Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Get It All Together, artist - Birdman. Album song Fast Money, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2003
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Cash Money
Song language: English
Get It All Together |
Shit, we tryin' to get it all together |
And spend a lil chaddar and fly in any weather nigga |
And homie you get the money and the power |
Then them hoes come and holla and fly in any weather pimpin' |
I see you haters, hatin' on the way a nigga think |
But I’m laughing, laughing all the way to the bank |
And I, I kinda act like my shit don’t stink |
On a toilet with the burner taped under the sink |
Like a Russian I’ll roulette the bullet |
Yea straight to ya head give a nigga a mullet |
I’m a Cash Money brother a lover of money |
Yea the tummy is showin' but the hunger is growin' |
What part cha' don’t understand |
What you ain’t knowin' I’m like Kobe |
You niggas can’t check me go head Bowens |
And I never left the team cause I’m catchin' every pass |
Stunna McNabb yeah he like go head Owens yea |
Bet Hot put a nigga on his ass |
Squlou and Big Whop make show he don’t last |
And young Wayne do song about the story |
With Birdman singin' on the chorus, nigga |
Look, a ticket here and a ticket there |
And I’m the first out the hood to get rich nigga still here |
Its big paper in the prime of my life my nigga |
We take it off ya' shoulder broad daylight my nigga |
It’s Stunna Island biggest baler in the city |
The Range Rover rally strip on them 26's |
I’m Gucci down when the Birdman in ya' town |
We blow out the pound rollin' through Uptown |
Canary yellow Cash Money iced out piece |
Like father, like son we beasts on these streets |
Well let me bring you back to 1993 |
Where I met four lil niggas in the 3 |
We got big, we grinded in them city streets |
And three left now they all tryin' na beef me |
There’s one Birdman and one J. R |
We neighborhood superstars fuck y’all |
Mercenary murderer |
In the garden I’m burstin' hittin' serpents up |
And in the Carter we still workin' with that work for ya' |
I’m the God and the turban fits perfect, word |
Puffing' on that precious piff purple herb swerve |
Dang, bang my Dana’s on the curve |
The fed’s walkin' so I’m talking with slur’s |
And we never sell a bird to a mockingbird |
We find out where you stay and we mark your turf |
Lace ya' house with a bomb make you walk in first |
Oh, and ya' girl is sharp with hers |
She cook a nigga steaks and Kool-Aid for thirst, yeah |
See we murderers but do it like gangstas |
We really never show it but everybody know it |
And Slim askin' me to focus on the flow |
While I’m tryin' to have coke for the low on the low, man |