Ring The Alarm Lyrics

Somebody ring the alarm..
Somebody ring the alarm

[Verse 1: Mr. Man]
You better run fore this gun get used off, no doubt
Be +Ludacris+ for you niggaz not to +Roll Out+
Either that, or being poped, like Smashmouth
How about lits, spits, that shit, that makes that money
Cats stack them chips, sweeter than a bag of Nestle Tollhouse
So, think about the predicament you in dog
Before you talk shit again, I'm eatin
(Woman: Somebody ring the alarm)
Where the f*ck could you ever sit again?
And where yo peeps gon' live again, if we beefin
Hate on me, cause I'm all decent
All this hate ain't recent, it's been since
Back when stacks start increasin
And y'all main bitches peeped it, so hold up
It's no secret, the hoes is creepin
And all y'all lies is weak and, it won't work
(Woman: Somebody ring the alarm) I'm freakin
Liftin skirts on bad broads on E! like Brooke Burke, nigga
Like Brook Burke, nigga, like Brooke Burke

Somebody ring the alarm, somebody
Somebody, somebody ring the alarm
Somebody, somebody, somebody
Somebody, somebody ring the alarm

[Verse 2: Boobonic]
Look, real nigga - that's my game (game)
'Bonic nigga - that's my name (name)
I'm hot shit (hot shit) spit them flames (flames)
Thoughts insane, let 'em sit on ya brain (brain)
Get back (get back) I don't want you to draw (draw)
Don't trip my hip'll make you fall (fall)
Don't lip, my clip'll hush y'all
Then call Paul, and be out by tommorr'
(Woman: Somebody ring the alarm)
Call Lit, meet me right by the whip, shit
Hit rock, kiss the streets goodbye (bye)
Look, call Nate, look up under the zinc
It is what you think, put that shit in the bank
(Woman: Somebody ring the alarm)
Call Pops, disassemble my glocks
Reduce the shit, to rub on hot rocks (rocks)
Call Teddy, ask Unc' is he ready
Me and Lit bout to pour, and it's time to get Jetty
G4, back to ATL (shit)
Judge'll never get a chance to play us for bail
We sit in first class, we don't sit in them cells
And our niggaz don't, and if they do, they get bail, shit

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: Mr. Man]
I stopped doin crime, mom I really did
I changed my ways, I'm tryna live
And ball wit big heads, like Jason Kidd's/kid's
f*ck a bid, it's not the way to go out - young'n
Let me tell you what I'm talking about
Fifteen had to do, what I had to do ask Boo'
Stack paper, got a cue and a twenty-two
It's all true, why the f*ck would I lie to you
(Woman: Somebody ring the alarm)

[Verse: Boobonic]
Look, I ain't gon' hold you up
Come at me straight I'll fold you up
Cop 'dro and jaws that come big, as a Foldgers cup, yup
I thought I told you buck I'm next level (next level)
Like feet, I might creep feel on my self (oooo)
There goes my heat, not Tweet (uh)
I'm not sweet (not sweet) you could hear it
Or fear it, and read it and weep and get dirty in a week

[Chorus x2: w/ minor variations]

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Record Label(s): 2004 Universal Records, a Division of UMG Recordings, Inc
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