Get Yours - M.O.P. & Snowgoons: Song Lyrics, Music Videos & Concerts

M.O.P. & Snowgoons

Get Yours

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Hip-Hop/Rap

Get Yours was released on November 22, 2011 by Babygrande Records, Inc. as a part of the album Sparta

Song Details

Release DateNovember 22, 2011

LabelBabygrande Records, Inc.

LanguageEnglish

Melodicness

Acousticness

Valence

Danceability

Energy

BPM91

OVERVIEW

LYRICS

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS

M.O.P.

Performer

Snowgoons

Performer

COMPOSITION & LYRICS

J. Andersen

Songwriter

J. Grinnage

Songwriter

E. Murry

Songwriter

D. Kellér

Songwriter

Manuu Rückert

Songwriter

Johann Sebastian Kuster

Johann Sebastian Kuster

Songwriter

Cristoph Heimel

Cristoph Heimel

Songwriter

PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING

M.O.P.

Producer

Snowgoons

Producer

Lyrics

Your off-beat DJ, everything he play

Is all punk shit, tell him to bump this

That old gorilla in the trunk shit

Yo, I'm a chip off the old block, I'm all I got (Get yours!)

I'm calling shots (Get yours!), you call cops (uh)

Them boys twat, when it's gon' stop?

Come on **** you a warlock or not?

You ain't a real killer, you just talk a lot

(About) Your coke spots, (about) Your dope spots

(About) Picking up bricks from the boat dock

(About) Your bulletproof whips like the pope got

Get clipped on your own block, you hear the road blocked

It's like Fort Knox

This is Brownsville homie, keep them both cocked

And we ain't worried

Legendary mean it won't stop (It don't stop!)

We fluid on the blacktop

And 1545 still the backdrop

Been there done that

So whatever you got locked, run that

Or get your snapshot sent back ugly

And they say New York City

What's that? (Get yours!)

What's that? (Get yours!)

What's that

And we say New York City

Fuck that! (Get yours!)

Fuck that! (Get yours!)

Fuck that!

'Cause a fifth with a fifth, shit we all be drunk

If there's something in your bottle **** pour me some

If I ain't stand up you could call me punk

But I'm real so a bitch can't call me on (Come on!)

Dirty like a stolen black nine with a body on it

Don't nobody want it, I put my mama on it

Chrome tecs so what the hell you probably find me on it

Tools down to my kicks you know how I be on it

They say them **** Fame and Bill too aggressive

They say them M.O.P. boys is too reckless

Y'all **** is P.U. with 2 S's

And I ain't never buy the bar out for you heffers

You keep fucking around and we'll stretch ya

Saratoga Ave., bet it, whole different texture

We all in the mix of the blitz while y'all lecture

We in the thick of the shit with no pressure

Get it and go, you gettin' it raw, Fishscale

Top of the line, kept on the low M.O

We outshine them **** in prime time

Deliver the bam! bam!. This undeniable grind

And they say New York City

What's that? (Get yours!)

What's that? (Get yours!)

What's that

And we say New York City

Fuck that! (Get yours!)

Fuck that! (Get yours!)

Fuck that!

'Cause a fifth with a fifth, shit we all be drunk

If there's something in your bottle **** pour me some

If I ain't stand up you could call me punk

But I'm real so a bitch can't call me on (Come on!)

I still stay in touch with the streets and spit thuggery

I stay sucker free, who wan' rump me?

Salute to the die hard fans that fuck with me

Start a mosh pit, fuck around, loose a couple teeth

That's what people want so we designed it raw

With the Snowgoons behind the boards

The pallbearers of hip hop

We carry your whack ass off then bury y'all

This is real heavy y'all

(MARXMEN)

Three steps ahead of y'all

Three generations in so we bet it all

In the middle of the street where we set it off

**** really want a win he gotta get involved

M.O.P. dog we been AWOL

Big Hemi in my chest for the long haul

Turning a **** to a mess is what I'm going for

Leaving hollows in his chest is what we cause

And they say New York City

What's that? (Get yours!)

What's that? (Get yours!)

What's that

And we say New York City

Fuck that! (Get yours!)

Fuck that! (Get yours!)

Fuck that!

'Cause a fifth with a fifth, shit we all be drunk

If there's something in your bottle **** pour me some

If I ain't stand up you could call me punk

But I'm real so a bitch can't call me on (Come on!)

Written by: Cristoph Heimel, D. Kellér, E. Murry, J. Andersen, J. Grinnage, Johann Sebastian Kuster, Manuu Rückert

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