Gotta Get Mine (remix) (feat. 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

I gotta get mine, get yours

Ayo, I'm smooth as I wanna be, fuck with me, you's a gonna, G

Oh, that's the way it is?

Fuck yeah, and that's the way it's gonna be

Why?, puffin up on the dank and drinking mad brew

Taking names and after that I'm kickin' ass too

Breed, time to flow, can I get a rhyme to go?

Hell yeah, Pac, and I'll sit back, straight up design it slow (uh)

They hate to see a young nigga come up

Another punk run up and have to get his gun up

Cause, uh, I ain't takin' no shots

Like a Newport fort, exploitin' the floor like Jordan

Explodin' on the hoop court (Mm)

And I don't wanna be, I-don't-wanna-be nuttin' like Mike

'Cause even Mike was like it's an itsy bit triflin'

And when you in the spotlight, you get um jocked right

But your knot's not tight (Huh)

Buckin' anybody who fuck wit' mine

When will they realize? I'm straight out to get mine

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, get yours

I keep my mind on my money, money on my mind

Finger on the trigger, nigga, hand on my 9

Smokin' blunts a skunk, making holes in punks

And only underground funk pumpin' outta my trunk

Live the life of a hustler, high till I die

Meeting bitches, 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 mothafuckas

I live the thug life, baby, I'm hopeless

Chokin' off indoor, tryin' to keep my focus

Don't let that bullshit worry me

Fuck the fame, I'm true to the game till they bury me

God gave me game, so I'm hustlin'

Pour out some liquor for my niggas, 2Pac is still strugglin'

My nigga Breed knew the time

Whether it's rhyme or crime, nigga, I gotta get mine

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, get yours

Now, tell me

Can you measure the amount of applause I keep gettin'?

Every time I pick up a mic and start spittin'

The sidewalks of New York will start bumpin'

Jumpin' around, with the motherfuckin' pound

And I'm down to the fullest, and breakin' niggas ass 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 niggas, 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, bitch, I'm in the front!

Don't front, and really I don't need a reply

Pull yourself together as you pass me by

I'm on a whole another level, them hoes is left

I told you before, keep ya pussy to yourself

Goodbye, some many niggas lied to have

Funny what a motherfucker do for math

I got fractions caught up in my every day actions

Point equal to your real satisfaction

Buckin' anybody who fuck with mine

When will they realize, I'm straight out to get mine haha

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, you gotta get yours

I gotta get mine, get yours