| I’m gettin my kicks dirty, I’m blowin my mid-30's
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| Niggas they want me buried but, I’m in no hurry
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| Bullets flyin in flurries, my gat don’t work
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| But I still need one to carry
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| And I bring the bereavement, when you hit the ce-ment
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| Police picked me up to talk but I wasn’t wordy
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| I remembered the song that was sang from the birdie
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| Cause when he whistled he was pushin up that milk thistle, get it?
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| These stupid niggas they ain’t playin for keeps
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| These niggas playin for cheaps, they disobeyin the streets
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| Never fear the inevitable, death will come
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| And when your breath goes numb, you lookin up to the sheets
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| I seen it comin and I’m watchin the drama grow
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| And stressin enough to break the needle and thread where mama sewin
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| I’m slow-flowin, move back and forth like a boa
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| Still movin hoes in 2's to the boat, like I was Noah
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| Get up, cause nigga we’ll lay you down
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| You don’t wanna be six feet underground
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| So get up, we don’t play around
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| You gotta watch your back when you outta town
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| Get up, when you hear the sound
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| The Compton nigga’s comin back for the crown
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| So get up, when you feel the pound
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| And your rest is short, we’ll lay you down
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| Black Air Force Ones, guns under the Louis Vuitton bomber
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| It ain’t like I need armor
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| I give a nigga one warning, cause if I get you shot
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| Then I’m 2Pac and that’s bad karma
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| I came to get my dip on, find me a round-the-way girl
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| In Gucci slip-ons, I know what you thinkin
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| This ain’t another diss song, why they bleep me and Quik songs
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| But Snoop and Nate Dogg get they crip on
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| The West been gone, I’m from Compton
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| I know firsthand Quik been holdin it down for 10 strong
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| And Dre got 20 in, all you got to brag about
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| Is a couple, bitches and spinnin rims
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| You wouldn’t have a deal if it wasn’t no Big
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| I did 106 & Park with no vid
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| How he get inside MTV with no spins
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| No Em, no Dre, I’m the hottest since Jay
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| AMG nigga, Dirty West Nile
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| Any time of the day, you might hear
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| Fightin up at the club, fightin out on the beach
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| Here’s a word to the wise, bring heat
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| From the Bay to L.A., the S. D
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| Niggas slingin kilos of yay, pounds of weed
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| You niggas need to catch up, cause I’m bound to speed
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| Pick a car, any car, 24's to D’s
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| And if you like what you see, baby let me know
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| I let you play with the D back up at the mo'
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| I need a freak like you hoes be needin rent money
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| It’s 7 days in the week and man they all sunny
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| 80 degrees, tall palm trees
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| Much too many dimes and too many G’s
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| Everybody know about the B’s and C’s
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| Shit cost a chip, nigga bring your cheese and |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Get Up , by - DJ Quik. Song from the album Greatest Hits: Live At The House Of Blues, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп