Git Up

作曲：Marshall Mathers、Luis Resto、S. King、Ondre Moore、V. Carlisle 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 Vanos vo vano, bananas in our flannels 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! 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 N git up now I keep a shit load of bullets, a pitpull and I 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 niggaz 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, nigga. Now it's proven it's about to be a misunderstanding in furniture moving, bullets flying, lawyers & mothers suing cause niggaz 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 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 the 12 gizzle and throw a party from my equittle, and a glock that you must stop you from walking, bullets'll hit your liver, I'll even shoot native americans, and any indefferent nigga, we back in you life and back in your wife, hit you in the back with a knife and get it crackin' tonight.