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J.r. Writer Lyrics»Get 'Em Lyrics | |||
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 J.r. Writer Get 'Em Lyrics[Hook:] Get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em ,get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em We get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em ,get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em We get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em ,get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em Get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em ,get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em We get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em ,get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em Get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em ,get 'em, get 'em, get 'em, get 'em [Verse 1:] We hit the club, gripping on the ol' heat Purple in the air, middle finger to the police Then get a dub, I'm skidding up the whole street Tires lookin' like ya nigga's sitting on some slow lease So sleek, skipping wit' ya old freak Who swear to god I'm the flyest nigga on the whole east Get the drift, the party'll be pissed When I buy the bar and only leave water on the list Prick, I'm the shit, and known in the city Prefer Cris' even though the Moe get me dizzy So it's a rizzy, I'm 'bout it Standing on the couches like I ain't got no home-training in me Huh, you can't stop it, I'm harder to crack So the DJ bring it back like he borrowed the track I ain't never had a problem with that I'm a problem in fact, a nigga really know a squad that can rap Tell 'em go [Hook] [Verse 2:] We get it poppin', you know where I'm from Everywhere I go them damn groupies wanna come Cuz if them lil' chickens ain't drooling on my 1s It's the G's on the lace with the Gucci on the tongue Hun, I'm gettin' bread, don't confuse it wit' a crumb But if I gots to reach up in this Louis then ya done Them Rugers'll get swung, you'll drop in a ditch The cops'll have to tape up the block like it's ripped I'm so smooth but move the drop 'til it skid Pockets fulla cheese like a mozzarella stick Rocks on the wrist, yes I drop hella chips Prepetual, I don't want it if the watch got a tick Shit, how could I miss if I'm hot like a strip With the cops on a bitch tryna knock you for bricks Trick, watch ya lips or get dropped from a cliff Cuz I can get you off for a box fulla kicks, like [Hook] [Verse 3:] We keep the bar pissed, buying out the hard liq' That make ya broad sit right under the armpit She say the god sick, brighten on the arm wrist Ainlt harm shit but I iced her like a mob hit A hard brick, biter every bar of piff You heartless, you's a writer wit' a start kit I'm hard prick, stressin' 'em out It's a mutha fukini drought 'til I step out the house I was never a slouch, listen B, dog known As the Royce to call it like a B-ball zone Watch me breeze on chrome, with the heat all shown In my Dior own, this ain't D Hore homes, holmes Devoted to floss, showin' it off A boss, fresh to death like some clothes on a corpse They stalk, the O that you brought, yo what this cost I tell 'em doze you'll get lost with the dough that you tossed You couldn't go [Hook] Send "Get 'Em" Ringtone to your Mobile
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