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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
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Get Down Wit Me - текст песни
Get Down Wit Me
[Intro: DJ Premier sample {Lounge Mode} (Inspectah Deck)]
Aiyo, what the fuck is this shit
That ya'll are listening to nowadays on the radio, man?
{Yo, we gotta get up out of here, son..}
(Yeah... do not attempt to adjust your radio
Your system is now under the control of House Gang FM
Featuring your host for the night
The leader of the The Rebellion, the Rebel INS
Yeah, yeah, yeah)
[Inspectah Deck:]
Ain't no doubt big homey is sick, heads know me to flip
Before it goes down, show me the chip
It's going down, La, throw me the fifth
Hold it so quick, get ya word out to Donnie and Fisk
It's the sicker guy, he be hogging the rock
And don't split the pie, big bomb in his sock
Now watch him dip the five, plus he spit sick jive
Rest in peace to that million dollar kid with the Why
On a city high, wide tires and rims
Rocking custom made suade suits and mobster brims
On fedoras, start with three quarters, before rap
You saw us handcuffed, jumping out the Ford Taurus
Spitting like a calico, soprano or alto
No doubt, though, I gets down to my outro
That's how it go, in the club or the hood
We the wolves in this rap, like off to no, good, man
[Chorus: Inspectah Deck]
Ya'll don't wanna fuck with me
The Rebel INS, W-T-C
The crew H-D from the U-D-Z
You wanna get down, get down with me
[Interlude: Inspectah Deck]
Aiyo, Streetlife, what up, nigga? (yeah)
Size/7 (hit me up), Johnny Blaze (Wu-Tang)
The RZA (Golden Arms), The GZA, all my fam roll deep
(ODB rest in peace, baby!)
[Inspectah Deck:]
They wanna get with the kid, I give 'em the biz
That's what this is, splitting ya wig, living it big
Ain't try'nna see prison or bids, I'm got to get this
I'm in your crib, son, I did it to live
Been sick since the crib, now I'm this big, flip wigs
The main reason money lost his wiz
Put some money on the wood, I need atleast six figs
For some money in the hood, watch the hoods get biz
It's the good shit, kid, not the twenty or gram
Them fishscale, tip the scale, kill a gram
I'm choppin' on the plate, bag it up, like weight
Had you fiending like Dave Chappelle in Half Baked
The last of the great, I crash and cause quakes
Got the cash it takes, I might flash my face
Slash breaks with the fader, watch 'em fascinate
Straight, pull off a caper, snatch cake and break, nigga
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