Drag-on - Get It Right Lyrics
Hook: dmxDrag-on, niggas act onMessin wit the team its gon be a sad songX, will bring the day and the nightCuz we get it right, get it right, get it right, spit it right[dmx]Moves is made, niggas is paid, thats just how it isWhen my time is up ima be out but ima try to liveIm eatin day by day, aint nothin sweet about itAct like you dont know what Im sayin then you read about itBuilt for war like a armadilloSmokin yo ass put two through the pilllowHear my shit through windowsManic depressive and my head hurtsSoon as the dead thirst Ill whet him firstNow wait a minute it gets worseI cant control what I own insideSo I take it out on the soul of that kid that diedSpit fire, cross niggas like barbecuesMobbin crews, strippin niggas, robbin crewsAnd put him speechless, when I made him eat thisHollow tip and you can follow gripYou be like kim and aint gon swallow shitDont know the half, couldnt know the mathTo understand the wrath of a man split in halfBut he got what he wanted, shot for three hundredShit is tight and a nigga thats right gots to run itAint no question, thats how I get downNiggas know gimme yo dough and yo hoe, and here take these foHot things I got things that make niggas spinPut niggas in the wind, where you never see niggas againBless a nigga with fifties the thin typesAnd a straight blast thatll put pinstripes across your windpipeHook 2x[drag-on]Drag opposite water more than a spot orderMy flows cause fire then bring holesTakes more than a pump to out this little punkless that pump is a twelve, and I get popped, still I burn to hellCall the police and whatever they dont seizeAnd put in they mouth, and catch freeze, tell em throw drag some keysDont care how many oyeas I gotta make believeIf you nervous, you dont deserve it poppi pleaseCats stealin gats yall probably will get hitWell Im the future lets see yall copy this, stopping thisSince a tiny kid like, mommy buy me thisSince she always told me no, started stealin on some grimy shitLike look at that, now look at that slide it in my bookbagIm who, parents point they fingers at, get from that hoodratAnd put it back, ***** tough, while yall cook crackIm cocaine, throw me in the pot, I rise to the topWith your 5.0, go head, look ma, I got four more pegsStil put them holes in yo head, til its mushy like dough breadCuz that vest only protects that chestAnd if I decide to get ice, dont get to fascinatedOr its my bullet, your brain, mashed potatoesDouble r got me comin hard on you hatersCuz we the streets black and yall belong beneath thatHook 2x
