COOLIO - Get Up Get Down lyrics

Verse One: Malika

Steppin up out the shadows I comes equipped to wreck

Hold up just a sec Coolio I'm on deck (Malika)

Yes the diction is on point

Causin, friction when I flex up the jaw or hit the joint

That can actually give a blood mob like Gotti

Like the body cool, keep the scrap for the naughty

Niggie trippin why you scheme so don't step up with no bullshit

See that there it's clip for this stickup on the hip

Peep the correct way to get your pimp on

Let me hit the bong oh and my mind's quite strong

Wreck it nice and proper if it's on I'm finsta to stop her

If I'm swingin for the knockout, best believe I'm fit to drop her

Ninety-five's on pocket, representin I keep stompin

Throw up my fists just like this when I'm mobbin

Verse Two: Shorty

I killed the last, killed the ass, with my ninety-five drive

I'm deep like d-cell with my Crimson Tide, nigga

Like Chaka Khan, I tell you something good

I'm Hi-C like Spike Lee with a Tale From the Hood

You need it, I'll feed it, baby check the size

Have you Goin Down like Mary J. Blige

When it's popping like this, you can't be a coward

Shorty freaks fuckin beats like Adina Howard

My squad, is hard, with players, and hustlers

No toleration, for fakers and busters

Fuckin with me with all honesty

You get bombed rap songs coming constantly

Bumpin G-15's, Westside scene

Killin the competition, while making a fuckin green

So ring, around the rosie, and mosey to the Rosie

And I want you to know G

Chorus:

We bust and cuss and kick up dust

Don't none of y'all niggaz want to fuck with us

So what's the time? It's time to get paid

Why you bust your rhyme? Cause I got skills

We bust and cuss and kick up dust

Don't none of y'all niggaz want to fuck with us

So what's the time? It's time to get paid

Why you bust your rhyme? Cause that's how I bail

Verse Three: Leek Ratt (of 40 Thevz)

Watch me swallow this nickel and shit five pennies

I'm the loc'est of them all though the rat is kinda skinny

How many linny and squidgy think they can see me?

I'm from Compton where even in the summer niggaz wear beanies

Bustin lyrics sharper than razor blades catch it from head to toe

if you're shocked, then amazed, when you see me at my stage show

For my stage show beat em up

40 Thevz gettin busy rockin coast to coast

Dogs the most rap the hoes then rocks em up

Givin it up for hip-hop vicitims how should I drop em and then pop em

for poppin like to get what I got, and I ain't got a whole lot of nuthin

cuz I been ruffin and scuffin so give it up when I'm bustin or get to duckin

cuz I ain't given em nuthin

Fools can't get none, so fuck em!

Verse Four: PS

Let me rock the motherfuckin mic

Smoke a whole stick of dynamite, then fight all night

I got jabs like a welterweight champion

The pocket-pincher purse-snatcher pistol-packin

quick to get it crackin

Went from jackin to rappin to runnin with a pack of mad men

Pull a trick out my sleeve like Aladdin

Some fool tried to play me for a punk I had to have him like

lunch or dinner, he's just a beginner

Fuckin with a winner, number one contender top dog

Head nigga in charge runnin with a group of hogs

40 Thevz, MAAD Circle, Cat, and Crowbar

Best to put your daughterWack ass rappers get tossed upTrying to come in here with that garbageMy crew see the dopest and the hardest

So clear the path or get your punk ass Bogart-ed

Chorus 1/2

Verse Five: Ras Kass

I peep game and get recognized, biting on the hard liquor

toothpick and beedy-dyin

Bitch you got dealt, peeled your cap the other way

like a reversible Louis-Vitton Gucci belt

And ain't nothin crackin

For them niggaz steppin up with the funk I'm packin Tinactin

Cuz I be earnin stripes in tight bunches

All the homies carry nines I carry rhymes with sucker punches

What? Tootsie, my knees don't bend

Just like that actor Hoffman I be Dustin off men often

Jay-walking over your coffin with an eleven shot loss and

jaw wrecked that Osten won't soften you're lost and

see arson, to exterminate the flyest nigga like Orkin

Stalkin lofts men to New York and in between

so take caution, leave the flossin for dental hygeine

Mental plus my gene equals nasty young bastard

The raps be lung mastered takin vinyl virginity

Coincidentally I run shit like Walter Payton

Niggaz player hatin cause I spoke like a Dayton

I hit the face like Ron Carter at the corner when

C and B came strollin

Blowin niggaz up like when Mookie's stupid ass got caught smokin

Figure, your stigma is lack of enigma

So bitch-ass niggaz better step, like the Delta Sigma Thetas

Verse Six: Coolio

We don't give a fuck, fools better duck

39 deep in the back of Wino's truck

Like robbin in the paint, fool think I ain't?

Your crew is on stank, that's why I'm pullin rank

I rev like a motor float ON like a boat to

kick a style like Tical from here to North Dakota

The ambassador of funk with amps in the trunk

And when it's time to rock a mic I won't be no punk

I bring death to the evil and power to the people

My name ain't Steve Miller but I Fly Like an Eagle

Don't play me for a chump, I get around like Gump

And I, got more con in my verse than Chuck

And you don't want no motherfuckin problems here

Cuz I can round up a posse like Paul Revere

Your whole crew'll get took out, turned out, shook out

Burned up like a cookout, so fools better look out

Verse Seven: WC

Fresh out the penalty box

Sportin a stockin cap, cut off dickies, and some high-top striped socks

The freestyle finatic pyschosomatic back at it causin static

with lyrics still as tight as a straight jacket

The last in line but one of the first to get wit cha

bringin more terror to MC's than a Michigan militia

Click click boom, nigga fuck your crew

It's the chanky hip-hopper, takin over pissin in your stage monitor

socket you think that you can fuck with mine in your wildest dreams

You best to wake up and apoligize

Niggaz penetentiary yearn me cuz I, burn like Parker

but anyway, half of y'all couldn't see me with a pair of Blu Blockers

The lyrical night stalker stalkin at night in a pair of creased Khakis

Chuck Taylors, my pistol grip tight

Dub-C, that nigga from Westside MAAD Circle

Ay man! Ay ay.

What's up Wino?

Uh like loc, it's like late, let's get the fuck up out of here

Are we out?

Yeah yeah fuck it

Fuck it, MAAD Circle bitch!