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Текст песни Lil` Jon and The Eastside Boyz - Get Crunk

Lil` Jon and The Eastside Boyz - Get Crunk слова песни




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 beansBuster 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 crunkChorus: What, What (in background)Now drop dem bozs` on `em <repeat 16X>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 bozChorusI 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 upNow 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`ChorusNow 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 thugsChorusNow right now I want all my hard niggas to follow me, follow meBridge: what (until fade)That`s how these motherfuckers die, they with the shit talk(repeat 7X)

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