a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

timbaland - come and get me lyrics

timbaland

n-gg- your time is up, i aint come to kid you
i knew you n-gg-s was dumb, but how dumb is you
thinkin you can see the king, when you unofficial
you don’t wanna go to war, cuz i’ll launch these missiles
i’m a ride or die n-gg-, i be tearin sh-t up
we aint like them other fools, who don’t compare to us
all the hoes love a n-gg-, they be backing it up
but me i love money i be stacking it up
when my bandwagon pull up they hop on board
they hop right on mine and hop right off yours
i get respect homie all across the board
i get a quarter mill a track without an award
ever wanna test a n-gg- then come see me
in the street i hold my ground like i’m concrete
i know sh-t aint sweet so when sh-t get deep
i’m rich i can pay to have you six feet deep
(n-gg-)

chorus

i give it to whoever want it, if you want it come see me
you know where i’m at if you want it ,if you want it come get me (x2)

50 cent

n-gg- you violate i regulate ra ta tat tat
bigger sh-lls they fit in that banana clip tech
run and a bullseye, form on your back
it’s hard to miss wit a full clip in the mac
i got ammo ammo i unload, reload, cut a n-gg- quick
ye my knife game lethal that tough guy sh-t,
n-gg- that’s what i see through
you like a 3 course meal motherf-cker i eat you
you food and i’m in the mood, so front i let the hammer fly
n-gg- you can duck, run for cover, or die
your choice, you choose
i pop, you move, like you in shock you been shot
n-gg-.. your blood on the street, you up ships creek
you can hardly speak, startin to get weak your eyes close
your life flash, your heart slow, your heart stop,
your -ss dead, you f-cked kid

(chorus)

tony yayo

i’m like nicholas cage yeye it’s the ghost rider
p89 ye i let my toast slide, costa rica to brazil
i got my hoes in the lamb, why your b-tch bald headed
like britney spears, i’m in the projects gettin dope and piff money
2 more flips that’s anna nicole smith money, f-ck a g4
i’m in a g 500, g 450, g550, that’s airplane talk
i’m the aviator man baby ar shoot your baby out your hands
spaghetti and corn bread, mix got me blunted,
there’s no talk abouts.. you don’t f-ck on an empty stomach
by out the mall, then hug the block, hundred thou wood grain
in a phantom drop, then i cruise in the club
got my ruge in the club, pay a bouncer a buck
now my uz in the club, ye n-gg-

(chorus)

- timbaland lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS