| Yo, Lisle, Lisle put a, put a little
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| Little bit of, bit of the layer on my voice, please?
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| Lawnge, what’s up, we gonna do these drops or what
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| Yeah, and it goes a little something like.
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| The freelance designer, yo, yo come on let’s get this shit going
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| Dres, the impeccable nigga’s on the mic and flowing
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| For those who made the purchase or came out on the streets
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| Black Sheep, bow your heads cause we’re about to break beats
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| City lights shining with the ill timing
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| My glare everywhere, don’t stare cause my shit’s blinding
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| I think, I think niggas best not blink
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| Cause they stink and I’m looking at 'em pretty in pink
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| With a passion, I want to put a gash in your ego
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| Your flavour’s artificial, a goddamn placebo
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| Black, you can’t believe it, you gotta dry heave it Fake niggas can’t achieve it, fake bitches can’t be-weave it From the streets of New York to where I be on the ladder
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| Fatter, got your bitch saying Baby, what’s the matter?
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| As a matter of fact, it’s Dres the knuckle-dragger
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| With a fresh manicure so I got my cloak and dagger
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| I roam with the grifters, my game’s ever true
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| My style’s old skool like the new school review
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| I gets biz, on and on for days
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| And amaze with plays for non-gays, queens
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| Nah, fuck that! |
| Queens, I ain’t hushing
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| I’m crushing mafucks with a bumrush from Flushing
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| A member me, getting busy with GMC
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| Back when Rick was fresh and slick the nigga Doug E Yeah, Tiki doing the freak, B Backtrack a bit before the baby beat me Got more peoples than any seen in the video clip
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| And we was getting life’s desires from a strip
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| Hand-to-handler, and the gambler
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| Give me the eggs, black, I’m the scrambler
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| You too, a mafucking lyric in a song
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| Helping that philly blunt shit catch on Popote light the bat, pass the shit to AZ
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| Pass the shit to Lord, yo, Lord give the shit to me Yo, Wild pass the shit to Skip, Skip roll another
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| The brother light’s about to flip
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| It’s buckwild Bland with the horrifying team:
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| Homicide, Cess, Doctor Sharjean
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| My nigga Black Ron, Steve O, Val, Amar, JR, Reese
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| Popo peace!
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| Born to KE and all my peoples that be But foremost, the whole fucking Vargas family
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| We wrote the scripts and the times were fit
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| Original New York, New Jack City type shit
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| Now we still we make moves only to different grooves, black
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| Sheep, in fact get back, it’s simple as that this
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| Gotta get up, get up, gotta get over
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| I gotta get mine, yo, it’s time to prevail
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| Gotta get up, get up, gotta get over
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| I paid my respect, the cheque’s in the mail
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| Gotta get up, get up, gotta get over
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| I gotta come krill, yo, my skills won’t fail
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| Gotta get up, get up, gotta get over
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| Been holding my breath, yo, it’s time to exhale
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| Back in the days of bullshit when I was a small guy
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| Taking the train home as I roamed but still I Never had a clue of what I was going to do To you, to you, and you, and you, and you too
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| Make the world jump, the girls hump, collect a lump
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| And make your speakers pump 'back on the scene
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| Crispy and clean’Yo, the rap title’s redeemed
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| So you can save it for your next dream
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| Black Sheep is taking rap to the extreme
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| We got you coming back for more like a crack fiend
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| But now I stick with nothing but my own clique
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| I’m getting paid for what? |
| Talking about my dick
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| It’s my prerogative, sucker
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| Now you can tell your father that I’m the motherfucker
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| On the TV, no, you can’t see me Cause I’m on the DL, hiding from the industry
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| Niggas that be getting on my nerves
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| Trying to find the fucking beats that we preserve
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| See, I’ve been digging in the crates for a minute
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| Even my grandma’s, believe I was up in it
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| Taking it, breaking it, trying it, flying it I didn’t have the money so, shit, I wasn’t buying it I had to take what I could get and be happy with
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| Not only records but clothes and food and shit
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| Niggas trying to get over on, niggas trying to get over on Niggas trying to get over
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| That’s why I stay refined, and never think about the other kind
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| Fake niggas trying to get mine
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| I had to hold my head despite what was being said
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| I used to wish that I had some lead
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| That I could buck off, but then I got my luck off
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| Away from Carolina, yo, I had to step the fuck off |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Gotta Get Up , by - Black Sheep. Song from the album Non-Fiction, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп