G-Unit - Get Down - Album Version (Edited) paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson Get Down - Album Version (Edited) - G-Unit



Yeah, it's the Unit
Yeah, showtime Swizz
Oh, M C, woo
I run the show, no ifs, ands or buts about it
Me fall off? Listen homeboy, I doubt it
Me? I gets down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I spit it how I live it, man, they love it when I talk shit
Not three, not two, I'm number one on the chart bitch, yeah
Drama get to poppin' even when I don't start shit
I turn around, there's only two shells left in the cartridge, damn
My homies dumb out, my homies dumb out
Find out what they 'bout, when the guns come out
I got a shitty attitude 'cause I come from the bullshit
Got the ammo on me now, nigga front, I'ma pull this
In the hood, you rat, you die
In the hood if you rap you die
I'm out the hood getting' fat and high, private jet, it's time to fly
Got the Roley with the bezzy getting' head in Dubai
And my wolves come out when the moon comes up
Before we take a hit, we roll that buddah
Hydro and hash take me to the moon Alice
I got bad aim but the fiends on the rats, yeah
I run the show, no ifs, ands or buts about it
Me fall off? Listen homeboy, I doubt it
Me? I gets down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
Baby, we'll get lotto from Murciélago
I race in my driveway, motherfuck the highway
Niggaz talk money just not around me
I get the cheddar, ask Swizz, I blow the parmesan cheese
Like it really means nothin' 'cause it really means nothin'
I'm not what you used to, I'm really not frontin'
Tell the shorties I ain't got time to talk, I'm trickin'
I want what I want and what I want I'm getting'
Uh, forty thou' earlobe, 40-cal gripper
That'll make a girl out the Green Mile nigga
In the street rapper, industry bully
It's cold, tees turn to rest-in-peace hoodies, uh
I gets 'em out, my tricks playin' spades
I swim in dime pussy, piss Rosé
Unit rider, my clique don't play
I got a pocket full of green an' my wrists all gleam
I run the show, no ifs, ands or buts about it
Me fall off? Listen homeboy, I doubt it
Me? I gets down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
You know if God bless the child with so much swag
Now, what am I supposed to do with all this cash?
Seats less pussy, got all that ass
So, shake it and wiggle, turn a skinny bitch mad
Ah, these niggaz ain't hot like we
They don't know how to rock the spot like me
Smell like I just got out a brand new V
My black ass fresh up out of Bentley C's
Work with me lil' mama, let's get it
Wan' take you down to the flo', shorty I'm wit it
I'm on that shit, we on that shit
I ain't on that rubber grip, nah nigga don't trip
I run the show, no ifs, ands or buts about it
Me fall off? Listen homeboy, I doubt it
Me? I gets down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
I get down, I get down, down, down
Wind it up, woo
Wind it up, woo
Wind it up, woo
Hit the flo', flo', woo
That flo', flo', woo



Writer(s): Dean Kasseem, Jackson Curtis James, Lloyd Christopher Charles, Bernard Marvin, Thomas David Clayton


G-Unit - T.O.S. (Terminate On Sight)
Album T.O.S. (Terminate On Sight)
date de sortie
01-07-2008




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