Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Get Out My Way, artist - Cormega. Album song The Realness, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 23.07.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Aura
Song language: English
Get Out My Way |
Even though mad niggas hate it I remain the most anticipated |
those glad a nigga made it bast your Nickel-plateds |
and salute the realness, 'cause mad niggas fake it when I peel hit the floor |
I conceal bricks so raw |
I got the sickest Six-Four you ever seen |
I saw and conquered |
when it’s on and poppin’my Dogs are barkin' |
to eat food, my enemies feel heat like Purico |
some suggest they’re equal |
lyrically I’m like a Desert Eagle |
mentally I measure Kilos |
physically I’m compared to Tito Trinidad, both hands are lethal |
the crowned Prince |
my underground shit you don’t fuck around wit' |
I move pies and fire loud shit |
I’m in the tunnel with the crowd nigga fuck V.I.P |
where Brooklyn go crazy when you bump B.I.G. |
and Queens feel it when you |
pump that Mobb Deep |
that Jay-Z and Nas beef doesn’t involve me |
I’m sorry, legal hustle, Infamous affiliated |
last rapper to test me I humiliated |
and for your information the jewels ain’t rented from Jacob |
when I move I leave a dent in the pavement |
my name ring in jail and not for givin’no statement |
that type of foulness consider it flagrant |
O.T., give me a brick and see I’m gifted as Masons |
I’m the realness, you spittin’that fake shit |
life’s a bitch, I’ma take her on an expensive vacation |
if it’s on I’m the Reaper with the glistenin’bracelet |
sleepers awakened |
screamin’like they seen Satan |
word to Christ I need paper, keep the fake love |
a fake thug couldn’t sell a rock on the block I was raised on huh?! |
Get out my way, gimmie mine or I’ma take whats yours |
make love war, spray up doors |
Get out my way, you industry, we in the street |
wit’the heat pickin’weight up raw |
Get out my way, stop screamin’what set you rep if you don’t come around |
the way no more |
Get out my way, who want what, say no more |
Matter fact that chain off Dog. |
I gave niggas enough time — to front |
I’m a beast on the street like crushed white |
you can’t be me, close your eyes, you can’t see me |
I’m the phantom in your concience |
the shadow in the darkness |
savage when I write, I’m heartless |
I’m iller than you, realer than you |
still with more Killers than you |
it’s mandatory, I’m self explanatory |
don’t front on me, you didn’t have cash before me |
I’m the essence |
you don’t gotta like it, respect it like the ice on my necklace |
and the fact I’m supplyin’connections |
if you rhyme ill I’m the sickness that caused it, you thought you’d |
assume my position |
I be hustlin', bubblin', gettin’money |
causin’blind rage with the Twenties |
y’all niggas is funny like Martin Lawrence |
we out before the Narcs get on us my life wasn’t written, yours was, you livin’a lie |
I’m dealin’wit’pies, all feelings aside |
my enemies kneel when I rise |
the realness in my eyes |
from blood, sweat, and tears I cried |
I got friends who died before they got to see me shine |
how dare you compare your weak CD to mine |
or think you could see me with rhymes |
easily I’m, nicer than you and all your peoples combined. |