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  1. Get Down

From the recording Louder Than Fiction


Get Down

The stories gonna end with the chrome up against my dome,
And I know I’m gonna die looking into the eyes of a nervous rookie 5-0,
Their fingers are trembling, 4 out of 5 of them, one of them looking psycho,
Like “make any move mother fucker, just give me a reason to let one go!”
And I know survival tactics means relax and don’t react too slow,
Cuz you know how that goes, feel the po-po’s strap peel back your afro,
When the gats blow, and that’s that, yo, and it ain’t no turning back, yo,
So many thoughts keep crossing my mind,
My life flashed before my eyes, and that’s natural,
How did I end up on this black top? With my hands up,
Just kneeling in front of these wack cops?
And the only reason I’m here is to rock,
My mic’s still hot from what I was dropping, the party was popping and what not,
By the time the cops showed up, they’d already stopped with the gun shots,
But they saw us creeping slow, with the lights low and they didn’t know,
We’d survived a hail storm of bullets and looking for a safer way home,
And it’s on, soon as they find the loaded chrome in the car,
Cuz they’re 20 deep and they’re screaming
“I don’t give a fuck who you are, just get down!”

You are the one, get down!

Let me take it back, I’m gonna lay the facts that made it all happen,
Richmond was in there reppin their blocks while they’re rappin,
And they had it crunk, but this punk was staggering drunk and just yappin’,
From where I’m standing I can’t understand him, but see the strange way he’s acting?
I’m backing up, letting my folks know, yo, it’s time to be up,
The tension is building, I’m feeling the funk, this chump’s about to be punched,
And wouldn’t you know? One of my peoples was one first cats throwing dogs,
Than half of the crowd broke out into a brawl,
My back’s a gainst the wall, until I seen all of my folks hit the door,
As we try to bounce, start hearing the sounds of several thunderous roars,
Semi-automatics rat-tat-tatting, and .44 caliber Magnum’s were blasting,
Everybody and they’re mama was packing,
Even my crew, my man had a tres deuce packed in his right shoe,
Pulled it out, it was cocked, unlocked and ready for anybody that might shoot,
Than we heard some silence and tried to break for the car,
And this cats start spitting bullets and looking right where we are,
Yo, get down!

You are the one, get down!

We’re ducking and dodging death, out of breath,
Most of my folks stepped hard to the right, but my brethren dove to the left,
And there’s cats still blasting, my right hand man now is missing in action,
I can’t see him from where I’m at, but I know damn well I shouldn’t be standing,
I see the cannons spitting fire, it’s getting hotter and higher,
They need a man to retire and it’s coming down to the wire,
It’s all slow-mo, the picture inside is like a photo, but its clearer,
When I saw my mans reflection inside the mirror,
I hit the deck, when I felt a bullet pass by my neck,
And told my folks to just crawl and follow me, cuz I know where we parked the Buick at,
There were fewer and fewer cats blasting by the time we reached the Wildcat,
Piled in the passenger side and tried this route around the back, but found a trap,
The exit was gated off, pitch black,
Had to flip a bitch and switch the lights off, and just as we did that,
There were red and blue lights flashing, like I told y’all before,
20 cops or more, with passion, screaming “get on the floor, yo, get down!”