Lyrics Get off the Ground - Termanology, Sean Price, H-Staxx

Get off the Ground

Termanology!
You so!
You so!
(You so!)
Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah, Ah!
Show off!
Uh!
Ayo, I… send my condolences, to any rapper holdin' the crown
I’ma blow his wig off his body and roast some piff
Slammin' with my dudes, blickers move when I’m with the goons
Pistols pulled on any rapper that wanna diss the crew
I’m with the Switzerland wolves we 'bout to spit some jewels
Put a MC in intensive care and flare him with the tools
I’m the hardest spitter and I got the heart to kill you
I put your squad up in the grave, then I party with you
You not soldiers you stock brokers, the Glock’s smokin'
I’m Pac, Hova, Nas;
I’mma start rock and rollin'
I’m Michelangelo, eatin' you like a cannibal
Greetin' you with my hammer-lo, deepest flow I’m mechanical
Mandible like Canibus, render these rappers like amateurs
Panickin' what you should be, my uzi weighin' a ton or two
I got determination, that’s right the Term' is waitin'
To turn your safe into my personal bank and burn your paper
The MC slaughterer, pardon us we make horror flicks
We choppin' bodies like calamari, ya pounds of fish
On the scale lucky lefty, Sonnie turn your vessy messy
It’s Termanology, rock with me, I be reppin' ST
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
Yo you can’t rap, understand fam you can’t rap
Overhand blam, you got slapped
Now get off the ground, pull my dick off a ral
Click and hiccup the pound
Pop a few bars, who eat and devour the bars
Nice rip you a bitch, still a coward in cars
Off the marijuana, I will Sarah Connor your squad
On the scene clean, we are the champions Pa
Rap Gouda, it’s a rap the gat shoot you
Dough fight the dyke, Lou Duva
Provoke Mic ice pick, your bitch shoot coolers
P, good night Pa you’re a loser
Listen I rap better than most dudes
Most dudes can’t rap and tap on your boat shoes
P, bust my nine
Sean Price thinking Justin Tyme, let’s do it
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
Machine gun skunk I blow dolo
That’s why your bitch jocked me like Polo
I ain’t gotta go get it cause I got it on me
I smell like palm trees, nothing but exotic on me
Hoes get erotic on me, I put the pipe down
Stick the pipe in her mouth tell her pipe down
Now lick a shot for niggas doing life inside
Grabbing you by the neck, sticking the knife inside
It’s B-R-double-O-K, double A-K bringin' trouble your way
Knock niggas out, they can’t get off the ground
Shell cases found, the cops get off the ground
So put a muzzle on that bi-suiter rap shit
Nigga knuckle up, cock rugers back bitch
Ruste Juxx bullets blow out your brain
Think it’s a game, listen to Lil' Fame
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
Foul lyrical assassins, patented the truth
We gonna carry the torch son when we get in the booth
Nothing to prove, ask Statik yeah we got on the proof
Everybody follow his watchin', yeah you better salute
Nobody move until we say so, from Murda Mass to BK
You better lay low ho
It’s a takeover, the game’s over, we stay sober
It ain’t over, who told you dawg we can’t honor
It’s the 2K11 and we still push figures
Got mad haters, but they still don’t get us
It’s the Clash of the Titans, you want beef start bitin'
Like Iron Mike Tyson in his prime make you frightened
We got the tracks, Mr. Who gon' smash
Legendary friend, got the hook on smash
Yeah, we make all these cute girls turn bad
It’s a no-brainer, bout to the steal the game
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
Move motherfucker, what part you ain’t understand
I’ll murder something with the steel in my hand
Blaow, blaow, blaow
Knock something off quick
Can’t dance with the wolves I walk with, real talk shit
We howl at the moon, let you feel that boom
Sookie, run or you are doomed
Send your punk-ass to the upper room
We do this, AMs, PMs, evenings and afternoons
Mornings it’s on, a new day is dawnin'
Poppin' off over here, international warnin'
From New York to Switzerland, we gets it in
Competition, don’t want none
We send them things whistlin'
Vision that, holler back, it’s beast-mode
Unleashed through the collar rap
Who gotta problem with that, hey yo Slap
These clowns get slapped, word to G-ma, it’s H-Stax
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
If you don’t want to get buried alive or get tossed in the grave
You better get off the ground, get off the ground
From New York, we do it our way
You better get off the ground, get off the ground, yeah
Yeah