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    Sticky Fingaz / Lyrics

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    "Get It Up" Lyrics

    Sticky Fingaz

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    Is y'all ready to go up in here?
    Aight, pull the black mask down
    We bout to rush the door
    (Ah shit, hide your jewelry)
    I told y'all we was coming
    Yo everybody watch out
    Word up

    Get it up, huh
    The ice on ya wrist player pick it up, huh
    My killers in the cut coast stick em up, huh
    Ladies grab your shirts and lift em up, huh
    Lemme see your ass baby back it up, huh
    My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
    Lemme see your guns, what throw em up, huh
    Lemme see your guns, what throw em up, huh
    Lemme see your guns, what throw em up, huh

    Yo Sticky Fingaz, word up
    I told y'all niggaz
    Yo come on

    Hennesied up, play the cut lighting it up
    Rag on my head, eyes lookin half way dead
    Brought my thugs to the club, straight off the street
    I'm iceburg to my feet about a third of the week
    Relax baby don't spazz 'cause he touched your ass
    I ain't say shit when your friend touched my dick
    I see Brooklyn schemin, we all in the spot
    But that's hip hop, we rap niggaz from off the block
    Is it me or is it gettin hot in here
    I think somebody bout to get shot in here
    The nine mill guaranteed to clear the spot in here
    And we ain't get searched kid, we got glocks in here
    Someone bring me to the hoe suckin cocks in here
    I think they trying to shut it down, I seen cops in here
    I'm the hottest shit Universal got this year
    And all my niggaz rockin rocks in here, come on


    Black Trash
    Ayo kick that old real shit
    That Queens shit

    Firemarshall said it's too packed, nigga fuck the law
    And the guest list, niggaz bout to rush the door
    Got cats online in ties and suits
    We come through VIP button flies and boots
    Everybody gettin comped, I ain't paying no admission
    Stick Fingaz, I can't even pay attention
    Love the freaks that tweek and be liftin it up
    Love the freaks that ceep and be giving it up
    I got twelve inches, I'm well hung
    Nine on my dick and three on my toungue
    My manager, the bitch name is Helen Wate
    Need a free show? Nigga go to Hell and wait
    And if God only helped those who help themselves
    When I see something, I want em, I help myself
    So unless me and you come to an understanding
    You gonna be under, and I'ma be standing


    Word up
    We takin all y'all money
    We takin all y'all bitches
    What y'all thought it was

    I'm so hot to death
    I'll probably get shot to death
    Fuck who the cops arrest
    My killers is rough, shoot up the club like Puff
    Niggaz'll duck, chains tucked, Timbs get scuffed
    I pull a four-four from out of the seat
    Up out it and beat
    Picture me not riding with heat
    Jump out of the Jeep
    Clear a nigga out of the street
    Nobody can creep
    Thirty deep nigga, I'm out of your reach
    Ain't nothing but killers boasting next to me
    I'm prejuduce, I hate every color except for green
    In the club, that's were my niggaz jwewlry shop
    When the hammer cock, we don't care who we box
    So why you come to the club, what you livin it up
    Why you fuckin with that chicken, was she givin it up
    Why you even cop jewels, what you can't get stuck
    Why you never say when, you ain't had enough


    Let's go
    Get it up
    This song was submitted on December 3rd, 2013 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Thanks to Snap for the contribution to this song.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Ernie Isley, Marvin Isley, O'kelly Isley, Ronald Isley, Rudolph Isley, Christopher Jasper, Christopher H Jasper, Ultra Nate Wyche.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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