line-bitin/
But not the type like Mike Tyson/
I’ll leave your ears alone unless it come to an emergency/
Trust me, if it come to that, I be bustin, burnin knees/
Murder 3, 4, 5 people/
Naw, I’m kiddin, what you thinking that I’m evil/
Im just sittin, mind is tickin bout that dime is all/
You be trippin, must slippin down from high to fall/
You be wishin you could fit in under my level/
I keep spittin, keep on winnin till I get my medal/
You keep dishin out the spit and lickin my ankles/
I know its sick inside the thick of people tryna all/
(Hook)
(Verse 3)
I keep it coming when im speakin something then/
When im done, turn around, burnin down the house again/
Go out and tell your friends that Igloo’s here to stay/
Im never working when you see boy, but I don’t play/
Way, way back long ago/
You’d never see me walkin round without my arsenal/
Start to go to all the shows that got all the hoes/
Got to go hoe, think I want your ass to call me, no/
Don’t call me Joe, cuz im not fat/
And im definitely not Jamaican, so don’t call me that/
However on the track, I can spit reggaeton/
Me nana haffi smoke zi blunt fi get get way way blown/
Gal em you know me warn ya me bone ya, (why) me want ta/
Just inna di space of one second, me on ya, (told ya)/
Me conja up the tonka truck, me wanna/
Touch you pon the but, naw we haffi put it up/ so
(Hook)
