Get The Hell On With That
Get The Hell On With That

Get The Hell On With That easy guitar chords by Fat Joe

N/A•
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 1

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo

  • D

  • Eb

    6

  • Dm

  • D

  • Eb

    6

  • Dm

    • Verse 1
    Whoa, 
    whoa, 
    whoa 

    All 
    you frontin' 
    ass 
    niggaz 

    Callin' all frontin' 
    ass 
    bitches 

    Yo, 
    get 
    the Hell 
    on with 
    that 

    Verse 2
    Yo, 
    yo, 
    yo, 
    yo 

    Why 
    you 
    over 
    there 
    lookin' 
    at 
    me, 

    while my 
    girl 
    standin' 
    there? 

    These bitches 
    actin' 
    like 
    they never 

    seen 
    a millionaire 

    Feel my 
    pockets, 

    wanna 
    really 
    get your 
    hands 
    in there 

    Now 
    what 
    it be 
    like? 

    You confused 
    man, 

    that shit 
    don't even 
    seem 
    right 

    How 
    you 
    cats 
    on 
    your album 

    only 
    three 
    mics? 

    Like 
    'Pac 
    shit 
    is funny 
    to me 

    All 
    you 
    niggaz 
    livin' bummy wasn't 

    fuckin' 
    with 
    me 

    Now nigga 
    get 
    it on, 

    soon 
    you be 
    dead 
    and gone 

    Verse 3
    Shorty 
    got 
    a bubble 
    all she 

    need 
    the 
    silicone 

    Love 
    my 
    A T 
    L 
    bitches, 

    pay my 
    bail 
    bitches 

    Type 
    to let 
    you fuck 
    but 

    never 
    tell 
    bitches 

    Down 
    ass 
    hoes 
    that'll 
    grind 
    that 
    dough 

    Catch 
    me with 
    another 
    chick 

    and beat 
    them 
    down 
    to 
    a pulp 

    It's 
    the 
    F 
    A T, 
    to 
    the 
    J 
    O 
    E 

    Drink 
    cris' with 
    the feds 

    when they 
    come 
    for me 

    No 
    cuffs, 
    no 
    guns, 
    they respect 
    a G 

    Number 
    one 
    with 
    a slug, 

    what 
    you 
    ex
    pect 
    from me? 

    Are 
    you 
    serious? 

    Verse 4
    If you 
    see 
    a nigga 
    frontin' 

    fake 
    shit 
    on his 
    wrist 

    Walk 
    around 
    all 
    night, 

    same 
    bottle 
    of 
    Cris' 

    (Say 
    what, 
    say what what?) 

    (Say 
    what, say what what?) 

    If 
    you see 
    a bitch 
    frontin' 
    in 

    her best 
    friend's 
    clothes 

    New 
    sass 
    weaven and 
    fucked 

    up 
    toes 

    (Say what, say 
    what 
    what?) 

    (Say 
    what, say what what?) 

    Verse 5
    Now all 
    my 
    ladies 
    put 
    your hands 
    up 

    Nah 
    mami, 
    if 
    you fuck 
    for 

    doe 
    then 
    you's 
    a 
    hoe 

    And 
    no 
    I'm not 
    the one 

    that 
    don't 
    drop 
    the notes 

    I 
    only 
    ice 
    the beef 
    and rock 
    the coat 

    Think 
    you gettin' 
    somethin' 
    from me 

    your 
    thoughts 
    are broke 

    Might 
    get 
    a little 
    wheeze 

    and 
    a 
    salty 
    throat 

    So get 
    the 
    Hell 
    on with 
    that, 

    don't 
    you weave 
    and feel 
    it 

    Get the 
    Hell 
    on with 
    that, 

    I'm 
    alright 
    I'm just 
    chillin' 

    Verse 6
    Chicken 
    neck 
    ass 
    bitch 
    tryin' 

    to palm 
    the dough 

    Should've 
    charged 
    me at the 
    door, 

    I would 
    let 
    you know 

    Get the 
    same 
    jewel 
    mouth 

    full 
    of heavy 
    mo' 

    Coulda 
    made 
    you 
    a thug 

    from the 
    guy 
    with the mo' 

    But 
    yo, 
    I 
    ain't never 
    met 

    a chick 
    that 
    was innocent 

    They 
    all 
    fuck 
    some, 
    eat 
    some, 
    never 
    kiss 

    I know a 
    lot that 
    got 

    skeed on 
    and that was 
    it 

    See 
    me in the 
    video 
    like, 

    Verse 7
    "Bitch 
    I sucked 
    his 
    dick" 

    You let 
    him in at one 
    time 
    'cause 

    you thought 
    he was 
    fly 

    Now 
    you see 
    him at the 
    clubs, 

    he 
    don't 
    pay 
    you no 
    mind 

    (Say what, say 
    what 
    what?) 

    (Say 
    what, say what what?) 

    Yo, 
    every 
    time 
    you smoke, 

    dude 
    puff 
    your 'dro 

    But 
    when 
    it's time 
    to go 
    cop, 

    he 
    ain't 
    got 
    no dough 

    (Say what, say 
    what 
    what?) 

    (Say 
    what, say what what?) 


    Verse 8
    Ludacris be the number 
    one 
    street, 

    clown 
    wishin 
    'em 
    luck 

    Cause 
    I'm 'bout 
    to make 
    them break 
    a leg 

    thinkin' 
    I'm givin 
    a 
    FUCK 

    And you catch 
    a beat, 
    down, 

    bottles 
    is breakin', 
    craniums 
    crack 

    Chairs 
    thrown 
    when 
    the heat 

    is attacked 

    And you hear 
    the street, 
    sound, 

    hitters 
    and 
    runners 

    Killers 
    and gunners, 

    winter 
    to summer 
    the 
    niggaz that 
    want us 

    Are headed 
    East 
    bound, 

    trouble 
    in 
    West 
    other 
    than South 

    Cover 
    your chest, 

    they cover 
    your mouth 

    Verse 9
    I'm goin' 
    deep 
    down 
    Dirty 
    indeed, 

    birdies 
    in need 

    Thirty 
    degrees 
    and 
    you heard 
    it from 
    me 

    But 
    I'm 'bout 
    to 
    reach, 

    around 
    grabbin' 
    my 
    gun 

    They scatter 
    and 
    run but 
    I'm handlin' 

    and havin' 
    some 
    fun 

    They 
    gotta 
    keep, 
    rounds 
    up under 
    the bed, 

    up under 
    the spread 

    If it ain't 
    then it ain't, 

    no 
    wonder 
    you dead 

    So 
    go 
    to 
    sleep, 
    now, 
    throats 
    is 
    splitted 

    And folks 
    that get 
    it 
    they gotta 
    get 
    the hell 

    on widdit, BIATCH 

    Verse 10
    Yo, yo, all these 
    niggaz that 
    claim 

    thug 
    like 
    they're 
    the type 

    But when 
    it's time 
    to go 
    to war 
    they 
    run

    nin' for 
    dear 
    life 

    (Say what, say 
    what 
    what?) 

    (Say 
    what, say what what?) 

    Got 
    this clown 
    runnin' 
    around 

    like he's 
    my 
    fam 

    We did 
    time 
    in what 
    joint? 
    I 
    don't know 

    you 
    man 

    (Say what, say 
    what 
    what?) 

    (Say 
    what, say what what?) 

    Verse 11
    Yeah, 
    T 
    S, 
    Terror 

    Get the Hell 
    on with 
    that, 

    get the 
    Hell 
    on with 
    that 

    Yeah, 
    Charlie Rock 
    L 
    D 

    Ton' 
    Montana 
    rest 
    in peace, 
    2001 

    Get the 
    Hell 
    on 
    with 
    that, 

    get the 
    Hell 
    on with 
    that 

    Outro 1
    Yeah 






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