Juice Magazin - Get Crunk lyrics

Once again up in that south from my motherf**ing mouth And creeping up on y'all n***as like a motherf**ing mouse Stepping on these tracks like f*gs and drag queens And sh**ting on you busters like I ate some bake beans Buster me and me's clicks, always making those hits We never straight jam with no busters our no tricks Getting in trouble from the sounds of my trunk And keeping it crunk, keeping it crunk Chorus: What, What (in background) Now drop dem bozs' on 'em repeat 16X n***a bozs' bout to turn out the show Crankin' up yo' dance flo' screaming GA hoe Flipping rhymes and gripping pines with haters looking round It's time lay it down putting it all up on the line Ain't no love for haters, smoking doug's potatoes All these n***as what they made us from dem' boz and craters While lame done dipped out, we gained the flip flop Underground where we dwell, the hell with hip hop Southside just reckless, from GA to Texas And next it's gone be me flexing in a suburban or lexus But it seem like the bigger I be, mo' figures I see The mo' hating n***as try me Big baby trick crazy thinking he bout' to fade me Better sit and wait in consequences fo' you feel you can play me From a place called T-town be down in the south Where dem' players throw dem' boz and gold teeth in they mouth And dump dump if ya' jump jump The club crunk off the funk that we bump bump and pump pump Through yo' speaker when it reach ya' now you tweaking like Beaker All the people out there hype as hell, I guess it Lil' Peter From T-town to Atlanta all the way to Savannah to Alabama I be damn a club ain't crunk in this manner I can't stand a weak buster For all the freaks, hustla's, to the clothes Y'all gotta get it crunk and drop dem boz, drop dem boz Chorus I can't afford bigger, how ya' figga' That you gone stop me from stacking six figures Now you hating on me, because my game so tight And could you be mad because I f**ed ya' wife Well it's true, that's the price n***a check that hoe I'm from the ATL player, wear that reckland ro' So stop talking all that sh**, and trying to buck I'm popping off at the mouth, we get cha' f**ed up, now what's up Now ladies are you tired of trick b**hes in yo' mix Acting like they want, to lick on yo' sh** Critizing, everything that you do And telling ya' who, and who not to screw Nasty hoes, that ain't clean and sh** They go around s**ing on every dope boys dick Now is these hoes really yo' friend or yo' foes You tell me, while ya' drop dem' bozs' Chorus Now if the club packed y'all from wall to wall And everybody trying to ball, coz sizing all Ain't nothing but love in the air, we geeing and macking Some haters off in there, but at least they ain't macking You got cha' cup filled up, ya' n***as is crunk Put cha' hands in the air represent where ya' from I'm from the GA baby, where freaks is shady Man it can be so crazy, so we burn trees daily When the beat a drop, everybody just lock ya' boz and shake dem' hoes And proceed to rock, from the front to the back With the blunts and gats, on the hunt for some cat or a fat a** sack Tear da' roof off the club, show you n***as some love And fill a swishe up with bud for my g's and thugs Now dem' haters keep watching, dem' freaks a jockin' The beats is rockin', so partner want you keep on dropping For my thugs Chorus Now right now I want all my hard n***as to follow me, follow me Bridge: what (until fade) That's how these motherf**ers die, they with the sh** talk (repeat 7X)