[Verse 1]
First of all, push, that's all, that's the end of it
Second, give it up to R.S.E. for hookin' up a kid
I got the two best, the newest plus the truest;
Doomtree, Rhymesayers Entertainment (You know the name!)
Rip the quality control from your burrows to your borders
Droppin' hot emcee's off balconies like Tony Rocky Horror
The, uh, the baby-danglin', words hanglin'
Hottest masturbatin' off the back of the neck of my soldiers' rhyme and
P.O., you know the dirty one disturbing categories
The matador in black, killin' bullshit allegories
Provide the hurt, these other beastly storing stories make em'
Get up, get down, get up, and get FUCKED UP
I spray terms like throw-ups, I'm 'bout to spit a feelin'
Cos me and Turbo Nemesis are soon to be arthritic villains
Still instillin' hatred, laced with manifesto modes
And our back beat's to beat your heart beat off beat, let's go!
[Verse 2]
Excuse me
Just turn it on, and leave it runnin'
Macin', nothin' of gunnin'
Nothin' linin' our pockets, we frontin' like Cool Runnings
Somethin' so simple sparkin', we wait, but nothin's comin'
Chrome in our fingertips, they eat shit, like faulty plumbin'
Just games for days, busy bees makin' our honey
And skee ball tickets still on count, it's real money
It's somethin' so ridiculous
Funny, so fuckin' sick of this
Consistent lack of vision from children claimin' they listenin'
Still I'm sittin' skits and laughin' while they all missin' this
There's still songs about bitches, from 9/11 witnesses. (ha ha)
So here I am in the Middle West
The heart land ma' fucka, sippin' whole milk ma' fucka
Our nights are colder right? Minnesota nice
but our frost-bitten fists for the smile stings twice so um, fight or flight
Who gives a damn anyways
Does it make a fuckin' difference in these apathetic names?
(I'm done with them)
[Chorus]
Lean back, just relax, we tell 'em
Get up, get down, get up, and get FUCKED UP
We don't dance, we just pull up our pants, and then we
Get up, get down, get up, and get FUCKED UP
(What, you want something like a cake? Want a Guinness or somethin'?)
Get up, get down, get down, and get FUCKED UP
It's somethin' so ridiculous
Funny, so fuckin' sick of this
consistent lack of vision from children claimin' they listenin'
[Verse 3]
You look sick homie, eat a gun! (that's how it works, haha)
I'ma eat a gun, I look tired
It's probably the insomnia, I sleep like Tyler Durdan
STICKIN' FEATHERS IN YOUR ASS DOES NOT MAKE YOU A CHICKEN
Holla if you hit the bottom runnin'
A fool among the scholars
Bumpin' somethin' about clubs, bubs, and hubs
I got a message in a bottle, written in gas and oil
Signed with a rag and a match, here - catch
Slap to rebel yell
The rebels fell, embedded in brick
Ain't no fuckin' marble memorial
for pissed-off kids waitin' for Death Wish VI
Like Bronson, ain't got enough to flip his face to vigilance again
Once it has been, the victim mends
Barely our friends who think about what's up with Jen and Ben
You think it's been? (I think we should put up in this...Fuck outta here!)
Let's get out
[Chorus]
Lean back, and relax, we tell 'em
Get up, get down, get up, and get FUCKED UP
(Put the ma' fuckin' Fresca down)
Get up, get down, get up, and get FUCKED UP
Get up, get down, get up, and get FUCKED UP
It's somethin' so ridiculous
Funny, so fuckin' sick of this
consistent lack of vision from children claimin' they listenin'
