(feat. Get Low, JT) (JT) Get Low Records ************ Bringin the best to the table Bluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it is JT Get Low that's what it is Yeah, who with us ***** Now (what goes around comes around) I'm puttin this clique up ***** against all you ****** Now get it right (Verse One: Bluechip) Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your ***** all in the Range And y'all ****** ain't gon' do ****, soon as your crew spit My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips And I ain't want to take it there but it we can bang My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno I know the ****** that sell weight, and ****** that stick the ****** That sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my ****** on that ride You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder (Verse Two: Nina B) In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher Smokin a Swisher like I wish a ***** would Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good Got ****** on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge ****** that stay home they scared to come out shook Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took It's right in these ****** face, but they just will not look I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get This is the life, that was given to me A rich-ass ***** that's what I'm fittin to be Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me Nina B (Chorus: JT) We 'bout to blow this ***** ****** work hard in the game so they notice this, what We 'bout to blow this ***** ****** work hard in the game so they notice this, what Underground with it, poppin collars now Bust yo' **** *****, put them guns down Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball (Verse Three) For years ****** sold me dreams that got me gassed Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed Get your crew if you want, all them ****** is probably ass I take the long way, takin the shortcut Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus A quick 32, yo them ****s is like warmups It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked Save your lil' craps homey, it get drunk Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em **** is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death That you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects While starvin artists is closest to sets And certain ****** duckin me because they owe me a check I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all ****** know the deally So turn the music up and roll a Philly (Verse Four: JT) Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet And I ain't trippin while you ****** just stand on your feet Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry None of my ****** on the corner never be lonely Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony Bricks and pounds of **** half the city owe me My shipment too big, frontin out the homies I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh Yeah mayne, it's real shit ***** and we independent ***** what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at ***** all your major labels *****, that's what it is JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B (fades out)
(feat. Get Low, JT) (JT) Get Low Records ************ Bringin the best to the table Bluechip, Nina B, {?}, what it is JT Get Low that's what it is Yeah, who with us ***** Now (what goes around comes around) I'm puttin this clique up ***** against all you ****** Now get it right (Verse One: Bluechip) Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got your ***** all in the Range And y'all ****** ain't gon' do ****, soon as your crew spit My tool spit, metal to your side, watch you lose hips And I ain't want to take it there but it we can bang My Cali headbusters'll show you how to throw them things I'm too connected like John Gotti and Nino For a small fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno I know the ****** that sell weight, and ****** that stick the ****** That sell weight, hammer close behind me like when you tailgate I know you a snitch, I can see it in your eyes Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all my ****** on that ride You can, stunt if you wanna, Chip is a gunner Been reignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for the thunder (Verse Two: Nina B) In your mind you can blame me but open your mouth and name me I'm runnin you out of office you're softer than Bush and Cheney Go 'head, and try to play me I do you like I was Amy Fisher Smokin a Swisher like I wish a ***** would Listen and use your vision cause livin in this - hood And sinnin in your division you think it's all - good Got ****** on (Death Row) and it ain't about Suge ****** that stay home they scared to come out shook Mothers with five kids and all of 'em got took It's right in these ****** face, but they just will not look I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some rejects Even though we make the best of what little respect, we get This is the life, that was given to me A rich-ass ***** that's what I'm fittin to be Brooklyn to Bangkok I'm beggin to be And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me Nina B (Chorus: JT) We 'bout to blow this ***** ****** work hard in the game so they notice this, what We 'bout to blow this ***** ****** work hard in the game so they notice this, what Underground with it, poppin collars now Bust yo' **** *****, put them guns down Put yo' knuckles up, catch you slippin dawg That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to ball (Verse Three) For years ****** sold me dreams that got me gassed Made me want to get revenge or get the hockey mask Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed Get your crew if you want, all them ****** is probably ass I take the long way, takin the shortcut Now we got corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus A quick 32, yo them ****s is like warmups It ain't coincidental in the hood we was born tough You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked Save your lil' craps homey, it get drunk Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom Most 'em hate to spit with me cause when I rap I surprise 'em **** is real, that's why I stay strapped with a condom I keep 31 flavors just like Baskin & Robbins I'm here now, y'all supposed to be stressed, scared to death That you gonna be next, record labels, promote the rejects While starvin artists is closest to sets And certain ****** duckin me because they owe me a check I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all ****** know the deally So turn the music up and roll a Philly (Verse Four: JT) Yeah, roll the Philly or Swisher Sweet And I ain't trippin while you ****** just stand on your feet Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to expand Comin with hundreds of grands and hundreds of plans You see this Black Wall Street is for the po' broke and hongry None of my ****** on the corner never be lonely Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like Tony Bricks and pounds of **** half the city owe me My shipment too big, frontin out the homies I ain't even trippin mayne my pockets never lonely Benjamin Franklins and Grants stick together like Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh Yeah mayne, it's real shit ***** and we independent ***** what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at ***** all your major labels *****, that's what it is JT the Bigga Figga, Nina B (fades out)
