Murs - Please Leave Lyrics
[MURS]Alright I'm readyNo, you're not readyI'm ready, you're not readyMother*****er(Indistinguishable singing)[MURS]Now this here's for your spouse or significant otherYou were in love with the person, now you hate the mother*****erGet the ***** out! Tell 'em to get the ***** out!You weren't lookin' for love when you met 'em at the clubY'all exchanged numbers and went out for some grubYou waited three days then decided to callWent for dinner and a movie, then a walk through the mallAll you saw was the physical, a sexy individualNever had the thought that they would make your life miserableA couple more dates, consumate the mating ritualSoon you will encounter the habitual liarThe sex was so good it set your body afireBut why are you still with this nut?Every time they come around you get this feelin in your gutWanna tell 'em, "Raise up," but your mouth stays shutWhen you stop to think about how good they *****An' when the sex gets old you'll wind up stuckSo here's some words of wisdom that'll help you with the choreCount up their I.Q. before you kick 'em to the doorIt goes:[Chorus: MURS]One, two, three, fourI had it up to here and I'm not takin' no moreSo get the ***** out! You gots to get the ***** out!Everybody come on!One, two, three, fourI had it up to here and I'm not takin' no moreSo get the ***** out! You gots to get the ***** out!Everybody![MURS]Now say you have a homeboy who's been sleepin' on your couchFor weeks on end and he's (words walk em out?)Get the ***** out! Tell him to get the ***** out!Now he walks around your house in nothin' but his drawersThrows the trash once a week and expects to get applauseLet him stay at your crib you was down for his causeHe was in between girls, or in between jobsBut it's still no excuse for him to be a slobYour girl stays mad cause she's cleanin' up behind himYou can't get your calls when he's on the other line an'You can't get laid cause he has the worst timin'Knockin' at your door at odd hours of the nightIf he does that shit again, you swear to God you're gonna fightBut you can't kick him out cause it's just not rightHe has nowhere else to go, but you're losin' self-controlWanna kill him in his sleep, God bless his soulMaybe it's not that bad but it could get worseSo here's a little tip from your homeboy MURSBefore you tell him "Bounce," do a countdown firstIt goes:[Chorus][MURS]Now let's talk about these old mother*****ers on the micWho were dope but now are whack and won't leave the spotlightGet the ***** out! You gots to get the ***** out!He had some albums that I loved way back in the dayBut as he puts out new shit, the memories begin to fadeWhen I heard about the comeback I said "No way!"I was waitin' on the real, the anticipation builtBut with age came degeneration of the skillSo I pushed it to the back of my mind, and hoped in timeThose fine memories would once again shineBut he just won't stop, even though his album flopEverytime I turn around his new one's about to dropMake me wanna take all his old records off the shelfCause the man I now hear's a shadow of his former selfSo when he stopped on tour, in my town for a showI played a true fan and was in the front rowAs he started doin' classics, then he stopped and said "No"We had to say we love the new shit, before he did the oldI tried to count the countdown, but then I lost controlIt went one, two, three, fourI had it up to here, and I'm not takin' no moreSo get the ***** out! You gots to get the ***** out!Everybody come on!One, two, three...
