Papoose feat. DJ Premier Turn It Up Lyrics

The Nacirema Dream Track Listing
Digital Media 1
  • 1 Intro
  • 2 Motion Picture
  • 3 Mother Ghetto
  • 4 Aim Shoot
  • 5 Skit
  • 6 Cure
  • 7 Nacirema Dream
  • 8 Pimpin Won't Die
  • 9 6AM
  • 10 Skit
  • 11 Law Library, Part 8
  • 12 What's My Name
  • 13 Top of My Game
  • 14 Faith
  • 15 Turn It Up
  • 16 Die Like a G
  • 17 Get at Me
  • 18 Where I Come From
  • 19 R.I.P.
  • 20 Alphabetical Slaughter, Part II / Z to A
  • We never heard of yo clique but they heard of us
    They put em down, we liftin them burners up
    You keep sayin word to your mother but word to what?
    I don’t give a **** about none of these *****s
    I turn it up,
    Come on, come on, killas
    Here go my cup, give me some more liquor
    Open this back window, let me dump on *****s
    It’s my era, I’m bout to turn it up on *****s

    Peace to the New York Knickerbockers, the plot got thicker
    Cuz now they got the Brooklyn Nets and Barclays Center
    Hello Mrs. and Mr., cousins, brothers and sisters
    Ladies and gentlemen, children prisons of finger printers
    Snakes who like to slither, wolves, monkeys, gorillas
    Veterans and beginners, righteous people and sinners
    Gamblers, losers and winners, ice grillers and grinners
    Hope you all some good swimmers cuz I’m as deep as the river
    I’m the bad guy, just like the Joker and Riddler
    Bad as Mike in his prime, man in the mirror in Thriller
    You ain’t a real man, you can’t even use the shitter
    You a *****cat, you probably got kitty litter
    Kill rich *****s in chinchilla
    Representing for the wig-splitters and skid bitters who gets realer
    Like Beenie Man, carjack a ***** *****
    Who got the keys to the Jeep? Sim Simmer

    We never heard of yo clique but they heard of us
    They put em down, we liftin them burners up
    You keep sayin word to your mother but word to what?
    I don’t give a **** about none of these *****s
    I turn it up,
    Come on, come on, killas
    Here go my cup, give me some more liquor
    Open this back window, let me dump on *****s
    It’s my era, I’m bout to turn it up on *****s

    When my oral deliver it’s such a moral dilemma
    I don’t quarrel with quitters, I give em sorrow and shimmers
    You think your artists is iller just cause his car from the dealer?
    This music char is bitter, cause yall some horrible spitters
    When I swallow the liquor, I write a marvelous scripture
    Start drawing a picture cause I’m immortal my *****
    Beef is played out so I don’t bother with *****s
    But as long as it’s tender I eat your squad up for dinner
    Put my palms on the trigger and shoot you all in yo liver
    Injure all of you *****s, I’m cool and calm as a killer
    Your man styling from fingers, man who are you? Vanilla
    Ice — I’m Suge Knight, hang em off the balcony with ya
    Since I deserve scrilla, I learned to flip birds quicker
    Had to hit curves with the hustlers and to emerge richer
    Back when Dipset was sippin sizzurp *****
    My jewelery was black and yellow just like the Pittsburgh Steelers

    We never heard of yo clique but they heard of us
    They put em down, we liftin them burners up
    You keep sayin word to your mother but word to what?
    I don’t give a **** about none of these *****s
    I turn it up,
    Come on, come on, killas
    Here go my cup, give me some more liquor
    Open this back window, let me dump on *****s
    It’s my era, I’m bout to turn it up on *****s

    I’m on that money train, making dead president stops
    Robbed the liquor store just so we can get some Ciroc
    Ate Corn Flakes, no Fruity Pebbles and Pops
    Got chased by the stray dogs when I fled though the block
    Bought a 50-cent razor, now I’m ready to rock
    I step to your block with a George Jefferson bop
    I cut him cross peddle bike, he bled to his socks
    Cuz Miles didn’t have a chain when I peddled and popped
    My leather bomber was better than that pleather you rocked
    I wore old bomber way before Michelle and Barack
    I heard up North you wasn’t reppin a lot
    You never caught a 10-3, you respected the cops
    How you gon use that jail **** to try to get to the top?
    You woke up in PC, never slept in a box
    He said he hungry so I fed him the ox
    My gun is like an independent record label, Heckler and Koch

    We never heard of yo clique but they heard of us
    They put em down, we liftin them burners up
    You keep sayin word to your mother but word to what?
    I don’t give a **** about none of these *****s
    I turn it up,
    Come on, come on, killas
    Here go my cup, give me some more liquor
    Open this back window, let me dump on *****s
    It’s my era, I’m bout to turn it up on *****s

    Turn up
    Now I come back
    Keep it underground hardcore
    Turn up
    Now I come back
    Keep it underground hardcore
    Turn up
    Now I come back
    Keep it underground hardcore
    Turn up
    Papoose, Papoose

    Artists A to Z: