Lyrics Out 2 Get Cha (Featuring D-Moe) - D-Moe, JT The Bigga Figga

Out 2 Get Cha (Featuring D-Moe)

Nigga, you’s plastic, a fake and a phony
It’s just a trip you used to be my homie
Now muthafuckas go far with the player hatin'
That’s why a player like D-Moe is kinda like debatin'
On what to do next: lounge or just get a TEC
I’m from the YBG, fool, put your hoe in check
You tryna check me, it’s kinda like do or die
Dank or dope, cake and O’s, for 11−5
To be true or do what you gotta do
And not only niggas, yeah, I mean you hoes too
You run around the town giving up the walking jaws
To tell the truth about it, man, you hoes is breaking laws
Well, youngsta, here we go again
Talking 'bout these niggas and these hoes who gafflin' fools up for their ends
And never to ever say who’s right one
Bouncin' 'em up and down around the town all night, son
And yes they out to get ya, they wanna take your picture
And smoke a Swisher Sweet to the funky last beat
Made by the player, could I save a hoe?
Oh, no
My nigga D-Moe could tell you better how the shit go
Save a hoe, pay a hoe, fool, you better play that hoe
I’d rather break a hoe down like some indio
Feeling you out, flipping the flow, talking about these niggas and hoes
Who thought it was all good when they sent their hoes digging for gold
The gold mine, it’s gon' shine, I’m strapped with my chrome 9
The gameplan was tight, but I knew it all the fuckin' time
I mean, if niggas be marked, boo, plus niggas be markin' too
The shiesty ass hoes’ll burn a nigga like barbecue
Damn, you fuckin' ass bitch, you better strap your hat
And if she live in the 'Moe, you better strap your gat
'Cause the way the shit flow is the way the shit go
'Cause when you’re mackin' in Frisco, you strapped with your pistol
Debatin' and player hatin', saltin' and conversatin'
Yes, they out to getcha because of the moves they be making
They out to get ya