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"Got" lyrics by MOS DEF
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[a.k.a. YASIIN BEY]


"Got"


Some cats really like to, you know...
Profile and front.
And then the jooks go down, all at once they like...

Don't get me
Don't get me
Don't g-g-g-g-g-get mad [x3]

You're out on the block hustling at the spot...
GOT, this is how you get Got...
At the gamblin' spot and your hand is mad hot...
GOT, this is how you get Got...
Out in Brooklyn late night flashing all of your rocks...
GOT, this is how you get Got...
Some girl from pink house said "I like you a lot"...
GOT, this is how you get Got...

This one goes to all them Big Will cats
With ice on they limbs and big rims on they Ac
You goin' around town with your system bump
And your windows cracked low to profile and front
Now I like to have nice things just like you
But I'm from Brooklyn, certain shit you just don't do
Like, high postin' when you far from home
Or like, high postin' when you all alone
Now, this would seem to be clear common sense
But, cats be livin' off, sheer confidence
Like "Fuck that, picture them tellin' me run that"
But acting invincible, just ain't sensible
It's nineteen ninety-now, and there's certain individuals
Swear they rollin' hard and get robbed on principle
5 star general, flashin' on your revenue
You takin' a ride on the Downstate medical, Like (whooooooo)
Colorful sparks, yellow and blue
A full on attack and it's happening to you
Wit' nothing you can do but bust back and cop a plea
But five of them and one of you, that equals Got to me...

Don't get me
Don't get me
Don't g-g-g-g-g-get me [x3]

Come on ya'll now, let's be real
Some jokers got a rough time keepin' it concealed
I wonder what it mean, it's probably self-esteem
They fiendin to be seen, get hemmed like Gaberdeens
Cats think it can't happen until the gats start clappin
They comin' down the wire spittin fire like a dragon
Cause while the goods glisten, certain eyes take position
To observe your trick, and then catch that ass slippin'
Like, come on now ock, what you expect?
Got a month's paycheck danglin' off your neck
And while you Cristal sippin', they rubbin' up they mittens
With heat in mint condition to start the getti-gettin'
They clique starts creepin' like Sandinistin guerrillas
You screamin' playa haters, these niggas is playa killers
Mr. Fash-ion, that style never last long
The harder you flash, the harder you get flashed on
There's hunger in the street that is hard to defeat
Many steal for sport, but more steal to eat
Cat's heavy at the weigh-in, and he's playin' for keeps
Don't sleep, they'll roll up in your passengers seat
There is universal law, whether rich or poor
Some say life's a game, to more, life is war
So put them egos to the side and get off them head-trips
'Fore some cats pull out them heaters and make you head-less...

Don't get me
Don't get me
Don't g-g-g-g-g-get me [x3]

[Thanks to Marshall Bolin (birddamage@hotmail.com) for correcting these lyrics]

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