Letra de Get Out! - Sublime - Lyrics

Lyrics Get Out! - Sublime

"It's 8:05. This is Phyllis in the office. The cat is out on the patio. If it jumps one more time, your butts are in the street. I am sick and tired of your activities, your cat, and your untruths with me. I'm gonna call you tomorrow when you're home, and you can explain a lot of things to me because I'm sick and tired of your bullshit. Goodnight."

My place is not a home

It don't make no difference, but I have found

That I need a place to stay

I never listen what the landlord man say

You should have seen all the flops in my house

We was jumping on walls and kicking ceilings

Nowadays, people listen to me

When I say, "Get out!"

Hold me and don't let go

It don't make no difference that you're a ho

'Cause I need a place to stay

A new disease was just the price I paid

In days of old, that's how it used to be

Oh yes, indeed

That girl is dead to me now

And I sing, "Get out!"

(One, two, three, four

Elk, and bison, a gnu or two

Giraffes and elephants, quite a few)

(Let me bust a freestyle, then)

(Fuck you, mang!)

(I got a bone to pick)

Don't sit, don't trip

I'm cutting hits like Bert Susanka's got the shrimp dip

I get it, get it, get it, get it all the time

People wants to know the meaning of the word sublime

It's anarchist, man, it's the shit you missed

We get the Minuteman loops and add a Peni twist

'Cause we know you love the pit, but this is the shit

That you put in the box and say "Damn, it's a hit, boy!"

Why ain't it on the radios and the T.V. shows?

'Cause we don't kiss no ass or kick down free shows

What you get is the kind, no gang, no cess

When Yellow Lover's on the D-R-U-M-S

Let the lovin' take a hold over me

Let the lovin' take a hold over me, follow me Long Beach posse

'Cause all I see is your fussin' and fightin'

1992, so let's all start uniting

Put your hands together, be the best you can be

Let this jam take us to 1993

Just stay positive, the love will come back to me

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Untitled

Get Out!

" // It's 8:05. This is Phyllis in the office. The cat is out on the patio. If it jumps one more time, your butts are in the street. I am sick and tired of your activities, your cat, and your untruths with me. I'm gonna call you tomorrow when you're home, and you can explain a lot of things to me because I'm sick and tired of your bullshit. Goodnight." // My place is not a home // It don't make no difference, but I have found // That I need a place to stay //

Garden Grove

// We took this trip to Garden Grove // It smelt like Lou Dog inside the van, oh yeah // This ain't no funky reggae party, five dollars at the door // It gets so real sometime, who wrote my rhyme? //

54-46 That’s My Number / Ball and Chain

// Part I: "54-46 ( // That's My Number)" // Do you believe I would take such a thing with me // And give it to a police man? //

New Thrash

// I've got so much trouble on my mind // That it feels just like I'm always sleeping with the enemy // But I know the real world always gets the last word // And that's why I gotta kick reality //

Free Loop Dub

// Aw fuck, Chuck's on a killin' spree!

Pool Shark

// Lyin' in my plastic bed // Thinkin' how things weren't so cool to me // My baby likes to shoot pool // I like lyin' naked in my bedroom //

Falling Idols

( // Instrumental)

Waiting for My Ruca

// Punk rock changed our lives // On the east side, that's where I met my Ramona" // I wanna go to a party", that's what she said" // Lonely, that's what I've been //

Raleigh Soliloquy Pt. I

// Scratch it verbally, or we're gonna know who to kill. We've got you in this fuckin' movie to exterminate all the lunatics all at once with a filtering system of a God. We're the psycho-semantic police. You can't even see us. How in the fuck can you do anything about it? We're pure intelligence, you're not. You're biological product of a cosmological universe. You're molecular matter, I constructed you. Fuck you. I made you up, you didn't make me up, you got it backwards. You know who you are? You're fuckin' semantic blockage. That's what made you up. You're a fuckin' programmer named Christine Gontarek who fucked up. She sucked my cock, fell in love, and she was locked in. She's gonna get her second chance to suck my cock again. If she turns me down, she's gonna go straight to hell, she won't pass " // Go", she'll never fuckin' win. She's the cunt that thought she was God, but that's okay. I don't give a shit, as long as she sucks me off when I tell her, 'cause she's my zombie. I captured that motherfucker, and she's my cassette. I want that cocksucker to send me at least fifty-thousand fuckin' dollars. If she can't do it, I'll try ten. If she can't do that, I'll try five, but that's it. If you got a dowry of $5,000 come out here and suck me off, do what I tell you from now on, and you can join me in eternal time.