Chorus: Master P (repeat 2X)

Here we go, Here we go, Here we go (BE BOUT YO BUSINESS!)
From the south, to the west, to the mid, to the east coast

Verse One: Master P

I got heroin and cocaine
Some call me the dope man, a young nigga havin thangs
A thug like Tupac
Went from cheddar to cheese, from powder to cooked rocks
From the ghetto to the lakes
(to the lakes, 3rd ward, Caliope)
Slangin' thangs in the hood to move my records to 54 states
Got more work than the mayor do (mayor do)
It stick to niggas that talk shit
Like a baller they bitch hair blue
Got more corns than fritos
Got more hoe's than Macys sell muthafuckin Girbauds
Keep the muthafuckin party jumpin (uhh, bout it, bout it)
For puttin the south on the map like Eazy-E did Compton
Hoo-ride with these gangbangers (gangbangers)
No Limit Soldiers, mercenary killas keep one up in the chamber
_Got it Made_ like Special Ed
Got more _Vapors_ than BizMarkie ever had
After _Dead Presidents_ like Eric B
_Hypnotize_ the rap industry like Biggie
Going _Federal_ like E-40
Shock the world like Silkk, put my pockets on tilt
Puttin fools _On Hold_ like En Vogue
Used to slang white ice cream, now its platinum and golds
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