[Chorus: Twista]
Hands uuuuup, lay dowwwwwn
Count to ten before you get up off the ground
When you do I disappear, like the matrix
But if you don't, then my thumper gon' leave you wasted
Hands uuuuup, lay dowwwwwn
Count to ten before you get up off the ground
When you do I disappear, like the matrix
But if you don't, then my thumper gon' leave you wasted

[Verse 1: Twista]
Dude tried to steal on me, so I'm already pumped (WHAT!)
Why you steady standin' there talkin' that shit? B-Hype gon' go to the trunk
Unload the fivers, SKs and millimeter choppers
I got n***as that be killers with some shit that when you shoot it on the block it sound like a helicopter
It's hard out ch'ere, motherfuckers ain't got no work
It's a few n***as got cocaine, few n***as got dope, most n***as got purp'
Lil' n***a tried to play you shady, instead of yellin' out three folks and almighty
They be talkin' 'bout '80s babies, shorties that was born in the '90s is grimy
No respect and no morals, actin' like you owe that shit
Fuck up out my face big homie, matter fact gon' load that shit
It done got so crazy up in the streets sometimes I can't believe that this my land
Lil' girls used to wanna fuck a dope boy, now they wanna fuck a stick-up man

[Chorus: Twista]
Hands uuuuup, lay dowwwwwn
Count to ten before you get up off the ground
When you do I disappear, like the matrix
But if you don't, then my thumper gon' leave you wasted
Hands uuuuup, lay dowwwwwn
Count to ten before you get up off the ground
When you do I disappear, like the matrix
But if you don't, then my thumper gon' leave you wasted
[Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame]
Midwest shawty I'm in the club with the Folks, Midwest shawty I'm in the club with the Lords
Midwest shawty I'm in the club with the Stones, them Latin King boys man they minds straight gone
What's bangin' joe? Pants hang low, why you start playin', that's the [?] gang
Came a long way from sellin' weed, pills and cocaine, n***as catch a body just to get a little street fame
C'mon got crunk, that's cream now Flocka, keep ya on ya toes, I ain't playin' wit'chu n***a
The way a n***a rob ya I think I need a Oscar, trick booty n***a I ain't playin' wit'cha partner
They say Flock (WHAT!) yo' friends don't know how to act
We shootin' and fightin' over here, and that's a real muh'fuckin' fact
Blap, bottle full of Fuki, damu version of Tookie
All these tats make a n***a wanna shoot me, all these diamonds make a groupie wanna do me
Who are you to judge it bruh? Ho please trip, hell yeah we grippin'
Cut me one time yo the n***a catch you slippin' all that bullshit everyday set trippin'
(WAKA FLOCKA! FLOCKA! WAKA! FLOCKA! FLOCKA!)