Talib Kweli

Talib Kweli - We Pullin' Out Tonite lyrics

[Chorus: x2]

Set it off, set it off, get it off now

Get out or you headed North now

Ain't comin at you like its soft now

We pullin out tonite

Rapapapapa pa

Rapapapapa pa

Rapapapapa pa

Rapapa pa

[Verse 1]

Y'all dudes be watchin T.V., see the MC, get the CD

Believin every word he's heard spit, you best believe me

So when I get to spittin, this should be so excitin

You see your favorite rapper and you can't believe you like him

Saw a tear comin from your eye now

Can't really pretend you fly now

So you still frontin but why now

Feel like you can't touch the sky now

What the people really feelin, let's find out

If you rockin with a nigga, let's ride out

We got no time to lie down

Young girls in the fuckin cryin out

Its the way that I walk and I talk like

I'm a real Brooklyn-New York type

You know the type to push niggaz off bikes

One summer only rock Air-Force Nikes

Gonna put it down answer the door right

Go hard to the paper with all night

Spit that murder rap, murder rap rap

Sounds like rapapa

[Interlude]

Rapapapapa pa

Rapapapapa pa

Rapapapapa

Rapapapapa pa

G-yeah, g-yeah, g-yeah, g-yeah

G-yeah, g-yeah, g-yeah

G-yeah, g-yeah, g-yeah, g-yeah

G-yeah, g-yeah, g-yeah

G-yeah, g-yeah

Here we go, here we go

Here we go, here we go c'mon

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]

These niggaz screamin how they take your life ??? dreamin

They leave the proof so they can keep their man a cure appointment

Say they be on the block and they got ammunity

They can't even scare white people and they pay their community

And I know you got a wife and you not playing with your kids

That's why I don't believe in half the shit you say you did

Treat you like Craig, you ain't gotta lie

Like B.I. somebody gotta die

I keep these niggaz on their toes, fuck it, somebody gotta try

I make the mystery DIE, I'm like Magnum P.I

Its just a fax when I RAP, I got 'em trapped like T.I

Niggaz get 24's and shit they ain't got money for

And put on some funny clothes to holla at some funny hoes

And what you think that make you a man huh

That don't make you nothin but a bumma

Drop, pause and they ain't no cameras

Gangstas gotta cry your manner

You rockin a shook demeanor, probably scared to throw some joints

Ain't gonna bust a nina, nothin sweeter, what's the point?

[Interlude]

[Chorus]

[ad-libs]

Get this song at:  amazon.com sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

Comments