Get Off
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Call me Mr. About Whatever, nothin' lesser how it's 'posed to be
All about my broccoli, that celery, that lettuce, see
Pull up in that letter C, the coupe with foreign leather seats
Yeah, it's me, better peep, better not be my enemy
Call me Mr. About Whatever, nothin' lesser how it's 'posed to be
All about my broccoli, that celery, that lettuce, see
Pull up in that letter C, the coupe with foreign leather seats
Yeah, it's me, better peep, better not be my enemy
Call me Mr. About Whatever, nothin' lesser how it's 'posed to be
All about my broccoli, that celery, that lettuce, see
Pull up in that letter C, the coupe with foreign leather seats
Yeah, it's me, better peep, better not be my enemy
Hoppin' out with them choppers and I'm poppin' where the doctor be
Playin' them money games, understand this ain't Monopoly
Hennessy into me, yeah, that be my energy
Any nigga jumpin', on my mama, dyin' instantly
Gotta keep it G-A-N-G-S-T-A up to the enemy
Yeah, we 'bout, I'm a dog, shinin' like some Armor All
Hit the mall, buy it all, stacked off in my fuckin' drawers
We 'bout to get off
You see them goons on deck
We 'bout to get off
All my jewelry 'round my neck
We 'bout to get off
Whole club, they know what's next
We 'bout to get off (That right)
We 'bout to get off (That right)
We 'bout to get off
I'm with my real niggas now
We 'bout to get off
Only niggas that stomp my ground
We 'bout to get off
Yeah, we 'bout to get off
Don't let them shots rip off
Missiles out of the pistol will take a nigga whole top off, yeah
Well, I am G-U-T-C-A-S, Mr. Ace, I'm in your face
Got that fully loaded .45, a lava on my waist
Ran in any nigga place, put that pistol to his face
Take that bitch up off a safe and tell him, "Show me to the safe"
Man, ain't none you niggas safe, got to love my nigga straight
Bitch, you better show the cake, or if not, I take your face
Send it to my dog right there upstate
Treat that bitch just like some steak
Put your face up on a plate, all my niggas sayin' grace
Amen, fifteen men came in raidin'
With that pistol wavin', all you hear is sirens
Hello gun, better run, sayonara your friend
Now your chest is caved in, MAC-11
We 'bout to get off
You see them goons on deck
We 'bout to get off
All my jewelry 'round my neck
We 'bout to get off
Whole club, they know what's next
We 'bout to get off (That right)
We 'bout to get off (That right)
We 'bout to get off
I'm with my real niggas now
We 'bout to get off
Only niggas that stomp my ground
We 'bout to get off
Yeah, we 'bout to get off
Don't let them shots rip off
Missiles out of the pistol will take a nigga whole top off, yeah