Correction Paroles Let’s Get Em (Remix) par C-Mob

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Paroles

Bootleg
Madame Dane
C-Mob

C'mon let's get em
Aim for the head in the middle leave 'em with the sh*t back in a spittle
C'mon let's get em
Hit spleens, blow a hole in his chest and the rest can't believe how we did him
C'mon let's get em
Softer than a Twinkie in the middle wonder why real n***as don't feel 'em
Let's get 'em
200 round drums
Now there's blood in his lungs
Tell thе medic she's too late to gеt 'em
C'mon let's get 'em
Aim for the head in the middle leave 'em with the sh*t back in a spittle
C'mon let's get em
Hit spleens, blow a hole in his chest and the rest can't believe how we did him
C'mon let's get em
Softer than a Twinkie in the middle wonder why real n***as don't feel 'em
Let's get 'em
200 round drums
Now there's blood in his lungs
Tell the medic she's too late to get 'em

Madame swag is kill
Hit by these all for the master deal
Take bitty franks and a ma** of meals
Blast for bills
Give pu**y n***as a mask and gills
Keep a soft n***a with a flashing grill
Bottle full of water, blue Xanax pills
Chop a brick slab for the pads of grill
Putz keep coming trynna catch that thrill
Chase that feel
Smoke that real
Off them ones till they lungs get ill
Rain down dubs till my pockets spill
Even the thug said that b*t*h got skills
It's no singe at will with intent to kill
Stopped a n***a fight like I'm Richard Steele
Standing to gain till my numbers stand still
Run it up the middle like a running-back will

Let's get 'em
Aim for the head in the middle leave 'em with the sh*t back in a spittle
C'mon let's get 'em
Hit spleens, blow a hole in his chest and the rest can't believe how we did him
C'mon let's get 'em
Softer than a Twinkie in the middle wonder why real n***as don't feel 'em
Let's get 'em
200 round drums
Now there's blood in his lungs
Tell the medic she's too late to get 'em
C'mon let's get 'em
Aim for the head in the middle leave 'em with the sh*t back in a spittle
C'mon let's get 'em
Hit spleens, blow a hole in his chest and the rest can't believe how we did him
C'mon let's get 'em
Softer than a Twinkie in the middle wonder why real n***as don't feel 'em
Let's get 'em
200 round drums
Now there's blood in his lungs
Tell the medic she's too late to get 'em
How many y'all n***as want it with Leg
I send a bullet through the front come out the back of your head
And I'mma Flint cowboy slinging nothing but lead
Don't make me leave a horse head at the foot of your bed
Date night made n***as still ducking the Feds
Get to work perping the syrup
Plugged in with the dreads
It's like a Pillsbury Doughboy I'm 'bout the bread
Trynna make enough cheddar for the clique to spread
Let's get 'em
Kill 'em
We don't feel 'em
Numb from the waste down when we hit 'em
Another paraplegic got his homeboys with 'em
On the First 48 you saw the way that we did 'em
Let's get 'em
From the blocks to the yards in the prison
From a gram, to a eighth, to a fourth, of a chick
Took a break from the kitchen wrists hurt from whipping
Wordplay, lock the bullets in the cage then flip 'em

C'mon let's get 'em
Aim for the head in the middle leave 'em with the sh*t back in a spittle
C'mon let's get 'em
Hit spleens, blow a hole in his chest and the rest can't believe how we did him
C'mon let's get 'em
Softer than a Twinkie in the middle wonder why real n***as don't feel 'em
Let's get 'em
200 round drums
Now there's blood in his lungs
Tell the medic she's too late to get 'em
C'mon let's get 'em
Aim for the head in the middle leave 'em with the sh*t back in a spittle
C'mon let's get 'em
Hit spleens, blow a hole in his chest and the rest can't believe how we did him
C'mon let's get 'em
Softer than a Twinkie in the middle wonder why real n***as don't feel 'em
Let's get 'em
200 round drums
Now there's blood in his lungs
Tell the medic she's too late to get 'em
Let's get 'em take a hand out I'm a sinner
Got a hollow in the chamber and I keep it c*cked back with the clip full
Mob, Madam and Leg will make you beg for your life like a poodle to a pack full of pit-bulls
You don't want my trigger finger to itch again
Struggling and I live in the midst of sin
Indiana all the way up to Michigan
You'd a learned if you woulda been listening (Ugh)
B*t*h, so when you see me you better go that a way
Because I gotta spray, Sunday to Saturday
Had to pay dues, no saint like Latter Day
My bullets are hungry and I'm about to let 'em go
Sink their teeth in and bite (Bite)
And after I'm done with the murder I get away, just like a thief in the night

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