Lyrics
The fuck was that man?
That shit blew my head man…
I got a brand new .380 in the box, made like Glocks
A shoebox of bullets, two clips, no safety locks
Won’t get knocked 'cause I avoid the rage
Catchin' mad bodies like the AIDS
I used to carry blades
Now I’m fully loaded, save the bold shit
Tempt me, I’mma empty the whole shit, that’s that cold shit
And that’s what I’m into, and plus it’s winter
And beef ain’t squished until the bullet enter
Dead center or dead broke, when I got the flame out
I’m stickin' up a drunk at the liquor store, he came out
'Cause my rent’s due, fuck with my money I’mma dead you
And you can tell the accents X sent you, and he meant to
Cut your throat, and maim your last breath wait
I got a bullet for your ass wit’cha name and your death date
Nigga!
There it is — that’s what got him
I don’t know man…
I got my Get-U-Now (he's gonna Get-U-Now)
I got my Get-U-Now (he's gonna Get-U-Now)
I got my Get-U-Now (he's gonna Get-U-Now)
I got my Get-U-Now (he's gonna Get-U-Now)
I had to get a shotty, the barrel’s a double one
'Cause my sidewalk got more shells than bubblegum
Stuck on it, I’m settin' it, bring it if you want it
And I still got my .22, won’t never point it, though
I go hip-hop, it pays by the sheets
So, fuck my mother-in-law, I’m finna run the streets
Be the syntax error, delete
I live to spin wax, repeat but on beat
I got it: My tool, my utensil
To draw lead in that ass like a pencil with a stencil
And let me see them kids who had beef in the summer
And they mugs, all look like Helen Keller but dumber
Ain’t that a bummer? I’ll take you out your misery
I be the mad bluff caller like, caller ID motherfucker!
I’m rakin' in the dough by the heap
(Get the cash) C-Cypher-Punks can’t 'pete
(Buck his ass) The last that you heard of your Jeep
As you sleep, I buy it off my boys for dirt cheap
w/ variation «we gonna Get-U-Now»
Nigga! Fucka, uhh, watch you drop!
You know what the fuck we talkin' about, word is bond
And we ghost, C.M.