Move In, Ride Out Songtext
von Tonedeff
Move In, Ride Out Songtext
Get ′Em Up, Now, Gentleman, Wet 'Em Up
Hit Em Up, Now Everyone – Move In
Get ′Em Up, Now, Gentleman, Wet 'Em Up
Hit Em Up, Now Everyone – Ride Out
V1
Yo, I hit em up with a bit of a touch/
Of atypical lyrical visual cinema/
When I set up in the thick of the rhythm I get em intox-I-cated/
Its not complicated I made this one of a kind/
Run of a rhyme,
To stun or to blind, fly women from the front or behind/
If they stuck in the line, its something to find/
I aint stubborn to spend,
But this one brother been, hunting for dimes/
I pluck em in time, the second I get a chance to/
Hittin the backroom, in the mid of the song we dance through/
This track is for the broke as fuck cats with the better raps/
Seven women stacked in our laps/
Figured that we were prized with Kentucky Fried Chicken Dinner Packs/
Is it a fact? Oh Yes indeed/
T successfully brings the best recipe.
V2
Yo, we gonna play Rawhide all-night/
I'm bringing the broad pipe just to get your walls tight/
Never see it coming with your foresight/
Loving to leave ya′ quadriplegic like a fall from 4 flights/
I′m more like the type to charm t he hell outta ya/
Why do ya' wanna assume I play you like a harmonica/
On to the next order of business/
Attraction happens in a fabulous simultaneous instant/
Niggas know what blabbin about/
The second your mind reaches a dime piece,
You be thinking of askin her out, With the last of bit of doubt/
Taking the drivers position, never settle for the passenger route/
With an ass that′s outlandish T-o-n-e cant stand it/
This woman even got me speak span-glish/
Baby Tu Eres Sexy! Forget It/
She wasn't feeling the charge like it was bad credit anesthetic/
No time for feeling pathetic/
When at the spot that′s so hot, the liquor be getting tepid/
I'm sick of getting rejected already this evening/
My team′s steaming cause I'm already fiending to be leaving/
Even now, that I be breathing loud/
I wasn't peeping how there was girl reaching out/
To take my hand, But when I turned Fate Commanded/
I′m left stranded – (Cock-Block) – I HATE THE MAN!
V3
It′s Game Over, restart the system/
Beats spark & blister, whenever T drops the hits/
He tops your list, no stopping this/
Checking the sound for how loud it gets, got your pops knocking fists/
Against the wall, Hence the call for all/
Rappers that pretend to ball to commence to fall/
Eventually you will prolly be stalling for Mom/
To back that ass up, how juvenile of a brawl/
I'm suitable to beautiful tracks/
Due to the fact Im shooting to catch
A cutie with back in 2 minutes flat/
Physically Rapture, what your mommy & daddy have manufactured/
Can it get any faster/
Leave it to Brendan Frazier to blast past Ya′/
Ask ya' dad man your mother be calling me assmaster/
Raps are hazardous/
Tone is a belligerent pacifist, like a pastor′s fist/
But wait there's more, add the asterisk/
I ain′t leaving the club until I got an ass to hit/
My plans for smashing get tarnished/
Cause there's nobody left in this piece to get it started/
And I don't flip for the typical harlot,
I′m finicky, never begging′ your pardon/
Knowing I'm sprung whenever a certain part of my anatomy hardens/
I′m honest... Dickin a chicken with an
Elektra-magnetic figure ala Carmen/
Goodness, Gracious/
Tonedeff as nice as skies are spacious/
Vivacious... Knock a Hotty liable to fry some ice glaciers/
Rock hard bodies attached to nice faces/
Bras of high weight, or tall with tight waists/
Or Thongs that vibrate in all the right places/
Never hit up the bar for my tastes/
If you're less shy wasted than buy 9 cases/
Time is wasting I′m chasing the scattered ass/
Contemplating my chance of a latter pass/
At the honey that was taken from me, snatched from my grasp/
That's it! I′m about to tackle the task/
So, I dash in the path of her man with a laugh/
Just to act natural plus she was mad bashful/
My rap flow canceled her plans, left her man surpassed/
Then I took her to tantra class.
Hit Em Up, Now Everyone – Move In
Get ′Em Up, Now, Gentleman, Wet 'Em Up
Hit Em Up, Now Everyone – Ride Out
V1
Yo, I hit em up with a bit of a touch/
Of atypical lyrical visual cinema/
When I set up in the thick of the rhythm I get em intox-I-cated/
Its not complicated I made this one of a kind/
Run of a rhyme,
To stun or to blind, fly women from the front or behind/
If they stuck in the line, its something to find/
I aint stubborn to spend,
But this one brother been, hunting for dimes/
I pluck em in time, the second I get a chance to/
Hittin the backroom, in the mid of the song we dance through/
This track is for the broke as fuck cats with the better raps/
Seven women stacked in our laps/
Figured that we were prized with Kentucky Fried Chicken Dinner Packs/
Is it a fact? Oh Yes indeed/
T successfully brings the best recipe.
V2
Yo, we gonna play Rawhide all-night/
I'm bringing the broad pipe just to get your walls tight/
Never see it coming with your foresight/
Loving to leave ya′ quadriplegic like a fall from 4 flights/
I′m more like the type to charm t he hell outta ya/
Why do ya' wanna assume I play you like a harmonica/
On to the next order of business/
Attraction happens in a fabulous simultaneous instant/
Niggas know what blabbin about/
The second your mind reaches a dime piece,
You be thinking of askin her out, With the last of bit of doubt/
Taking the drivers position, never settle for the passenger route/
With an ass that′s outlandish T-o-n-e cant stand it/
This woman even got me speak span-glish/
Baby Tu Eres Sexy! Forget It/
She wasn't feeling the charge like it was bad credit anesthetic/
No time for feeling pathetic/
When at the spot that′s so hot, the liquor be getting tepid/
I'm sick of getting rejected already this evening/
My team′s steaming cause I'm already fiending to be leaving/
Even now, that I be breathing loud/
I wasn't peeping how there was girl reaching out/
To take my hand, But when I turned Fate Commanded/
I′m left stranded – (Cock-Block) – I HATE THE MAN!
V3
It′s Game Over, restart the system/
Beats spark & blister, whenever T drops the hits/
He tops your list, no stopping this/
Checking the sound for how loud it gets, got your pops knocking fists/
Against the wall, Hence the call for all/
Rappers that pretend to ball to commence to fall/
Eventually you will prolly be stalling for Mom/
To back that ass up, how juvenile of a brawl/
I'm suitable to beautiful tracks/
Due to the fact Im shooting to catch
A cutie with back in 2 minutes flat/
Physically Rapture, what your mommy & daddy have manufactured/
Can it get any faster/
Leave it to Brendan Frazier to blast past Ya′/
Ask ya' dad man your mother be calling me assmaster/
Raps are hazardous/
Tone is a belligerent pacifist, like a pastor′s fist/
But wait there's more, add the asterisk/
I ain′t leaving the club until I got an ass to hit/
My plans for smashing get tarnished/
Cause there's nobody left in this piece to get it started/
And I don't flip for the typical harlot,
I′m finicky, never begging′ your pardon/
Knowing I'm sprung whenever a certain part of my anatomy hardens/
I′m honest... Dickin a chicken with an
Elektra-magnetic figure ala Carmen/
Goodness, Gracious/
Tonedeff as nice as skies are spacious/
Vivacious... Knock a Hotty liable to fry some ice glaciers/
Rock hard bodies attached to nice faces/
Bras of high weight, or tall with tight waists/
Or Thongs that vibrate in all the right places/
Never hit up the bar for my tastes/
If you're less shy wasted than buy 9 cases/
Time is wasting I′m chasing the scattered ass/
Contemplating my chance of a latter pass/
At the honey that was taken from me, snatched from my grasp/
That's it! I′m about to tackle the task/
So, I dash in the path of her man with a laugh/
Just to act natural plus she was mad bashful/
My rap flow canceled her plans, left her man surpassed/
Then I took her to tantra class.
Writer(s): Pedro Antonio Rojas Jr Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
