Artist: MC Breed f/ 2Pac Album: Gotta Get Mine 12" Song: Gotta Get Mine (Radio Version) Typed by: westbingmanson@gmail.com (2Pac) I gotta get paid! (Chorus) I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine,you gotta get yours I gotta get mine get yours (Verse 1: MC Breed) Ay yo, I'm smooth as I wanna be Step to me you'se a gonner G (Oh that's the way it is) Hell yeah and that's the way it's gonna be Why? Puffin' upon the dank and drinkin' mad brew Takin' names and after that I'm kickin' ass too Breed Time to flow {Can I get a rhyme to go} Hell yeah Pac I'll set back and design it slow. They hate's to see a young brother, COME UP Another punk, RUN UP And have to get his, GUN UP Cause uh I ain't takin' no shorts like a Newport Ford, explortin the floor Like Jordan explodin' on the hoop court And I don't wanna be, I don't wanna be nuttin' like mike Cause even mike don't miss every itty bitty triflin And when you in the spotlight You get um jocked right But your knots not tight Huh Buckin' anybody tryna take mine When will they realize I'm straight out to get mine {Chorus x7) [Verse 2: 2Pac] I keep my mind on my money Money on my mind Finga on the trigga Hand on my nine I'm smokin' blunts a skunk Puttin' holes of punks And only underground funk pumpin' outta my trunk Live the life as a hustla High till I die Givin' em vapor's makin' paper's Miss me with lies Picture me living out my life as a busta I'd rather pop out a shot from my Glock And blast other suckers I live it "Thug Life" baby I'm hopeless Chokin' off indo Tryna keep my focus Don't let them punk cowards worry me Keep the fame I'm true to the game Till they bury me God gave me game so I'm hustlin' Pour out some liquor for my homies Tupac is still strugglin' My homie Breed new the time (yeah) whether its rhyme or crime Sucker I gotta get mine (Chorus x7) Breed, Hey Get your's (Verse 3: MC Breed) Tell me can you measure the amount of applause I keep gettin' Every time I pick up a mic and start spittin' The sidewalk's of New York'll start bumpin' Jumpin' around With my homies in the Pound And I'm down to the fullest Now see me break ass off proper Did I sock you Cause I got you in my pockets again The new Jacks Who knew Jacks Who knew me and my homies when I run it way back when I boasted, and roasted And coasted to the pinnacle because of what I do with a pen It's financial precision Connected two lines in this division Plus When I add loose as flutes It's guaranteed to sell like prostitutes I never had a love for those who put it blunt They want me in the back But see I'm in the front Don't front And really I don't need a reply Pull yourself together as you pass me by I'm on a whole other level And those that's left I told you before You can keep it to yourself Surprised Some many people lied to have It's funny what a young brother does for math I got fractions caught up in my everyday actions Point Equal to your real satisfaction Buckin' anybody tryna take mine When will they realize I'm straight out to get mine (Chorus repeated till the end)