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letra de you got me fucked up - spice 1

– send corrections to the typist

(chorus: spice 1)
you got me, f-cked up (you got me f-cked up)
(you got me f-cked up)
you got me, f-cked up (n-gg- you got me f-cked up)
(you got me f-cked up)
n-gg- you got me, f-cked up (you got me f-cked up)
(you got me f-cked up)
you got me, f-cked up
(you got me f-cked up)

(spice 1)
candy -ss n-gg-s got more peppermint than patty
when i’m bailin’ out black in a black caddy
got me f-cked up, talkin’ about what you got
you need to shut the f-ck before you get got
shot in this motherf-cker, slugs out in this motherf-cker
don’t you feel the flames? out for fortune and fame
now if a real n-gg- whip your -ss it’ll be a shame
got me f-cked up n-gg-, quit playin’ with the game
see i don’t know about these other n-gg-s out here poppin’ that sh-t
talkin’ ’bout who they gon’ ride on and who they gon’ get
but i ain’t the motherf-cker that’s out here to be played with
got me f-cked up n-gg-, i’ll ride for my chips
you ain’t gonna be talkin’ too much sh-t with your mouth on a gat (gat)
have everything you were speakin’ ’bout right there on your lap
you got me f-cked up, who the h-ll you think i am?
some ol’ sucker or sumthin’, some ol’ busta or sumthin’
who’ll boss you a nut

(spice 1)
ay b-tch, you got me f-cked up, i’m on the other side of the game hoe
tricks be kids and i’m a grown–ss man dog
i say what i wanna say and do what i wanna do
talkin’ that gangsta sh-t and walkin’ it to (blaow!)
you got me f-cked up n-gg-, the game chose me
take a picture of the bad guy, black bossalini
i been spittin’ dead presidents since they was alive
me, franklin and grant, we been ridin’ since eighty-five
and they don’t die they just multiply like our g’s
got me f-cked up, i stay heated the game don’t freeze
for now n-gg-, knew myself around killers
might take the ak off the shelf, shoot down n-gg-s
clown n-gg-s, thugged out, platinum bound n-gg-s
but i’m keepin’ my motherf-ckin’ feet on the ground n-gg-s
got me f-cked up, don’t get twisted and sh-t
cause i’ll still knock you out, check your pockets for grip
you got me f-cked up

(spice 1)
yeah n-gg- you got me f-cked up, you need to give me fifty feet
doin’ way three much talkin’ like you can’t be touched
if a n-gg- spend fifty g’s on some plussed out sh-t
we’ll make you think you gon’ spend ten and have you leashed
you got me f-cked up, i ain’t the n-gg- you thought i was
don’t underestimate the mind mentality, of a thug
slugs spittin’ at night, man that sh-t ain’t nuttin’ new
young n-gg-s is spittin’ slugs, my n-gg-s spittin’ to
what’s really, i hope you strapped talkin’ all that sh-t
cause i’ll shoot an unknown motherf-cker, just to strip
you got me f-cked up n-gg-, i’m the east bay g
fetty chico, shiznilty, black bossalini
six feet, two-fifteen and i’ll beat yo’ -ss
ak-47 right up to the tinted gl-ss
i should clap yo’ -ss right now, right here
cause all that bullsh-t you talkin’, you ain’t pumpin’ no fear
you got me f-cked up

- spice 1

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