Lyrics to Get At Me Dog (Bad Boy Remix)
Intro: Styles:What! Niggaz can't fuck with usDMX:Get at me dog. My niggazStyles:That's my word!Verse One: DMXI'm the type to kick back and look at shit, 'cause crooked shit gets me ampedAnd what you don't know, will get you locked in sleep away camp.Grand champ and raise more hell, than a SorrelSee you at the peephole, bustin' at the doorbellThough I wasn't coming without mineYou put me on the front line because you doubt mineBet your and lost yours, you come to get your I tossed yoursAnd it cost yours, fuck y'all niggaz stupid, I'm the boss dogWhat more dirt must I do, plus my crewBusts at you, and you be like "What's that oooh"What's that Clue, do I bring the noise whatDestroy these mutts, is these niggaz toys or whatBring all the pretty niggaz thinking they shitty, what a pityLemme show them niggaz shitty some pity, but for fiftyA motherfucker will get a bullet to hum to him, put the gun to himHit 'em with something that comes to him, bet it runs through himLook at what I done to him, no more smilesGot the whole top half of his head, running wildBut you don't hear me though, so I turn out the lightsWe can take it to the streets dog, turn off the micsIf you want war, then you want more, than you can standAnd this 44, will leave you with your dick in the sandWho the man, and now you cats know for realGet at me dog, (bark), what the dealVerse Two: StylesY'all niggaz fucking with the L.O.X.Your stuck on a rockGot that Alcatraz flowYou just don't knowLifetime kid caged in blazin' Any type of rapper or federal agentPaniro the made man, blade manStand up type of guy, your living a lieNiggaz wanna be pretty and fly but kiddies will dieThe dogs run the city, bet fifty on mineTwo grams for you to sniff, how silly am IGot a lot of jokes don't, kill yo ass won't IMaybe not if the spot is filled up with po 9Many niggaz get it confused, blame the rulesOnly ask the how's not the who'sBetter off busting your tool, then we might get the crewBut as far as rap goes, you a motherfucking foolIf you don't want chips, you should have stayed in schoolYou and 8-ball nigga, you wanna play poolI'll put you in the side pocket, look at the size of my rocketStyles don't lie, cop the work then clock itBoxes full of boots, jeans, suits and watchesNiggaz don't pump if they can't make a profitStop it, before we pull it back then cop itVacant lot niggaz come through then we lock it (WHAT, WHAT, WHAT)Verse Three: JadakissWith no glocks I'm in your town with five locksTake five blocks, come back with five trucks, with knotsIt's the L.O.X, three niggaz that listen and watchAnd nigga you know, whenever we spit, it's hotIt be that new flow, my niggaz, fly niggazAlways high niggaz, ready to die niggazAs far as I'm hearing, y'all doing a lot of comparingLemme get the one clearance like a sample'Kiss is the champ and I know that you don't wanna get stampedLeft somewhere cramp, so when it rains, you get dampNiggaz is done, since poppy raised his sonWhen bringing in drums, to bring all g's to bumsWhether you can flow or not ain't the issueYou don't Jay to kiss you, his lyrics pierce the gristleTake a puff then a swigThink about how I'm gonna hold it down for Big, my motherfucking nig.Your money is low, and your flow been lateWhile I be coming through with new shit with tint platesThe only higher than money, is respectThe only thing hotter than my click, is a tekSo when I hit you with these last bars around your neckYou gonna know never to fuck around with L-O-X nigga (WHAT, YEAH)Verse Four: Sheek LuchionMy bank account be doublingWhile you niggaz stay in trouble andL.O.X. stay flyThree niggaz jig-IShit you never seen before, Feds hit the repo law Kingpin, 10 mil. each of us popularIt's Sheek baby Chicks hate to see me on the Soul TrainWith Don CorneliusAnd all they got is aliasTo work withTo catch Sheek, y'all niggaz besta work quickNow that I'm eating right, plus living wellSo nowadays when I burp, it's fettucini you smellAin't that right poppa-san, used to push a NissanWith a black master full 850 full suspensionWhile you collect your pension, I ain't worked in yearsMy stomach is fat from Puerto Rican food, while yours is scarceSmall black haired, chinky-eyed Puerto Rican mamaKeep them laced in the scadda, half the closet on productI learn things, just by wa4ching y'all niggaz make the wrong movesNow I know what not to do, to make more than y'all foolsY'all think we ignorant, 'cause we don't budge unless we benefitCats that take the light that's scarce and see what's at the end of itP.H. me, because a nigga wisks me up in Jake B.Your shit be so-so, low pro.On a bus before the cars showOn some old joystick shit, no mirrorsI can see behind me through the camerasFlip plates, make the whole block go bananas
Songwriters: Simmons, Earl / Fields, Anthony / Blackman, Damon J / Taylor, S
Publisher: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
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Publisher: Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, EMI Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group
Powered by LyricFind