Get Me

(Get me) Uh-huh (They pretty) Uh-huh (Wit me) Uh-huh (It's crispy) Yeah! Whoo! Uh-huh, uh-huh, yo 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 Niggaz 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 niggaz 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 niggaz 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, niggaz 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 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 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'ma 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 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 niggaz 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 '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,