[MURS]
|
Alright I'm ready
|
No, you're not ready
|
I'm ready, you're not ready
|
Motherfucker
|
|
(And love, love will tear us apart again)
|
|
[MURS]
|
Now this here's for your spouse or significant other
|
You were in love with the person, now you hate the motherfucker
|
Get the fuck out! Tell 'em to get the fuck out!
|
You weren't lookin' for love when you met 'em at the club
|
Y'all exchanged numbers and went out for some grub
|
You waited three days then decided to call
|
Went for dinner and a movie, then a walk through the mall
|
All you saw was the physical, a sexy individual
|
Never had the thought that they would make your life miserable
|
A couple more dates, consumate the mating ritual
|
Soon you will encounter the habitual liar
|
The sex was so good it set your body afire
|
But why are you still with this nut?
|
Every time they come around you get this feelin in your gut
|
Wanna tell 'em, "Raise up," but your mouth stays shut
|
When you stop to think about how good they fuck
|
An' when the sex gets old you'll wind up stuck
|
So here's some words of wisdom that'll help you with the chore
|
Count up their I.Q. before you kick 'em to the door
|
It goes:
|
|
[Chorus: MURS]
|
One, two, three, four
|
I had it up to here and I'm not takin' no more
|
So get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out!
|
Everybody come on! One, two, three, four
|
I had it up to here and I'm not takin' no more
|
So get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out!
|
Everybody!
|
|
[MURS]
|
Now say you have a homeboy who's been sleepin' on your couch
|
For weeks on end and he's (words walk em out?)
|
Get the fuck out! Tell him to get the fuck out!
|
Now he walks around your house in nothin' but his drawers
|
Throws the trash once a week and expects to get applause
|
Let him stay at your crib you was down for his cause
|
He was in between girls, or in between jobs
|
But it's still no excuse for him to be a slob
|
Your girl stays mad cause she's cleanin' up behind him
|
You can't get your calls when he's on the other line an'
|
You can't get laid cause he has the worst timin'
|
Knockin' at your door at odd hours of the night
|
If he does that shit again, you swear to God you're gonna fight
|
But you can't kick him out cause it's just not right
|
He has nowhere else to go, but you're losin' self-control
|
Wanna kill him in his sleep, God bless his soul
|
Maybe it's not that bad but it could get worse
|
So here's a little tip from your homeboy MURS
|
Before you tell him "Bounce," do a countdown first
|
It goes:
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[MURS]
|
Now let's talk about these old motherfuckers on the mic
|
Who were dope but now are whack and won't leave the spotlight
|
Get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out!
|
He had some albums that I loved way back in the day
|
But as he puts out new shit, the memories begin to fade
|
When I heard about the comeback I said "No way!"
|
I was waitin' on the real, the anticipation built
|
But with age came degeneration of the skill
|
So I pushed it to the back of my mind, and hoped in time
|
Those fine memories would once again shine
|
But he just won't stop, even though his album flop
|
Everytime I turn around his new one's about to drop
|
Make me wanna take all his old records off the shelf
|
Cause the man I now hear's a shadow of his former self
|
So when he stopped on tour, in my town for a show
|
I played a true fan and was in the front row
|
As he started doin' classics, then he stopped and said "No"
|
We had to say we love the new shit, before he did the old
|
I tried to count the countdown, but then I lost control
|
It went one, two, three, four
|
I had it up to here, and I'm not takin' no more
|
So get the fuck out! You gots to get the fuck out!
|
Everybody come on!
|
One, two, three...
|
|
-----------------
|
Please Leave
|
Murs |