Lirik Lagu Get Crunk - Lil' Jon And The Eastside Boyz
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Tanpamu tiada berarti
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Once again up in that south from my motherfucking mouthand creeping up on y'all niggas like a motherfucking mouseStepping on these tracks like fags and drag queensAnd shitting on you busters like I ate some bake beans
Buster me and me's clicks, always making those hitsWe never straight jam with no busters our no tricksGetting in trouble from the sounds of my trunkand keeping it crunk, keeping it crunk
Chorus: What, What (in background)Now drop dem bozs' on 'em
Nigga bozs' bout to turn out the showCrankin' up yo' dance flo' screaming GA hoeFlipping rhymes and gripping pines with haters looking roundIt's time lay it down putting it all up on the lineAin't no love for haters, smoking doug's potatoesAll these niggas what they made us from dem' boz and cratersWhile lame done dipped out, we gained the flip flopUnderground where we dwell, the hell with hip hopSouthside just reckless, from GA to TexasAnd next it's gone be me flexing in a suburban or lexusBut it seem like the bigger I be, mo' figures I seeThe mo' hating niggas try meBig baby trick crazy thinking he bout' to fade meBetter sit and wait in consequences fo' you feel you can play me>From a place called T-town be down in the southWhere dem' players throw dem' boz and gold teeth in they mouthAnd dump dump if ya' jump jumpThe club crunk off the funk that we bump bump and pump pumpthrough yo' speaker when it reach ya' now you tweaking like BeakerAll the people out there hype as hell, I guess it Lil' Peter>From T-town to Atlanta all the way to Savannah to AlabamaI be damn a club ain't crunk in this mannerI can't stand a weak busterFor all the freaks, hustla's, to the clothesY'all gotta get it crunk and drop dem boz, drop dem boz
Chorus
I can't afford bigger, how ya' figga'that you gone stop me from stacking six figuresNow you hating on me, because my game so tightAnd could you be mad because I fucked ya' wifeWell it's true, that's the price nigga check that hoeI'm from the ATL player, wear that reckland ro'So stop talking all that shit, and trying to buckI'm popping off at the mouth, we get cha' fucked up, now what's up
Now ladies are you tired of trick bitches in yo' mixActing like they want, to lick on yo' shitCritizing, everything that you doand telling ya' who, and who not to screwNasty hoes, that ain't clean and shitThey go around sucking on every dope boys dickNow is these hoes really yo' friend or yo' foesYou tell me, while ya' drop dem' bozs'
Chorus
Now if the club packed y'all from wall to wallAnd everybody trying to ball, coz sizing allAin't nothing but love in the air, we geeing and mackingSome haters off in there, but at least they ain't mackingYou got cha' cup filled up, ya' niggas is crunkPut cha' hands in the air represent where ya' fromI'm from the GA baby, where freaks is shadyMan it can be so crazy, so we burn trees dailyWhen the beat a drop, everybody just lock ya' boz and shake dem' hoesAnd proceed to rock, from the front to the backwith the blunts and gats, on the hunt for some cat or a fat ass sackTear da' roof off the club, show you niggas some loveand fill a swishe up with bud for my g's and thugsNow dem' haters keep watching, dem' freaks a jockin'the beats is rockin', so partner want you keep on droppingfor my thugs
Chorus
Now right now I want all my hard niggas to follow me, follow me
Bridge: what (until fade)That's how these motherfuckers die, they with the shit talk(repeat 7X)
Buster me and me's clicks, always making those hitsWe never straight jam with no busters our no tricksGetting in trouble from the sounds of my trunkand keeping it crunk, keeping it crunk
Chorus: What, What (in background)Now drop dem bozs' on 'em
Nigga bozs' bout to turn out the showCrankin' up yo' dance flo' screaming GA hoeFlipping rhymes and gripping pines with haters looking roundIt's time lay it down putting it all up on the lineAin't no love for haters, smoking doug's potatoesAll these niggas what they made us from dem' boz and cratersWhile lame done dipped out, we gained the flip flopUnderground where we dwell, the hell with hip hopSouthside just reckless, from GA to TexasAnd next it's gone be me flexing in a suburban or lexusBut it seem like the bigger I be, mo' figures I seeThe mo' hating niggas try meBig baby trick crazy thinking he bout' to fade meBetter sit and wait in consequences fo' you feel you can play me>From a place called T-town be down in the southWhere dem' players throw dem' boz and gold teeth in they mouthAnd dump dump if ya' jump jumpThe club crunk off the funk that we bump bump and pump pumpthrough yo' speaker when it reach ya' now you tweaking like BeakerAll the people out there hype as hell, I guess it Lil' Peter>From T-town to Atlanta all the way to Savannah to AlabamaI be damn a club ain't crunk in this mannerI can't stand a weak busterFor all the freaks, hustla's, to the clothesY'all gotta get it crunk and drop dem boz, drop dem boz
Chorus
I can't afford bigger, how ya' figga'that you gone stop me from stacking six figuresNow you hating on me, because my game so tightAnd could you be mad because I fucked ya' wifeWell it's true, that's the price nigga check that hoeI'm from the ATL player, wear that reckland ro'So stop talking all that shit, and trying to buckI'm popping off at the mouth, we get cha' fucked up, now what's up
Now ladies are you tired of trick bitches in yo' mixActing like they want, to lick on yo' shitCritizing, everything that you doand telling ya' who, and who not to screwNasty hoes, that ain't clean and shitThey go around sucking on every dope boys dickNow is these hoes really yo' friend or yo' foesYou tell me, while ya' drop dem' bozs'
Chorus
Now if the club packed y'all from wall to wallAnd everybody trying to ball, coz sizing allAin't nothing but love in the air, we geeing and mackingSome haters off in there, but at least they ain't mackingYou got cha' cup filled up, ya' niggas is crunkPut cha' hands in the air represent where ya' fromI'm from the GA baby, where freaks is shadyMan it can be so crazy, so we burn trees dailyWhen the beat a drop, everybody just lock ya' boz and shake dem' hoesAnd proceed to rock, from the front to the backwith the blunts and gats, on the hunt for some cat or a fat ass sackTear da' roof off the club, show you niggas some loveand fill a swishe up with bud for my g's and thugsNow dem' haters keep watching, dem' freaks a jockin'the beats is rockin', so partner want you keep on droppingfor my thugs
Chorus
Now right now I want all my hard niggas to follow me, follow me
Bridge: what (until fade)That's how these motherfuckers die, they with the shit talk(repeat 7X)
