Git Up

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one Ready or not here we come, here comes trouble in the club Eleven, twelve, thirteen, pistols big as M-16s How the fvxk we sneak in with this many heaters in our jeans? Nina, two ninas, a piece, they don't even see us Some sx1t pops off we squeeze each one, they're gonna think it's machine guns Vandals-vo-vandals, bananas and old flannels Hands around our Colt handles, hold them like Roman candles, so Ban us, go ban us, banana-fanna-fo-fannas Who come back all bananas, banana clips loaded Managers, bouncers, and the club owners, the motherfvxkers don't want us To come up, bum rush in the club and run up in it with a bunch of Motherfvxkers from Runyon, steady poppin' them onions Ready, set to go nut up, prepare to tear the whole club up Fixin' to get into some sx1t, just itchin' to choke someone up You know we finna loc'n when we mix coke with coconut rum up So, yeah, yeah, ho, what up? See my people posted up See you talk that ho sx1t now, when you down you won't get up And can't sit up, you're so slit up, the ambulance won't sew you up They just throw you up in the trunk once they tag your big toe up Heater-no-heater, automatic-no-matic Mag or no mag, it don't matter if I have or don't have it You never know when I'm packin', so you just don't want no static And open up a whole can of whoop ass, you don't wanna chance to Risk it, no biscuit, milli mac or mac milli Will he, won't he, don't be silly, homie, you don't know me really You're just gonna make yourself dizzy wonderin' what the dilly Fvxk it, let's just get busy, D-Twizzy's back in the hizzy! Git up now! Let's get it crackin', yeah, it's on and poppin' B1xch, D12 is back in this b1xch, ugh! There ain't no stoppin' We're gonna get it crackalatin' What you waitin' for? The wait is over Say no more, quit tryna play the wall and quit hatin' Git up now! You're still sittin'? What the fvxk, are you deaf? You motherfvxkers don't listen I said, We 'bout to get this motherfvxker crackalatin' Quit procrastinatin' What the fvxk you waitin' for? Get off the wall and quit hatin', b1xch, git up, now [Verse2: Swift] I keep a sx1tload of bullets, I pitpull it to pull it out And automatically explode on motherfvxkers until they mouth be closed, permanently You get burned to line quickly, you cannot hit me niggas, too terrified to come get me Tempt me if you think Swifty won't send a slug, people run When the reaper comes, the repercussion gon' equal blood, N1gga, what? Steppin' without a weapon, you leave, you gone I be still rollin' with stolen toasters while on parole Snatch you out our home, like eviction notices, ho When I unload, I'm known to never leave witnesses to roam, When I'm blowed, I'll write the wickedest scroll ever told When I'm sober, I'm prone to roll up and disconnect your soul, n1gga [Verse 3: Kuniva] Now, it's been proven it's about to be a misunderstandin' And furniture movin', bullets flyin', lawyers and mothers suin' 'Cause n1ggas don't know the difference, you b1xches just stick to fiction It's sickening, you can't even walk in my jurisdiction, rifflin' it Grippin' the pump, and who want to fvxk with a walkin' psychopathic pyromaniac Shady cats with eighty gats And maybe that's the reason that you gon' get it the worst And since you jumpin' in front of everybody, you gon' get it first I disperse the crowd with something bigger and versatile So run and record your verses now, while you got a mouth And it's not a joke, it's some kind of riddle Kunizzle will lift up a 12 gizzle and throw a party from my acquittal And a Glock that you will stop you from walkin' Bullets'll hit your liver, I'll even shoot Native Americans A Indian giver, and n1gga, we back in your life and back in your wife Hit you in the back with a knife and get it crackin' tonight