Colin Wolfe - I'ma Get Mines lyrics

[Hook x2 - K. Jayz] I'ma get mines, y'all n***as can get yours I'ma get mines, y'all n***as can get yours I'ma get mines, y'all n***as can get yours I'ma get mines, y'all n***as can get yours [Verse 1 - K. Jayz] I remember when I used to be a nobody At least I thought so, so I did not f** with e'rybody But then all of a sudden I picked up a pen to write some lyrics Then started rapping I don't even know how it happened A mystery But as I continued, I really noticed the society Ain't nobody give a f** about each other Individualism, everybody losing propriety But then again, who can really blame ya? You don't know If you in trouble, who would save ya Who would come out the blue just to your rescue? That's why we say, “I'ma do me, and you gon' do you” Now, I don't care for nobody but my fam If you ain't in my circle, b**h, you ain't in my plans I'ma grab hip hop by the hair, do her right Don't worry about me, n***a, I'ma get mines [Hook] I'ma go ahead and pa** it to Mr. Shakur [Verse 2 - 2Pac] Mind on my money, money on my mind Finger on the trigger, n***a, hand on my nine Smoking blunts a skunk, making hoes of punks And only underground funk pumping outta my trunk Live the life of a hustler: high till I die; Meeting b**hes, getting riches, miss me with lies Picture me living out my life as a busta I'd rather pop out a shot from my Glock, and blast motherf**ers I live the thug life, baby, I'm hopeless Choking off indo trying to keep my focus Don't let that bullsh** worry me f** the fame, I'm true to the game 'til they bury me God gave me game so I'm hustling Pour out some liqour for my n***as, 2Pac is still struggling! My n***a Breed knew the time Whether it's ryhme or crime, n***a, I gotta get mine [Interlude - MC Breed & 2Pac] I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours X2 I gotta get mine Get yours [Verse 3 - MC Breed] Now, tell me Can you measure the amount of applause I keep gettin? Everytime I pick up a mic and start spittin The sidewalks of New York will start bumpin Jumpin around, with the motherf**in pound And I'm down to the fullest, and breakin n***as a** off proper Did I shock you, cause I got you in my pocket again Them new jacks and you jacks Who knew me and my n***as, when I used to run it way back when I boasted, and roasted, and coasted to the pinnacle Because of what I do with a pen It's vernacular precision Connect the two lines and it's division Plus, when I add lutes and flutes It's guaranteed to sell like prostitutes I never had love for hoes who put it blunt And want me in the back, but, b**h, I'm in the front! Don't front, and really I don't need a reply Pull yourself together as you pa** me by I'm on a whole another level, them hoes is left I told you before, keep ya p**y to yourself Goodbye, some many n***as lied to have Funny what a motherf**er do for math I got fractions caught up in my everday actions Point equal to your real satisfaction Buckin anybody who f** wit' mine When will they realize, I'm straight out to get mine haha [Interlude]