Get in Line lyrics

("One! Two! Three! Kick it!")

[Juvenile]
n*gga know I hate his guts, so he don't cross my path
Cause he know I've been survivin' all of the wars I had
b*tch-n*gga called hisself killin' my dog
But he didn't, though, so I'm tyin' up him and his broad
Betta say somethin', and it betta be what I wanna hear
I'm listenin' - scary b*tches started sh*ttin' and p*ssin'
You might see him on a milk carton, dog - he still missin'
Somebody might catch him up on a hook when they fishin'
Look, I've been itchin' to get b*tches, money, and jewels
I know some n*gga's got a package - I'ma run with the fool
Through the years older playaz told me to keep my head strong
Cause n*ggas is followers, and some of 'em led wrong
But if I bust a cap in 'em, I will be dead wrong
They don't know what's happenin', and I ain't gonna say it to 'em
Cause b*tches be catchin' conversation inspectin'
And f*ck up and give them people some bad information

[Hook: Juvenile]
Now point the n*gga out if he wan' do it with me
Step to the front of the line, let me see who you be
Air and opportunity - that ain't nothin' to me
Look, I got somethin' I'm totin' that'll cut you in three
("One! Two! Three! Kick it!")
[Juvenile]
You'se a certified clown in my eyes
That's the reason why half of your hood got sh*t bags on your side
You talk a good game, but you a ho when they ride
n*gga don't have to look for you - they know you inside
You probly got your tail in your ass, your thumb in your mouth
Protected custody so you don't come in your house
Motherf*cker, where all the sh*t you said you was 'bout?
Let you tell it - you been 'bout bustin' heads in the south

[B.G.]
Can't be f*ckin' with no lame, fake
Ain't even gon' watch your back, n*gga
Get popped - can't handle the pressure and rat, n*gga
Take the whole clique down runnin' his lips
Can't come back in the bricks now, he'll get flipped
It's a cold game, but I don't give a f*ck, my n*gga
I feel threatened by anybody, I'ma bust that n*gga up my n*gga
Then go get a mill, f*ck my b*tch -
I take this game to heart, unless n*ggas disagree

[Hook]

[B.G.]
I'm a lil' man - stand my ground no matter what
Glock glued to my hand - there's no one you can trust
n*ggas turned on they own n*gga behind Geez
If I think they won't turn on me, I'm outta luck
So I roll first - c*ck and shoot first
Gotta stay over the head to duck a T-shirt
You want beef? You want war? You want me?
Nothin' between us but air and opportunity
Don't talk 'bout what you gon' do - do it, n*gga
Cause you're wastin' your breath - go 'head, prove it, n*gga
sh*t's real - I ain't got time to fake
Time's money - I ain't got time to waste
But on the straight with me bein' real
To let others' n*ggas know I don't fake - ya gotta get killed
Oh, b*tch-n*gga playin' with a rich n*gga like me
Ya wind up six feet, clown
[Hook]

[Outro: Juvenile]
Step up!
Wherever the f*ck you is, n*gga
Don't throw a motherf*ckin' brick
And hide your hand like a ol' pus*y-ass, n*gga
("One! Two! Three! Kick it!")
Come out to the light, n*gga - let me see who you is
You wan' do me somethin' or harm my kids, n*gga, show your face
Make it known you're beefin' with me
Know wh'I'm sayin'
Ol' scary-ass n*gga gon' hide
Come out here, playa - catch me all over New Orleans, n*gga
On the block, in the hood, wherever
B.G., n*gga, always on V.L
We gon' keep it real - know wh'I'm sayin'

("One! Two! Three! Kick it!")

("One! Two! Three! Kick it!")