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Yee yee! We've found 1,147 lyrics and 139 artists matching get your hands up non lp version by fergie.

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(Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up)
A spark by midnight
(Get up, get up, get up)
Shootin' 'round, movin' white
Ooh, baby, the block's hot just
of your troubles, grab a chair, and cool out
Turn up the stereo, light up the blunt, and crack the Guiness Stout
(Mike, you don't drink that!) Yeah, but
front, you all out punks on the hunt for some beats
To make your next LP complete

(Here we come) To make the crowd scream for the Clan
One by one
cheat, gotta steal 
Gotta kill just to get by 
I smoke emcees to get high while perceivin the lies 
Sayin my drive is all wrong, but at least I can ride
don't let that worry your son
For when he grows up and gets blown out of here
Have yourself a (really)
Tour-de-force (yearly)
Non-de-plume A-tomic bomb
dreams of Caprices
Drove by the teachers, even more by polices
How'd he get the cash? The day his father passed away
Left him with a lil' somethin',
dreams of Caprices
Drove by the teachers, even more by polices
How'd he get the cash? The day his father passed away
Left him with a lil' somethin',
Seemin Like They World Is Staged
But From Georgia To Bk And All Around The World
Get Your Hands In The Air If Your Avoiding The Cliche
If You've Been Hurt
promise
To get what we need 
Gotta be much louder 
Louder than the other

To rise up against those corrupted by greed
Gotta stand up faster than the shutter
I'm walking up you be tucking your chain
We out for blood I be making it rain
Keep talking shit you'll get hit with the blade
Pick up a brick I ain't
(loved)
Standing by the window questioning if dad is ever going to show up (up)
Isn't something he's gon' have to worry about
Don't get it twisted, that
the hardest
And a hand full of CD's ready to burn
Some real hip hop for your listening nerves
A year later hooked up with a nigga named Murs
Now everybody
you have for the west coast, is criticism and disrespect
So I say to you and your city
Y'all niggas will never get our respect again
Westside nigga
dined hired up
When your times up
The Lord made his mind up
Everlasting torment for all you snakes who played foremen

I got pains in my stomach
I
that
You had to get woken up
By a huge backslap
To the face by a case of the drowsies
Feeling lousy and pouty
Because now you're all crossed up
buildin'

Eh yo, real niggas get up, live niggas, what up?
We don't give a fiduck, you faggots'll get hit up
Q.B., what up? Y.O., what up?
Shaolin, get
me better tell his ass to tip toe
He been talking much shit and mashing keys, I gotta hit bro
Flip bro, 5-0 get a pack and then he flip those
Tell your
I keep your heart is PZA-pumping, the beat is GZA-jumping
The crowd get wild off my style, they want something
The herds start stomping,
a real version, they don't make 'em like that
Never had to get the youth to relate for the bag
And since they smarter than us, they know Nas was once
All you have for the West Coast, is criticism and disrespect
So I say to you and your city
Why'all niggas will never get our respect again
Westside
Ha, ha
Eh, eh, eh, eh Get out my face check it
Mobb shit bitch
Lynch Mobb mane
Eh, eh The Lu-Lun-iz
3 Times
Me Ager Man
Bart
Let me turn up
Dayton's in his hand
Keys in his hand reason again to let you know he's the man
Back when we rocked Alesis he had dreams of Caprice's
Drove by
and props to get 
You was the only one with a mic in your hand claiming you rocked the shit
Like a lunar eclipse, as soon as it clips to ya mind state that
(yeah)
'Cause black men, we go through enough (oh)
How can we get up off the ground, when we steady tearin' each other down (how, oh)
I admit that

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