10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1
|
Ready or not here we come, here comes trouble in the club
|
11, 12, 13, pistols big as M 16's
|
How the fuck we sneak in with this many heaters in our jeans
|
Nina, 2 nina's, a peace and they dont even see us
|
Some shit pops off we squeeze each one they gon' think its machine guns
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Vanos vo vano, bananas in our flannels
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Hands around our colt handles, hold them like roman candles
|
Vannas vo vannas, banana fanna fo fannas
|
Who come back all bananas, banna clips loaded
|
Managers, bouncers and the club owners, the motherfuckers dont want us
|
To come up and rush in the club and run up in it with a bunch of
|
Motherfuckers from Runyan, steady poppin them onions,
|
Ready set to go nut up, prepare to tear the whole club up
|
Fixin to get into some shit just itchin to choke someone up
|
You know we finna loc'n when we mixin coke with coke and nut rum up
|
Yeah Yeah oh, what up, see my people throw shit up
|
See you talk that hoe shit now when you down you dont get up
|
And can't sit up your so slit up, the ambulance wont sew you up
|
They just throw you up in the trunk once they tag your big toe up
|
Heater no heater, automatic no matic
|
Mac or no mac it dont matter if I have or dont have it
|
You never know what im packin' so you just dont want no static
|
And open up a whole can of whoop ass you dont wanna chance to
|
Risk it no biscuit, mili mac a mac milli
|
Really homie dont be silly, homie you dont know me really
|
You're just gonna make yourself dizzy wonderin what the dealy
|
Fuck it lets just get busy D Twizzys back up in the hizzy!
|
|
[Eminem - Chorus]
|
Git Up Now!
|
Lets get it crackin, Git, Its on and poppin
|
Its D12 is back up in this bitch, uh, there aint no stoppin
|
We're gonna get it crackalatin
|
What you waitin for the waiters orders
|
Say no more fo tryin to play the wall and quit hatin
|
Git Up Now!
|
Notice you're sittin, what the fuck is you deaf
|
You motherfuckers dont listen, I said,
|
We bout to get this motherfucker crackalatin'
|
Quit, procrastinatin'
|
What the fuck you waitin for get off the wall and quit hatin
|
|
[Swift]
|
I keep a shit load of bullets a pitpull to pull it out (?)
|
And automatically explode on motherfuckers until they mouth be closed permanently
|
You get burned until i quickly you can not hit me *****z to terrified to come get me,
|
Tempt me if you think Swifty won't send a slug, people run,
|
When the reaper comes, the repercussions' gon' leak your blood,
|
Inglewood, steepin' without a weapon, you leave, you gone,
|
I'm still runnin' with stolen toasters while on parole,
|
Snatch you out our home, like eviction notices hoe,
|
When I unload, I'm known to never leave witnesses to roam,
|
When I'm blowed, I'll write the wicked in scroll,
|
At the toll, when I'm sober I'm prone to roll up and disconnect your soul, *****.
|
|
[Kuniva]
|
Now it's proven it's about to be a misunderstanding
|
In furniture moving, bullets flying, lawyers & mothers suing
|
Cause *****s don't know the difference, you bitches just stick to fiction
|
It's sickening, you can't even walk in my jurisdiction rippin' it,
|
Grippin' the pump and who wanna fuck with a walking psychopathic
|
Pyromaniac shady cats with 80 gats
|
And maybe thats the reason that you gon' get it the worst a
|
And since you jumpin' in front of everybody you gon' get it first
|
I dispurse the crowd with something vigor and versatile
|
So go on and record you 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 equittle,
|
And a glock that you stop you from waking,
|
Bullets'll hit your liver, I'll even shoot native americans,
|
A Indian N****, we back in you life and back in your wife,
|
Hit you in the back with a knife and get it crackin' tonight.
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Git Up
|
D12 |