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Kevin Gates - Get Em Lyrics



Kevin Gates - Get Em Lyrics




Niggas looking like they mad
What he sayin though won't use my hands
I'ma let them rubberbands go
New bitch and she bad though, my ex a sad ho
Fall off in the club
Pants saggin' smokin mad dro
Mad dog, I'ma grind full time
I can't slow up
Fifty grand with the lean, all eyes on me
I can't pour up michael Jackson bad
All these hoes calling me thriller
Got a nickname in my section and you
Might know me as "Get Em" cause I get 'em

Pockets lookin' like munchkins
Her booty lookin' like pumpkins
Got a toolie on me, I'm thuggin
Wanna' do me something, it's nothing
This one goes to those who
Live illegal all day
Hustle sun up to sun up, tryna' get it always
I'm a grinder, shots fired
Big, I miss ya, this shit different
Hold up lighters infiniti truck see me
Not much eatin, but f*ck sleepin
That nigga a f*ck boy, gun touch people
Not much either outside with the loud mouth
Nigga broke your jaw, you fouled out
Roundabouts, don't f*ck with me, if
They f*ck with me, then it's "blaow blaow!"
Jean jacket, with the Timbs on
Got tattoos on my neck
Nobody needs nobody, now I say cut the check

I'ma lean in, throw left jabs
Side step, with the left hook
Right hand, lead, like Ali
I'm a shit talker that read books
Plain Jane, my best look
Ain't complaining bout my left foot
Fifteen cavities
Yeah this team in back of me
That'll be fixed when the song over
Syrup faucet, just got cut off
Nigga been sippin strong doses
Club soda, doctor visit's
Sent soldiers on mobster missions
Thinkin my condition, top condition
Feel the world should move for me
They ain't got no cure for me
Bitch say ain't no pull for me
All I seen in real vibrant colors
Stand for nothin, you'll die for somethin
Terrance Hines just went to jail
The good Lord sat him down for something
Reason being, we'll never know
I made money, I sacrificed
They say, lifes a gamble, for example
Ride or dice
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Niggas looking like they mad
What he sayin though won't use my hands
I'ma let them rubberbands go
New bitch and she bad though, my ex a sad ho
Fall off in the club
Pants saggin' smokin mad dro
Mad dog, I'ma grind full time
I can't slow up
Fifty grand with the lean, all eyes on me
I can't pour up michael Jackson bad
All these hoes calling me thriller
Got a nickname in my section and you
Might know me as "Get Em" cause I get 'em

Pockets lookin' like munchkins
Her booty lookin' like pumpkins
Got a toolie on me, I'm thuggin
Wanna' do me something, it's nothing
This one goes to those who
Live illegal all day
Hustle sun up to sun up, tryna' get it always
I'm a grinder, shots fired
Big, I miss ya, this shit different
Hold up lighters infiniti truck see me
Not much eatin, but f*ck sleepin
That nigga a f*ck boy, gun touch people
Not much either outside with the loud mouth
Nigga broke your jaw, you fouled out
Roundabouts, don't f*ck with me, if
They f*ck with me, then it's "blaow blaow!"
Jean jacket, with the Timbs on
Got tattoos on my neck
Nobody needs nobody, now I say cut the check

I'ma lean in, throw left jabs
Side step, with the left hook
Right hand, lead, like Ali
I'm a shit talker that read books
Plain Jane, my best look
Ain't complaining bout my left foot
Fifteen cavities
Yeah this team in back of me
That'll be fixed when the song over
Syrup faucet, just got cut off
Nigga been sippin strong doses
Club soda, doctor visit's
Sent soldiers on mobster missions
Thinkin my condition, top condition
Feel the world should move for me
They ain't got no cure for me
Bitch say ain't no pull for me
All I seen in real vibrant colors
Stand for nothin, you'll die for somethin
Terrance Hines just went to jail
The good Lord sat him down for something
Reason being, we'll never know
I made money, I sacrificed
They say, lifes a gamble, for example
Ride or dice
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Jade Harris, Unknown Composer Author
Copyright: Lyrics © BMG Rights Management

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