Lyrics Master P – It’s A Jungle Out Here

I’m on the porch, with a motherfucking bad bitch
I load it up, like I’m loading up the ammo
Nigga talking shit, cause we living like we Rambo
Gas prices high, so niggaz be cyphon
Yeah I’m hype, and last year you didn’t like me
I’m Mike Jones on this bitch, Drone on this bitch
Buck jumping hard, going home on this bitch
From the projects to the high rise, and that ghost going bye bye
Got bitches twerking for me, smoking just like she Ri-Ri
Shiiit, I get better with time
Nigga owe me money, bitch better give me mine
Triiiick, keep talking that shit
75 million sold, but I ain’t done with this bitch yeah

Chorus: Howie T
What don’t kill you, only make you stronger
With no love, and living for the moment
It’s your time, just show em that you want it
It’s your time, it’s your time
It’s on you incredible
Through the pain, we won’t let it show
So put your hands through the roof, this what champions do
And never ever let em stop you from being you
It’s a jungle out here

Master P
Call me Louie Armstrong, way I blow that trumpet
My baby mama tripping, shit she ain’t saying nothing

Yeeeeeah, I feel sorry for my ex
Call TMZ, she won’t get another check
I’m a hood nigga, I came up in the trap
You ain’t dodge no bullets, you ain’t wrote no rap
I’m on the block, gone off that energy drank
Make em sau ugh, and that’s money in the bank
Started lil’ time big time, yeah we came up
When I made Forbes, super models ran up
Me and Boz still thugging, ain’t nothing change us
Big money over here, put that lil’ change up
My uncle on the corner, drinking a motherfucking fifth
I done made it out the hood, with my motherfucking gift
We don’t fuck with haters, in God we trust
Uptown Calliope, in pistols we bust
God damn, yeah I’m back
God damn, time to get rid of these rats
God damn, tell the DJ bring it back
Shit I got me, watch your motherfucking back

Chorus

Howie T
Oh it’s a jungle out here
Yeah, it’s a jungle out here
Oh, it’s a jungle out here
Yeah, it’s a jungle out here