24 Hours To Live - Lyrics - Mase

Title: 24 Hours To Live
Artist: Mase
Composer(s): David Styles, Casey James, Rob Ross, Nashiem Myrick, Earl Simmons, Mason Mase Betha, Sean Puffy Combs, Deric Angelettie, Jason Phillips, Leroy Bell, Carlos Broady, Sean Jacobs

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Lyric:
I want you to ask yourself one question
If you had 24 hrs. to live, what would you do?
That's some deep shit right there, a lot of pressure
How would you handle it?
Mase, what would you do?

Yo, I'd turn out all the hoes that's heterosexual
Smack conceited niggas right off the pedestal
I'd even look for my dad that I never knew
And show him how I look in my Beretta, too

I'd do good shit like take kids from the ghetto
Show them what they could have if they never settle
Take every white kid from high class level
Show 'em what Christmas like growin' up in the ghetto

Teach niggas how to spend, stack the rest
Give blunts to the niggas under massive stress
Give every bum on the street cash to invest
And hope Harlem will blow up be my last request

Yo, yo, if I had 24 hrs. to kick the bucket, fuck it
I'd probably eat some fried chicken and drink a Nantucket
Then go get a jar from Branson
And make sure I leave my mother the money to take care of grandson

Load the three power, hop in the Eddie Bauer
And go give all six to that papi that sold me flour
Get a fresh baldy, make a few calls
Shop at the mall, shoot a lil' ball

Have all of my bitches on one telly at the same time
Spread it out on different floors
And I'm gon' play Lotto, for what?
Even though I ain't gon' be here tomorrow, so what?

You know when I was close to the ledge
I'd probably be in the wedge
With this bare Spanish mami playin' 'tween my legs
Then I'm off to get choke and smoke one a them dreads
And get that bitch from '89 that gave us up to the feds

Thought of momma, wrote her a note, we ain't close
I hate her boyfriend, so, I put one in his throat
Fuck around and sniff an ounce of raw, bust the four
Fours, pull out my dick and take a piss on the floor

Jump in the whip, git them cats I wanted to git
Since the Tavern on the Green robbery in eighty-six
Went home, took a shower in nice cold water
And spent my last hrs. wit my son and my daughter

If you had 24 hrs. to live, just think
Where would you go? What would you do?
Who would you screw? And who would you wanna notify?
Or would yo' ass deny that yo' ass about to die?

If you had 24 hrs. to live, just think
Where would you go? What would you do?
Who would you screw? And who would you wanna notify?
Or would yo' ass deny that yo' ass about to die?

What? Hey, yo, if I had 24, nigga gotta get the raw
Run all them papi's spot, put one in his head at the door
For the times that I paid for twenty an' he gave me twelve
The other eight had to be baking soda by itself

So Papi, fuck you, you dead now, I'm off to the bank
With those bricks in a book bag and a stolen Jag I just grabbed
Went in there grabbed the bank teller wit the pretty face
Fuck her in the safe and have her take me to my place

We'll make a kid but that's selfish and that'll be bad
For my son to have the same shit, his pops just had
And when I'm down to twenty three, I'm a be strapped wit TNT
Run up in city hall and take the judges wit me

If I had 24 hrs. to live, I'd probably die on the fifth
Run in the station squeezin the inf'
I'll be waitin' to get to hell and bust down Satan
Styles' on this shit and I got spot vacant

Back to the twenty four, I make it out the precinct
Shootin' niggas that I hate in they face while they eatin'
I'm on the job robbin' every so called Don
Give the money to my moms and tell her that I'm gone

I would school my little brother that niggas mean him harm
He should learn to tell the future without readin' palms
When they come in with the bullets, you prepared with the bomb
So fuck bein' violent, get stocks and bonds

Twenty four left until my death
So, I'm gon' waste alot of lives but I'll cherish every breath
I know exactly where I'm goin' but I'ma send you there first
And with the shit that I'll be doin', I'ma send you there worse

I've been livin' with a curse and now it's all about to end
But before I go, say hello to my little friend
But I gots to make it right, reconcile with my mother
Try to explain to my son, tell my girl I love her

C-4 up under the coat, snatch up my dog
Turn like three buildings on Wall Street into a fog
Out with a bang, you will remember my name
I wanted to live forever but this wasn't fame

If you had 24 hrs. to live, just think
Where would you go? What would you do?
Who would you screw? And who would you wanna notify?
Or would yo' ass deny that yo' ass about to die?

If you had 24 hrs. to live, just think
Where would you go? What would you do?
Who would you screw? And who would you wanna notify?
Or would yo' ass deny that yo' ass about to die?

If you had 24 hrs. to live, just think
Where would you go? What would you do?
Who would you screw? And who would you wanna notify?
Or would yo' ass deny that yo' ass about to die?

If you had 24 hrs. to live, just think
Where would you go?

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111cad46c8cf60aedadc014d5fff64b3

4:20 - Lyrics - 4:21...the Day After - Method Man

Title: 4:20
Album: 4:21...the Day After
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): P. Charles, Clifford Smith, Robert Jr. Diggs, C. Fisk

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Lyric:
Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
Roll, roll, roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it

Yeah, fast or slow mo, oh no, Meth done made a killing
Call the po-po, oh n***** is squealing, oh, y'all ain't feeling
N***** no more, the bigger they are, harder they go though
Good p**** put a hump in my back like Quasimoto

Hah, my sex ain't h*** season vet, hold the adobo
Got rappers on that low carb diet, y'all can't get no dough
I keep a low pro, file, excuse me as I get s**** out
Put hands on these n*****, then put the roach out

Go head, I'm wishing you would, ask if it's good
Man, this Tarzan s*** in the woods, my s*** is hood, b****
That means I'm hood rich, telling you lies
Straight out the pull-pit, it's like Merrill Lynch I'm on that bulls***

Real s***, money come first, and even worse
You need all your toes and fingers to count up what I'm worth, t****
So when I blow a smoke cloud in your face, just take a hint
D****, you crowding my space, it's Mr. Meth, pa

It's 4:20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out

Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it
Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it

So on and so on, I flow on, power to our people
Get your s**** on and I'm so gone, off, that s*** d*****
Hard to hold on, but hold on, it's like I'm Pretty Toney
With that robe, got terrorist shook, because I'm so bomb

The hood, put, me in position, I'm in the kitchen
With that cook book, the service I'm giving, birds they vision
Not a good look, told ya my n****, Tical deliver
Hook or crook, lots of a**** to kick, wish I had a bigger foot

Yeah, taking it there, hating who care
Y'all stay out my mental, I got killas waiting in here
To get you, as I sharpen my pencils, tear apart instrumentals
Fuck it, y'all n***** is p****, so is the d*** that sent you

RZA, we done it again, Co-D occasion
Here's to short skirts and Ol' Dirt McGirt, okay, then
Let's get it popping, like it ain't nothing to get it popping
The big and rotten's the city, too good to be forgotten

It's 4:20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out

It's 4:20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out

Roll that s***, light that s***, smoke it

The rap game won't like me
You can tell that a n**** is shiesty
If I die, my second born'll be like me, slide d*** to your wifey
Never know your baby boy just might be

Quick to rob a jack, he's so icey, stay dressed to kill
From the Hill, never ran, never will
Attitude, like, fuck you still, I see you missing the point
This is not a rap song, you get clapped on

B****** break the bone, like the joint, call you out your name
Disrespect ya moms, spit on your dame
Go public, then, s*** on your fame, you overlooking the fact
Where you from, is where we at and y'all don't want no, parts, in that that

Caught your verse for sale, but real n***** don't shoot and tell
We'd rather do the time and rot in the cell

Roll that s***

The inner outer state, bi-coastal smoker
Inhale, Cali piff with a swift of glaucoma
Black jeans, black Timbs, black Benz roaster
Smoke rise, out the sun roof when I roll up

Verrazano, with no relation to Gravano
Carlo, shots are hollow, still cop a bottle
And pour some out, moment of silence, then I swallow
I'm still alive and still the sun'll come out tomorrow

Shine, shine, shine and grind, 'cause it's money on my mind
And I'm moving like my life is on the line
For the bulls***, I really got no time, a full clip
Really gon' let ya n***** know what's on my mind

When ya getting out of line, have them choppers lit up
You won't need a camera phone to get the picture
Chalk down, tape around, body bag zipped up
Carlo Verrazano, you can call me mister

It's 4:20, roll up, n**** getting smoked out
No seeds, California w*** have you choked out
No doubt, roll up, which rims s***** out
4:20 mean you either roll up or roll out

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56b702aa25dad0d51bd71cffbe0eb225

Abdul Jabar Cut - Lyrics - Grits Sandwiches For Breakfast - Kid Rock

Title: Abdul Jabar Cut
Album: Grits Sandwiches For Breakfast
Artist: Kid Rock
Composer(s): R J Ritchie

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Lyric:
Uh, kick on back to the rap I format
When it's through what you do is just play it back
Rewind it, find it
That's how I designed it

And fellas if you see a big butt get behind it
And grind on it
I mean push and bump
'Cause it's about time we made this party jump

Take a drink of your forty
And let's get naughty
Get on the floor
And just move your body to the sound

I found and also developed
Let's trip don't sit, come on get the hell up
Look at the black man, now what'd up
He's not a skin head that's the Abdul Jabar Cut

Yeah, yeah
Streets of Romeo
Mt. Clemens
Detroit
All over

Now people always me and KDC
If we take this activity a seriously
I reply, with a sigh rather uniquely
And say does Donald Trump have a lotta money

Yes a stupid question but I won't quote ya
'Cause I'm the Geraldo, Philmore, Oprah
I'm the K I D R O C K
Down with Jive, RCA

Hey how could you judge me 'cause what I am
Be blind to my mind and take a look and say fuck him
Look at the black man, now what up
He's not a skin head that's the Abdul Jabar Cut

Okay, yeah
Like I said
Top Dog
One, two to the three
And we always come back for more

Kenny wears a low fade
Danny wears no fade
I wear the high fade
And we all get paid

Tryin' to blow my rap down the sink
But go ahead 'cause my rap's made of brick
And it sticks, kicks
Hits and uplifts

At shows, it flows but never drifts
It's too swift and moves with quickness
Top Dog again and you say what is this
Its the under rated MC on top

The young six foot one Kid Rock
Look at the black man, now what's up
He's not a skin head
That's the Abdul Jabar Cut

Okay, yeah
Get down, come back
The black man from New Jersey
KDC, Kid Rock
It's the crew right here
Bitch

Now Patty keep it going with the guitar
Yeah, all you punk ass bitches
Ha, ha, ha, ha
This is Kid Mother fuckin' rock

The beast crew is in the house
All you suckers
This is a mother fuckin' party
You better ask somebody

So get your mother fuckin' hands up in the air
This ain't no joke
Yo this is the mother fuckin' east side
Detroit is in this mother fucker

Uh, ha, ha
Yo the black man
From parts unknown
Can you dig it?
You bitch
Yeah, yeah
For the nineties, hoe

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43cdde3dab754893538ff00eb84a13fa

A Little Somethin' - Lyrics - 14 Shots To The Dome - Ll Cool J

Title: A Little Somethin'
Album: 14 Shots To The Dome
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): J T Smith, M Williams, K Floyd

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Lyric:
Here we go, another funky style
Peace to my brothers on 'Rikers' Isle'
Introducin' the crew, that's goin' a mile
To get behind the ropes, stop actin' wild

This here part is like section one
So you can bug-a-loo and set fire to your buns
Early mornin' light is yet to come
And when it come, we'll get buggy in the sun

Females, let your hair down
'Cause this is how we do it when we go uptown
With the funky sound, the razzamatazz
You give me to the sploshers, you can get your blast

Enter at your own risk, some brothers got weapons
Yet you're still steppin', the beats' so funkafied
And answer to the bone, people'll be dancin' alone

Leanin' on the wall next to grandma's mop
With the funky, funky groove that's far from pop
Dosey-do your partner all night long
And all you mothers, bring your kids along

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Yeah, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Huh, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Yeah, hah, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
(Just kick a little somethin')

Ain't no mountain high enough
To overcome this funky like type of stuff
The feds are ridiculous, they call my bluff
Oh, my wrists are too skinny to hold me with cuffs

I got the sure-shot guaranteed mover
Suck it like a hoover and do ya whole maneuver
Don't stop till you get it on

With ya head be boppin' like a bouncy ball
They do it in the park, they do it in the mall
But when I do it, I'm doin' it for y'all
(Yeah)

Asiatic, automatic, your funky fanatic without no static
Flippin' on the freak like I'm acrobatic
You were searchin' for the funk and I had it
Here we go, hand over the cash yo
What chime? Aiyyo, blast the tobasco

Work your body like a dime, oh no
Do the freaky-deaky, the whole girls' cargo
Females on the side, we gotta win 'em, yeah
The back pockets are stuck with nothin' in 'em, yeah

Except my beeper number
Rubbin' all my lumber so I cannot slumber
Makes me sick like an earthquake
So do the baddy-too-true, we got cash to make
Able body, ready to party
All the ladies in the house must be eatin' hardy

And provin' and movin', groovin', so soothin' good for ya
And clinically proven, damn
Every little bit of the tip makes ya taste flip
Like sugar on Ritz, get on down, to the sure-shot sound
'Cause all five burrows are rockin' uptown

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Yeah, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Whattup? Hah, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Yeah, hah, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Aiyyo, aiyyo
(Just kick a little somethin')

Pump up the nasty, nasty, nasty sound
Kick back and let it please ya like a rub down
Put ya body in the lost and found
(Kick that L)
I love the way its goin' down

What you see is what you get
And all the words who's next to be the teacher's pet
Down-home monkey, corn fed, original
And what you do is up to you, the individual

This is the place to be for y'all underage brothers
With the rebel mentality
Sweet young freaks sayin' 'Rock me [unverified]
Skin so smooth lookin' all [unverified]

Video to video, tape to tape
Walkin' through the jam in search of a playmate
Party is packed like a rich mans' fridge
Too many people in the crib

The situation is sweaty and crazy like Eddy
And yes we are ready to funk it up steady
Ain't nothin' here petty
Trip down to your laundry, I'm ready
Hold your horse and baby feel the force
And get jaws off, no matter what the cost

Come out to cloth, get hot like a stove
Early in the mornin', we're dancin' in robes
To a funkafied sweaty, greazy groove
I know the Marley remix to make you move

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Yeah, I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
I do a little somethin'

(Yo uncle)
Whassup? Whassup?
(Yo uncle)
Peace out, hah, I did a little somethin'

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2fc6aab8f324d62b41b5cddbdab3e60f

Black Girl Lost - Lyrics - It Was Written - Nas

Title: Black Girl Lost
Album: It Was Written
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): Reggie Lucas, Lashawn Lewis, Nasir Jones, James Mtume

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Lyric:
Hello, whassup girl?
Ain't nothin', this nigga in here stressin'
Talkin' that old off the wall back to Africa shit again
What, that God Body shit? Yeah, that dumb shit
I'm tryin to get up outta here, I hear that, but yo
You know the spot is pumpin' tonight, word f'real where?
You know, where the real niggaz is poppin' the Cristal
Not that white stuff, word where the real niggaz at?

Listen to reason
Pretty baby baby baby listen

A young wild beautiful love child
You like them thug style link rockin', then mink coppin'
Hit you on the sink a hundred dollar drink poppin'
The head'll make you take him shoppin', a foul doctrine

Reminiscent of my first time up in a chick
You was innocent, but now you rent-a-dick, wear the tightest shit
Chanel lookin' real, airbrushed nails
Hit the gym, hit the scales, heaven-sent but negligent

To see a prophecy, your ebony tone is lockin' me
The way you moan make me daydream of you on top of me
Wishin' I could be the one man, but you juggle
Way too many Willies all in one hand

You wanna run up in clubs, gettin' rubbed on
Niggaz pull your hair, shake your fat rear
Get your fuck on, followin' week, you back there
But what you stuck on, weed, clowns and cars

Puffin' with some lil' nigga, husband not knowin' she's out
Could you believe Eve, Mother Earth of the seas
Niggaz thirst you, you just let 'em hurt you and leave
What up mah, frontin' like you naive

Pusherman's whip, callin' police when you flip
Can't understand it, yo it should be a throne for us
But for now that's a whole different zone from us
Word

Diamonds all shinin', lookin' all fine
Pretty little face, get a little high
Young girl stugglin', tryin' to survive
Mother of the Earth, she made you and I
Just tired of playin' the same ol' games
Messin' with my mind, emotional thangs
And there goes, a black girl, lost

Like Isis, she got you heartbroke and felt lifeless
Grow up girl instead you want revenge so now you act the nicest
To who'sever gettin' down and trifless
To get his mind all you do is give him somethin' priceless

'Cause in time he'll realize the thighs is all he needs
More than weed, then you hit him off with lies and greed
There you go again, startin' wars, makin' me more yours
Seem to get a kick out of keepin' me on all fours

Face glistenin', I'm addicted to you
Original, Wisdom Body got me picturin' you
Igloos of ice trickin' on you, you never listen
To this nigga spendin' Franklins on tennis anklets

Must've had a bad deal in the past though
Can't even keep it real with a nigga with cash flow
Say men are all the same, what we need to do is break this chain
You got a job part-time and school's your night thing

With dreams to settle down, it ain't far from now
You gettin' interviewed, but your boss is into gettin' screwed
Typical day that the black girl sees
Comin' home wantin' more from a college degree

Diamonds all shinin', lookin' all fine
Pretty little face, you get a little high
Young girl stugglin', tryin' to survive
Mother of the Earth, she made you and I
Just tired of playin' the same ol' games
Messin' with my mind, emotional thangs
And there goes, a black girl, lost

Where are you focused, on legit niggaz and where the coke is
Nice and Thug Life niggaz, yo you seem hopeless
Your value, too much to be measured, I wonder how you
Could ever be played, your pussy worth gold amountin' to

More than the world, but not knowin' nothin' about you
You leavin' the crib, takin' all your kids out to
Drop them off, lettin' some nigga knock you off
So hot and soft, that's the same thing that got you lost

Growin' up seein' it, it should remind you, you bein' lied to
Everything that move be inside you
Sacred as you are, left with these wannabes to guide you
I watched you, hard to knock you, I tried not to

They spot you out dancin' topless in your drawers
Damn look, there goes a black girl lost

You should be ashamed of yourself
The way you carry yourself
The way you hang out all night long
Doin' silly things that is wrong
Black girl

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0c234213455c23016db673e280c3893b

Buckin' Em Down - Lyrics - 14 Shots To The Dome - Ll Cool J

Title: Buckin' Em Down
Album: 14 Shots To The Dome
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): Quincy Jones, James Todd Smith

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Lyric:
Yeah, man the flavor, flavor
Yeah, ah yeah, who we doing?

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

Ninety-three comin' off with the flicks and the rough shit
Packin' niggas kicks with black pits, saber tooth, the truth, ha-coot
Spit the juice and let the hot-ass-lead-loose
Let it fly, betty-bye if you're ready to die
Kickin' your ass and you can ask Keith Sweat why?
I make your Benz seem obsolete G

Rippin' your ass discretely, if you meet me
Puttin' bullets holes in tents, no fingerprints
You'll catch a slug in your ass while you jump the fence
Another young black man just caught a case
Not from 'Texa-mase'
From gettin' funky like a staircase

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

Yeah, what a scene, pullin' a Tech
With an extra magazine out the baggy-ass jeans
Wettin' up the block with mad Tech shots
Drop the glock, puttin' crack heads in headlocks
Like a cheetah with my dig-beaters
Ten millimeter, buck, buckin' you down from my two-seater

Rippin' shit for the brothers who ain't here
Killin' bears and kickin' snitches right off the pier
Glock full of guts, steady buckin' butts
Lettin' moonlight in your head-pull-puds
Def Jam in your ass for the jams
You've got posse but are you nice with your hands?

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

Biggin' them up and the rippin' them up and the
Shakin' them up and the pickin' them up and the
Biggin' them up and the rippin' them up and the
Shakin' them up and the pickin' them up and the

Biggin' them up and the rippin' them up and the
Shakin' them up and the pickin' them up
Biggin' them up and the rippin' them up and the
Shakin' them up and the pick

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

Draggin' your flower-ass rappers outta clubs
Thinkin' it pay too much, wet 'em like a dove
But in the slang, in the speech, in the style
Connect, can never be ripped by a suburban child
Gun smoke, bananza on the block, yeah
When all the shit was dead, coulda did a bid
Conferring emcee scramble, dismantle
Never gamble and try to handle a vandal

You'll catch a forty upside ya head with ya fake dreads
Tryin' to front like you're packin' lead
Dumb-dumbs are fine in a Spiro
And now you got more beef than a jiro
Peep the ballistic, kick, slick, quick, flip a script-a-slips
But that ain't new shit, burnin' ya crib down
I'm frontin' personal, he's hearin' how a nine sounds
Busy-quizick, the disare is in fizz up his li-life, the visits was borin'

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down
Buck, buckin' em down, buck, buckin' em down

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0e9cf149f632b9460e9f3c4466ed8a23

Burning In Me - Lyrics - Love & Faith & Inspiration - Lindsay Pagano

Title: Burning In Me
Album: Love & Faith & Inspiration
Artist: Lindsay Pagano
Composer(s): Jude Cole

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Lyric:
Tired of walkin' 'round, head down lost and found
Victimized by a prize that ain't worth keepin'
Feelin' all alone, address unknown
Where do you go when the clouds start creepin'

Gotta turn on a dime, now baby, make it shine
Like the gift was intended to be
It's a light that burns out when you doubt
And you can't get it back when you can't even see

I believe, I believe, I believe
I believe it's burning in me
(Burning in me)
I believe, I believe, I believe
We can make it, we can make it
(Make it, make it)
If we just reach up and take it

Kick scratchin', this child's gone wild
In the city it's a pity when you're blind by greed
What you take is your soul and the one thing you hold
Is the love you make and love is free

Too ashamed to ask that the past be forgiven
Didn't your mama teach you how to say please?
Put your mind in line for the goal
If you can't take control than get down on your knees

I believe, I believe, I believe
I believe it's burning in me
(Burning in me)
I believe, I believe, I believe
We can make it, we can make it
(Make it, make it)
If we just reach up and take it

Gotta turn on a dime, now baby, make it shine
Like the gift was intended to be
It's a light that burns out when you doubt
And you can't get it back when you can't even see

I believe, I believe, I believe
(I believe)
I believe it's burning in me
(I believe)
It's burning in me

Gotta turn on a dime, now baby, make it shine
Like the gift was intended to be
Put you mind in line for the goal
If you can't take control then get down on your knees

I believe, I believe, I believe
I believe it's burning in me
(Burning in me)
I believe, I believe, I believe
We can make it, we can make it
(Make it, make it)
If we just reach up and take it

I believe, I believe, I believe
I believe it's burning in me
(Burning in me)
I believe, I believe, I believe
We can make it, make it
Just take it

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e08370bae925bae865ee5672bd65d062

Cereal Killer - Lyrics - Tical 2000 Judgementday - Method Man

Title: Cereal Killer
Album: Tical 2000 Judgementday
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): Willie James Clarke, Clifford Smith, Clarence Henry Reid, Reggie Noble, Robert Diggs

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah, murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill
I'm going to kill

Slowly I turn, step by step through the back window, I crept
Silent as a mouse on a set while everybody in the house slept
I disconnect the phones and the rest find a butcher knife
Cut the power lines to the lights now a nigga wild for the night
I come like the living death, straight from the dirt
Back to avenge his own death on this earth

Ever heard of Jason, then you know my work
Down to the basement, the dog get it first
I can't help myself, my thoughts ain't my own
The voices in my head just won't leave me alone
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill
Pissing on the car seats, flattenin' the wheels
So there's no escape from the fate that awaits
No one to witness the horror taking place

Yeah, now I'm on my way up the stairs
To the bedroom on my prey unaware
Heads will be hung from the chimney with care
With hopes that the police soon will be here
I'm a killer

Yo, yo
Fuck knocking, kick the door, evict the four
Yell out, "It's a stickup, hit the floor"
You fish cake niggas, stay Lipton off
Did your mama name you, or Mrs. Paul's
Battle in session, what's up with it?
I talk like I walk with a fucked up pivot
Niggas scream out, "It's just us bitches"
Don't shoot, out the phone booth

I aim at your party, hit the wrong group, "Happy birth"
Niggas done snap, runnin' hunch back
Ducking, brick walls, get thumbtacked
So run laps, for I body you
Bust out the size, like karate shoes, Doc
Turn Velcro, when night falls
Central park joggers, wear bright clothes
Tae Bo, five flo's lizard, centipede, snake
I'm a killer, I'm a killer
This is the sound of a cow

Yo, yo
I walk on backs like Mr. Bentley, after P P P strips you empty
Gather around, for rapid sound fourth of July was three months ago
Shoulda pad 'em down no one will fold both thumbs
And eight fingers to square with Joe Young
Tongue below one, spit dumb, moron
For white boys to snowboard on
So whatchu, whatchu, whatchu want?

Chew spearmint gum two double pump
Two cannons, piece by piece
Your school get dazed like G by G
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill
Take nuts and screws out ferris wheels
If you ain't Missy, payin' no bills
Body, you and supermarket, no thrills

Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill

Doc hold my coat, I'm 'bout to go low
Titanic MC rock the boat meth
Tone deaf rhyme, microphone sex line
Next time don't forget the TEC-9 step
Five digital, context is critical
Bomb threat these individuals thats on deck
So you the ill est nigga in Nebraska? Hell naw
It's the master, number sixteen, party crasher, Flex

I think too much, I drink too much
My crew don't really give two fucks, about you ducks
We over here Shaolin', what, spontaneous combust
When I smoke a bag of dust, what a rush, cigar be the dutch
Method Man and Redman, Starsky and Hutch
I crush MC's can't trust niggas, niggas can't trust me
I'm a killer

Cereal, cereal killer
Cereal, cereal killer
Cereal, cereal killer
Cereal, cereal killer

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7d28316c8a63474b9c4e8e2bf4593c3e

Chop Me Up - Three 6 Mafia, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake - Lyrics - FutureSex / LoveSounds - Justin Timberlake

Title: Chop Me Up - Three 6 Mafia, Timbaland, Justin Timberlake
Album: FutureSex / LoveSounds
Artist: Justin Timberlake
Composer(s): Jordan Houston, Paul Beauregard, Justin Timberlake, Nate Hills, Timothy Mosley

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
It's going down
Tennessee
Justin Timberlake
Timbaland
Three 6 Mafia

Tennessee
VA, Dirty South, Dirty South
It's how we do what we do, man
When we do what we do, what, what
Project shit what

I know you see me looking, girl go on and act right
A little closer, let me see you in the spotlight
Now turn around and let me see just what ya curved like
Go grab your friends and y'all can come to the back

Why don't you take a sip upon this champagne
Relax, take your coat off, and let me get your name
I love that hour-glass shape you got upon that frame
I like the way you talk your game we might be one and the same

Now I know you got a buzz off that alcohol
I got a house that can entertain all of y'all
Maybe later on I'll give you a phone call
I'm 'bout to slide out, but I'll get back at ya

And when I call don't give me the run-around
I ain't gonna have you tryin' to play me like a silly clown
Don't second guess it, girl, there ain't nothin' to think about
'Cause you got me feigning, but girl you don't hear me

Little lady, you got me just
Screwed up off of your melody
Little lady, c'mon and don't
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

Little lady, you got me just
Screwed up off of your melody
Easy baby c'mon and don't
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

You're kinda cute, baby, are you new in town?
My name is Tim, AKA Thomas Crown
I heard you're lost, do you know your way around
If you got a problem baby I can hold ya down

I can be your navigator or your compass
Better yet a genie baby make your first wish
You the party, baby, I'm just the guest list
I think I need some Tylenol, you got me restless

So grab your friends, let's take it back to my house
Let's watch 'Sex and the City' or 'Desperate Housewives'
Simon says touch yours while you touch mine
Parental discretion is advised

Y'all can be the star in my spotlight
Studio 54 if we get the props right
All we need right now is a little bit, a little bit of act right
Y'all looking shy, but ya act like y'all don't hear me

Little lady, you got me just
Screwed up off of your melody
Little lady, c'mon and don't
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

Little lady, you got me just
Screwed up off of your melody
Easy baby c'mon and don't
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

See girl you stronger than the strongest drug I ever had
You could mix 'em all together you still be twice as bad
'Cause you the worst best girlfriend I ever had
Harder to kick than cigarettes and green thangs

Harder to escape than jail cells and bills
Yeah ya you had me lost since the minute gurl an' pig tails
Like Michael Jackson, "How you do me this way?"
Got me cryin' rivers like Timbaland and Timberlake, yeah

They call me Juicy J straight up out the Three 6 Mafia
Ghetto fab playa on these streets I'm tryin' a holla at ya
Quit playing games girl you got my head spinnin' 'round
I ain't gonna chirp your mobile phone and chase you all over town

I just want to pick you up and take you to a bachelor nest
Is it good? Is it good? And have a little smack fest
So if you never call me I'll be somewhere down in Tennessee
Washing away my sorrows in a cold cup of Hennessey

Little lady, you got me just
Screwed up off of your melody
Little lady, c'mon and don't
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

Little lady, you got me just
Screwed up off of your melody
Easy baby c'mon and don't
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

Screwed up
Chop me up

Screwed up off of your melody
Chop me up, please don't make a fool of me

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7e7b9034d1df1e341b78f8a1c99db72e

Cry Babies - Lyrics - Ludacris

Title: Cry Babies
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Chris Bridges, Kaseem Dean

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

I got people scared as fuck like when condoms break
Or how your heart deals with eatin' eighty pounds of steak
So put your belly on a plate and watch your weight
You frostin' like a flake and Ludacris feels great

Who want come face me, face come want who?
And women give me face until they're face turns blue
They can't breathe, dick to mouth resuscitation
A tight squeeze witch stops the length to conversations

I play stations, duck cops and lose agents
I'm doctor love, I close curtains and fuck patients
When I kick and rip and flip an indispensable rhyme
My black ass is so hungry I'll take a bite out of crime

And it'll hurt if I swallow, but even more if I choke
Neighbors called the fire station off the blunt that I smoke
You see I crush cowards, funerals I'll send flowers
And I'm on the overpass flick pennies at rush hour

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

You see I'm ambidextrous, I slap ass with both hands
Delete your first steps, but I'll save the last dance
I just bought some new guns my mama said "It ain't worth it"
But I'm at the shooting range just 'cause practice makes perfect

Bullseye, I stunt growth and stop lives
And you run with niggas that's more chicken then pot pies
I'm shakin' your tale feathers
I got big balls, I'm a Sac King like Chris Webber

Luda' will take you back to duck hunt and double dribble
When niggas sold quarters and dimes and smoked nickels
My cars got big TV's and satellites
I got a wheel of fortune 'cause I flipped O's like Vanna White

And the survey says? Kill a muthafucka now
Could it be off with his head? Or shoot a muthafucka down
Ground round, ground chuck your ground beef
Bullets gather round then I shoot rounds around teeth

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

I kick niggas in they're ass reboot 'em like laptops
And they wouldn't even box if I gave 'em a flat top
You punks pucker and pout, bicker and babble
Now they all lost for words like I beat 'em in scrabble

You see I'm from a small town called "Fresh out a cop's ass"
Where Mr. Head-potatoes are skinned they get mashed
I smell puss from fifty yards, y'all not playin' with full decks
As if I jacked out ya jacks and left fifty cards

Catch me in Vegas spinnin' the green
I re-up with more chips than a vending machine
Then you can catch me in Rome mackin' some brauds and sticking 'em
And you'll be at home picking your bougars and flicking 'em

A drug dealer's dream, so fresh and I'm so clean
I'm a grown ass man and you're sweeter than sixteen
So go and kick rocks peons you're just rookies
Headed down stairs to get you some milk and cookies

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

Oh no, I caught him with a blow to the chest
Oh no, my hollow put a hole in his vest
Oh no, I'm 'bout to send two to his dome
Oh no, cry babies go home

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3d6e1b361061b7e5b5136f8e5236083c

Danger (Been So Long) - Lyrics - Let's Get Ready - Mystikal

Title: Danger (Been So Long)
Album: Let's Get Ready
Artist: Mystikal
Composer(s): Chad Hugo, Mike Taylor, Pharrell Williams

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
You know what time it is nigga?
And you know who the fuck this is?
Danger, danger get on the floor
The nigga right here, sing it

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

Go tell the D.J to put my shit on
I'm keepin' you niggas and bitches
In jump from the minute I get on
Takin' the shit off, showin' the tattoos
Screamin' and hollerin' and all
Got the gift to come up with it
Put it together, deliver it, make 'em feel it
Bitch I been on, sharp
Like you pulled me out the pencil sharpener
Bad, like that student in the principal's office

Put rappers in coffins, they dive like dolphins
I'm the [Incomprehensible] lyrical marvel
[Incomprehensible] officer, watch yourself
Or fuck around and get beside yourself
I know, go ahead though
Bounce them titties, shake that ass, drop that pussy
Stay in line hoe, fuck a think 'cause you can, can
Cocked up, head down, pussy poppin' on a handstand
Leave that pussy smokin', if you wanna lose somethin'
Bend over, and bust that pussy open

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

My fuckin' concert lyin' around the corner
Parkin' cars, niggas for their bitch, nothin' on her
You lookin' good momma, why? What's up homie?
Sirens, Limousines, and the club owner, ya bitch you
If you late, ain't no getting in this bitch 'cause it's fillin' up
Inside packed from the floor to the ceilin' up
The buildin' ain't big enough, I'm backstage bouncin'

Adrenalin buildin' up, the pussy cutter, did I stutter?
The heart flooder, make your woman drawers melt like butter
Down like Nelly, hype like belly
The rhyme seller, kick ass like Jim Kelly
Stand up, round out, boot up and frown
Tell a nigga if he wanna try it then bitch come on down
No sweat, no blood, no tears and if I tell you it's the shit
Then bitch that's what it is

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

Danger, talkin' 'bout, danger
Motherfucker look, get on the floor
The nigga right here, danger
Motherfucker, watch your back, danger
Look, look, nigga what? Look, look
Get on the floor, the nigga right here
Get 'em up

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

Been so long since he's been on
So please show me
What it is that you want to see?

Danger, danger, get on the floor
The nigga right here, sing it
Danger, danger, get on the floor
That nigga right here
This is my motherfuckin' floor

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a37b303665c758c8437fc15dd6267344

Dangerous Grounds - Lyrics - Tical 2000 Judgementday - Method Man

Title: Dangerous Grounds
Album: Tical 2000 Judgementday
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): Derrick Harris, Patrick Charles, Clifford Smith

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo
All them real live motherfuckin' niggaz step up front right now
It's goin' down
One love to Long Island Hempstead in my heart baby
Shaolin what?
Come on, come on, ha

Dangerous ground
Tre pound seven spin around for my bredren the cloud come down
War and peace, I take it to the street
Land shark on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief

And curse his first born, is this thing on?
Send 'em to the children of the corn, we the people
See, niggaz through the eye of the demon
My lethal injection, destroyin' evil
Hot Nikkel, private eye one pistol
Aimin' at your brain tissue, do or die
Said the spider to the fly, "Could this one be tasty?"

Like momma apple pie goodness, Johnny Blaze me
On the job like Dick Tracy
Hit the cure for that ill shit like Ben Casey, M.D.
Symbolic thrill like God he shocked it
Like a finger in a light socket, too good to be forgotten
In the rotten apple
I kick dirt on your sand castle
Check the flavor all natural

Beat your feet
Hot Nikk's son
Heat-mizer
Before you get the main course
Taste a appetizer

Submerged in the word
Heavy headed verbal that smack you
Mentally disturb you, attack you
Thirty six chamb' once again comin' at you
Young gun got the body snatch you observe
Wise words you can only see through the third
I fall way beyond the norm on the verb
Shine on mental nourishment, you can dine on
Track yellin' at me get yo arrow god

Victory is hard, regardless to whom or what
They all movin' targets Allah
Runnin' through your house and your block party, with rap shotty
And hot rock the body body, St. Bernards
Couldn't save your entourage, rap lobotomy
Leave ya mentally scarred, numb and possibly
Dumb deaf and blind is it
I kick the spine out the battery backs
Fuckin' with mine keep it movin'

Now everybody just throw your hands in the
What the fuck, fuck?
Peace, who this?

Mind detect mind, I P.L.O. your startin' line
Deep Space Nine
Designed for knuckleheads who bust guns and throw signs
Let's converse snatch the tap from your purse
Body-surf on the verse head first
Peep defeat, bitch Street beat you down with the heat
And you spazzed out spittin' out teeth ain't nuttin' peace
Big boys don't destroy blunted zone pop steroid

50 men convoy, expensive where's the big toy
Rumble through the wasteland right hand's on the silencer
40 caliber city slicker Staten Islander
Synchronized minds combine thoughts that motivate
Don't perpetrate pass the blunt let it circulate
Street politicians on a suicide mission
Crime vision finger itchin' from a scope view position

Dangerous ground
Tre' pound seven spin around for my bredren the cloud comes down

Keep your eyes open
Love potion number nine poetry in motion
Knowledge me the seventh sign
Scopin', connivin', infiltrate is most of mine
Play 'em nonchalantly, calmly expose the nine
Push and get shoved' what the fuck Gods' thinkin' of
Comin' in the club wit that screwface, actin' up
Is we men or mice, bad moon risin' we wild for the night
Kill a skitzofrenic nigga twice 'cuz o
That's what happened when frontin' on the Shaol' borough

Island of Staten we in here no fear
Assault wit intent
To kill your whole regiment it's real
Startin' wit yo president, duckin' my dart gun
Tear apart son you don't want it then don't start none
Blaze one with Jonathon, part man part fly
Handle my B I camouflage like G.I.
Fat like Joe, a day in the life
Your money or your life that's the life
Everybody can't afford ice in the struggle
Tryin' to eat right another day another hustle hustle hustle

Dangerous ground
Tre' pound seven spin around for my bredren the clouds come down
War and peace, I take it to the street
Land shark on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief
Motherfucker

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fdd1b3be0a188f285b9086825bc386de

Ain'T Yo Bidness - Lyrics - Insane Clown Posse

Title: Ain'T Yo Bidness
Artist: Insane Clown Posse
Composer(s): Mike Puwal, Joseph Bruce, William Dail

Lyric:
Rude boy sittin' pancaked on 23's
Clown love to Chicage Juggalos
We underground like Blaze
My dead homie, and yours?
We dead, we dead? No wait a minute
We don't die, we don't die, we dead

Maybe I like bloody murder music
You know shit like stab your fuckin' eye
Maybe I like eatin' shit like Tylenol PM's
'Cuz 5 or 6'll get you high, oh

Maybe I like punchin' people I don't even know
I knock 'em flat up fuckin' out
Tuck some money in they jacket with a note
That simply reads, I had to let some anger out

Maybe I only hang with weirdos, and hoodlums
And junkies, I keep 'em by my side
Maybe mama doesn't understand a friend
Is hard to come by, so I keep what I can find

Maybe I got two felonies, tattoos on my neck
And I always paint my face
Can I still date your daughter? I mean, I think
I outta, I like the way she tastes

Ain't yo bidness, how I act
Ain't yo bidness, don't get slapped
Ain't yo concern, what we do
Less you want yo, face slapped too

Ain't yo bidness, how I act
Ain't yo bidness, don't get slapped
Ain't yo concern, what we do
Less you want yo, face slapped too

Maybe I don't' even like you, but I gotta front
'Cuz your a record label guy, mother fucker
What if I dragged you by the hair into the street
And beat your ass, put a boot up in your eye, bitch

Maybe I would rather fuck a Missy Elliot
Before a Toni Braxton
Maybe I would rather fuck a Macy Gray
Before a Janet Jackson

Maybe I don't have no self esteem
So I like to pick on everybody else
Maybe when I was a boy, underneath my shirt
I had bruises and welts, oh, it's okay

Maybe I was hungry, bottom barrel poor
And my mom was always sick
Maybe I'm lyin', I'm just tryna find an excuse
To be a dick, I'm a dick, dick

Maybe I'm upset that you left me, I'll hang myself
Right above your bed, you should try suicide
From the ceiling fan, so I'll be swingin'
When you walk in, I might kick you in the head

Maybe I got seven therapists, I been committed
But my manager he got me free, double A y'all
Eighteen pills a day, I get so dizzy and high
Sometimes I can't even see, I gotta sit down

Ain't yo bidness, how I act
Ain't yo bidness, don't get slapped
Ain't yo concern, what we do
Less you want yo, face slapped too

Ain't yo bidness, how I act
Ain't yo bidness, don't get slapped
Ain't yo concern, what we do
Less you want yo, face slapped too

Esham the Boogie Man, running with the fuckin' hatchet
Violent J the Juggalo, and Shaggy
The southwest strangler allegedly
Collectively known as the soopa villains

Super flex, jet super sex
The boogie man bustin' the Bazooka necks, get wet
The soopa villains clock super checks
The Juggalo in me will break the bank and you super necks

It's the Juggle jugglin' Juggalo thuggalin' thuggalo
Scrub ninja mutha facko
My axe I keep with me, sneak with
I creep with, sever skulls and sleep with

The southwest strangler super plex
Some bitch through the limo window, super stretch
Now, I wonder should I shoot you next
With the super soaker, get you soakin' wet

Juggaloly, I'm a soopa villain
I'm swingin' my swords and I'm all up on the ceiling
I'm a ninja, throw drop kicks, chop necks like Sabu
Stab you, grab have at you

Soopa villains, makin' a soopa hero killin'
Fuck ya feelins'
Ready and willin' any day I could blow
Insane monkey like Mojo Jo Jo

Citizens don't talk to the FBI
'Cuz that killa with the shank to ya neck be I
I'm quick to bag the diamonds, snag in
I love Batman, but Robin's a faggot

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47f38d467673bbe3f4a30bc8b3cad682

Dirty Dirty - Lyrics - Thank You - Jamelia

Title: Dirty Dirty
Album: Thank You
Artist: Jamelia
Composer(s): Terry Ann Henry, Jamelia Davis

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
We can be all cute, all sweet, and flirty, flirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Can be a princess for a night, real pirty, pirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Just when you thought it was safe and all prissy
Jamelia, back in your face but more gritty
Took tips from Diddy, switch my committee
Now some a y'all can't believe, how raw is she?

Now I'm in the drivers seat getting ya dizzy
Got ya tongue tied and ya eyes wide
I even heard a bubbling up in ya inside
When you swallowed ya pride

Truth can't be denied, I know you're probably expecting a ballad
But I can kick a rhyme round like I'm tossing a salad
Because this time round I be causing a hazard
Like if I threw a house party up in Buckingham Palace

I know you're catching your breath
On the floor, getting raw, 'cause it's hot to death
I come to violate your space like you're under arrest
And girls, what's a little bit of mud on ya dress?

We can be all cute, all sweet, and flirty, flirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Can be a princess for a night, real pirty, pirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

So, tell me why you're acting like you been KO-ed?
It's really not your fault
You never thought that I could flow though
Roll though, heat the place up like jalapeaos

Light up ya life like I was day glow
I make you feel good like I was a gigolo
Hypnotize ya eyes with my figure, yo
Disbelieving people convinced I'm digital
Ain't no shame, they just not familiar with original

Woah, ain't run of the mill
Just one of a million styles
That'll just kill you like Amytiville
Head down always writing, I'll be damned if I chill

While my names up in lights, and I'm topping the bill
Ooh slow down girl, what you mean slow down?
I'm on a roll now, my dirty-ism's outta control now
I couldn't even tell myself to hold it down now

We can be all cute, all sweet, and flirty, flirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Can be a princess for a night, real pirty, pirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Never though something like this
Would come your way, from J A M E L I A
You don't want me to leave now, begging me to stay
You love the way I got you bouncing all day

I know some of these girls wanna trip me up
Wanna see me slip up 'cause their man wanna, me up
Gripping his arm like you're holding him up
Like that's gonna stop him wanting me so much

I'm like tips in his cup, look at you
You need a couple nips and a tuck plus a comb and a brush
You need someone to drag your ass home in a rush
Standing up in here like you're looking so plush

Your mama shoulda named you what the, censored
Okay, okay, alright, alright
I got it man, you don't have to alert me
There's times in my life when I just gotta get dirty

We can be all cute, all sweet, and flirty, flirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Can be a princess for a night, real pirty, pirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

We can be all cute, all sweet, and flirty, flirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Can be a princess for a night, real pirty, pirty
But won't hesitate to get dirty, dirty
Ain't nothing you can do when we decide
It's about to get dirty

Flirty, flirty, dirty, dirty
We decide, it's about to get dirty
Pirty, pirty, dirty, dirty
We decide, dirty

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Do What You Like - Lyrics - The Notorious K.I.M. - Lil' Kim

Title: Do What You Like
Album: The Notorious K.I.M.
Artist: Lil' Kim
Composer(s): James Lloyd, Jamel Fisher, . Larceny, Kimberly Jones, K. Raphael

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
QB ya shit shit is crazy yo, can't fuck wit' you fo' real
They can't fuck wit' you, they can't fuck wit' you
What's wrong wit' ya'll niggas man?
The fuck is wrong wit ya'll niggas, where you at nigga
C'mon nigga, yo, where you at, where you at nigga
Check 'em out, yo yo yo

When it's murder on my mind, I do it all the time
Got tombstone flow, wit' a casket rhyme
Your gats is plastic, I got platinum nines
With gold shells Banger Vegas tap ya spine

I'm the type to spaz out and take back what's mine
Rep for my hood niggas slingin' crack and dimes
Half is mine so you know it's half my time
In the pen or the box wit' my man on the ox

We gon do it like we did it on the block, let's roll
Like wit 60's 30's, 40 niggas wit' me
Rep ya hood, rep ya block, rep ya city
This is me talkin', without the Remy in me

I kick it from the heart, that's why niggas feel me
Show ya'll the true meanin' why Banger act Willie
'Cause I start to spaz and smack a bitch silly
They call Leo Ganza wit' the twin nine millis, yeah niggas

Do what you like, we don't give a fuck
Go head and fight, all my bitches grab a nigga
And fuck tonight, it's ya muthafuckin' world
Do what you like, do what you like

Do what you like, you got a muthafuckin' gun
Bust of the nine, all my niggas grab a bitch
And fuck tonight, it's ya muthafuckin' world
Do what you like, do what you like

This is for them niggas frontin', don't really want it
My 32 bullets got all ya names on it
Hit 'em in the brain, niggas slain, layin' dormant
Iced out grenade, wit' the big chains on it

New Years blimp wit' big name on it
Iceburg sweaters wit' Kim name on it
Cease-A-Le Tee wit' big blood stain on it
Every time I sign a check, I sign a thug name on it

Niggas got rhymes but they flow's so borin'
No stage shows, so forget about tourin'
Mad at my team 'cause my niggas stay scorin'
All you gotta do is make a false move and it's warnin'

My guns bust, niggas get wet when it's pourin'
Rain down long like Kim gettin' dressed in the mornin'
Five star general, spit a Uzi at ya coffin
Run up in ya crib without a search warrant

Do what you like, we don't give a fuck
Go head and fight, all my bitches grab a nigga
And fuck tonight, it's ya muthafuckin' world
Do what you like, do what you like

Do what you like, you got a muthafuckin' gun
Bust of the nine, all my niggas grab a bitch
And fuck tonight, it's ya muthafuckin' world
Do what you like, do what you like

Once again it's on, the muthafuckin psychos M.A.F.I.A.
Bitches feel us, we the realest
My Bed Stuy niggas is who I ride for
Send that ass slow like I ride a six four

I'm what ya kids admire, don't wanna see retire
Got bitches in the pen and in the church choir
Got a new attitude for the Y2K
Same shit nigga, try me I'ma blow 'em away

Ayo move out the way Bris, I'm about to hook off
Sick of muthafuckas tryna play us lick we soft
You have any idea, how many words I shook off
I'm not havin', uh, no, I'm not havin' it

You heard what I said, don't make me raise my voice
And I know ya'll don't want me to call me boys
M.A.F.I.A. we break rules in the club
My whole crews in the club

And girl, don't you hate when bitches be wit' the friends
Dancin' all wild, bumpin you again and again
Yeah, I know that some real punk shit
Fuck that, I ain't tryna hear that drunk shit

Bitches like that get stomped out
You know the rules, beat a bitch till she conk out
Lady what we fear nigga you like, give 'em a pussy invite
It's aight maybe get ya pussy sucked tonight

And do what you like, we don't give a fuck
Go head and fight, all my bitches grab a nigga
And fuck tonight, it's ya muthafuckin' world
Do what you like, do what you like

Do what you like, you got a muthafuckin' gun
Bust of the nine, all my niggas grab a bitch
And fuck tonight, it's ya muthafuckin' world
Do what you like, do what you like

Ya'll need to cut it out 'fore ya get stomped out
Yeah muthafuckas
All my niggas get high and fuck tonight
It's our muthafuckin' world

Ya'll need to cut it out 'fore ya get stomped out, yeah
Big shout from the house, yea Queen Bee
M.A.F.I.A. style, B.I.G., forever baby Brooklyn
We gonna let ya'll know

Do what you want, do what ya like nigga, it's 2000
YaknowwhatI'msayin', all Hell to the Y2Kim baby
GB, it's yo turn, all you hoes make a U-turn
Aiight, aight represent niggas

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e9f375ab1a1cafbb0f4bbc06e3a35a79

Everyday All Day - Lyrics - Naughty By Nature - Naughty By Nature

Title: Everyday All Day
Album: Naughty By Nature
Artist: Naughty By Nature
Composer(s): Keir Gist, Marshall Jones, Allen Webster Gregory, Leroy Bonner, Anthony Criss, Walter Morrison, Andrew Noland, Vinnie Brown, Ralph Middlebrooks

{AdsenseCode:2D080010-7055-443A-8D12-2B79DDC71256}

Lyric:
This is somethin' that I call the flow
Not many if any 'cept for Vinnie can say they know
In fact detracting that is something that I rarely show
Because my tongue is actually fast but then again it's slow
See yo, you say cheeka boo
(Throw it bro)
A name pertained for niggas who, who
Who hear that name and place a trigger to the figure who
It blew through and if ya try ta rip, I throw a bigger blue shoe to you
And if you take the shoe, a nigga actor will do, ooh

Dressed to the best to impress but after they try to diss it
Well guess a nigga, I'll take a pistol
See who wants to be naughty or nicest
Like ice is I'm priceless, plug the mic to it
Come with the D with the I with the S to the S's, see whose hype is
Test the test the Treach to Treach address, the address
How I'll bless and blow any conflicts
Why to try to chrome, my style is just nonsense
M-my ni-ni-nigga m-m-mackin' so you get out of it

Any and all should fall, many are small should call
Naughty by Nature the creator of all y'all
Show hope, show no hope and can't cope, so no way
This is how we play everyday all day

Yo yo hey yo
Havin' a round of cadavva, gather matters is drastically
Never say never whenever whether we come on after thee
Hand to Gee the producer, me is loose off the claps ya see
That keeps you boogie 'n happily
Voice ya opinion, it's the rhythm I'm lendin'
The message I'm sendin' from London to Linley
Girls are given a chance to get ya all pampered
Leave them ol' cramps in your pants then I belly dance her

God is good and if you would, you should just
Play to the way I see 'em, play all day is what He'll bless
I'm leavin' 'em evil and seein' 'em bein' a torture with dull props
I won't give up 'til you had 'nough of these call shots
Now let the hard floor break your fall darlin'
'Cos on the shrift and Naughty Nature ain't waltzin'
When we dance we come full-thrust, the bum rush
Knockin' and poppin' and poppin' and sockin'
And rockin' dawn 'til dusk

I ain't the type to get suit-to-sike
I feel I'm better than ever before but as a rapper I'm just alright
Showin' time is for clocks, knockin' poppas
Pop pop you try to shine I make your heart work proper
And that's comin' from the drifter and if ya
R U N ya L I P, you will B E G O N E
So let the guests gettin' pass-ons, be bygones
Nevertheless is definitely hit and hits are what we strive on
We feel this way every single day all day
So make way

Wuz up to all you MC cub scouts, grub scouts gettin' rubbed out
I'll bet'cha kept ya album froze 'til this came out
Hittin' ideas to use, a half of us snit or two
Snatchin' and maxin' a rap that I'm castin', how dare you?
How the hell can you yell what someone else said?
I must get on what I loan, what I own on my forehead, huh
But I doubt that, and now you wanna back out
Your career had more ins and outs than a crack house

I'm mackin' 'n' rackin' 'n' cappin' the acts and I wax em wit-wit a smack
This scam he owes must judge me rough with a whiffle bat
And that's simply elementary Watson
So pack ya track and do 5 flat in your Datsun
Now let my canine backtrack the copy-cat
Your night life is up, so what you had, you gotta sound track
What's all with seven thousand other rappers, groupie
The cut ya made for that movie ain't soothed me

Who said that Treach can't work when he don't curse?
Some nasty ass me, Naughty, and nappy but happy
I'm all that and never go out the small way
You need a lift, we go this way everyday all day

Your little tape got more blank spots than a tank-top, think, stop
You oughta store it all, fast forward 'fore I ring props
You sorry sight, you're a immature rhyme ho
Come rock a lil' somethin', now we're all outta time so
From Chill town JC to Brooklyn with A D
I'm rippin' things daily, no if, ands or maybes
At the F L and the A V, the O U R B A B E
Kris, the Jungle Brothers, Tribe Called Quest, yeah they be

Down with Sha-k-a-m, pimp or, man, they swiftin'
Then the ruler Lord Ramsey, he comes handy on the roll again
Marked the 45, kids kneels feels the reals
With the real chill, not the run of the mill deals
Get poopoo dooie, producer Louie Louie
Throwin' best tracks to me to me
So that sometimes they do me
I can't forget the day live, the solo need a tongue patrol
A strong what up to the brothers from the Natcheo

We got the gatch to ya batch to rock and lock him
But now it's [Incomprehensible] I don't even try to outrun them
The stable now cocky, Lord Ali Raski and trueology
The sharper day with double jade is the props see
We also got the speaker Latifah, the Queen of the flavor
And nuthin' weaker behind is watchin', kick her
The Digital Under-the-Underground, rocks with Shock and 2PAC
With Money B, Humpty and Jimmy, the master of the charts

And on the tipple several brothers, we muskets
It's Tahid, Akeem, Cracker C and Cee Justice
Plus is the voice behind the Flavor Unit, all time, all early
It's that girlie, head of the headquarters Shirley
And what poop last but not least, Camille
I feel you learned the way we come this deep everyday all day

Y'knowhatI'msayin? We got the newest member of the Flavor Unit
Def Jef in effect, we got the producer of this track KayGee
We got my girl Nikki-D in the house
My man engineer all-star Dave
My man on the sax Andy
We got another engineer Andy and assistant Todd
We got Anj-Du, G-Quick

We got the whole entire 18th Street Posse, Rachim, Mook Daddy
Skee Steve, Hammer, Howie Cru-Ru, M-Dee, Tak Diesel, Na-Na
We got my girl Aphrodite and her posse in the house
Cherokee, [Incomprehensible] and Lisa
And we outta here like last year
'Cos we come this deep everyday all day
Peace

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