Get It Right Testo
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Testo Get It Right
(feat. Ludacris)
[Ludacris]
Uhh...Iight
Ok...
I can see we only messin with big money right about
now
Count that...Ludacris
Roll the dutches, and bust the spades
P-H-I to A-T-L...uh-huh
Bounce bounce, how we gonna do it?
Disturbing the peace, actin in complete Mogey
Whas up?
[Dutch]
I know you bitches smell money
I know you see them wheels on that six hundred
I see you peepin my shine
The way I'm livin, way I'm glisten
I'm a pimp and I can't quit it (nah-ah)
Don't ever forget it
And baby if I'ma digits
I'm hell of persistent
So whether beef or a cellie
Hit me, we could get petty
I turn niggas into veggies
Over sauce with the spaghetti
I'm raw, you won't forget me wit cars
With two seat Bentleys, I'm all
What could you tell me, two deals under my belly And anytime its war, I'm down down like Nelly
Throw round rounds and scullies
Smoke pounds pounds of scully
Judges who try to jail me
Suckin dick and watchin tele
I'm gone
[Chorus x2: Dutch (girl singing)]
Tell me what you want (want)
Tell me what you like (like)
Oh you wanna roll? Let's take a flight (flight)
Everything's all right (its all right)
You with Ludacris and Dutch and Spade tonight (Spade,
Dutch Spade)
Everything is tight
Gotta get it right (all right)
Go get it right, gotta get it right (all right, its all right)
[Spade]
Bounce, if you feelin this here
All my niggas throw your steel in the air
Yo its trouble round here
What you niggas ain't heard?
Spade from the P-H
Major Figgas the word
You niggas fake grind
Y'all sit on the bird
I got work and I'm waitin to serve
It's the herbs on the curb with the word
Wishin I stop
Want war? Load the clip in the glock (ah)
We live in a world where love ain't love
And blood ain't blood, and a thug ain't a thug
Man, I ain't got a thing on this earth
Juvenile incarceration only made me change for the worse
But I'm still alive, and I will survive
Low profile parolees on an all steel five
I'ma maintain, surround myself with real guys
To my niggas on the block on a peal for they lives
I'm gone
[Chorus x2]
[Ludacris]
Who am I? (ah ah)
The little nigga with the golden touch
L-U to the D-A
And I'm right on time
Mother fuckers wanna hate
From the people on the top to the P-J's
But I'm out for mine
I give a fuck about you (you), you, him, her
Or that nigga over there
Cause the things that I do (do), do, to him, and her
will have a lot of people scared, so I do what I gots ta
As a College Park mobsta
Eat scrimps and lobsta
But when I rock her
State that I'ma renegade
And your heart pump fos-ter
See a doctor, cardiologist
When you open that, then I'm lockin this
When you recordin that, then I'm droppin this
When you tote that, then I'm cockin this
Nigga what
[Chorus x4]
[Ludacris]
Uhh...Iight
Ok...
I can see we only messin with big money right about
now
Count that...Ludacris
Roll the dutches, and bust the spades
P-H-I to A-T-L...uh-huh
Disturbing the peace, actin in complete Mogey
Whas up?
[Dutch]
I know you bitches smell money
I know you see them wheels on that six hundred
I see you peepin my shine
The way I'm livin, way I'm glisten
I'm a pimp and I can't quit it (nah-ah)
Don't ever forget it
And baby if I'ma digits
I'm hell of persistent
So whether beef or a cellie
Hit me, we could get petty
I turn niggas into veggies
Over sauce with the spaghetti
I'm raw, you won't forget me wit cars
With two seat Bentleys, I'm all
What could you tell me, two deals under my belly And anytime its war, I'm down down like Nelly
Throw round rounds and scullies
Smoke pounds pounds of scully
Judges who try to jail me
Suckin dick and watchin tele
I'm gone
[Chorus x2: Dutch (girl singing)]
Tell me what you want (want)
Tell me what you like (like)
Oh you wanna roll? Let's take a flight (flight)
Everything's all right (its all right)
You with Ludacris and Dutch and Spade tonight (Spade,
Dutch Spade)
Everything is tight
Gotta get it right (all right)
Go get it right, gotta get it right (all right, its all right)
[Spade]
Bounce, if you feelin this here
All my niggas throw your steel in the air
Yo its trouble round here
What you niggas ain't heard?
Spade from the P-H
Major Figgas the word
You niggas fake grind
Y'all sit on the bird
I got work and I'm waitin to serve
It's the herbs on the curb with the word
Wishin I stop
Want war? Load the clip in the glock (ah)
We live in a world where love ain't love
And blood ain't blood, and a thug ain't a thug
Man, I ain't got a thing on this earth
Juvenile incarceration only made me change for the worse
But I'm still alive, and I will survive
Low profile parolees on an all steel five
I'ma maintain, surround myself with real guys
To my niggas on the block on a peal for they lives
I'm gone
[Chorus x2]
[Ludacris]
Who am I? (ah ah)
The little nigga with the golden touch
L-U to the D-A
And I'm right on time
Mother fuckers wanna hate
From the people on the top to the P-J's
But I'm out for mine
I give a fuck about you (you), you, him, her
Or that nigga over there
Cause the things that I do (do), do, to him, and her
will have a lot of people scared, so I do what I gots ta
As a College Park mobsta
Eat scrimps and lobsta
But when I rock her
State that I'ma renegade
And your heart pump fos-ter
See a doctor, cardiologist
When you open that, then I'm lockin this
When you recordin that, then I'm droppin this
When you tote that, then I'm cockin this
Nigga what
[Chorus x4]
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