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    Master P / Lyrics

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    "Poppin' Them Collars" Lyrics

    Master P

    [Snoop Dogg & (Master P) talking]
    Hey yo (Ghetto Postage)
    Give me something that makes a nigga wanna pop his motherfuckin' collar
    (With a lil' West Coast twist on it)
    (Master P and Snoop, ha ha, tah dow, poppin' collars]

    [Chorus with Master P & Snoop ad-libs]
    Pop those collars
    Pop those collars
    Pop those collars
    That's the just the way we do it
    Pop those collars

    We changed the game

    Slid up in the door, get up in ya ho
    Sippin' on some Mo with Big D from the mad ass 6-0
    Stretched out on the couch with some Mary Jane
    Doghouse nigga, we all in the same game
    An every nigga in my click got the platinum chain
    Blang, blang Doggy's Angel's same thang
    Eastsidaz same thang, rip riders ask my nephew Kokane

    [Master P & Snoop together]
    Cause game recognize game and we got it
    No Limit and Dogg Pound, we rowdy, get em' up
    We bang bang

    On this music that we make ho

    In the cars, the clubs, or when we smoke dope
    We drop that shit for you kin folk
    And poor folks no joke, loc loc
    Blaze a sack loc, bust a back stroke
    And pop ya motherfuckin' collar till ya break ya back loc

    [Chorus with Master P & Snoop ad-libs]

    [Master P]
    Ah dog we off the heezy
    Snoop and P together for cheesy
    Poppin' collars from the South to the Wizest
    We off, see the tank around our nizeck
    We O.G. show me love
    And the Baker Boys started the buzz
    Now we California livin' like Dre and Pac
    And them No Limit boys, see we can't be stopped
    Me and E-Feezy go way on the bizack

    Remember Baby D, TRU it and Prizack
    My essay homie, chop chop got the dizope
    While me and Xzibit was ballin' by cizoast
    I'm the black Slim Shady so don't try to play me
    Turn a six into a Bentley and drive em' crazy
    Roll up to Eastside back to the West
    Represent Richmond, California to the South, respect

    [Chorus with Master P & Snoop ad-libs]

    I'll bless you before I diss you
    Y'all miss me, shit I miss you
    So sweet, so sure but so low
    So just let it all go, serious we sick of this
    Dog homie, ask ya kids they put chu' up on it
    On the corners they poppin' they collars
    While back in the days, shit niggas used to stack they dollars
    Make a nigga wanna holler
    Playas, pimp, p-poppers, impersonators
    Real rip riders, Eastsidaz and regulators
    Haters come in all shapes, sizes and colors
    But we on top of thangs so they can't get above us
    Hate us or love us, we rollin' with the heat huggers
    Thuggers, house party niggas fuck clubbers
    With anine in my pockets, poppin' my collar pushin' and shovin'

    [Hook with Master P & Snoop ad-libs to fade]
    This song was last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Calvin Broadus, Jerry B. Long, Percy Miller, Frederick Nassar.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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