John Vickers & Ghetto Guitar - Hands Up Lyrics

Bitch, jump out with your hands up, yeah your hands up
Imma run them bands up, run them bands up
This forty hit your mans up, hit your mans up
Ain't no Call of Duty, I'm gonna smoke you like it's cancer
My new bitch a dancer, she's from Atlanta
Codeine in my Fanta, yeah in my Fanta
Brimbo 22's, my whip black and white like a Panda
This no 22, my blick 45, this bitch a hammer
All my hundreds blue, free brodie locked up in the slammer
Diamonds on my tooth, fishtail out the lot with no manners
200 or better
Givenchy the sweater
Diamonds so cold, changed the weather
Bitch I tote Beretta
Pop a perc and count my cheddar
Slide out in the coupe
If you run up on me, on me, promise I'mma shoot
Diamond on my neck and wrist, put diamonds on my tooth
Clip on extended, aiming that bitch right out the roof
Whip automatic, don't want no static, it's on you
Diamond the Patek, shoot like the magic in the coupe
Turned to a habit, it can get tragic in the coupe
Imma take the money
Imma take the loot
Bitch, jump out with your hands up, yeah your hands up
Imma run them bands up, run them bands up
This forty hit your mans up, hit your mans up
Ain't no Call of Duty, I'm gonna smoke you like it's cancer
My new bitch a dancer, she's from Atlanta
Codeine in my Fanta, yeah in my Fanta
Brimbo 22's, my whip black and white like a Panda
This no 22, my blick 45, this bitch a hammer