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(feat. Get Low, JT) |
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(JT) |
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Get Low Records motherfucker |
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Bringin the best to the table |
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Bluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it is |
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JT Get Low motherfucker that's what it is motherfucker |
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Yeah, who fuckin with us nigga |
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Now (what goes around comes around) |
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I'm puttin this clique up nigga against all you niggaz |
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Now get it right |
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(Verse One: Bluechip) |
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Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game |
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Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your bitch all in the Range |
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And y'all niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon as your crew spit |
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My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips |
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And I ain't want to take it there but fuck it we can bang |
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My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things |
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I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino |
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For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno |
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I know the niggaz that sell weight, and niggaz that stick the niggaz |
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That sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate |
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I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes |
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Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my niggaz on that ride |
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You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner |
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Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder |
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(Verse Two: Nina B) |
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In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me |
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I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney |
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Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher |
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Smokin a Swisher like I wish a bitch would |
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Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood |
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And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good |
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Got niggaz on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge |
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Niggaz that stay home they scared to come out shook |
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Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took |
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It's right in these niggaz face, but they just will not look |
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I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects |
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Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get |
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This is the life, that was given to me |
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A rich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to be |
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Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be |
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And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me |
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Nina B |
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(Chorus: JT) |
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We 'bout to blow this bitch |
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Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what |
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We 'bout to blow this bitch |
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Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what |
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Underground with it, poppin collars now |
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Bust yo' shit nigga, put them guns down |
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Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg |
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That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball |
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(Verse Three) |
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For years niggaz sold me dreams that got me gassed |
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Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask |
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Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed |
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Get your crew if you want, all them niggaz is probably ass |
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I take the long way, fuck takin the shortcut |
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Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus |
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A quick 32, yo them shits is like warmups |
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It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough |
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You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked |
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Save your lil' craps homey, fuck it get drunk |
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Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom |
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Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em |
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Shit is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom |
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I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins |
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I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death |
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That you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects |
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While starvin artists is closest to sets |
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And certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a check |
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I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all niggaz know the deally |
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So turn the music up and roll a Philly |
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(Verse Four: JT) |
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Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet |
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And I ain't trippin while you niggaz just stand on your feet |
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Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand |
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Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans |
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You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry |
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None of my niggaz on the corner never be lonely |
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Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony |
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Bricks and pounds of weed half the city owe me |
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My shipment too big, frontin out the homies |
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I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely |
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Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like |
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Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh |
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Yeah mayne, it's real shit nigga and we independent nigga |
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Fuck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at nigga |
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Fuck all your major labels nigga, that's what it is |
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JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B (fades out) |
