Ante Up (robbin Hoodz Theory) Lyrics - B2k

Take minks off, take things off 

Take chains off, take rings off 

Bracelets is yapped, Fame came off 

Ante up, everything off 

Fool, what you want? We stiflin' fools 

Fool, what you want? Your life or your jewels? 

The rules, back 'em down, next thing, clap 'em down 

Respect mine, we Brooklyn bound now 

Brownsville, home of the brave 

Put in work in the street like a slave 

Keep a rugged dress code, always in this stress mode 

That shit will send you to your grave, so? 

You think, I don't know that? Blow 

Nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that 

From the street cousin, you know the drill 

I'm nine hundred and ninety nine thou short of a mil 

Ante up, yap that fool 

Ante up, kidnap that fool 

It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin' 

Get up off them God damn diamonds 

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh 

Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool 

Get him, get him, hit him, hit him 

Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him 

Them thugs you know, ain't friendly 

Them jewels you rock, make 'em envy 

You thinkin' it's all good, you creep through a small hood 

Goons comin' up outta a cut for your goods and they all should 

Ante up, yap that fool 

You want big money, kidnap that fool 

If you up in the club, back out your pistol money 

Catch them fools at the bar for that Crystal money 

The '87 stick up kids, what you niggas sayin'? 

Get the fuck up, out that 740 shorty, I ain't playin' 

It's flash that thang time, bang, bang time 

Ante up, nigga, it's game time 

Hand over the ring, take over the chain 

Gimme the fuckin' watch before I pop one in your brain 

Stop playin' these childish games with me 

Representin' 1-7-1-8, dangerously, nigga 

Ante up, yap that fool 

Ante up, kidnap that fool 

It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin' 

Get up off them God damn diamonds 

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh 

Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool 

Get him, get him, hit him, hit him 

Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him 

I'ma, street regulator, true playa hater 

Get back down, make your ass a mack spraya hater 

Things that we need, money, clothes, weed indeed 

Hats, food, booze, essentials, credentials 

Code of the streets, owners who creep 

Slow when you sleep, holdin' the heat 

Put holes in your jeep, respect the streets 

It's the Lil' Fame 

Yeah, nigga Danze, gave you a chance 

'Cuz I blazed your man, I'm in the wrong 

He said he was strong 

I had reason to believe he had some shit up his sleeve all along 

So? Fuck you, your honor, check my persona 

I'm strong enough for old gold and marijuana 

I'ma do what I wanna, quiet as kept 

Raise hell, til I was tired of stress, yes Lord 

Ante up, yap that fool 

Ante up, kidnap that fool 

It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin' 

Get up off them God damn diamonds 

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh 

Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool 

Get him, get him, hit him, hit him 

Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him 

The fuck, the fuck, the fuck 

Nigga, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck? 

What? First family, first family, Brooklyn, yeah