Get Em Up
Ace Hood (Hey, Get Em Up) Gutta (Hey, Get Em Up) (Hey, Get Em Up) yea (Hey, Get Em Up) Gutta, Gutta, Hey [Verse 1] I got my drop top rollin' and I'm heading to the mother land Rippin' on that steering wheel, passenger's a duffel bag Hundred in the Louie, don't confuse me with that other cat Engine in the truck jack, pushing like a super pack Automatic button pad just to keep the top back Ruby red insides, Lamborghini fruit snacks Twenty-two, that's what I shoot, you know them bitches got a mack Back to the back of the lac incase them pussy niggas wanna jet Know I keep that .45, turn you into Cabbage Patch Hit you right between the eyes then leave you like an alley rat 100 for the bracelet, a track, I'm like a magnet Hit 'em with that gutta swag, swangin' with the Louie rag [Chorus] Say I maybe gave a damn but I never gave a fuck Rep your city like a G then put your middle fingers up I got that east side rollin', and that west side smoke South side rollin' wit me and the north side gon Get Em Up (Hey, Get Em Up) [Repeat: x7] You rep your city nigga, gon' show it up [Verse 2] And it go, eenie meenie mini mo, catch me slippin' never though Know I keep that full clip, come and get cha super soak Call me Mr. Cinemax, shoot you like a movie role Hundred on the highway, let's see how fast the coupe can go New Edition fit the kid, they ship the shit from england That's me in the foreign whip, climbing like the ring-a-lings Yes, I'm on some other shit, don't know who you fuckin wit Yes, I keep that .45, you better keep a body guard Benz is in the parking lot so you know the block is hot Tell em we don't give a shit and mother fuck the other side Bitch you know I'm born to ride, H B and some murda minds Open up the suicide doors, call it homicide [Chorus] [Verse 3] I got my black flag swangin' and I'm banging on some gutta shit Just copped me a spaceship, took it from the government White-on-white drop top, call that bitch a cool whip Had to blow the brains out, yeah I keep it ruthless Know you niggas mad but tell em haters I does it Better quit that fussing, don't know what's in the bull pit .45's a motherfucker, hit you and your cousin Think I gave a damn but I never gave a fuck Got that oven heated up and bitch you looking like lunch Take them heaters to your gut like it's a million uppercuts Then I dip off in the cut and throw it up, who give a fuck? Got that vodka in my cup, bring my gangsta to the front, what's up? [Chorus] Gutta
Written by: ANTOINE MCCOLISTER, CHRISTOPHER GHOLSON, CHRISTOPHER JAMES GHOLSON
Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind