Get The Gat
B.I.N.T Lyrics
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And you can get the gat for that
[Chorus]
Niggas wonder why S-P-I do or die
I don't give a fuck, I'm just a nigga stayin' high
So why do you roll with a strap on ya side
Cause these playin hatin niggas want to jack me for my rizzide
I'm just a young nigga and I'm tryin' to get my cash on
So why do you roll with a strap on ya side
Cause if shit'll get too funky I might have to get my blast on
It goes 1 for the treble, two for the funk
Time to get my motherfuckin' twelve gauge pump
I blast off like NASA, as I rolls right past ya
Bust a couple a caps and leave ya ghost like casper
I peels caps like bad, comes wicked like Is
They make me hollow tipped and then they seal it with a kizz
For them bootsie motherfuckers that be ridin around
Hidin around the corner tryin to get a motherfucker down
Wearin his adams apple like a fuckin' snapple
Dismantle motherfuckers, and hear they bodies crackle
Laugh like a jackel as I tackle they ass
With a fury of them buckshots, crackin' they mask
Kinda skip the drama, puts bodies in freezers like Jeffrey Dahmer
You can get the gat for that kidnap your mama
The big mack from the itty-bitty city
Niggas actin' shitty so I licks 'em with my nitty
[Chorus]
Stick that nigga, I told my DJ Xtra Large
As we pull some niggas car up out his own garage
I stack them niggas up in them hearses like a can a sardines
2000 dollars a body, I'm for hire if you got the green
"Ya got the mad buy, my millimeter to say
187, comin' wicked leavin' black much day"
I don't be fuckin' with them niggas who be shady 'n' shit
Better stock that grip and an extra clip and a bottle a Hindu to sip on
Trip on this nigga that's leavin' 'em dead in the alley
What's your murder penal code? 781 here in Cali
Red rum, we hit'cha and we give ya some
See mosta these niggas up in my set, we bustin' dumb-dums
My uzi eats 'em up and spits 'em out, fuck a title bout
I'm pullin' my gat up out a fist fight with out a doubt
Cause I ain't playin, fightin is fuckin' around
I'd rather bust and leave your ass 6 feet up under ground
[Chorus]
Yeah, its the G-Motherfuckin' Nizzo, that nappy headed nigga
They got me lookin' up over my shoulder now man
I gotta strap
I ain't be shady, playa hataz hate me
Bitches snitchin, heh, it really ain't the same
But um, Spice told me once, him and DJ Xtra Large, they told me
That I can get the strap for this
And that I can get the strap for that
And that's what the fuck I'm gone do
I'm out this bitch man
The lyrics in B.I.N.T's song "Get The Gat" tells the story of a young man trying to survive in a dangerous environment where he feels he constantly has to carry a gun with him for protection. He talks about the reasons why he rolls with a strap on his side, explaining that "playin hatin niggas want to jack him for his rizzide" (his money and possessions). He also points out that he is only trying to make a living, and that's why he carries a gun, but if things get too funky, he might have to get his blast on.
The chorus of the song repeats twice in the song, emphasizing the importance of why he rolls with a strap on his side. The lyrics also describe his use of violence against his enemies, indicating that he is not afraid to shoot and kill someone if necessary. The line "I'd rather bust and leave your ass 6 feet up under ground" implies that he would rather use his gun than engage in a physical fight.
Overall, the song is a reflection of the tough street life that many young black men experience in urban environments, where they feel they are constantly under threat and have to carry guns to protect themselves.
Line by Line Meaning
You can get the gat for this
If necessary, I will arm myself for this situation
And you can get the gat for that
And I will also arm myself for that situation
Niggas wonder why S-P-I do or die
People question why I take risks and live dangerously
I don't give a fuck, I'm just a nigga stayin' high
I don't care, I'm just trying to stay high (on drugs)
So why do you roll with a strap on ya side
Why do I carry a gun with me?
Cause these playin hatin niggas want to jack me for my rizzide
Because jealous people want to steal from me
I'm just a young nigga and I'm tryin' to get my cash on
I'm just a young person trying to make money
Cause if shit'll get too funky I might have to get my blast on
But if things get violent, I will have to use my gun
It goes 1 for the treble, two for the funk
The music is starting, the rhythm is kicking in
Time to get my motherfuckin' twelve gauge pump
It's time to arm myself with a shotgun
I blast off like NASA, as I rolls right past ya
I shoot my gun like a spacecraft, as I drive by fast
Bust a couple a caps and leave ya ghost like casper
I shoot and kill, leaving my victims like ghosts
I peels caps like bad, comes wicked like Is
I remove bullets from a gun and shoot with deadly accuracy
They make me hollow tipped and then they seal it with a kizz
I use bullets with hollow points to inflict maximum damage
For them bootsie motherfuckers that be ridin around
I'm targeting weak people that are driving around
Hidin around the corner tryin to get a motherfucker down
They're hiding around corners and trying to kill me
Wearin his adams apple like a fuckin' snapple
Their throat is exposed like a bottle of Snapple
Dismantle motherfuckers, and hear they bodies crackle
I kill my enemies and hear their bones crack
Laugh like a jackel as I tackle they ass
I laugh like a hyena as I attack them
With a fury of them buckshots, crackin' they mask
I use buckshot bullets that crack their skull
Kinda skip the drama, puts bodies in freezers like Jeffrey Dahmer
I avoid unnecessary drama and hide bodies like Jeffrey Dahmer
You can get the gat for that kidnap your mama
I will use my gun to protect my family from kidnappers
Stick that nigga, I told my DJ Xtra Large
I ordered my DJ to attack that person
As we pull some niggas car up out his own garage
We steal their car from inside their garage
I stack them niggas up in them hearses like a can a sardines
I kill a lot of people and stack their bodies in hearses
2000 dollars a body, I'm for hire if you got the green
I offer my murder-for-hire services for a price
"Ya got the mad buy, my millimeter to say
I have a gun to sell to you
187, comin' wicked leavin' black much day"
My gun will kill and cause grief for their loved ones
I don't be fuckin' with them niggas who be shady 'n' shit
I don't have time for deceitful people
Better stock that grip and an extra clip and a bottle a Hindu to sip on
You should carry a gun, extra ammunition, and something to drink
Trip on this nigga that's leavin' 'em dead in the alley
Look at this person killing people and leaving their bodies in the alley
What's your murder penal code? 781 here in Cali
What is the criminal charge for murder? In California, it's section 781
Red rum, we hit'cha and we give ya some
We'll kill you and leave a bloody crime scene
See mosta these niggas up in my set, we bustin' dumb-dums
Most of the people in my gang carry guns and shoot recklessly
My uzi eats 'em up and spits 'em out, fuck a title bout
My machine gun kills them easily, ignoring any official titles
I'm pullin' my gat up out a fist fight with out a doubt
I will use my gun in a fight without hesitation
Cause I ain't playin, fightin is fuckin' around
I'm not joking, fighting is dangerous
I'd rather bust and leave your ass 6 feet up under ground
I prefer to shoot and kill you, and bury you six feet under
Yeah, its the G-Motherfuckin' Nizzo, that nappy headed nigga
I am G-Nizzo, the nappy-haired person you're dealing with
They got me lookin' up over my shoulder now man
I get paranoid and look behind me often
I gotta strap
I have a gun with me
I ain't be shady, playa hataz hate me
I am not being dishonest, but people who are jealous of me hate me
Bitches snitchin, heh, it really ain't the same
Women are telling on me, but it's not the same as before
But um, Spice told me once, him and DJ Xtra Large, they told me
But someone named Spice told me and DJ Xtra Large before
That I can get the strap for this
That I can carry a gun for this situation
And that I can get the strap for that
And that I can also carry a gun for that situation
And that's what the fuck I'm gone do
And that's exactly what I'm going to do
I'm out this bitch man
I'm leaving this place, man
Lyrics © O/B/O APRA AMCOS
Written by: ROBERT LEE GREEN JR.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind