Lyrics of 'GTFU (feat. JPEGMAFIA & Cakes Da Killa)' by Injury Reserve

Get the fuck up
(Brrt, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow)
Huh (nigga)
Get the fuck up
(Wow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow)
Uh, fuck boy, get the fuck up
Get up off yo' ass, nigga
(Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow)
Yeah, ho, get the fuck up
(Blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow, blow)

Disenfranchised, beam me up in my white tee
Me not gettin' to the money, unlikely
Somethin' cocky, the stiffest dicks couldn't top me
Fuck that cute shit, all the subbin' don't excite me
Rather get my nails done, sip on somethin' icy
Catch me out in Sydney, sippin' on a ICEE
Always on the hustle, ain't no time for the link up
Readjust my rhythm so these listeners could keep up
How I give you clout, you tryna ride or tryna son me
Bitch, I made a way for you faggots to get your money (facts)
Minked in the winter, mesh crop when it's sunny
Can't afford to act funny when you gettin' to the money
Gettin' too close, please don't touch
I ain't say: Simon says, nigga, please back up (back up)
Passport stuntin', you MTA bummin'
Don't adjust the fuckin' judge unless I hit you with a summons

(Hold the fuck up)
Check it, yo, what's up, nigga?
Simon says door's open, donut the truck, nigga
Tuck in your chain, throw 'bows in the function
If a nigga ain't like it, tell him: Back up, nigga
Yuh, get back, nigga
I ain't really fuckin' with none of these rap niggas
We be bumpin' yo' shit, sittin', just fact-checkin'
We be bumpin' yo' shit, sit and just laugh, nigga
I don't wanna be that nigga
Shit, I ain't gonna be that nigga
Shit changed, they don't wanna see that nigga
You like Stacey Dash on BET, my nigga
If you pray, can you pray for these niggas?
And if you don't, can you pour one out for these niggas?
Simon says: Get your own sound, lil' nigga
All these cover bands lookin' like clowns, lil' nigga

I ain't trippin', I ain't playin' with y'all
I ain't trippin', I ain't playin' with y'all niggas
I ain't sittin', I ain't politicin', haitin' on y'all
I ain't really go in, waitin' on y'all niggas
Y'all be rippin', ain't no real innovatin' involved
I ain't, I ain't hatin' on y'all, just had to tell you how it is

Some of y'all take off fast, but forget distance
This a marathon, not a sprint, there's a big difference
Way too quick to react, save that for Quint
Got the game upset like the '04 Pistons
Fuck it, mask on, I'm so ready to rip 'em
I ain't pourin' out shit, but I will take a shot for 'em
Shit, your mans talkin' bad like this is not for him
Tell that shit to your mans then, not forums
I ain't got to say we hot, let the fans do it
Try to pass on us, you shoulda land, stupid
Malcolm Butler on that ass, interceptin' trash
I told y'all, a box in the sand won't ever last
No, for real, no, for real
I really, I really tried to tell these niggas too, that's what's funny
Malcolm Butler on that ass, interceptin' trash
I told y'all, a box in the sand won't ever last

(Yeah, all these-)
Get the– get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck– get the fuck up
Get the fuck– get the fuck up
Get the fuck– get the fuck– get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck– get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the– get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up
Get the fuck up, get the fuck up