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    • Timbaland - Come and Get Me

    Timbaland

    Lyrics

    send "Come and Get Me" ringtone to your cell

    Nigga, your time is up; I ain't come to kid you
    I knew you niggas was dumb, but how dumb is you?
    Thinkin' you can see the king when you unofficial
    You don't wanna go to war 'cause I'll launch these missiles
    I'm a ride-or-die nigga; I be tearin' shit up
    We ain't like them other fools who don't compare to us
    All the hos love a nigga; they be backing it up
    But me - I love money; I be stacking it up
    When my bandwagon pull up, they hop on board
    They hop right on mine and hop right off yours
    I get respect, homey, all across the board
    I get a quarter mill' a track without an award
    Ever wanna test a nigga, then come see me
    In the street I hold my ground like I'm concrete
    I know shit ain't sweet so when shit get deep
    I'm rich, I can pay to have you six feet deep
    (Nigga)

    [Chorus]
    I give it to whoever want it
    If you want it, come see me
    You know where I'm at
    If you, if you want it, come get me
    If you, if you want it, come get me

    [50 Cent]
    Nigga, you violate, I regulate, rat-tat-tat
    Bigger shells - they fit in that banana clip tech
    Run, and a bullseye form on your back
    It's hard to miss wit' a full clip in the mac
    I got ammo; ammo I unload; reload cut a nigga quick
    Yeah, my knife game lethal - that tough guy shit
    Nigga, that's what I see through
    You like a three course meal, motherfucker, I eat you
    You food, and I'm in the mood; so front, I let the hammer fly
    Nigga, you can duck, run for cover, or die
    Your choice; you choose
    I Pop, you move, like you in shock: you been shot
    Nigga, your blood on the street, you up shit's creek
    You can hardly speak, startin' to get weak, your eyes close
    Your life flash, your heart slow, your heart stop
    Your ass dead, you fucked, kid

    [Chorus]

    [Tony Yayo]
    I'm like Nicholas Cage: Yeah, it's the Ghost Rider
    P89, yeah, I let my toast slide, Costa Rica To Brazil
    I got my hos in the lamb; why your bitch bald headed?
    Like Britney Spears; I'm in the projects gettin' dope and piff money
    Two more flips; that's Anna Nicole Smith money; fuck a G4
    I'm in a G-500, G-450, G-550; that's airplane talk
    I'm the aviator man, baby; AR shoot your baby out your hands
    Spaghetti and corn bread; mix got me blunted
    There's no talk abouts; you don't fuck on an empty stomach
    Buy out the mall, then hug the block; hundred-thou wood grain
    In a phantom drop; then I cruise in the club
    Got my ruge in the club; pay a bouncer a buck
    Now my uz in the club, yeah, nigga

    [Chorus]

    send "Come and Get Me" ringtone to your cell
    Licensed by © EMI Music Publishing
    Written by SHAWN C CARTER | TIMOTHY Z MOSLEY | BILLEY PETTAWAY

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