MUSIC jungle

Published on April 16th, 2014 | by PEM

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It’s A Jungle Out Here (Dirty)- Master P ft. Howie T

Master P rounds up his native New Orleans Indians as he suits up in his big Chiefs Indian suit that is handmade, bead by bead, stitch by stitch, New Orleans style for the It’s a Jungle out Here vide. Master P takes this video back to his home town New Orleans, LA giving the world a glimpse of his heritage and southern style culture.
The black Indians dance and sing traditional songs particular to their “tribe”, and Mardi Graws Fat Tuesday Style. They use hodgepodge languages loosely based on different African dialects. The “Big Chief” decides where the “tribe” will parade; the parade route is different each time. When two tribes come across each other, they either pass by or meet for a symbolic fight. Each tribe lines up and the “Big Chiefs” taunt each other about their suits and their tribes. The drum beats of the two tribes intertwine, and the face off is complete. Both tribes continue on their way. This has been a tradition for over a century as The black neighborhoods in New Orleans gradually developed their own style of celebrating Mardi Gras.

It’s A Jungle Out Here (LYRICS)

Said it got lions tigers bears, in the motherfucking project
Don’t trust nobody, the neighbors stole my mama check
The mail man act like, he ain’t know shit
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 Ra-Ra
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

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