All For The Money - Lyrics - Mc Eiht

Title: All For The Money
Artist: Mc Eiht
Composer(s): Darryl Cortez Ellis, Ruben Locke, Paul Richmond, Aaron Bernard Tyler

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Lyric:
One more nigga on the run
I just can't handle this, born in the land of the scandalous
Thirteen years of age at the time
Moms is kicking me, I gots to get mine

I load up my strap, map out my plan
Choose my victim, then motherfucker stick him
One more point that got scored for the
Up to no damn good, understood

Steps is getting low so I gots to get some more
Loads up the K, breaks out the back door
You know the routine, so run fool, here we go
Say back channel, keep your motherfucking hands up on the dash

And gives up the cash
One time is making a move on my ass
But I ain't sweating it 'cause ain't shit funny
Because it's all for the money

I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours
I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours

Just call me the come up kid
Hard times kicking it in the CPT
So that means I gotta do what I gotta do
And if you ain't down with the hype, fuck you

You're coming up short when I slang
So when I hit your corner, you're gonna be a goner
Nigga duck when my nine starts to buck
In it for the snaps so I'm crazy as fuck

I should be laying low 'cause one time is real hot
Need to make a nine so I rush your spot
And it's like that when I got the Philly
If you don't care someone else does the killing

So when you hit the end of the road ain't no turning back
I done signed a hood lifetime contract
Jacking and packing 'cause ain't shit funny
Because it's all for the money

I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours
I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours

Uh oh, there goes another beep on the beeper
One time sleep on the fucking night creeper
Trying to show stop on the sales
Pull fake braids but I still gets paid

Just say no? Fuck the TV
Trying to push the shit 'cause the weight is exceed
See me for the blast, Five-oh fly in fast
Mad 'cause I'm making more cash than they ass

Now I lay low in the cut
Label me the nigga with the fucking gangsta strut
Every hooptie got gold license plates
My birds fly out throughout the fucking states

Now my other half is telling me I'd better quit
But I ain't through in this shit, so I guess this is it
I'll be dead before I go out like a dummy
Why's that, G? 'Cause it's all for the money

I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours
I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours

I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours
I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours

I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours
I gots to get mine, so I'm a take yours

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A Million &Amp; One Things - Lyrics - Tha G-Code - Juvenile

Title: A Million &Amp; One Things
Album: Tha G-Code
Artist: Juvenile
Composer(s): Terius Gray, Byron O Thomas

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Lyric:
What, this, this here's real, nigga
It's real, nigga, too real
Pay attention even though I'm young, nigga
Look, look

This one here's on tha up, dog
For all my people with bad luck, dog
Strugglin', tryin' ta make a buck, dog
For all tha peeps who ain't with us, dog

For all my niggas in Angola, stay tough, dog
See, this from shorty on tha real
I'm tired of seein' my niggas gettin' killed
They hustlin' for a mil, nigga, hustle for your bills

If ya think ya need help, holla at me, wodie, I'm trill
If I got it ta spend, then I got it to give
But listen, man, I know ya see the ice glistenin', man
I know it make you wanna go get it bad

But ya gotta think 'fore ya move, partna
'Cause it'll make your ship sink and you will lose, partna
I know you hate ta take it from a young nigga like me
But I betcha can't name one nigga like me

That's why I'm tryin' ta preach, my nigga
And teach, my nigga
If ya don't work ya don't eat, my nigga

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

Look at ya, you're fuckin' up and I can tell it too
What is ya smokin'? Everything a nigga sellin' you?
I know you could do better than that, and deserve more
Ya use to be tight with your game back in '84

All tha hoes use ta jock ya, niggas use ta knock ya
Stay a big shot, motherfucker couldn't stop ya
Then ya went ta runnin' 'round tha project with them junkies
Holes in your shoes, and your body all funky

Lips all ashy, eyes popped out
Spendin' your children check, takin' food out they mouth
And you get mad with me 'cause I don't wanna give you ten
I don't support your habit, nigga, y'all grown men

I got kids ta feed, I got bills ta pay
I got people comin' askin' for shit everyday
I can't please everybody, but I love my folks
If I give ya everything, baby, I'ma be broke

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

Look, look, look, where I stay, times is hard for a lot of my peeps
Some of my rounds doin' bad, can't even much eat
Every time I pass through, beggin' me for a dollar
Thinkin' I owe them somethin', don't even wanna holla

Nigga who use ta be ballin' ain't ballin' no mo'
I can see they life fadin' away slowly for sure
Niggas who I come up with get me full of that dope
Use ta care about theyself, ain't care no mo'

Niggas want me ta help 'em, ain't helpin' theyself
You must be out your mind if you ain't helpin' yourself
Ain't no love loss, I just gotta stay my distance
Gotta keep my mind straight, before I come up missin'

Gotta do my rap thing, and make my paper, mister
Ain't gon' let nobody stop me from gettin' my six figures
Gettin' my shine on, bling-blingin' everyday
If you're not for tha right, stay tha fuck out my way, nigga

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

Every time I hit tha block, it look like it get worse
Make me wonder if V.L. and Magnolia got a curse
My niggas still my niggas, got love for 'em all
I hate to see that market ride they back and make 'em fall

Somebody tell me, if I didn't have change and I was broke
Would I get tha same attention when I'm in tha next four-door
No, I don't think so, I'll be a equal nigga
On the set, smokin' jo's, beggin' people for scrilla

On the reala, if I could do it, then you could
Lay your hustle down and make your way out the hood
Ain't nobody gon' give no hand-outs, I swear
Ain't nobody gon' pay tha bills in your house, I swear

They don't care, ya gotta stand on your own, my nigga
You ain't no child, look in tha mirror, you're grown, my nigga
Do yourself a favor, leave tha heroin alone, my nigga
And get your hustle on, nigga, get it on, my nigga

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

They got a million and one things that you could be doin'
Than hangin' around this motherfucker talkin' to your children
Get off your ass, lil' daddy, and go and get it
It's starin' at ya right in your face, you ain't wit' it

Man, you could be out here tryin' ta do somethin', man
I mean every time we come through, man
I do somethin' for my people, man
I give tha little kids a dollar or so, ya know what I'm sayin'

I try ta do things for tha football team
Try ta take care of my people
Try ta show them how ta help theyself

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6f13678a842bb80241d897718cea676b

Desperate For You - Lyrics - Motorhead

Title: Desperate For You
Artist: Motorhead
Composer(s): Ian Fraser Kilmister, Micael Kiriako Delaoglou, Philip Anthony Campbell

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Lyric:
What's up? What's up? What's up motherfucker?
I think I call your bluff
Who's there? Who's there?
I think I know, but I don't think I care
Came in on the Flyer honey, 1952
I ain't for hire for money so I'll tell you what I'll do

I'm gonna be a gangster, a gangster of love
I might not be Al Capone, but I think I'll be quite good
I'm all I got right now, so what are we gonna do?
I think I'm a desperado, desperate for you

Way cool, way cool
I don't talk like this, but I like to bend the rules
Too bad, it's too bad
To think of the face of a man whose woman you had
Came in on the Silver Streak, 1964
I ain't for hire for money, but it sure beats being poor

I'm gonna be an outlaw, just like Jesse James
Rob all of your banks and the occasional train
And if Bobby Ford should shoot me, I know just what you'd do
That's why I'm a desperado, desperate for you

I'm gonna blow your brains out, just like Sirhan Sirhan
You might not remember him, but believe me I sure can

Gonna be a national hero, gonna be a household name
Gonna be like a roaring wind, like a hurricane
You'll never see it coming, might not hear it too
You know I'm a desperado, desperate for you

Desperate man, you know that's me

Baby

Nobody knows the trouble I've seen
But it can be arranged

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Dopeman - Lyrics - Mack 10

Title: Dopeman
Artist: Mack 10
Composer(s): Marshall Jones, Ralph Middlebrook, Leroy Bonner, O'Shea Jackson, Walter Morrison, Andrew Noland, Marvin Pierce, Gregory Webster, Norman Napier, Andre R Young

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

Lyric:
What's up dog?
What you need nigga?
Aw shit, one time

It was once said by a man who couldn't quit
"Dopeman, please can I have another hit"
The Dopeman said, "Cluck, I don't give shit
If you girl kneel down, and suck my dick"

Gave a nigga head, and homie tried to choke her
But he didn't care, 'cause she ain't nothing but a smoker
That's the way it go, that's the name of the game
Young niggas gettin' over by slangin' caine

Lex around my wrist in 18K Heaven
Bitches clockin' on my dick twenty four seven
Plus I'm makin' money, keepin' baseheads waitin'
Roll the six four with all gold Daytons

Live in Inglewood, California, CA.
This oozy up your ass if i don't get paid
Niggas beggin' for credit, I'm knockin' out teeth
Clockin' much dollars on the first and fifteenth

Big wad a money, nothing less than a twenty
Yo you wanna whole chicken, Mack 10 got plenty
To be a Dopeman, boy you must qualify
Don't get high off your own supply

From a Key to a G, it's all about money
Ten piece for a ten, base pipe come free
If people out there not hip to the fact
If you see somebody gettin' money for crack, he's the

Dopeman, Dopeman
(Mack front me a sack)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(I'll get ya back)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(Tryna stack me a grip)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(Man, fuck that shit)

You need a nigga with money, so you get a Dopeman
Juice that fool for as much as you can
She like his car, and he get with her
Got a black eye, 'cause the Dopeman hit her

Let that slide, and you pay it no mine
Find that he's slappin' you all the time
But that's okay, 'cause hes so rich
And you ain't nothing but the Dopeman's bitch

Do what he say, and you keep your mouth shut
Talkin' that drag might get ya fucked up
You sit and cry, if the Dopeman strike you
He don't give a fuck, he got two just like you

There's another girl in the Dopeman's life
Not quite a bitch, but far from a wife
She call a Strawberry, and everyone knows
Strawberry, Strawberry is the neighborhood hoe

Do anything for a hit or two, give a bitch a rock
She fuck the whole damn crew
It might be your wife and it might make you sick
Come home and see her mouth on the Dopeman's dick

Strawberry, just look and you'll see her
But don't fuck around, she'll give you Ghonorea
If people out there, not hip to the fact
Strawberry is a girl, sellin' pussy for crack to the

Dopeman, Dopeman
(From a ounce to a key)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(Tryna get this cheese, man)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(Cluckers riding my dick)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(Man fuck that shit)

If you smoke caine, you a stupid motherfucker
Know around the hood as the schoolyard clucker
Doing that crack with all the money you got
On your hands and knees searchin' for a piece of rock

Fienin' for a hit, and you lookin' for more
Done stole a Alpine out of Wavy six four
Smokin' like a train, man I wouldn't want to be you
Done took from the homies, betta run, when i see you

Ballin' everyday, doing more drug deals
Rollin' round town, on the twenty inch wheels
If people out there, not hip to the fact
If you see Mack 10, you can ask me for crack, I'm the

Dopeman, Dopeman
(Yeah, that's me)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(From a ounce to a key)
Dopeman, Dopeman
(Cookin' much as I can)
(Yo fuck that shit, who am I)
The Dopeman

Mack 10, nigga, you must be slick
Put Squeak on the team, now he stackin' chips
Good lookin' out, for showin' love
Now I got bitches on my dick 'cause I'm flossin' dubs

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7cca7425b779d6ea3c0790238e92907b

Eyebrows Down - Lyrics - Chicken N Beer - Ludacris

Title: Eyebrows Down
Album: Chicken N Beer
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): C Bridges, T Cook

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Lyric:
Yeah
Gotta feel me on this one
Ain't none of this shit happen overnight
We talking about a long time coming motherfucker

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

I'm still back for the first damn time
So grab a hold of your seat while I open your mind
And take you back from when I dropped down from Heaven
And I came on my moms and I had a Mic as my fucking weapon
When I was three, I was just a little G
But if you looked in my eyes, you'd see the future of a real MC
Then at the age of nine, I wrote my first rhyme
Soon rapping became one of my favorite pastimes

Everywhere that I went spitting and dabbling
Showing my ass growing up and started traveling
From one city to the next Luda landed in the ATL
Where the pimps and the players dwell
I made a tape did shows and got exposure
And kept learning as my black ass got older
No matter what I just kept at my trade
I made mistakes but still stayed sharper than a Ginsui Balde

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

Age 14, my talent show, a beast out of cage
I would have won, but got disqualified for jumping off stage
But I didn't care 'cause this game has started to open it's arms
When I was at Banaker High School pulling fire alarms
So I could get a crowd around me, make a name for my block
People told me keep flowing, they didn't want me to stop
I's back when big nose John was my human beatbox
Skipped out on school hit open campus and watch out for street cops

Now I'm known around the town as that, "Nigga that raps"
From the hills of Maze High to them G-roll traps
And I was still making demos perfecting the craft
And some said I wouldn't make it, they would giggle and laugh
So I picked up a couple of books from Donald Goines
About the business of this shit and how to flip a few coins
Before the age of eighteen, I was destined to make it
My bank account read, disturbing the peace incorporated

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

Age 18, I'm struggling just to survive
But I got a gig working for change at 97.5
Now I'm rapping on the radio increasing their numbers
Still Ludacris, but alias was Chris Lova, Lova
Late nights I'm in a studio in using they tools
Me and Poon was smoking weed and breaking all of they rules
And I was krunk, all the big wigs was hearing my songs
But nobody did shit and they was taking too long

So 3 years went past and I saved enough cash
To make my own record label and put my self on blast
The album was independent it was just for the streets
I sold one thousand copies in my first fucking week
Then went on to sell fifty, put the cash in my hand
All the record companies biting, but I chose Def Jam
The main reason that I made it and I love the A town
Was because the block had it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

It ain't clean on these streets
It's mean on these streets
Blocks up, hats down
Fiends on these streets
So please pay attention when you comin' around
Because the block got it's eyebrows down, ya heard me

Yeah, Ive' been waiting a lifetime to get what the fuck I got
It's real man, hardest working nigga in show business
Believe that, shout out to Lil' Fate, I dub, Chaka Zulu, yeah woo
The people's music, I used to play some happy and some jealous
'Cause I'm showered with cash
And they can't remove they umbrellas
The people's music I used to play some happy and some jealous
'Cause I'm showered with cash
And they can't remove they umbrellas, uh
You hear it raining don't ya, you hear it rain

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193cb000bd139c1b63dfce3988a79f52

Down Bottom - Lyrics - Drag On

Title: Down Bottom
Artist: Drag On
Composer(s): Mel Jason Smalls, Truis Grey, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
Oh, damn now bop to this oh
Yeah y'all know what this is
Flame on Juvenile Drag-On flame on
And now swizz, swizz beatz, yeah

Me and my niggaz done licked shots, even done hit cops
Bet y'all niggaz can't wait till my shit drop
Treat you like your moma given' lip to pop
Nigga you don't want my paper drop

'Cause that means I'm empty, and your full of it
Check what the bullet did, missiles gonna hit you get you
Rip through tissue, should have never rhymed this 'cause I miss you
I make plus cash y'all little niggaz can't fuck wit drag

Got the chain out so it's bust and grab
Nigga fuck that you better bust back
'Fore ya nigga ask back where the vest at
Rock like a girl but you can't trust cash

Spit like a fire but you can't touch black
All you can do is cuss back and read back
How you bust gats nigga we don't need that
I don't care about your feed back, y'all niggaz don't feed drag

Tell a motherfucker pull out bust a bullet out in ya safe house
Nigga where the keys at nigga?
Where the stash at nigga? Where the weed at?
Nigga pass that 'fore I pull my trigger

Mater fact where the ass at? 'Cause I got the Ruff Ryders
And I aint talkin' bout my niggaz
Nigga we can go hoe for hoe, toe to toe, blow for blow
And when you fell your nose crack

That mean I broke that I'm fittin' to po-po
Wit a flame thrower like I told yo' befo', ya know
You can't handle it you can put me on wax but my fire burn candles
And who that nigga ruff rydin' Drag-On y'all niggaz and south siders

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

In the late night, we be cockin' high givin' you stage fright
Yo' head might explode when I bust with the lead pipe
And I say right, Juvenile hey tight, stay hype, now page mike
And make sure he got all the yeah, aight?

I'm tired of niggaz be thinkin' that you usin' me
Runnin' with them petty ass niggaz lookin' like fools to me
I'm workin' wit some change, yeah
And ain't afraid to put 50 up on ya brain, yeah

You 'bout warin' over ya people I'm the same, yeah
Look, I'ma have some body sayin' thats the shame game
But if them people come they ain't gonna give no names, yeah
Playin' with the number one son don't play no games, yeah

Come outside don't see nothin' but camouflage and bricks
Yo' get some boys strapped with bandannas tryin' knock off yo' shit
Ya stankin' bitch, I ruff ryde your ass then
Cashin' for money Juve ain't gettin' nothin', that shit is funny

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

When my niggaz get knocked we gonna bail them out
When it come to my gun my shells is out
You better get the message 'cause I done mailed it out
I'ma bang like a hammer and I'ma nail us out

East, west the right this for my niggaz up north
My guns made in China so you better dust off
'Cause when they getcha you gonna be ketchup
I always got chedder I never ass bet ya'

And I won't even sweat ya' we roll much larger and better
My dough is never low but if drag is down on his last
I'ma reach in my sweater bet my baretta
Make a nigga feel heat in cold weather

Can't stand a nigga hype throw me his bitch
Bitch come to my shit you betta come get her
Be like a dog with a bone I run with her
Y'all make me so tired y'all niggaz still rappin'

Like y'all don't know my flows fire
Y'all ain't got y'all boots ain't got y'all suits
Probaly got a gun that ain't never shoot
When they come you better hope they don't name you

'Cause like two sticks rubbin' I'll flame you
Don't try to be me 'cause I ain't you
'Fore I have your spirits with the angels
My shorty keep a gun on the ankles

Wanna fuck, watch out she will bang you
'Cause I taught her well, y'all players better haul to hell
But you niggaz couldn't borrow a belt
Who evers wit you is gonna jail

Is you niggaz bustin' guns or you ain't bustin' none, ha
You want to fuck'em till they cum, ha
Drag-on Juvenille double up what you want, ha

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

Do y'all niggaz bust y'all guns, hell, yeah we bust our guns
Do you fuck them 'till they cum, damn right we make them cum
It's for the north, head south, head east, head west
Ruff Ryders gonna show y'all niggaz who rides the best

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fb9835d72896ca8f83f25ad834975cfe

Unit - Eye For Eye - Lyrics - Beg For Mercy - G

Title: Unit - Eye For Eye
Album: Beg For Mercy
Artist: G
Composer(s): T Cottrell, Curtis Jackson, E Raskin, Christopher Lloyd, David Brown

Lyric:
I like the way this feels
This makes me more just like
( Je je jeez nigar)
Boxer, haa ha
(Shit on it)

Nigga you shit on me, I'll shit on you
You put a hit on me, I'll put a hit on you
A eye for an eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga

You can't roll wit me I'm LLoyd Banks the one and only
Not your buddy, not your pal, not your homie
There ain't a government around that can control me, ohhh no
I'm on that doggy style shit, man I don't love a hoe
Apple wasn't around so I had to let my brother know
Never stay in center, play the back and let your money grow
Most them niggas wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo

South side Jamaica nigga yeah thats where I come from
If you see a nigga with me then theres more than one gun
Five straight soldier ain't that tired of being the dumb one
Or even satisfied being another niggas dun-dun
We all know friendships turn sour when you gettin' it
Some niggas hate me in the hood but I don't owe them niggas shit
Smellin' all up in my face like I don't know them niggas sick
But I can care less, I'm on the album and I'm gettin' rich

Nigga you shit on me, I'll shit on you
You put a hit on me, I'll put a hit on you
A eye for an eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga
(Die nigga)

Walkin' and talkin' spit it how I live it nigga
Came from the country, dirty south get it nigga
Feds tryin to question me, they run up in my hotel
They said there wasn't shootin', but they found no shells
New York City, Hell they throwin' niggas under jails
I got love for them and I ain't even from there
Now bust a shot for them boys on the block
I can feel your pain nigga, I'm still in the game nigga
There somethin' bout the sound of a Trey-Pound
That make me pull up, hop out and make a nigga lay down

See every time we round' ya hear some shots go off
And niggas get there chains snatched when they try and show off
Shoot outs in broad day we do it the mob way
And come to find out these niggas is softer than Shawty
I'mma keep livin' my life with a pistol in my palm
And a wrist full of ice
You can call me the Don motherfucker
We want the eye 'n' son make one wrong move and your dyin'
Ain't no time for coppin' heat nigga ya cryin'
'Cause my niggas ain't goin'stop ridin', so you gone

Nigga you shit on me, I'll shit on you
You put a hit on me, I'll put a hit on you
A eye for an eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga

I got a hand gun habit, nigga front I'll let ya have it
When the shots go off cops sayin 50 back at it
I'm alergic to the feathers on these bird ass niggas
Front and I'll put ya brains on that curbed fence nigga
I ain't a marksman my spark and I'll spray shit
Enough rounds for the H K I don't play bitch
Move like I'm militant back on that gorilla shit
Moody, disrespectful, I'm ruley but niggas can't move me

I squeeze till I run outta ammo, if it's a problem it's handled
I'll have your people pourin' out liquor and lightin' candles
You fuck around I'll blow your brains on my New York Times
Run home turn to the sports section and read your mind
It's crystal clear you should feel when that gat bust
First it's crime scene tape then you end up in that Black Hurst
We don't go to funerals but we'll go to your wake fam
View your body all banged up, you made a mistake man

Nigga you shit on me, I'll shit on you
You put a hit on me, I'll put a hit on you
A eye for an eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga
(Die nigga)

Nigga you shit on me, I'll shit on you
You put a hit on me, I'll put a hit on you
A eye for an eye nigga
Survive the shots or die nigga
(Die nigga)

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1b5072ed74e3c11c92c8ad415d19ada6

Grand Larceny - Lyrics - Power - Ice T

Title: Grand Larceny
Album: Power
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): Charles Glenn, Tracy Marrow

Lyric:
Stick up, hands in the air
You move, you lose, 'cause the Ice don't care
No chance to run, don't shout
Flinch an inch I'm gonna take you out

Grand Larcenist, soloist, felonist, vocalist
Crime's my rhyme but here's a new twist
I ain't here for your gold, bro, all I want is the show
This is Grand Larceny

Grand Larceny
Grand Larceny
Grand Larceny

I lay low for a show and then I go
Steal the motherfucker then we count the dough
It's kinda like robbin' but it's legally done
And now days if it ain't legal I don't fuck around

I get my thrill when I ill and a jam is filled
With ten thousand screamin' people now that's the pill
Who's gonna dog the set? The Ice will
And once I'm in effect it's overkill

Kinda like a hold-up, all the tickets sold up
And then the black stretch limo cold rolls up
And then the posse breaks high off the Cold Duck
And then I set the mic to show destruct
Even if we open up, that don't mean nothing

I rock the rhymes.E does the cuttin'
Call it show nappin' I take a hostage a night
Dog shit and break out on the next flight
This is Grand Larceny

Grand Larceny

I'm a kleptomaniac when a jam is packed
You can fight all night but you'll still get jacked
By the show stealer, crime rhyme dealer
Rap king pin, L.A. big-wheeler

Got a posse so strong they could lift a tank, rob a bank
But now we steal shows the cops say thanks
Breathe easy 'cause the Syndicate deep
Before we start rappin', they got no sleep
This is Grand Larceny

Grand Larceny

Just give me a beat, give me a stage to stand on
I know that none y'all ever planned on
A dude from L.A. who could rock shit this way
Have his record go gold with no radio play

But it happened, the Ice is rappin'
Just listen to my fans that are clappin'
Or come to my show, get in the front row
And watch me steal the motherfucker before your ass can say "Ho"

I'm like a time bomb but I'm a rhyme bomb
Spray the whole audience with napalm
Or something just as hot, I'll bust a rhyme, why not?
Rap hittin' so hard,you'll think you shot

I'll take a show and abduct it, stone cold house it
If it gets wild with gasoline I'll douse it
Set it ablaze and then I'll stomp it out
Many burnt emcees know what I'm talkin' about

This is Grand Larceny

Promoters on my tail now, 'cause they billed me low
Here I am 'bout to steal another show
So they turn my mic down, fuck up my audio sound
But too late, we just dogged another town

Rappin' like a Mac 10, as soon as I begin
The only way to stop the stealin' is throw me in the pen
But that will never happen, 'cause I'm just cool rappin'
My Larceny is legal so sorry Captain

I would never steal a rap
But I'll steal a show in a minute, it's as simple as that
An interstate crook, my pistol's my rhyme book
Any show that I'm on is a show that's took

Better watch my left hook or your jaw will get shook
If my posse gets mad, it's best you book
From the Grand Larcenist, Ice T is my name
Got a rap like a mac and a game he same

Grand Larceny
Grand Larceny
Grand Larceny

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4ad199305c196c511b05441760519b9b

Lived In The Projects - Lyrics - Matthew - Kool Keith

Title: Lived In The Projects
Album: Matthew
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Keith Thornton, Kurt Matlin

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

Lyric:
Yeah, motherfucker, that?s right
The motherfucker in the house, Kool Keith
Fuck all the bullshit, let?s get to the real shit, yeah

Your rhyme touch is soft kid like a stripper?s ass
With a touch of plastic, writin' with a local style
Talkin' about competitive shit you never mastered
Youse a wannabe thug nigga, you ain?t bugged nigga

I cut your bitch-ass up, leave your legs under the rug nigga
Who want the whiplash? cigarette burns
Broken face hair pinned up in a AST
Me standin' on the top of your tour bus

Butt naked with a fuckin' hockey mask
Slicin' your cashmere with a sharp 7-up glass
Don?t you know I?m sick nigga? Lick my dick, nigga
Forty-four caliber killer gun toter

Hide your kneecaps in a Lexus motor
Pack your stomach in a compartment
Old dingy fucked up Bronx apartment
Don?t piss me off with a tec nine loaded in a bullshit street argument

I don?t care how hard you get
You just another man that never lived in the projects poppin' shit
You ain?t stoppin' shit, fuck that Batman and Robin shit
And what block you with, kneel down

Make a nigga like you call me Big Ernest
Bake your intestines, throw your stomach in the furnace
Watch the thermostat, you ain?t no fuckin' fat cat

You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer

Rude bwoy with a temper like a Jamaican off a Haitian boat
Carribean ruckus with an Elvis wig
Slap the piss out of one of you untalented rap motherfuckers
Bodyguards won?t work with a thirty shot car bomb

Under my Dominican shirt, sub machine in the duffle bag
Watchin' sesame street with my daughter, peepin Ernie and Bert
With backstage passes, wearin a long trench coat
Get Morris in your projects and Jackson
In a Madison Square Garden concert

Ready for CBS and NBC, to do a big network
The average guy, havin' a product manager
And a female publicist wearin' a fuckin' bulletproof vest
I got time for motherfuckers actin' like Elliot Ness

Winchester sawed off blow your Rolex through your fuckin' chest
Splatted body pieces while blood drips off your girl?s dress
I?m ready for more progress, have your head sent home
And a piece of your leg sittin' on the record company desk
Extort like a mad nigga Western Union
You don?t have a clue men how I get through men

You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer

You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer
You never lived in the projects
You ain?t no drug dealer

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9b3b26af16e271425a43952fc020d9af

Motherfucker, I Don'T Care - Lyrics - Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls - Murderdolls

Title: Motherfucker, I Don'T Care
Album: Beyond The Valley Of The Murderdolls
Artist: Murderdolls
Composer(s): J Jordison, J Poole

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

Lyric:
I hate your voice and I hate your face
Exterminate you from the human race
Life?s a joke and the joke is on you
Hey you, it?s true, you suck, fuck you

I hope and pray, everyday
I?ll get the news that you passed away
So take your life and turn it off
Goodbye, so long, get lost, fuck off

I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker

Suicide's the only choice for you
To see you dead would be a dream come true
Slit your wrist and show God who?s boss
Goodbye, so long, get lost, fuck off

Why don?t you do the whole world a favor?
Connect your throat to the nearest razor
Or do you need it spelled out for you?
Well, F U C K Y O U

I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker

Motherfucker, I don?t care
Motherfucker, I don?t care
Motherfucker, I don?t care
Motherfucker, I don?t care

Motherfucker, I don?t care
Motherfucker, I don?t care
Motherfucker, I don?t care
Motherfucker

I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care
I don?t care, motherfucker, I don?t care

Fuck you, motherfucker
Fuck you, motherfucker
Fuck you, motherfucker
Fuck you, motherfucker

Fuck you, motherfucker
Fuck you, motherfucker
Fuck you, motherfucker
Fuck you, motherfucker

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818acd273cfa552326477799defeaea8

K. I. M. - Lyrics - Epmd

Title: K. I. M.
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Onyx Adam Horovitz, Rick Rubin, Erick S. Sermon, A Keith Murray, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Reggie Noble, Parrish Joseph Smith

Lyric:
Nah, nah, check this out, yo

I grab my dick, spit, hit the blinkers, split
The Dutch Coronas, tokin' irons without permits
Repertoire long faced murderer's the shit
Black Bruce Willis mix tape arsonist

Esquire, for hire, with total rapid fire
Supplier to any Tom, Dick, Jerry Maguire
You chose the right man to get the plan executed
I get the situation happenin' before you shoot it

Flow director, surprise you like guess what?
The hotter I spit I'm trippin' off smoke detectors
Who next up to get dressed up, I don't pop corks
I pop New York with a dot till import

The art then the craft, will split you in half
I'm a Hurricane you a Miller Genuine Draft
While you push a S-Class I'm riding on a giraffe
Uptown, naked, smokin' a bag with hash, check it

Shut your windows and lock your doors
Whores scream louder than Berrymore when I pour
And when me and my crew walk we walk on all fours
Atomic dogs, packed in a black Yukon

K I M, K I M

John Blaze, I keep y'all niggaz rockin' for days
Boriquas, to eses, around the ways
My own Mix Tape DJ, I Flex
You don't have a clue when I'm doin ya who is he I gets busy, word up
Come now player look in my eyes you think I'm bluffin'
A five year's span turned nuttin' into somethin'

And don't get familiar, your whole entourage don't be
Feelin' ya, behind your back they straight killin' ya
(Who am I?)
The Ex Head banger bad motherfucker
High on Friday with Chris Tucker
I be a Head banger to my very last breath
Even Jermaine Dupri think I'm So So Def

K A, Shawn Mims, I come from a long line of Geechies
Who didn't care, blow Lo Luchinis
I transform like Spawn, takes no time
For me to get on, to the break of dawn, word

K I M, K I M

PMD, the Purple Heart admiral
Blow your spot and left shrapnel
Then escaped in the Benz capsule
Harder than an NFL tackle, back to bite the Big Apple

Southpaw, raw since I was a Sophomore
Before I met Jane in the corridor
The mentals, rapper slash entrepreneur
With more action than Roger Moore

Turn your cabbage into coleslaw, with the four four
Spray Windex on your glass jaw
Shatter it, fuckin' with P is hazardous
Iced out Lazarus started and manufactured this

My Squad's wild like the Manimals on Geographic
Smash you bastards on some crab shit
EPMD's the group the Squadron is the click
Transmit, lyrical grit, time to shift 'cause I'm

K I M, K I M

Keith Murray, the holder of the boulder
Lyrical analyst, mental roller coaster flower
Money folder, track blower, MC over thrower
I flow witcha two at a time like Noah

I goes off to the beat, on the edge of reality
And kick rhymes in my sleep and battle mortality
Finally, every dimension know Keith
Y'all egotistical simple minded niggaz is pitiful and weak

I'll give you a G a week for life, if you can defeat me
I kick poetry at a high rate of mortality
At static, lyrical Kraftmatic
Smokin', barkin' like a dog, breathin' like an asthmatic

Lyrical sculpture create fly rap sculpture
Ninety eight Head banger boy, yeah I told ya
Total chaos, helter skelter, run for shelter
Here comes the lyrical brain melter

I be maxin' and relaxin', attractin' action
Flippin' more big ol' words than Jesse Jackson
My shit knock don't it, drive you crazy if you loan it
Man, I feel for my opponents

K I M, K I M
K I M, K I M

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5cb670a3a2ab6efbfbac8ea43134530d

On Fire - Lyrics - The Hunger for More - Lloyd Banks

Title: On Fire
Album: The Hunger for More
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Harry Palmer, Kwame Holland, Curtis Jackson, Marshall Mathers, Christopher Lloyd, Luis Edgardo Resto

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

Lyric:
New York City
You are now rocking with the best
Lloyd Banks
G-Unit

We on fire up in here
It's burning hot, we on fire
Shorty take it off, if it get too hot
Up in this spot, we on fire
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire
Uh, nigga what you say?
We get loose in this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire, fire, fire

Now I ain't putting nothing out, I smoke when I wanna
Twenty-six inch chrome spokes on the Hummer
This heat gon' last for the whole summer
Running your bitch faster then the Road Runner
Rocks on my wrist, rose gold under
Glocks on my hip, those throw thunder
I'm buying diamonds by the pair
But when you stop, the only thing still spinning is your ear

Yeah, I'm riding with that all black snub
Raiders cap back, all black gloves
I'm 80's man, but the boy smack thugs
These record sales equal more back rubs
Not to mention I ball packed clubs
His impacts about as raw as crack was
Now all these new artists getting wrong deals
I'm only twenty-one, sitting on mills

We on fire up in here
It's burning hot, we on fire
Shorty take it off, if it get too hot
Up in this spot, we on fire
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire
Uh, nigga what you say?
We get loose in this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire, fire, fire

If you know anything about me, then you know I'm a baller
If I don't hit the first night, I ain't gon' call her
I'm trying to play, you trying to have my daughter
But I can't blame her for what her Momma taught her
And I don't care what the next nigga bought her
'Cause I ain't putting no baguettes in her abuela
I got a diamond about as clear as water
And I got bread, but I ain't spending quarters

So cut the games Ma, let's go in the back
Matter fact, turn your ass round, back a nigga down
And I ain't bias when I'm riding through the town
Like 'em small, like 'em tall, like 'em black, like 'em brown
She gotta be able to cum when I need her
Tight ass pants, little wife beater
Regular chick or R&B diva
Bitch say something, I ain't a mind reader

We on fire up in here
It's burning hot, we on fire
Shorty take it off, if it get too hot
Up in this spot, we on fire
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire
Uh, nigga what you say?
We get loose in this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire, fire, fire

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defda60e89204b7f4bf45779e2aaf09f

Mic Contract - Lyrics - O.G. Original Gangster - Ice T

Title: Mic Contract
Album: O.G. Original Gangster
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): Tracy (Ice-T) Marrow

Lyric:
Brainstorm microphone napalm
This is it, words from a time bomb
Attack speed, fast as an F-fifteen
Raise the heat, light the gasoline
Overload, it might cause a blackout
Dead end, there's no chance to back out
Hit the tripwire, duck from the gunfire
Broken glass, screech'n car tires, bodies hit the deck
As I commence to wreck
Eject another clip and drip sweat
Face of danger, increasin' anger
Point blank, I smoke another stranger
Grip the mic tight, I see the brake lights
Hit the back door, I lay down cross the floor
E's on the wheels, he makes the rubber squeal
Blood's on my gear from caps I've peeled
About a block away I sit up, look back
It wasn't nothin' but a microphone contract

Dressed in black, I stalk my prey
Parabellum in a leather attache
Low tones I speak, I speak to few
Just give me the money and who the fuck to do
Four blocks away my aim's clean
Night scope on a silence carbine
Place my cross hairs on my vic's eye
Squeeze the trigger, watch the brains fly
Violent? Yeah, you could call me that
Insane? You're on the right track
But turn the sounds up so I can stay amped
Do another crew and break camp
The only way I sleep is in a cold sweat
You say I'm crazy? You ain't see shit yet
'Cause I love to kill and kill for fun
The microphone goes off like a handgun
It's goin' down now grab your girl, hops
No excuses when the bodies begin to drop
Look in my face, fool, it look like I'm playin'
Don't become another victim of mic slayin'

What's up? You want your feet in some concrete?
I got some brothers that'll do you for gold teeth
But most the time I move, I move alone
Take a bat, break your motherfuckin' dome
Shoot you dead in the face with a sawed off
One hundred ten degrees, ice don't get soft
'Cause I'm hard as they come, I come correct
You can't handle the vandal hit eject
If not you better get out my face, sucker
Or else you better be a good bullet ducker
'Cause I'm a rip shop, tell that ass drop
Five O ice, yo fuck a damn cop
'Cause I move hard and cold with a gangster stroll
Five thousand dollar suits and fly gold
Rolex, you can't fit no more diamonds on it
Pinky ring, worth a house, if I decide to pawn it
What's up now punk? You start to choke up?
You try to move on the ice, you'll get broke up

Midnight, time for a homicide
Showtime, somebody's gonna die
E hits the switch and thousands of volts connect
With the weapon that's in my fist
I see a sucka in the third row, tryin' to riff
A paragraph and a half he's stiff
I start bustin' off barrages ear high
Mothers grab for their children, tears fly
I'm like a psycho in the microphone zone
Speakers blown, mind gone, I can't be touched
Once my lyrics begin to fly
Simple stage radiation could make you die
You got a prob nigga, you think your rep's bigger?
Hold your heard right there while I squeeze the trigger
'Cause I'm a crazy motherfucker, that's no joke
My favorite smell is the aroma of gunsmoke
I'm bustin' off another lyrical nightmare
Parents hate the ice, you think that I care?
Well, I don't give a fuck 'cause I rhyme tough
Drop science, still bust the ill stuff
So now it's time for crime and the rhyme is mine
Track the movement hide from the punchline
I rhyme with quickness, microphone fitness
The assassinator stay off the shit list

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088c06ba961fb6c2938d1942c657943f

More 2 A Song - Lyrics - And Then There Was X - Dmx

Title: More 2 A Song
Album: And Then There Was X
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): A Fields, Earl Simmons, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
C'mon

It's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than, money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you, think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

Niggaz walk around frontin', talkin' 'bout jewels
How much you bust tools, y'all niggaz sounds like fools
Who you really think give a fuck how much your watch cost?
How much your watch cost? You 'bout to get your watch lost

If you flashin' it, you must not want it
See, I fuck with real niggaz that done it
You know what time it is, run it
Niggaz got more important shit to deal with
Talkin' about some 4 wheel shit
But my man here, is about to kill shit

Keep playin' niggaz pussy and you will get fucked
Why don't you cop some more ice dog
Then you will get stuck and fucked
Bitch-ass nigga, hit my street
And see what happens to that iceberg when it's hit by heat

It want be a pretty sight, you and your pretty wife
Oh, you must have forgot, dog, this is the shitty life
Ain't a fuckin' thing sweet and ain't nothing fair
Just another nigga dead, don't a motherfucker care

Dog, it's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

Dog, it's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

Born and raised in the projects and can't forget it
And all that grimy shit niggaz do, I done did it
And I'm still wit it, nigga, I stay in the hood
But when the cats is out, bet the dog, play in the hood

You keep bringin' them fake bitches through
You gon' fuck around and make bitches do
We take bitches too
An if you comin' through my block, it's gon' be the last stop
We blast tops, faggots couldn't make it to the stash box

Big ass rocks, I want that, fuck the blood
All that shit washes off, the next day I'm like, "What?"
Flossin' yo' shit, what I want for yo' shit?
Give a nigga like three bricks to feed the dogs with

'Cause I ain't really gots to shine when they do, I do
For me them niggaz'll hide you, where nobody'll find you
If you eatin' motherfucker then your dogs should be eatin' too
Not just four or five niggaz 'cause you know what the streets'll do

It's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

Dog, it's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

I will be the voice of the street til I die
'Cause I know if I keep my heart real, I'm gon' fly
Either let me fly or give me death
If you didn't catch it then get it now 'cause it's all that's left

And this will be the last breath provokin' my niggaz
To start choking y'all niggaz, and smokin y'all niggaz
A nigga would never have to say, "X, feed me"
You'll never hear a nigga say, "X is greedy"

Only, "X, believe me, I didn't know it was a setup"
Get up, cocksuckin' motherfucker, shut up
Shut up, [Incomprehensible] fuck you, nigga
From the hood to the wood, fuck you, nigga

This is for my dogs til death do us part
I'm still here 'cause I been here from the start
If I'm ever anywhere, anytime it gets ugly
The dog is aight 'cause I know the streets love me

It's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

Dog, it's more 2 a song, jewelry and clothes
More to a nigga'z life than money and hoes
The game is a lot bigger than you think you know
And if you think you know then I don't think you know

Dog, jewelry and clothes
Money and hoes, think you know?
I don't think you know

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269f2fe0d0b5fa20ebb79eaabe27fffc

My Kind Of Bitch - Lyrics - Tunnel Of Love - Insane Clown Posse

Title: My Kind Of Bitch
Album: Tunnel Of Love
Artist: Insane Clown Posse
Composer(s): Mike Clark, Joseph Frank Bruce

Lyric:
My kind of bitch ain't like your bitch
'Cuz my bitch don't bitch at all
My bitch don't blink, she don't even think
About money or fuckin' mall

My kind of bitch don't fix her hair
She don't care about what she wears
'Cuz she's much too busy pulling the worms
Out her butt, she ain't bathed in years

My kind of bitch, I'll never forget
We first met on a Oujia board
Miss Crabber Damned, she would chew on snakes
And swallow a ninja sword

I said, "Hey bitch, how do you do?
Some fucks call me Violent J"
She picked her nose and flicked it at me
Smiled and was on her way, my kind of bitch

My kind of bitch
My kind of bitch don't fix her hair
She don't care about what she wears
My kind of bitch don't fix her hair
She don't care about what she wears
Fuck that

My kind of bitch has a hole in her neck
And has to talk like this, "I love you"
She can drink through it, ya get used to it
It whistle every time we kiss

My kind of bitch gots one good tittie
The other one's skinny and red
She can make the one jiggle
The other one don't do shit but just sit there dead

My kind of bitch has a wooden eye
With a nail sticking half way out
It once caught a fire and we all had to spit
In her face just to put it out

My kind of bitch is a little loopy
And her ass might droop a bit
But I scoop that loop and fold the flop
And I fuck that pile of shit, my kind of bitch

My kind of bitch
My kind of bitch gots one good tittie
The other one's skinny and red
My kind of bitch gots one good tittie

Hello? My name is J
I'm from Detroit
I'm looking for a girl who's, dead
A girl who can possibly fulfill some of my fetishes

Which include, dipping your titties in Faygo
And slapping my face with them
Jumping from the dresser
And landing on my balls

My kind of bitch waits till I sleep
Then run and fuck my friends
And everytime I break her legs
Then give my homie's ends
(What's up, man?)

She shot me once and stabbed my neck
And even broke my nose
But I lick her from her crooked neck
Down to her stringy toes, my kind of bitch

My kind of bitch
My kind of bitch waits till I sleep
Then run and fuck my friends
My kind of bitch waits till I sleep
Then run and fuck my friends

Hello? My name is Shaggs
And I'm lookin for a girl with a big big fat fuckin ass
And titties and a big fat fuckin ass
And, uh, I want my dick sucked
And I want my balls scratched

And I want her to scratch my ass
And twist my balls at the same time, that's a must
And I'm looking for a girl who can stretch
Titties and stuff em in her ass

Fuck yeah, motherfucker
I'm looking for a bitch
I'm looking for a girl to fit my needs
(My kind of bitch)

We can have picnics under the moon
In the graveyard
We can have picnics under my house
(My kind of bitch)

I'm looking for a girl to die with
If you're already dead, that's cool
You can sit around and wait for me to die
(My kind of bitch)

I'm looking for a girl to squeeze me
I'm looking for a girl to squeeze my balls
Let me squeeze your neck

This is Lisa, I've been a bad, bad girl

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Can'T Have Nuttin' - Lyrics - Das Efx

Title: Can'T Have Nuttin'
Artist: Das Efx
Composer(s): Andre Weston, Willie Hines, Gerald Stevens

Lyric:
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (Nowadays yo)
Niggas just can't have (niggas just can't have)
Niggas just can't have (niggas just can't have)
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas niggas nowadays yo

Well yo, they used to say that Dray was a motherfuckin bum
Cos when it came to profit, son I really wasn't gettin none
The wildest motherfucker that you ever saw
They used to call me Petey Wheezthrow, the devil's son-in-law
Now I'm in the shit, like a fly I was buggin
From robbing to stealin to dealin, yo, and even muggin
Sellin cocaine in the high school halls
Playin it slick I kept the balms up in some tennis balls
I used to run across the bridge with my peeps
I packed a tray-8, in dem days I was playin for keeps
I used to roll around my hat and all day
Lookin for a prey that we could rob on Broadway
Stickin niggas for their jewels if they're worthy

Made a couple of hits and then we jetted back to Jersey
'86 And '87 was the year
Had the Gucci hat, rock the raccoon fur coat yeah
Keep em in disguise and nigga don't ya blink
See yeah Saturday, we robbed another nigga at the rink
The beats was always showin up at my rest
Askin "Does a certain Drayzie live at this address? Yes?"
The spot was hotter than the sun, without a doubt
I had the choice to go to school and get the fuck out
I hit the South just like a bandit cos I was stranded
Virginia State in '88, you know that's where I landed
I couldn't stand it, shit was feelin strange
I made it outta range but yo, my shit was just about the dough

Aiyo, niggas just can't have nuttin ( Yo niggas just can't have nuttin)
Niggas just can't have nuttin (niggas just can't have nuttin)
Niggas just can't have nuttin (niggas just can't have nuttin)
Niggas just can't have nuttin (Nowadays yo)

Aiyo, niggas just can't have nuttin ( Yo niggas just can't have nuttin)
Niggas just can't have nuttin (niggas just can't have nuttin)
Niggas just can't have nuttin (niggas just can't have nuttin)
Niggas just can't have nuttin (Nowadays yo)

Yo bust a move, peep the flav
Cos I'm a take you back to the days of brown envelope trays
Twenty-something years ago as I proceed to recollect
A newborn shorty had to 'ford cheques off Bushwick
Bless the days, Pops shot to get forth the and fifth
Damn, fam got to shift
From the tenth flo' down four flights to the sixth
This was around the time smokin reefer was the shit
But now the crib a little bigger
I was the first man in the fam so it's plans for a nigga
Had my clan from my building and my man from 8-11
Wit me when we hit the jams behind 2-57
Mom's babysittin, Pop's on the hustle
54 Block was on lock, bust a knuckle

Game rip, some niggas slipped and got greedy
Believe me, another "rest in peace" in graffiti
But I couldn't resist a few fights and petty heists
Cos now I'm 'cross town in the Heights
My nights are a little quieter but still amongst the schemes for the fun
Where sons run guns and blow slums with the bums
And motherfuckers don't care
I love the street game so I stashed the green leaf by the air
You couldn't tell me shit, evil was more eager than a beaver
Kept it fresh, double-parked in the Caesar
But I got deceased with this behavior-type flavor
And do Moms a favor, go to school and get this fuckin paper
So what's the caper cos now I'm all in
At Virginia State, now let the bullshit begin

Nowadays niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (Yo niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin' yo)
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin' yo)
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (nuttin', nuttin', nuttin', nuttin')
Nowadays niggas (niggas just can't have nuttin')

It was '89 and yo, I'm stayin out of fights
I'm runnin with this nigga named Books from Crown Heights
Gettin toe-up from the flow-up, we're drinkin til we throw up
We're thinkin we can blow up so to class we wouldn't show up
Well nigga so what? You fucked the holdup and went whatever's
Then bucked the leathers, son I got to get my shit together
Gettin drunk, gettin flunked in class is what's the function
Smokin blunts-in, son we need to stop frontin
We're goin huntin, Virginia didn't have shit for us
That's why we broke out with Dice and blitzed into blue chorus
Gettin busy, flippin rhymes on the weekend
The deal we was seekin from styles we was freakin

But yo, now it's '91 and me and son we got to scram
(Aiyo it was a rap contest, nuttin we couldn't handle)
And yo, something got ta happen or I'm a get the pappin
We got the blueprints to this new style of rappin
Packin skills from the sewer, I knew we had a shot
Gotta go and blow the spot and show them niggas how we rock, what?
If PMD is judgin it, yeah the cautious crew
Makin all that money on that business as usual
(Tip tip tip) Tip, we flip the tongue and started wilin
They hit us with the digits to the cribs in Long Island
So, we packed the Henny and my men we got swayz
And never lookin back, that's how we thinkin nowadays

Cos yo niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin' yo)
Word up niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Nah niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
(Yo that's why they got me rockin on the microphone)
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (Yo niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (have nuttin', just nuttin')
Nowadays niggas didn't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just can't have nuttin' (niggas just can't have nuttin')
(Well now they got me rockin on the microphone)
(Niggas just can't have nuttin')
Niggas just ain't (got a motherfuckin thing)
Nowadays (word up) niggas ain't got nuthin'

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