Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Stand Up, artist - Mash Out Posse.
Date of issue: 07.06.2004
Song language: English
Stand Up |
Hahahaha. |
yeah! |
Hear me though, hear me though — heh, yeah |
You see it! |
Say what? |
You see it! |
Uh, uh (STAND UP!) |
I’m back in the fuck up in this bitch (who dat?) Me bitch (who dat?) |
The Brooklyn thug, what the fuck you see bitch? |
I’m known for regulatin this game, fuck a critic |
Cause when I’m spittin, I’mma split your shit in, when I aim |
Yo you try to get a name, but ain’t, provin a thang |
I’m still doin my thang (go 'head) bells they still rang (uh-huh) |
Now who the lame that wan' tangle with Lil' Fame |
Step in the ring and I’ll break yo' ass up — STAND UP! |
(AAAAAAHHHH!!!) How you like me now? |
That +Kool Moe Pee+ shit nigga, put it down |
Yo I need to silence the gat, shit too loud |
When that bitch start to holla, nigga through child |
Made the church people on your block wanna move out |
I bump off and I dump off, and a nigga cool out |
Why? |
Cause when we in the place with the guns in our waist |
We don’t say put your hands up, nigga (STAND UP!) |
Sit down (STAND UP!) Sit down (STAND UP!) |
(«First Fam, ridiculous!») |
Sit down (STAND UP!) Sit down (STAND UP!) |
We don’t say put your hands up, nigga (STAND UP!) |
You gotta get it, cause you nah lissen |
Dump off your body, send your whole family to 'gwan fishin |
The street mayor, ghetto street playa |
Hit your hooker with this heavy dick meat playa ass cheek flare |
Fuck the fame! |
I agree, fuck the fame |
But I got four words for ya, don’t fuck with Fame |
Cause I’m a Machine Gun Kelly, clapper dude |
Write my name across your belly BRBRBRBRBRBRBR clap a dude! |
Ain’t no escapin these streets I’m raised in (c'mon) |
It’s so amazin (why?) We still blazin |
Ain’t no savin yo' ass from hell raisin |
They be scrapin your canteloupe off the pavement |
Wit yo' wig split in half and yo' chest caved in |
So walk on the green, I’mma cut yo' ass down if you walk in between |
So listen up and hear me boy |
I’m the American (slash) pretty boy |
I done figured it out (what's that?) |
They don’t want us to shine (true!) |
You lost your mind if you thought I tossed my iron |
I still got it, for when I’m facin situations like this |
You dissin? |
I’m hittin (buk buk buk buk buk buk) |
Listen, is it me or the industry don’t understand |
I’m a whole different breed of man |
Bill Danze, Brownsville, Bronx |
And I’m servin double and single shots on the rocks nigga |
(AAAAHHHHH!) What! |
Who gon' tame me? |
I’m a bad block nigga and can’t, nobody change me |
You can look at me strangely |
Keep yappin at your dogs if I go up in your mouth, don’t blame me |
First Family trainee, take what’s mine |
is my time to shine, that’s that |
(Take it easy!) Fuck that, I’m ready yo |
I refuse to dilute jewels for you fools (STAND UP!) |
Fizzy Wo' (suckers never played us) |
They can’t fade us, they hate us, they anus |
In fact when you touch 'em face to face, they stay in they place |
They know I’m slant up from the right side left five in one fist |
(Shaddup!) Shutup! |
Now you wanna show love? |
You hear the soft music in the background it’s your brain on slugs |
Now, it’s a dirty job but somebody gotta do it |
So I crept up, stepped up, got to it. |
(STAND UP!) |
First Fam, ridiculous! |
Violators try to get with us, we quick to bust |
Them false dudes can’t get with us, homeskillet |
Cause we too tough, too real, too raw, too rough |
First Fam, ridiculous |
Fools try to move but them fools can’t get wit hus |
Cause we holdin (classin) loadin (blastin) |
Strollin (crashin) rollin (MASHIN!!) |