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Mobb Deep featuring Littles & Noyd – Get Me (Dirty)

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исполнитель Mobb Deep featuring Littles & Noyd

правообладатель Jive

жанр Рэп

длительность 00:30

размер 10.35 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено Sony Music Entertainment

Y’all just blowin smoke, fan in the fire Your wife is gettin curious homie you better hide her Keep it gully baby boy, share that Easy when you see me, I don’t like to get stared at Niggas only mad cause they asses can’t rap Soup the cowards up, if you want, get your man clapped Yeah — sealed signed delivered, anthrax You got a thousand niggas I’ll do numbers with half that Catch me whylin out with a mami in Club Black Enough on the wheels make me feel like the tunnel packed Yeah, if it’s some’n I’m feelin you runnin that And we don’t let a thing slide baby, what’s up with that? Talk on the jack like Feds, got the phone tapped Havoc make tracks, didn’t know, just hold that Career ain’t goin so well, I got that Slide you some hot shit, nigga it’s a wrap! See the cats in the whips wanna — get me But I got the pounds and them .9's — they pretty See me on the streets, them gorillas they — wit me Bills in the pockets, know them things is — crispy Yeah, y’all niggas pussy son Y’all not known for bustin them guns So for the .9 I got beef for days Y’all want it wit us don’t get carried away Call the coroner Yo, a closed mouth don’t get fed, that’s why I talk to him I’m hungry, niggas is eatin fo' pounds, I walk through 'em Either you shook or your .9 spray You got a row of sixteen and a clip, one in the head around my way Fuck with my money you be shot the fuck up The name Littles got the streets locked the fuck up Dumped off the bridge, body mopped the fuck up When them Mobb Deep boys creep or pop the fuck up There ain’t a nigga that can cramp my style Fifteen get money, livin frozen out You cowards softer than a bitch, get a baby wipe 'Fore I show you what the .9 or three-eighty like Want beef muh’fucker come and get me All this rap in the booth, or whassup in the street Not a nickel get sold in the park 'less I eat Think different the mac’ll spin you like the G-Unit piece — first ½ Aiyyo, hey hey Look I walk around with my pound in a glass Puffin my haze, missed with that dro and sprinkled some hash How I roll? Why would you ask? Know I’m swingin my piece, pocket full of G’s, gun in the stash I know y’all roll with the boys with the badge That’s why when you kick that gangsta rap, homie I just laugh From the ave, where snitches get blast They say — no Noyd, you won’t blow makin songs like that I say — homie you sell your soul to glitter, it don’t last I don’t get no bigger, I’mma keep it realer to death Fuck is a check if you ain’t bustin a tec Nigga we countin the scrilla with the gun on the deck Countin the gang that snaps, think how many straps and vests We flash the pound around and knuckle down the rest We hate the E-mails and the phones, the spots get blown It’s +Deep+, we can’t even speak in certain rooms Nope, you get outta here, fuck outta here I’m tellin you it’s somethin 'bout them Mobb Deep boys, they no joke They blood-thirsty for that rap music yo It’s not a song, it’s a goddamn bomb fittin to blow They not a group, they a muh’fuckin gang for sho' More than a gang, we more like a troop and oh Let’s not forget to mention our jewels is whoa All our guns get blown, all my fools is loc E’rytime we drop a new one the streets gon' go Straight berserk, cause we don’t play with that there They know it’s safe to spend they money over here E’rytime they cop from somebody else, the shit wack That shit there is doo-doo, the shit here is crack Get 'em all higher than Scotty could ever beam 'em They know it’s safe to spend they dough over here Fuck that new shit, they high wear off too fast Them niggas got garbage, this is that smack!
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