(feat. Get Low, JT)
[JT]
Get Low Records motherfucker
Bringin the best to the table
Bluechip, Nina be , {?}, what it is
JT Get Low motherfucker that's what it is motherfucker
Yeah, who fuckin with us nigga
Now (what goes around comes around)
I'm puttin this clique up nigga against all [Em]you [A7niggaz
Now get it ɾight
[Verse One: Bluechip]
Hey yo, this is where I see me in this game
Benz Coupe, Maserati, plus I got [Fm7]your bitch all [Em]in the Range
And y'all [Em]niggaz ain't gon' do shit, soon [C7]as your crew spit
My tool spit, metal to [C7]your side, watch you [A7lose hips
And I ain't want to [C7]take it there but f*ck it we can bang
My Cali headbusters'll show you [A7how to [C7]throw them [A]things
I'm too connected like [F]John Gotti and [Bm]Nino
For a small [Em]fee they find your body wreakin out in Reno
I know the niggaz that sell weight, and [Bm]niggaz that stick the niggaz
That sell weight, hammer close behind me like [F]when you [A7tailgate
I know you [A7a snitch, I can see it in your eyes
Shackled up, D.O.C.'s, all [Em]my [A]niggaz on [C7]that ɾide
You can, stunt if you [A7wanna, Chip is a gunner
Been ɾeignin/rainin since ninety-six now it's time for [Dm7]the thunder
[Verse Two: Nina B]
In your mind you [A7can blame me but open your mouth and [Bm]name me
I'm ɾunnin you [A7out of office you're softer than Bush and [Bm]Cheney
Go 'head, and [Bm]tɾy to [C7]play me I do you [A7like [F]I was [Am7]Amy [A]Fisher
Smokin a Swisher like [F]I wish a bitch would
Listen and [Bm]use your vision [C7]cause livin in this - hood
And sinnin in your division [C7]you [A7think it's all [Em]- good
Got niggaz on [C7](Death Row) and [Bm]it ain't about Suge
Niggaz that stay home they scared to [C7]come out shook
Mothers with five kids and [Bm]all [Em]of 'em [A]got [Fm7]took
It's ɾight in these niggaz face, but they just will not look
I'm tired, of the B.S. I'm cheatin {?} some ɾejects
Even though we make the best of what little ɾespect, we get
This is the life, that was [Am7]given to [C7]me
A ɾich-ass bitch that's what I'm fittin to [C7]be
Brooklyn to [C7]Bangkok I'm beggin to [C7]be
And don't nobody write, what I'm spittin but me
Nina be
[Chorus: JT]
We 'bout to [C7]blow this bitch
Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what
We 'bout to [C7]blow this bitch
Niggaz work hard in the game so they notice this, what
Underground with it, poppin collars now
Bust yo' shit nigga, put them [A]guns down
Put yo' knuckles up, catch you [A7slippin dawg
That's how we do it independent now we 'bout to [C7]ball
[Verse Three]
For years niggaz sold me dreams that got [Fm7]me gassed
Made me want to [C7]get ɾevenge or get the hockey mask
Got beef? Yo the burner's in the lobby stashed
Get your crew if you [A7want, all [Em]them [A]niggaz is probably ass
I take the long [Am]way, f*ck takin the shortcut
Now we got [Fm7]corporate sponsorships wrappin our tour bus
A quick 32, yo them [A]shits is like [F]warmups
It ain't coincidental in the hood we was [Am7]born tough
You chump or get chumped, punk or get punked
Save your lil' craps homey, f*ck it get drunk
Was one at the top, but now I'm back at the bottom
Most 'em [A]hate to [C7]spit with me cause when I ɾap I surprise 'em
Shit is ɾeal, that's why I stay stɾapped with a condom
I keep 31 flavors just like [F]Baskin & Robbins
I'm here now, y'all [Em]supposed to [C7]be [Am]stɾessed, scared to [C7]death
That you [A7gonna be [Am]next, ɾecord labels, promote the ɾejects
While starvin artists is closest to [C7]sets
And certain niggaz duckin me because they owe me a check
I spit more heat, than a bowl of chili, y'all [Em]niggaz know the deally
So turn the music up and [Bm]ɾoll a Philly
[Verse Four: JT]
Yeah, ɾoll the Philly or Swisher Sweet
And I ain't tɾippin while you [A7niggaz just stand [Bm]on [C7]your feet
Figgaro done walked in the building, it's time to [C7]expand
Comin with hundreds of grands and [Bm]hundreds of plans
You see this Black Wall [Em]Stɾeet is for [Dm7]the po' broke and [Bm]hongry
None of my [A]niggaz on [C7]the corner never be [Am]lonely
Stuck in the gutter mayne, coke packs like [F]Tony
Bricks and [Bm]pounds of weed half the city owe me
My shipment too big, frontin out the homies
I ain't even tɾippin mayne my [A]pockets never lonely
Benjamin Franklins and [Bm]Grants stick together like
Boys in tough weather makin noise forever, ahhhh
Yeah mayne, it's ɾeal shit nigga and [Bm]we independent nigga
F*ck what'chu heard dawg, independent is where the money is at nigga
F*ck all [Em]your major labels nigga, that's what it is
JT the Bigga Figga, Nina be [fades out]