Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Get Your Paper Up, artist - Paul Wall. Date of issue: 02.04.2007
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Get Your Paper Up |
| Ay gon' salute me |
| I don’t flip, neva that |
| But I know how to get it, I know where the money at |
| Them haters talkin' down, see him comin' up |
| I get money, stay true, get your paper up |
| Hey see me, hold it down |
| Ridin' fresh with the paint, doors open |
| Them haters talkin' down, see him comin' up |
| I get money, stay true, get your paper up |
| It’s Paul Wall baby, Swishahouse Spokesman |
| I’m crushing all competition like a coke can |
| I’m with that Damon Jones Mix-O and Black Lac |
| In that Lac with the trunk cracked, I’m swingin' |
| Until the swingers collapse, I’m back, I’m stuntin' |
| Comin' down on gold tires, I’m on the block, holdin' it down |
| Like some ?? |
| I keep the swingers pokin' I got the |
| Windows open, white cup with somethin' potent, woodwheel |
| Still what I’m chokin', I’m on that Antwaan with Lou, Hawk, and |
| Freddie Thug, this small of ?? |
| is makin' their heads bop, that’s |
| My job, my mind’s on stackin' on what, these boys out here chasin' |
| Broads, look close it’s no mirage, I got somethin' ballin' dawg |
| I’m on the block holdin' posts like Jermaine O' Neal |
| No ice grill, just cold steel, that’s a gangsta grill |
| I’m down for that drama so I’m known to pack a cannon |
| A sharp seein' hittin' targets like Peyton Manning |
| And you can catch me in the hood like a liquor store |
| Roll those dice, let’s get that dough, I’m 6−8, I’m 10−4 |
| I got that Tish from black, that tip got my back |
| I put them elbows under the Lac, and know they plottin' ta jack |
| Boppers don’t know how to act, I’m leanin' back and countin' stacks |
| Postin' up on big wheels, still sippin' ?? |
| don’t get distressed |
| I’m out here chasin' banks, breakin' bread and sippin' drank, accumulating |
| My Benz taste, my mind straight, and my paper chase |
| My vision’s nocturnal so I’m grindin' all night |
| I gotta cup that’s rather purple, so it’s oil and it’s Spirte |
| I got some partnas in the cage, I be shootin' them kites, them other |
| Guys is all hype, tell them suckas take a hike baby, you see them |
| ??, you see them hundred spokes, I’m holdin' spokes just wood |
| Deep, ya get it, coast to coast, I’m slabbin' candy drops, punchin' clocks |
| And slammin' broads, I got money like Reggie Bush, my billboard got a lotta |
| Yards, I’m with that Poppa Joe, I got dro on da low, I keep tha lean for a month |
| Or so, but I’m back on it, I can’t let go, I’m down with T. Farris and G. Dat, we |
| Switchin' glass, some of these boys ain’t lastin' we still right here countin' |
| cash |