Get Crunk Lyrics - Lil Jon & Eastside Boyz

Once again up in that south from my motherfucking mouth 

and creeping up on y'all niggas like a motherfucking mouse 

Stepping on these tracks like fags and drag queens 

And shitting 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] 

Nigga 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 niggas 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 niggas 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 fucked ya' wife 

Well it's true, that's the price nigga check that hoe 

I'm from the ATL player, wear that reckland ro' 

So stop talking all that shit, and trying to buck 

I'm popping off at the mouth, we get cha' fucked up, now what's up 

Now ladies are you tired of trick bitches in yo' mix 

Acting like they want, to lick on yo' shit 

Critizing, everything that you do 

and telling ya' who, and who not to screw 

Nasty hoes, that ain't clean and shit 

They go around sucking 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' niggas 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 ass sack 

Tear da' roof off the club, show you niggas 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 niggas to follow me, follow me 

[Bridge:] what 

[until fade] 

That's how these motherfuckers die, they with the shit talk 

[repeat 7X]