Ghostown - Let 'em Know lyrics

Cig: See, what I need you to do right now is... Get up, get up, get up, get up. Nah f** that, sit down [Cig] See rappers get religious when the Uzi draws No tours, in the hooptie, pullin' groupie who*es Puffin the OOWEE, she's like "Who's he?" sure When this kids weed's stickier then movie floors See Cig in the hood? Then he's flippin' a bone Cigs next in line dog, it was written in stone Blaze up a b**h? Nah, I'm hittin' 'em homes I'll put a gun in your a**, have you really sittin' on chrome No dubs, no slugs, hurry, gettin' hot We ain't sweatin' these cops, cause we ain't gettin' popped But that's why Cig's havin' nightmares of the block Cause the last guy to have a dream wound up gettin' shot Plot, but wasn't so hard when I seen they a** Funny on their record talkin' bout the Nina blast, smash I'm in the hood smokin' the greener gra** My bags fat, they similar to Trina a**, so! [Chorus] Put a finger in the sky if you came to get high! You ain't gotta ask why, we brought out own supply Put a drink in the air if you just don't care! G Town, yeah, you could push it if you dare Bust your gun now, bust your gun now, bust your gun now, bust your gun, no! We ain't scared, we ain't scared, we ain't! Somebody let 'em know! [Cig] This kid's ill, I'm never forcin' it son Sk**s a question? that's a rhetorical one Cause these lyrics of mine are metaphorical guns This kid's next in line, it's historical, done I get's money, so just pardon the bars Cause this kid's closer to the margin of stars So face me f*ggot if you're startin' to spar I'll jump you, and I ain't talkin' 'bout startin' your car You callin' her wifey? I'm callin' her headwops She stops callin' you, as soon as your bread stop Lead pops, and know that the crew keeps heaters That'll lift the soul (sole) out of you like cheap sneakers On point with the Heat, you could call me Wade Box cutter in my pants, and I ain't talkin' 'bout a blade I'm twisted off of the trees and the Miller Light 2 types of MC's, and Cigs the iller type, so! [Chorus] [Cig] These small time hustler's be hatin' the throne They need to get their weight up like Raven Scimone Stoned, smashin' b**hes you be datin' to bone And with so much ice on you'd think I'm skatin' it home And if you don't give a f**, come and see what's up I'mma smack a hater up, somebody let em know! And if you don't give a f**, come and see what's up I'mma smack a hater up, somebody let em know! And you ain't gotta ask if I'm bendin' them who*es She thought I sold paint the way I see Benjamin's more (Moore) Raw, you talkin' hard, but you ain't harsh fellow Cause deep down you're soft as a f**in' marsh mellow The Cig stay blazin' the weapon she stroke You claim you got Profits, but I reckon you broke I don't need to shoot you, but reckon I toke I'll have my mans murk you, call it second hand smoke, RAH! [Chorus] - 2X