Sam Taylor - Get At Me Dog (Bad Boy Remix) lyrics

Intro: Styles: What! n***as can't f** with us DMX: Get at me dog. My n***as Styles: That's my word! Verse One: DMX I'm the type to kick back and look at sh** 'cause crooked sh** gets me amped And what you don't know, will get you locked in sleep away camp Grand champ and raise more hell, than a Sorrel See you at the peephole, bustin' at the doorbell Though I wasn't coming without mine You put me on the front line because you doubt mine Bet your and lost yours, you come to get your I tossed yours And it cost yours, f** y'all n***as stupid, I'm the boss dog What more dirt must I do, plus my crew Busts at you, and you be like "What's that oooh" What's that Clue, do I bring the noise what Destroy these mutts, is these n***as toys or what Bring all the pretty n***as thinking they sh**ty, what a pity Lemme show them n***as sh**ty some pity, but for fifty A motherf**er will get a bullet to hum to him, put the gun to him Hit 'em with something that comes to him, bet it runs through him Look at what I done to him, no more smiles Got the whole top half of his head, running wild But you don't hear me though, so I turn out the lights We can take it to the streets dog, turn off the mics If you want war, then you want more, than you can stand And this 44, will leave you with your dick in the sand Who the man, and now you cats know for real Get at me dog, (bark), what the deal Verse Two: Styles Y'all n***as f**ing with the L.O.X Your stuck on a rock Got that Alcatraz flow You just don't know Lifetime kid caged in blazin' Any type of rapper or federal agent Paniro the made man, blade man Stand up type of guy, your living a lie n***as wanna be pretty and fly but kiddies will die The dogs run the city, bet fifty on mine Two grams for you to sniff, how silly am I Got a lot of jokes don't, k** yo a** won't I Maybe not if the spot is filled up with po 9 Many n***as get it confused, blame the rules Only ask the how's not the who's Better off busting your tool, then we might get the crew But as far as rap goes, you a motherf**ing fool If you don't want chips, you should have stayed in school You and 8-ball n***a, you wanna play pool I'll put you in the side pocket, look at the size of my rocket Styles don't lie, cop the work then clock it Boxes full of boots, jeans, suits and watches n***as don't pump if they can't make a profit Stop it, before we pull it back then cop it Vacant lot n***as come through then we lock it (WHAT, WHAT, WHAT) Verse Three: Jadakiss With no Glocks I'm in your town with five locks Take five blocks, come back with five trucks, with knots It's the L.O.X, three n***as that listen and watch And n***a you know, whenever we spit, it's hot It be that new flow, my n***as, fly n***as Always high n***as, ready to die n***as As far as I'm hearing, y'all doing a lot of comparing Lemme get the one clearance like a sample 'Kiss is the champ and I know that you don't wanna get stamped Left somewhere cramp, so when it rains, you get damp n***as is done, since poppy raised his son When bringing in drums, to bring all g's to bums Whether you can flow or not ain't the issue You don't Jay to kiss you, his lyrics pierce the gristle Take a puff then a swig Think about how I'm gonna Hold it down for Big, my motherf**ing nig Your money is low, and your flow been late While I be coming through with new sh** with tint plates The only higher than money, is respect The only thing hotter than my click, is a tek So when I hit you with these last bars around your neck You gonna know never to f** around with L-O-X n***a (WHAT, YEAH) Verse Four: Sheek Luchion My bank account be doubling While you n***as stay in trouble and L.O.X. stay fly Three n***as jig-I sh** you never seen before, Feds hit the repo law Kingpin, 10 mil. each of us popular It's Sheek baby Chicks hate to see me on the Soul Train With Don Cornelius And all they got is alias To work with To catch Sheek, y'all n***as besta work quick Now that I'm eating right, plus living well So nowadays when I burp, it's fettucini you smell Ain't that right poppa-san, used to push a Nissan With a black master full 850 full suspension While you collect your pension, I ain't worked in years My stomach is fat from Puerto Rican food, while yours is scarce Small black haired, chinky-eyed Puerto Rican mama Keep them laced in the scadda, half the closet on product I learn things, just by watching y'all n***as make the wrong moves Now I know what not to do, to make more than y'all fools Y'all think we ignorant, 'cause we don't budge unless we benefit Cats that take the light that's scarce and see what's at the end of it P.H. me, because a n***a wisks me up in Jake B Your sh** be so-so, low pro On a bus before the cars show On some old joystick sh**, no mirrors I can see behind me through the cameras Flip plates, make the whole block go bananas