Lyrics
Get right
Get right
Get right
I can’t lie, I like to get high and figure-8 when I drive
Blow doja rope in the sky for all my cuddies that died
We can’t do nothin but strive during the struggle
You want a silver spoon in your mouth, you gotta hustle
As I take another hit of the spliff that soldiers passin
The only chance I get to feel peace, I gotta have some
So see, I spark the holla a lot, it keeps me goin
Baby boy 3 steps ahead of his death, and mama knowin
So she’s sayin, «Baby, change your ways»
But I was raised in the days of Uzis and A.K.'s
Where killers play their deadly game called the pistol-tag
Just let me live, I ask
But if you’re caught in a cross, then I’mma off your ass
Young nigga that’s tryin to have the better things in life
He went from crookin and rookin to jookin overnight
Some try to say he ain’t right, but who’s to say that he’s wrong
That’s why you’re starvin, and the name of this song
Is get some Get Right
You, you need to get some get right
Cause fools, they choose to front their whole life
You need to get some get right
Cause fools, they choose to front their whole life
I tried to tell my young partner to take a look at his life
But he don’t like how it’s lookin, because his money ain’t right
And gettin high as a kite is his way to escape the ghetto heat
In them streets where it ain’t no peace
He’s stayin fast on his feet, cause the rollers be chainin
And if they have you with that d, it ain’t no use in explainin
Cause they gon' slam you on your face, haul you off with a case
And in the belly of the beast you’re straight tucked away
But he don’t hear me though, he rather sling the dope
And to that day illegal business got my folks smoked
It got me feelin like it ain’t no hope for black males
If you’re out there in the life it’s either jail or it’s hell
See, jail is what they send us to
And hell is what we’re livin through
So get some get right is what you better do
Better do
Better do (3x)
Now back in 1983 we played as kids in the street
Never thought in '96 I’d roll my strip totin heat
And player, funkin with the feds was never fun to me
But man, the rollers try to take the hood from under me
Haters come with jealousy, but they ain’t fadin me none
Too busy mackin bout my mail and tryin to make 21
Some of my cuddies didn’t live to see the big twump-ace
And I be damned if I got out like a statistic today
So I’mma get some get right, get my game tight
Hustlin on the mic, now my name’s in lights
Me and my cuddies was broke, but not no mo', mayn
They down with Cessed Out, so there’s no more cocaine
Tryin to show my folks there’s way mo'
To life than just bangin and hittin licks and sellin dope
Playboy, it’s almost 2000, peep the game’s gettin colder
And if somebody asks ya, tell em Mac Mall told ya