Get U Awn - Chords

Yeah, one two

It’s Masta Ace, Punchline, Chords (yea)

Uhu, uhu, yeah

Check it

Vers 1: (Masta Ace)

My plan and intention, be the man of invention

To spit shit and make ya’ll stand at attention

If I can I’m lynchin' every cat in the game

Whether he’s lackin' the fame or got a platinum name

See I’m cool like a fridge when I’m under pressure

A lot of rappers on ice but none are fresher

I don’t see why wanna step inside the ring

That’s worse than Eddie Murphy when he try to sing

So you ain’t got no chance in a victory lap

I don’t feel that shit you tryin' to kick to me cat

So you keep on rappin' about them furs and minks

I heard your little single every version stinks

The remix, the accapella, the instrumental

It’s so sad that I’m ‘bout to get sentimental

I’mma shit in your toilette, leave your ass a floeter

Cause my song still bubble like a glass of soda

We want, it’s on, shit come on

It’s a sick song, spit bombs, get you awn

(Cuts courtesy of Dj Amato)

Vers 2: (Punchline)

I suggest when I’m live on the set, don’t test

Y’all cats be careful, I’m careless

I show no remorse when I spit on your squad

I’m such a cold ass nigga that my nipples are hard, check it

That spotlight y’all ain’t ‘posed to have it

I grab it and son y’all cats like foster parents

I come through, you vacate your own turf

I’m Punchline, same guy that rocks with Wordsworth

Give me a slut that fucks and a new Benz truck

Make it a 4-door I’m tired of being cooped up

My whole crew’s ruff in Timbs and Nike fitted

After this year I’ll retire my mic like the Wizards

Keep your distance, come close and you’re a goner

I spit hot shit and turn booths into saunas

I play the corner I’m a young a street performer

I warned ya, I smoke weed I’m bi-polar

We want, it’s on, shit come on

It’s a sick song, spit bombs, get you awn

(Cuts courtesy of Dj Amato)

Vers 3: (Chords)

Dawg, I don’t need a crew, we can mano-a-mano

Guaranteed I’ll leave you looking like Ronald McDonald

And there’s no use in kissing my ass

You couldn’t get a line in my if you was fishing for bass

Mystery man, popped up, split you in half

Taking the whole thing back like history class

True emceeing, shit man I’m European

But most people don’t believe I’m a human being

I snack on rappers like they’re apple jacks

Cause everything they know is a Snapple fact

Conveyor belt, I do it back to back

Kick em and pass em like a hackysack

Plus my lung size will bring out the midget in you

I smoke bongs the size of a didgeridoo

Passed most you assholes with a single or two

You’re not a rapper just because you’re wearing Timberland boots (hell naw)

Like I said, shit I bless the cabbage

Til people on the street think I’m Fester Addams

And my face shrivels up like California prunes

Women still faint when I storm the room

It must be the natural charm

I guess my mother had a gene and just passed it along

So after I’m gone you can drink the pain away

While I drive home thru a tinker tape parade, bitch!

We want, it’s on, shit come on

It’s a sick song, spit bombs, get you awn

(Cuts courtesy of Dj Amato)