Please Leave Lyrics - Murs

(MURS) 

Alright I'm ready 

No, you're not ready 

I'm ready, you're not ready 

Motherfucker 

(Indistinguishable singing) 

(MURS) 

Now this here's for your spouse or significant other 

You were in love with the person, now you hate the motherfucker 

Get the fuck out! Tell 'em to get the fuck out! 

You weren't lookin' for love when you met 'em at the club 

Y'all exchanged numbers and went out for some grub 

You waited three days then decided to call 

Went for dinner and a movie, then a walk through the mall 

All you saw was the physical, a sexy individual 

Never had the thought that they would make your life miserable 

A couple more dates, consumate the mating ritual 

Soon you will encounter the habitual liar 

The sex was so good it set your body afire 

But why are you still with this nut? 

Every time they come around you get this feelin in your gut 

Wanna tell 'em, "Raise up," but your mouth stays shut 

When you stop to think about how good they fuck 

An' when the sex gets old you'll wind up stuck 

So here's some words of wisdom that'll help you with the chore 

Count up their I.Q. before you kick 'em to the door 

It goes: 

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(Chorus: MURS) 

One, two, three, four 

I had it up to here and I'm not takin' no more 

So get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out! 

Everybody come on! One, two, three, four 

I had it up to here and I'm not takin' no more 

So get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out! 

Everybody! 

(MURS) 

Now say you have a homeboy who's been sleepin' on your couch 

For weeks on end and he's (words walk em out?) 

Get the fuck out! Tell him to get the fuck out! 

Now he walks around your house in nothin' but his drawers 

Throws the trash once a week and expects to get applause 

Let him stay at your crib you was down for his cause 

He was in between girls, or in between jobs 

But it's still no excuse for him to be a slob 

Your girl stays mad cause she's cleanin' up behind him 

You can't get your calls when he's on the other line an' 

You can't get laid cause he has the worst timin' 

Knockin' at your door at odd hours of the night 

If he does that shit again, you swear to God you're gonna fight 

But you can't kick him out cause it's just not right 

He has nowhere else to go, but you're losin' self-control 

Wanna kill him in his sleep, God bless his soul 

Maybe it's not that bad but it could get worse 

So here's a little tip from your homeboy MURS 

Before you tell him "Bounce," do a countdown first 

It goes: 

Photos 

(Chorus) 

(MURS) 

Now let's talk about these old motherfuckers on the mic 

Who were dope but now are whack and won't leave the spotlight 

Get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out! 

He had some albums that I loved way back in the day 

But as he puts out new shit, the memories begin to fade 

When I heard about the comeback I said "No way!" 

I was waitin' on the real, the anticipation built 

But with age came degeneration of the skill 

So I pushed it to the back of my mind, and hoped in time 

Those fine memories would once again shine 

But he just won't stop, even though his album flop 

Everytime I turn around his new one's about to drop 

Make me wanna take all his old records off the shelf 

Cause the man I now hear's a shadow of his former self 

So when he stopped on tour, in my town for a show 

I played a true fan and was in the front row 

As he started doin' classics, then he stopped and said "No" 

We had to say we love the new shit, before he did the old 

I tried to count the countdown, but then I lost control 

It went one, two, three, four 

I had it up to here, and I'm not takin' no more 

So get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out! 

Everybody come on! 

One, two, three...