This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
Yeah
L-O-S-T
Yeah, yeah
Yeah
Aw, get up, get up
Ayy, yo
I'm goin' up to the rink
Yo
I see a whole team of chicks tryin' to sit wit us
We drinkin' Dom', smokin' charm, they wanna get wit' us
I got my, V.I.P. section game locked down
Moët bath for J-Bad he just came in town
We lovin' Tai on the floor, smokin' lai wit tips
Blazin' the amazin', the wiz' on the mix
All my peeps from my hood wearin' Timbs and jeans
Lost Boyz represent for South Jamaica Queens
I'm wit' my mens spendin' ends orderin' liquors and beers
Ain't nothin' new to this, we've been doin' this for years
I got my drink on kid, and my cash is right
Shorty, aight, think I'm not gettin' ass tonight?
I'm wit' Malik and Melquan, my man Hassan
And, shorty, what you wearin' is turnin' me on
Takin' me, makin' me wanna bounce wit' you
It's alright, we got all night to smoke an ounce or two
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands (yeah)
Get up and clap yo' hands (and, ha)
Come on and clap yo' hands
A few hours in the jam and I'm fired up
Jeans saggin', Timberlands tied up
See my old crew from the mysteries
Big Phil from Queensville still gettin' cheese
All my peeps from the van, gettin' nice my man
L.B. style run the wild, represent my fam
Makin' moves, backin' hoes, puffin' buddha sacks
Representin' Lost Boyz stayin' true to that
I must bring it to the funk 'Cause the funk is it
Seein' shortie on the floor tryin to show the skirt
I wanna run up on her and push up on her and
Kick some Willie Bobo and let her know that I want her and
Hit the door, let the Ac' hit the streets (streets)
Get our eats (eats), gets in between the sheets
Hit it off, bust it down
Back in my Ac', I'm outta town
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands (hey, say word, dog)
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
It's mad cars up in front the piece
Shorties bouncin' (bounce bounce)
Niggas on the corner, 40 ouncin'
Puffin' Lai, kickin' it to shorties passin' by
See some be actin ill and some be actin fly
But inside it's the L.B. slide
Music pumpin' smokin' skunk and gettin' funkdafied
While Ro, Pretty Lou, J-Bowl and Bo
Queen Josephine in effect, nigga, pop the Mo'
Back door by Jeff Star shorty's takin' flicks
Spigg Nice 'bout to fly in wit' Jamaican chicks
It ain't no real ill shit, just L.B.'s in town
(Get up, get up, get up) you know how we get down
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O the S-T the B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O the S-T B-O-Y-Z
L-O-S-T
Yeah, yeah
Yeah
Aw, get up, get up
Ayy, yo
I'm goin' up to the rink
Yo
I see a whole team of chicks tryin' to sit wit us
We drinkin' Dom', smokin' charm, they wanna get wit' us
I got my, V.I.P. section game locked down
Moët bath for J-Bad he just came in town
We lovin' Tai on the floor, smokin' lai wit tips
Blazin' the amazin', the wiz' on the mix
All my peeps from my hood wearin' Timbs and jeans
Lost Boyz represent for South Jamaica Queens
I'm wit' my mens spendin' ends orderin' liquors and beers
Ain't nothin' new to this, we've been doin' this for years
I got my drink on kid, and my cash is right
Shorty, aight, think I'm not gettin' ass tonight?
I'm wit' Malik and Melquan, my man Hassan
And, shorty, what you wearin' is turnin' me on
Takin' me, makin' me wanna bounce wit' you
It's alright, we got all night to smoke an ounce or two
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands (yeah)
Get up and clap yo' hands (and, ha)
Come on and clap yo' hands
A few hours in the jam and I'm fired up
Jeans saggin', Timberlands tied up
See my old crew from the mysteries
Big Phil from Queensville still gettin' cheese
All my peeps from the van, gettin' nice my man
L.B. style run the wild, represent my fam
Makin' moves, backin' hoes, puffin' buddha sacks
Representin' Lost Boyz stayin' true to that
I must bring it to the funk 'Cause the funk is it
Seein' shortie on the floor tryin to show the skirt
I wanna run up on her and push up on her and
Kick some Willie Bobo and let her know that I want her and
Hit the door, let the Ac' hit the streets (streets)
Get our eats (eats), gets in between the sheets
Hit it off, bust it down
Back in my Ac', I'm outta town
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands (hey, say word, dog)
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
It's mad cars up in front the piece
Shorties bouncin' (bounce bounce)
Niggas on the corner, 40 ouncin'
Puffin' Lai, kickin' it to shorties passin' by
See some be actin ill and some be actin fly
But inside it's the L.B. slide
Music pumpin' smokin' skunk and gettin' funkdafied
While Ro, Pretty Lou, J-Bowl and Bo
Queen Josephine in effect, nigga, pop the Mo'
Back door by Jeff Star shorty's takin' flicks
Spigg Nice 'bout to fly in wit' Jamaican chicks
It ain't no real ill shit, just L.B.'s in town
(Get up, get up, get up) you know how we get down
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
Get up and clap yo' hands
Come on and clap yo' hands
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O the S-T the B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O-S-T B-O-Y-Z
The L-O the S-T B-O-Y-Z
Lyrics submitted by spliphstar
Get Up Lyrics as written by James Mtume Reggie Lucas
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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