Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song No Get Back, artist - South Central Cartel. Date of issue: 02.08.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
No Get Back |
| If any crew wanna mad-dog, if you look it’s on |
| I got this .44 chrome spittin at your dome |
| Comin from the shoulders, droppin muthafuckas like boulders |
| Rollin with my chip Motorola |
| Blazer all fucked but I ain’t walkin |
| Head feelin light cause my stomach startin to talkin |
| As I roll by hoes yellin out: «Star!» |
| But I yell back: «Bitch, look at the car!» |
| You seen me in a video, don’t think that I hustle |
| Stressin so bad, make me wanna jack Russell |
| I dropped outta high school askin where the money at |
| 'Man, it’s in the rap game' - now it ain’t no get back |
| 'Homie fuck that, where y’all from, loc, you bangin? |
| I thought the Cartel were some 87 gangsters' |
| Look homie, I’m a player and I ain’t got time |
| Two steps back, buck you dead in your eye, eye, eye… |
| If you trip off your mouth and my strap’s in my lap |
| It ain’t no get-back, prepare for your casket |
| Nutshell Nazi, the S.C.C |
| Persist to get pissed on, get yo buster ass on |
| Should I bomb? |
| Yo, let’s commence to kill a |
| Pussy-ass niggas talkin bout they pullin triggers |
| We got the back streets sowed up |
| Live on luck will leave your ass fucked, nigga, hold up |
| You pickanannies be talkin plenty bullshit |
| But you ain’t shit when it’s time to get with |
| Real niggas from the S. C |
| I peel your cap off |
| Nigga, now turn that muthafuckin rap off |
| 5'8″ with a big stick |
| Muthafuckas try to run but I’m comin at that ass quick |
| I’m so bad I kick my own ass |
| You disrespect me and I be gettin wreck just like a plane crash |
| Dash, I have your ass burnin like some hash |
| Ash, you see a mash, then you hear the blast |
| Ask the Prod what that be like |
| I tell you gangster, now you know it’s all to the g right |
| It’s ninety-muthafuckin-six, gees finna ride and slide |
| Cartel Gang down to hoo-bang in a five |
| Niggas gettin twisted but I don’t give a fuck about a buster |
| Cartel till I die, muthafucka |
| A nigga dressed thuggish, postin with the heater |
| Decapitate yo dome with this nine millimeter |
| 'draulics on amp, the ass is on call |
| Hit the second switch, bitch, post my d’s on the wall |
| Chuck T’s posted on the curb |
| 'yac in my palm and I’m chokin off that herb |
| I swerve back to the 9 block, pager goin wicked |
| Check my phone book for a bitch who wanna kick it |
| Diarrhea-at-the-mouth muthafuckas better ease up |
| S.C.G.'s regulatin fools g’s up |
| Rhime Son, nigga, on deck puttin it down for the set, loc |
| Mobbin murder deep with my kinfolk |