We Get It On

Lyrics

[Intro (Overlapped with Hook): Mr. Metaphor] Yeah. Nah'mean? We want it all. Know'm saying? Taking it all. Yeah, taking it all [Hook: I-See-On] We get it on, keep it real, son. We always stand our ground Never run in beef. Fuck that, son, 'til we die We get it on. My niggas wile out, smash you with a Heineken bottle This shit is on this year—nigga, who want it? [Verse 1: Mr. Metaphor] Yo, yo, get your mic detached. I'll kill your ass like a diaper rash Fuck a righteous path—I'm out to fight for cash, cypher smash Smoke some grass, stick my hands in broken glass and choke your ass Slash an open gash in your throat sack, push your vocals back Met be burning cats. Better learn or watch the thermostat I spit murder raps. You heard of that? Get your sternum cracked MCs be so wack that they can't be close to rap, but no holding back Fight to the death like fiends over crack A fucking verbal pyro burn your vinyl. My rhyme will Strike terror in your mind and make your skin turn albino I paralyze your heart and let it rise up your spinal 'Til your body lay beside you and the light of God guide you I'm like Canibus, Eminem, KRS, and Nas times two I'm primetime, duke. Don't give a fuck who you signed to Fuck a dotted line. Y'all gots no shine. I'm raw with mine. You borderline Son, I was born to rhyme all day, all the time. Let's all combine And spit 'til there's no more fucking sunshine Spin 'em up high, tilt the barrel at my head and let the gun cry [Hook: I-See-On] We get it on, keep it real, son. We always stand our ground Never run in beef. Fuck that, son, 'til we die We get it on. My niggas wile out, smash you with a Heineken bottle This shit is on this year—nigga, who want it? We get it on, fucking pop your eye sockets out, duke Have you rocking goggles on some wild shit, yo We get it on. You fucking crazy, duke? I'm Picasso of this shit Man, these canvas-head niggas get face paintings [Verse 2: Pumpkinhead] I freeze a track when I rap, spitting the murderous D.O.A., tag-on-your-toe, John Doe rap That uncontrolled rap, stay-at-home rap, that chrome rap That break-your-bone rap. Snap backs, legs, toes, and nose rap That hardcore rap That PH and Metaphor rap. Brooklyn Ac' contact Ready for combat with big MACs and machetes That twist back your spaghetti, lift your ass into a Chevy My screw is loose. Spitting darts in your eyes Empty out your pupil juice. Ruthless youths Chase you like brutes and shoot and boost your goose It's Brook-nam, nigga. I'm like a fisher how I hook on, niggas Bob and weave, lock your knees, pop your sleeves off When I cock and squeeze off Breeze north. I'm horror, jigga nigga like Shawn Carter End a KitKat, put a pickaxe to your six-pack We get it on like my niggas where the chicks at We get it on. I'll break your hand and push your wrist back [Hook: I-See-On] We get it on, keep it real, son. We always stand our ground Never run in beef. Fuck that, son, 'til we die We get it on. My niggas wile out, smash you with a Heineken bottle This shit is on this year—nigga, who want it? We get it on, fucking pop your eye sockets out, duke Have you rocking goggles on some wild shit, yo We get it on. You fucking crazy, duke? I'm Picasso of this shit Man, these canvas-head niggas get face paintings We get it on