Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Tear It Up, artist - Hollywood Undead. Album song Desperate Measures, in the genre Date of issue: 31.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Interscope
Song language: English
Tear It Up |
| Tear it up, tear it up, yeah |
| Tear it up, tear it up, yeah |
| Tear it up, tear it up, yeah |
| Here we go now, here we go |
| So don’t make me tear it up |
| You know I don’t give a fuck |
| And I ain’t here to shake things up |
| But I got my hand on my gun |
| So don’t make me tear it up |
| You know I don’t give a fuck |
| And I ain’t here to shake things up |
| But I got my hand on my gun |
| I beat the pussy up like Ying-Yang |
| Put it right thurr like Ching-Chang, you know I make our shit bang |
| You know I don’t give a motherfuck about your first name |
| I wanna lock that ass like a motherfucking chain-gang |
| Tear it up, stand up and throw it up |
| And tear up the floor like you don’t give a fuck |
| I know you got heels on, I know what you’re feeling |
| They caught us riding dirtier, and they’re bumping Chamillion |
| I got a bounty on my head jut for repping Undead |
| Because I’m freaking on your sister and I’m grinding her friend |
| And what the fuck you think? |
| I’m trying to make 'em sweat like a motherfucking track meet |
| J-D-O-G, I got your girl on the leash |
| I got her fiending and the whole crowd’s screaming |
| Shake it like a what? |
| Fuck you! |
| HU crew! |
| We don’t give a fuck! |
| What? |
| What? |
| So don’t make me tear it up |
| You know I don’t give a fuck |
| And I ain’t here to shake things up |
| But I got my hand on my gun |
| So don’t make me tear it up |
| You know I don’t give a fuck |
| And I ain’t here to shake things up |
| But I got my hand on my gun |
| Shake it like a what? |
| Fuck you |
| Shake it like a what? |
| Fuck you |
| Shake it like a what? |
| Fuck you |
| Shake it like a what? |
| Fuck you |
| No, I ain’t a gangsta, don’t pack a pistol |
| Motherfuckers keep running mouth, motherfuckers catch a fistful |
| Guided like a missile from two bottles of Jack |
| That I drank in the back of an '88 Cadillac |
| It’s Johnny 3, Johnny sees what Johnny needs |
| Johnny breathes weed; |
| still, Johnny don’t see anything |
| Johnny buys drink, Johnny winks and Johnny thinks |
| Johnny circles dance floor like roller rink |
| Jump up, down; |
| down in the H-Town, get down |
| To the sound that’s bound to make the motherfucking crowd loud |
| Wanna see you move, yeah, move to the music |
| Wanna see you booze, yeah, booze till you puke it |
| See bitch, grab ass, get smacked to the mat |
| Get up, slap back, get thrown out the back |
| But you’re back through the back door, back to the dance floor |
| Gotta, gotta get mine; |
| gotta, gotta get more |
| So don’t make me tear it up |
| You know I don’t give a fuck |
| And I ain’t here to shake things up |
| But I got my hand on my gun |
| So don’t make me tear it up |
| You know I don’t give a fuck |
| And I ain’t here to shake things up |
| But I got my hand on my gun |
| Hell yeah, motherfucker, turn it up |
| Turn it up, Focus Three |
| Fuck you, Jeff Peters |
| Fuck you, Mike Renault |
| Gangstas up in this bitch |
| You gotta ride to die |
| Fuck yeah |