Guru - The Come Up lyrics

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Guru - The Come Up lyrics

[raining in background] Uh, Steve Stone (Steve Stone) Left Gunn.. Left Gunn Baldhead Slick.. [Steve Stone] Yo You might find me in a green Range Rover, with a mean hangover But n***az know when Stone hit the scene, game over You cats wanna dance I'll let the heat sing for ya Then beat the murder case with first string lawyer I'm the worst thing for ya - a thug in the flesh If youse a n***a but you b**h, I'll put a slug in ya dress If you think you got wiz, put your luck to the test But you could catch somethin hot, tryna f** with the S I got dimes to s** me off and let me nut on they breast Can you say that.. no wait, hold up, lemme repeat it Can you cats say that sh** and really mean it? I'm at the spot gettin treated, while you vets gettin heated Like the scrub that you are, little f** that you are Before the deal, I still had dubs like a star My crew recognized at the clubs and the bar Son of y'all and you still gotta love who we are [Left Gunn] Yo, goin from broke Went from rocks and the coats, to choppers and boats At this year's parade, I'll have a spot on the float Penthouse, with a pitch ready to aim for the do' Movie screen with the voice-activated remote See I'm finished makin papi rich, coppin his coke Next time he see me, I'm like "He better savor ya throat" Sorry amigo, but a n***a like me, need dough f** it, I'll burn the bridge and come back on a yacht Y'all the type of cats think sh**'s sweet when it's not Bring the heat when it's cool, bring the ice when it's hot n***az confused, I'm just tryna help you tally ya dues And rally ya crews, and end up in a alley with goons See when it come to the cash, I be on the worst sh** Roll up on you in a hoop, bumpin Biggie first sh** "Gimme loot, gimme loot" and don't try to get cute Nobody keep cash in they pocket n***a, empty ya boots Too many n***az got the game twist, poppin they Cris' And rockin they wrist, and end up gettin robbed in the Bricks I'm stoppin this sh**, Gunn's on the top of ya list And I'ma lock it up in uniform or plain clothes I play hoes, from chickenheads, to mayhoes And I'ma travel to the end, spendin yen and pesos [Hook: All] Yo this one's for my n***az comin up, what the f**? Pull them n***az out they truck, and tell em to give it up Stick him up, if he play fair, pick him up Otherwise, it's some other guy's job to dig him up [Guru] Comin through, holdin it down, controllin the town Wondered if I was nice, yeah, you knowin it now I do my thing b**h, way past chains and rings b**h Time to real dough, time for you to sing b**h Call the fat lady, game over, reign's over Your Willy status, and success and fame's over Stone and Two Gunns came over, to bless some sh** with the god Geuss what, my dogs just pissed on your lawn Flipped on you pawns, just cuz you was kickin it wrong And don't ask me for advice cuz I ain't diggin ya song Time to straighten it out, we takin the clout f** a short career, listen y'all I'm spacin it out Tri-state n***az, some of the illest y'all hear Illest ya meet, yeah some of the realest ya fear f** the truth, I'm concealin y'all and stealin all queers Since y'all n***az slept on me, I ain't feelin your tears I like to pinpoint a s**a, like a country on a map of the globe Get it to some gangsta sh**, watch em clap then he fold Enter my zone, soon get smothered with mase I'm on the block, who run the streets is watchin, I cover my face I'm bubblin papes, my son grew to smugglin nape's So we jugglin cakes, and from ya shorty I'm lovin the face I'm huggin the block, my big dogs, they thuggin the block In my hood, f** runnin n***a cuz we tustle with cops Real Pica**o, write rhymes, visualize Spit raps on how to survive on family ties Rock a no-name sweater, with a Iceberg tee-shirt under it Leather seats in my Nova, and fifty G's I'm comin wit Next day I come through, I'm dipped in the Armani jumpsuit Hard-top hummer, sunroof big enough to jump through n***a what? I don't care if you in the tux I'll put the Eagle to ya gut, and tell you to give it up [Hook x2: All]

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