Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Get Off Me , by - Nas. Release date: 31.07.2008
Song language: English
Get Off Me |
| I only fuck with my niggaz, I gotta keep it tight |
| With my big brother, Bumpy Knuckles |
| We gon' ride on these niggaz my nigga, huh |
| Turn up the mics, yeah, lets get crazy, nigga, what |
| Turn up the mics, y’all bitch-ass niggaz is Swayze |
| Check it out |
| I’m Nasty but fuck bitches, handcuff snitches |
| Feed they nuts to pit bulls and plan more business |
| Got sluts on leashes walkin on all fours |
| Have 'em eatin from dog bowls pettin' they heads |
| Cause they love playin that role they sexy in bed |
| Smokin bud' I’m outta control wish death on the feds |
| Cup spills with Grey Goose watchin snuff films |
| Laughin with dykes that wear patent leather with spikes |
| My cheddar is right, Miami beach playin it low |
| St. Barts rent a house and a boat |
| Two hundred thou' on my throat |
| That’s only half of what my wife ice cost |
| Phonecall, hearin another boss got his life lost |
| Well, wipin' sand off of my toes |
| Read a book called «Catcher in the rye», I chose |
| Some Bob Marley then I plotted a scheme |
| To make me and Bump Knux more rich |
| Then I got me a team, he got 'em a team |
| He tryin to buy G-force with missile launchers |
| Tired of walkin' around with beef, with that pistols on us |
| C-4's better I’m callin up some b-more killers |
| To come and bleed you |
| As sure as the sun’s in the sky you’ll surely die |
| You washed up, fuck your people |
| Your money ain’t as long as mine you dumb and you foul |
| Who you tryin to squeeze all this fuck with Alzheimer’s disease |
| We the new breed, nigga |
| Turn up the mics, |
| Uh holler at somebody real |
| Turn out the lights, |
| Bump Knux, God’s Son get it right motherfucker |
| Turn up the mics |
| (Aha yeah turn the motherfuckers up) |
| Turn out the lights |
| (That's right ya’ll know why, I tell you why) |
| Suicide suicide |
| It’s Bump I’m rowdy I’m wild |
| I’m crazy I’m sick I talk slick |
| Name brand bitches all on my dick |
| I don’t trip I meet bitches in this game that got pretty famous names |
| All that projects' pussy, nigga, all the same |
| We gangsters, we keepin it hardcore keep it street |
| Keepin guns and microphones, be keepin heat |
| I’m the unsquashable beef I put it in your rider |
| That means that every show I be layin in your dressing room |
| Next to the Henney Rock two times .20 cocked |
| I’m a cold assed nigga that keep shit plenty hot |
| My bubble goose is stocked with double truth |
| For you old-assed gangsters and you troubled youth |
| Knowin; |
| I hate cops and niggaz with cop friends |
| And still by weight in the hood they drop ends |
| With little marks on 'em scratched by the eye |
| You hand me a twenty, you must wanna die |
| Nigga, I won’t remake a Pac record or say a Biggie verse |
| And I shoot you without smokin a Ziggy Marley first |
| God’s Son we hot in here |
| Bravehearts we hot in here, niggaz they got to fear! |
| Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, nigga whut |
| Turn up the mics, y’all bitch ass niggaz is Swayze |
| Check it out |
| Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, nigga whut |
| Turn up the mics, y’all bitch ass niggaz is Swayze |
| Check it out |
| Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, nigga whut |
| Turn up the mics, y’all bitch ass niggaz is Swayze |
| Shh |