Get Down

Get down, get down, get down, get down, get down, get down (4x)

I see everybody rockin' the same old style

And everyone sportin' the same profile

And all y'all wearin' the same name brands

I hate everybody jackin' these played out jams

I won't reach for no gun, punk, I'll use my hands

I rock mikes and roll bikes across foreign lands

I made my bones out in zones where the twilight be

And every time I touch the mike it's Fright Night Part Three

For every MC that won't test and try

In your custom made wears thinkin' you too fly

Makin' up in gold chains what you lack for brains

It's time to call your ma, Dupe, and scoop up your remains

And finally lay to rest all the shit you stressed

And boastin' and braggin' 'bout the toes you taggin'

I'm knock, knock, knockin' on heaven's door

While every rapper that's simp gets pimped like a whore

See it's August 18th, three quarters past four

When the doctor slaps my ass hear the lion roar

The record sales soared then the world got toured

You say what happened to my band, I say "I just got bored"

Now they call me Whitey Ford, and I say, "Praise the Lord"

If I ain't breakin' up your coos, cats, we're singin' the blues

Strummin' and pickin' like I'm B. B. King

It's Abdul Baqi now watch me do my thing

CHORUS:

Down, down, you go

Down, down, so low

Down, down, till you hit the floor

Keep fallin' down until you can't get down no more

Go point blank range with the scope he's knockin'

The psycho might change but there ain't no stoppin'

The moon's on the rise when the sun start droppin'

And y'all need to quit the bullshit you poppin'

'Cause I been hip hoppin' since BDP.

Drop the P and spree it's Abdul Baqi

And when referrin' to me you'd best respect the name

Make a quick double take and double check your game

'Cause you about to get dissed I'm checkin' my list

When I check it over twice it's like rollin' the dice

I hit four-five-six I'm all up in your mix

I rock good from Hollywood's 'hood the city of bricks

And all these fake cats scream they're keepin' it real

While you're makin' your deal we'll be breakin' the seal

You'll be breakin' your vows like people worshipping cows

And then I'll hit you with the whos, whats, wheres, and hows

Like Vinnie Barbarino. I'm at a good chino

Sippin' homemade vino with the Brooklyn Lordz

Crashin' the boards with my soul in a hole

I'll take you back to the future from the days of old

I'm too cold to hold, too hot not to burn ya

Don't stick your nose in business that don't concern ya

I might have to trip and flip like Ike Turner

You too old for schoolin', boy, when the money learn ya

CHORUS