Back Where I Belong - Lyrics - G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time) - Ll Cool J

Title: Back Where I Belong
Album: G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time)
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): Vada Nobles, Mark Wiggins, James Todd Smith

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Lyric:
Yo, yeah yeah, alight after this particular practice run
I'ma practice both verses, after this, I want you to find a spot
That's close to when the beat drops to the rewind point
For the locate point
You ain't gotta be on that all night, this the soundtrack
Yo, yeah, check it
Okay, alright, huh okay

The other night I was up at farmers, politician wit some bloods
They told me, "Yo L, in the streets you ain't gettin' no love
And ever since the X's and the jiggas came out
My niggas ain't tryin' to the hear that smooth shit you talk about
What's up wit that cat Canibus, some played you out
Why you didn't answer back correctly, fuck was that about?"
As I sip on some henny, and try to explain some things
About the life of a legend, and all the drama it brings

Been gone a long time, had a lot of shit on my mind
I decided I don't want to reach my goal if it means losing my shine
Streets is hip-hop and I'm hip-hop, so the streets is mine
Ballin' as long as you been livin', that's a long time
Hard to stay hungry when your pockets are so fat
You hit a hot one in every city on the map
And niggas keep sleepin' and you keep coming back
You know better than the gat, but niggas still wanna clap

It feels so good to be back where I belong
The streets is where I belong
They had me locked down much too long
Hey hey
It feels so good to be back where I belong
The streets is where I belong
They had me locked down much too long
Hey

Some say, "L that's cool, but see times have changed"
Niggas got red bandannas, and the grill in the range
That gold shit is dead, niggas rock platinum chains
Trade O.E. for Henny, Colt 45 for champagne
Hustling niggas found they way into the game
Extorting all these so called ballers wit big names
And you gotta have a squad, 'cuz running from def ain't safe
I know you living good, but ain't no smile up on our face

I'm like a villain, I'm representing on my lyrics
And force feed the world, even if they don't want to hear it
As far as Canibus go, my man is hittin' his ex-broad
I'm getting head from his new piece while 20 gang-bangers applaud
You came up with that bullshit, some heads sucked it up
Then you dropped that garbage album and totally fucked it up
I coulda told ya I knew your moms from the after-hours spot
When I used to be up in Canada with the dreads on a black block

Before you dick rode lost boyz for a ticket our to Jersey
But being the man I am, I tried to show ya mercy
I coulda told the world the way ya label hates your guts
And how me and Wyclef, got together to set you up
And how he gave me half your budget, don't believe me look it up
Ya A and R promotion niggas, they helped me hook it up
I hate to be responsible, for destroying your career
A one-hit wonder, huh no wonder you disappeared

I coulda told the world, you get your lyrics from the Internet
Then spit 'em word for word like you really a rap vet
How you take metaphors from books and put 'em in your rhyme
And how you really from Canada and you been frontin' all this time
I heard your second album, that shit is garbage too
LL Cool J and I did this to you
On that note he said, "Yo L, you the man"
I said, "Peace, one love and drove off in the Lex Land"

It feels so good to be back where I belong
(Yeah nigga, the jig is up nigga, huh ha, you know what I'm sayin')
The streets is where I belong
(All that bullshit you was talking)
They had me locked down much too long
(Don't mean shit, you finish now)
Hey hey
It feels so good to be back where I belong
(I'm still the man nigga )
(The vanguard award is in my motherfuckin' living room)
The streets is where I belong
(You know what I mean? Come get that shit, fuck)
They had me locked down much too long
(What)
Hey

Mic still on my arm nigga, word up
Both arms, I'ma get another one nigga
You know what I'm sayin'
This LL you know how I get down
You should of known, when you did it
He probably did it to get some fame
But is this really what you want?
Ha ha ha

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7f3283f642c941e84da1de168567c6ba

Big Girl - Lyrics - Nastradamus - Nas

Title: Big Girl
Album: Nastradamus
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): Robert Douglas, Nasir Jones, Lamar Bryant, Roy Hamilton, Leshan Lewis

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Lyric:
(You're a big girl now)
Fully grown with your hormones now
Got your own home and you alone
Wanna bone, wanna moan, get your back blown out
(No more daddy's little girl)

You a big girl now in a world, where these niggas are foul
You could be aborting the next Michael Jordan
Your man don't wanna be around
(You're a big girl now)
She's sexy, she got it, she ride it

Every nigga wanna be inside it
(No more daddy's little girl)
I need her, I'll eat her
Do anything to please her
My ghetto queen of Sheba

I'm the type that'll get you by the fireplace
Get you hype when I lick it, put it in your face
Sipping red wine, is it bedtime
You can kick it with your nigga while we listen to Faith

I'm feeling richer today, I can hit it then stay
Lingerie make me take it to the kitchen and play
We got champagne, whipped cream, I'ma grab a bucket of ice
Bubble bath running and the candlelight feeling so right

It's your night, no stress, no fight
Mad at your ex 'cause his dough tight
Never go right when you're with him
Try you best to forget him 'cause it's easy to please me

CD skip when your head board hit the wall
Call for the Lord
Right when you cum, I'm biting your tongue
Make your legs cramp up, you can't stand up

You can hit a blunt if you want
I'ma pull my pants up
We can discuss a weekend of lust on top of the trust
Tell me what's the reason for us to love or to fuck

I'm the thug that you want
If it's gangster we can't front
If you want me I can stay around
If you need me, I'm here for you

How that sound?
Now it's up to you
Depending on how you wanna get down
'Cause you're a big girl now

(You're a big girl now)
Fully grown with your hormones now
Got your own home and you alone
Wanna bone, wanna moan, get your back blown out
(No more daddy's little girl)

You a big girl now in a world, where these niggas are foul
You could be aborting the next Michael Jordan
Your man don't wanna be around
(You're a big girl now)
She's sexy, she got it, she ride it

Every nigga wanna be inside it
(No more daddy's little girl)
I need her, I'll eat her
Do anything to please her
My ghetto queen of Sheba

Got your name and your number in my cell phone
Hear your voice and I wonder where you are, if you all alone
If you in a good mood, if you not
Or you thinking 'bout, you was at my spot

What we did when we got hot
Is you dreaming you had me?
Is you creaming your panties?
Like a king fed me grapes and you fanned me

On the couch to the floor, to the bed, to the sink
And we ate each other like candy
Under the covers, two intimate lovers
You fuck a nigga like you mad at me

Throw the ass to me, you should be glad to be
In the presence of a real thug as bad as me
While I'm in the streets with my murdering squad
You talking to your friends that I'm hurting it hard

How I'm making my rod, how I make you say, "Oh God"
Every hoe that you know wanna know Nas
Gotta dodge all the blow jobs, getting hard
'Cause you know how these girls are

Wearing tight shit, no panties, no bra
Running up to my car with menage a trois suggestions
Starting to get an erection
Guessing, only if you knew how your crew stressing

Complexion chocolatey, fondle me, thinking it's time to leave
I need time to breathe
Wanna follow me, Ironically
You pop up, throwing bottles at my Tahoe

Like it's my fault
But you don't wanna talk
Don't wanna hear nothing, all of a sudden
You and the shorty start scuffing

Now shorty dumping you out
Can't let her get the best of you
So I rescue you

Only thing left to do was to grab her
So you can jab her, get a cheap shot
You don't wanna feel chumped
Now here the cops come

So we gotta run to the ride
Then we drive off through the traffic
Don't panic but you know how we gotta manage
Looking at your face

And the damage in your facial
Every angle, can't let it faze you
No reason to be insecure or immature
Baby girl see the world is yours

(You're a big girl now)
Fully grown with your hormones now
Got your own home and you alone
Wanna bone, wanna moan, get your back blown out
(No more daddy's little girl)

You a big girl now in a world, where these niggas are foul
You could be aborting the next Michael Jordan
Your man don't wanna be around
(You're a big girl now)
She's sexy, she got it, she ride it

Every nigga wanna be inside it
(No more daddy's little girl)
I need her, I'll eat her
Do anything to please her
My ghetto queen of Sheba

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21ef49c167e18f684c284c1de550aedc

Extortion - Lyrics - Hell On Earth - Mobb Deep

Title: Extortion
Album: Hell On Earth
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Albert Johnson, Kejuan Muchita, Clifford Smith

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Lyric:
Yeah, time to let these niggaz know, son
Niggaz don't even wanna motherfuckin' understand
Know what I'm sayin'? Time to hit 'em with the third degree
Yeah, you know the QBC here to drop a G, yo

Look into the eyes, 'True lies', your whole click despise
Especially me, H A V O C, don't want your chick
'Cuz she's burning third degree, plus you snitchin', you ain't got
No ties on me, I keep it strong, while you scream word is bond

Lying through your teeth, swearing on your first born
Your word is weak, go hold a wake in this
Hit you up quick strictly shit that I'm livin' in
You walk a line that's thin, you religious, well you sin
Fuckin' with the Mobb, Infamous to the end

I hold a nine Ruger with an infa-spot disc
Red dot right at your face, so set sail or rock it
And kept drivin', pull off like the Indy 5 G
In a four time Ford truck with Speed

Like the motion picture, this nigga 'Gone with the wind'
My crime work, ninja style shit was did
And got away with, escaped it, the Jakes from tracing
Anything that lead to the source, you know the boss

Of the Mobb killing is like an 'Unsolved mystery'
Puzzling, nobody knows, it's all history
Madness amongst me, I frequently have to get lovely
Never fails it's always something

No rest, daily gotta rock my vest, I shoot at your best man
Yeah your MVP, he played the front line, got struck down immediately
I wave a Mobb Deep flag, you hear the sound as it slaps
When heavy load my military hold ammunition

Far from animation, it's real live, you think not
My crew, changing New York, who taking your spot
I put the green light on your whole click, Island shit
Running through the hoe-house wilding, extorting

Extortion, hit that up, extortion, hit that up

Extortion is the key, I got the key for extortion
Spend your fortune, dead your shorty like abortion
Take precaution, Infamous laws enforced in
You married to the Mobb, kid take it then divorce it

'Cause I ain't got no time for them domestic disputes
If you scared, get a dog, don't got a click then recruit
You're weak troop, lost the tan in the mist
On your name my shit, take it like a man you little bitch

I blaze yo britches, P.L.O. extortion, you forcin'
The hand that rocks the cradle, caution before you enter
This Shaolin representer, carry thirty-six deadly shits
You fuckin' with, top contenders

Official to the bone gristle
It don't matter if you bust rhymes or bust pistols
Remember me, burn a nigga to a third degree
Don't act familiar, motherfuckers you ain't heard of me

Just peep the stee and the rap how it's supposed to be
Tap the pockets bag the goods like a grocery, we food-shoppin'
On top of that we hip-hoppin' and don't stoppin'
Out-of-state drawers-droppin', the panty-raiders

Slide on ya like gators, umped that stank bitch back out
And then played her but that ain't nothin', crossin' this dog walkin'
Native New York and Shaolin slang talkin', rap nigga
Mr. Freeze crowd shiver, What? Young, black and don't give a fuck
If the next crew get the scissor

Extortion, extortion, give that up kid, extortion

Bottom line, what the fuck you wanna do?
You eyin' me, at the same time I'm eyin' you, punk
Wanna pop the most junk
Be the same motherfucker with the most lumps

Chew on that shit, punk faggot
(Word up)
Burn his ass like a book of matches
(Yeah, that's just about it)
Under pressure like fat bitches

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aa4007b4577dbf9930fd0d48edb678ec

Clap Your Hands Pt. 1 - Lyrics - IMx - Imx

Title: Clap Your Hands Pt. 1
Album: IMx
Artist: Imx
Composer(s): Jerome Jones, Kelton Kessee, Tony Oliver, Marques Houston

Lyric:
Stop, look and listen, new chick on the block
Pop this, so sick, average chick, I'm not
My mouth's dry at the site of sexy miss
Hit the door lookin' for my niggas IMx

Up in the club poppin' tops on the bubbly
At the bar spot Bat, Romeo and LDB
The club is pack ohh shh, they are playin' my jam
A lot of thong wearin' chickens just clappin' their hands

Hey yo, is this a party tonight?
We gotta get my peoplz in the club tonight
Ain't no shh going down just love tonight
To all my ladies and thugs on the floor tonight

Hey yo, if your feelin' me
Throw your hands in the air and represent with me
Chrisstyle, Belve and Hennessey
So bartender can you please keep the cups flowin'

Ladies feel the rise when they start to grind
G-string in the middle with a big behind
She be switching them hips from right to left
We gonna dance all night until we run outta breath

Hey yo, look at the shorty she's a lil cuttie yo
The way she shakes it make you want to grab the booty yo
As I'm rubbing on them thighs why she beggin' for mo
This girls butt is so big I'm 'bout to lose control

If you came to get it crunk clap your hands
And all the fellas and shorties clap your hands
So all the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

Oh, all the ladies wearing strings clap your hands
Just doing big things just clap, clap
All the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

Hey yo, it's a party in here?
Everybody is havin' a good time in here
Americans, Asians, and Chicanes in here
Big ballerz, big pimpin', VIP in here

Hey you, if you're feelin' me
Throw your hands in the air and represent with me
Chrisstyle, Belve and Hennessey
So bartender can you please keep the cups flowin'

Ladies feel the raise when they start to grind
G-string in the middle with a big behind
Keep switching them hips from right to left
We gonna dance all night until we run outta breath

Hey yo, look at the shorty she's a lil cuttie yo
She way she shakes it make you want to grab the booty yo
I'll be rubbing on them thighs why she beggin' for mo
This girls butt is so big I'm 'bout to lose control

If you came to get it crunk clap your hands
And all the fellas and shorties clap your hands
So all the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

Oh, all the ladies wearing strings clap your hands
Just doing big things just clap, clap
All the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

Platinum Status got that blazin' shh
Heard the track and said you gotta let me lace that shh
In result hot joint called clap your hands
If they were down for the count then guess again

Staring like you never seen no real ballerz befo
S-5, escalate, drop tops to your cage
Label change, changing names, now they are back running things
No more immature shh they done step up the game

Ladies feel the raise when they start to grind
G-string in the middle with a big behind
Keep switching them hips from right to left
We gonna dance all night until we run outta breath

Look at the shorty she's a lil cuttie yo
The way she shakes it make you want to grab the booty yo
I'll be grabbing on them thighs why she beggin' for mo
This girl butt is so big I'm 'bout to lose control

If you came to get it crunk clap your hands
And all the fellas and shorties clap your hands
So all the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

Oh, all the ladies wearing strings clap your hands
Just doing big things just clap, clap
All the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

If you came to get it crunk clap your hands
And all the fellas and shorties clap your hands
So all the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

Oh, all the ladies wearing strings clap your hands
Just doing big things just clap, clap
All the playas put in the work and my ladies make it twurk
And if you came to get it crunk clap your hands

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def92de7e618bf9b376ff3c306301d4f

Nothing In This World - Lyrics - Soul Sista - Keke Wyatt

Title: Nothing In This World
Album: Soul Sista
Artist: Keke Wyatt
Composer(s): Myron Lavell Avant, Steve Huff

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

Lyric:
On and on
Ahh ah oo, ah ah aha ah
Oh, ooo
Yeah, yeah

I can picture us in the living room
By the mantle piece
And your telling me your loving me
With ya hands on my thighs

While I'm staring in your brown eyes
And thee expression on your face
Is tellin me you want my bettah taste
So tonight were going all the way
We'll be loving till the break of day

There's nothing in this world
I wouldn't do for you boy
I don't care what the others say
Now that I got you, babe

No one can bring me joy like you girl
All the little things you do
It's all about you boo
(It's all about you boo)

I can picture us running in the rain
After a movie then we spark a flame
Oh, love it when you scream my name
Going 60 in a 30 lane

We pull over to the parking lot
In the park that's my favorite spot
Doing just about anything
We'll be going till the birds sing

There's nothing in this world
I wouldn't do for you boy
I don't care what the others say
Now that I got you, babe

No one can bring me joy like you girl
All the little things you do
It's all about you boo

I think it's bout time that I make you mine
So what you saying to me boy come on break it down
To find another like you would be a life time
I think I see the way you going baby let it out let it out

Listen to me baby got something to say
Is it really what i think baby don't take all day
Forever is what I wanna give to you
So what do you say, baby I do

There's nothing in this world
I wouldn't do for you boy
I don't care what the others say
Now that I got you, babe

No one can bring me joy like you girl
All the little things you do
It's all about you boo

There's nothing in this world
I wouldn't do for you boy
I don't care what the others say
Now that I got you, babe

No one can bring me joy like you girl
All the little things you do
It's all about you boo

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95764d182b0e4bc847b40621852dec9c

Number One Spot - Lyrics - Red Light District - Ludacris

Title: Number One Spot
Album: Red Light District
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Quincy Jones, Christopher Bridges

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

Lyric:
Yeah baby yeah

Back again
(That's right)
Luda
(Feel this)
It gets meaner and meaner each time baby
Feelin' real good too
(Holla at 'em man)
What up Uncle Face?

I'm a bull in this industry man
(Tell 'em)
Some would rather run down and get one cow
I think I'd rather walk down and get 'em all
You know what I'm talkin 'bout right? Look

I'm never goin' nowhere so don't try me
My music sticks in fans veins like an IV
Flows poison like Ivy oh they grimy
Already offers on my 6th album from labels tryin' to sign me

Respected highly hi Mr. O'Reilly
Hope all is well kiss the plantiff and the wifey
Drove through the window the industry supersized me
Now the girls see me and a river's what they cry me

I'm on the rise so many people despise me
Got party ammunition for those tryin' to surprise me
(Surprise)
It's a celebration and everyone should invite me
Roll with the crew or meet the bottom of our Nikes

Explorer like Dora these swipers can't swipe me
My whole aura's so mean in my white tee
Nobody light-skinded reppin' harder since Ice-T
You disagree take the Tyson approach and bite me

Woa don't slip up or get got
(Why not man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
(Alright)
Rappers swearin' they on top
But I'm comin' for they number one spot
(Alright man)

Scheme, scheme, plot, plot
(Say what?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
Keep it goin' it won't stop
(What you doin' man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot

Yes indeed Ludacris I'm hotter than Nevada
Ready to break the steerin' column on yo Impala
If I get caught bail out po-po I tell 'em holla
In court I never show up like Austin Powers fa-zha

Father, father and hey I love gold
But can buy anything I want from the records I've sold
Jacuzzi's hot, cristal is so cold
Neighbours catch contacts from the blunts that I've rolled

A pig in a blanket, a smoke and a pancake
Drop albums non-stop once a year for my fans sake
I crush mics until my hand breaks
Then shag now and shag later till these women can't stand straight

The Luda-meister got 'em feelin so randy
I'm double XL so I call 'em my 'Eye Candy'
Brush my shoulder and I pop my collar
'Coz I'm worth a million ga-zillion fa-fillion dollars

Woa don't slip up or get got
(Why not man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
(Alright)
Rappers swearin' they on top
But I'm comin' for they number one spot
(Alright man)

Scheme, scheme, plot, plot
(Say what?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
Keep it goin' it won't stop
(What you doin' man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot

Causin' lyrical disasters it's the master
Make music for mini-me's models and fat bastards
These women tryin' yo get me out my pelle, pelle
They strip off my clothes and tell me "Get in my belly"

Stay on the track hit the ground running like Flo-Jo
Sent back in time and I've never lost my mojo
Ladies and gentlemen ahh boys and girls
Ludacris sit down and take over the whole world

Woa don't slip up or get got
(Why not man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
(Alright)
Rappers swearin' they on top
But I'm comin' for they number one spot
(Alright man)

Scheme, scheme, plot, plot
(Say what?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
Keep it goin' it won't stop
(What you doin' man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot

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f37f0e6a3bb3aa5657b2c54bff7d133a

All Night - Lyrics - Anarchy - Busta Rhymes

Title: All Night
Album: Anarchy
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Kaseem Dean, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Turn it up
Flimode
Busta rhymes
Another banging niggas
Another banging niggas
Another banging niggas
Another banging niggas

(All night)
To my east niggas West Coast and dirty south we make ya
(Wave your hands up high)
Yeah light L's and drink some liquor it make ya wild out
(All night)
Come on, to all my niggas and my bitches get money
If ya running with me
(Wave your hands up high)
A yo I can't see y'all
You know we hang out in the streets y'all
(All night)

Yes yes y'all, I be the God up in the flesh y'all, bless y'all
With nothing but the best y'all
Finesse shit and leave the spot up in a mess y'all
Bitches, you know the street shit caress y'all, sex y'all
And put a bounce up in your breast y'all
Yes y'all we about to taste the success y'all
And quiz niggas like a fuckin' drug test y'all
And check y'all and let the livest niggas step in

I keep the burner, what you think I'm turning mine in what the fuck?
Now all my live motherfuckers boggart or bring it straight to the front
And let me give y'all niggas just what you want
More fire for ya fresh off the press shit blazing to death
Bitches lust talking under they breath
Hope you niggas know to put on your vest
Or get a hole in your chest
(Who in this motherfucker)
Take you a guess

(All night)
To my east niggas West Coast and dirty south we make ya
(Wave your hands up high)
C'mon light L's and drink some liquor it make ya wild out
(All night)
Yeah, to all my niggas and my bitches get money
If ya running with me
(Wave your hands up high)
A yo I can't see y'all
You know we hang out in the streets y'all
(All night)

(Yeah yeah)
All my niggas
(Yeah yeah)
All my bitches
(Yeah yeah)
All my thugs
(Yeah yeah)

All my soldiers
(Yeah yeah)
All my honeys
(Yeah yeah)
All my playas
(Yeah yeah)
All my live niggas c'mon
(Yeah yeah)

The grand finale y'all
Put it down and always preppin' for my family y'all
What, lets form a nation wide rally y'all
Of gutter niggas that will piss up in the alley y'all
Fuck it, now I know you know my rep nigga
And how it's hard to figure out my next step nigga
So step nigga, nigga sit your ass down
The way I mash down
Will only leave a legacy for me to pass down

Don't speak unless you're spoken to get broke in two
Flip mode we be the chosen few
(Yeah nigga entrap y'all)
I know some niggas that'll clap y'all and strap y'all
Up to a post and back slap y'all
Put y'all in a mailbox and leave open the flap y'all
That's the hap's that make niggas take forever naps y'all
(Strap y'all )
All up inside of your seat belts
The beats felt like a fire want the heat melt

Your patent leather stack cheddar nigga now or never
Better, whatever nigga feel this hot Biretta
'Cause when we come you know we hit you with that shit for the head
With nough shit just like the lox and the dread
Me and my niggas we be breaking this bread
With all the blood that we bled
See we was broke, now we flossing instead
The shit I drop will never leave you mislead
Might leave you tired of bed, shit ain't over till' the party is dead

(All night)
Yeah, to my east niggas West Coast and dirty south we make ya
(Wave your hands up high)
C'mon light L's and drink some liquor it make ya wild out
(All night)
To all my niggas and my bitches get money
If ya running with me
(Wave your hands up high)
A yo I can't see y'all
You know we hang out in the streets y'all

(All night)
To my east niggas West Coast and dirty south we make ya
(Wave your hands up high)
C'mon light L's and drink some liquor it make ya wild out
(All night)
Yeah to all my niggas and my bitches get money
If ya running with me
(Wave your hands up high)
A yo I can't see y'all
You know we hang out in the streets y'all
(All night)

Yeah all my live bitches let me see you
Just wave your hands up high
And all my niggas running around getting pussy
All night

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bacb452511406c520397d543426ba358

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

Proposition Fuck You - Lyrics - Methods Of Mayhem

Title: Proposition Fuck You
Artist: Methods Of Mayhem
Composer(s): Tim Murray, Mike Nunez, Tommy Lee, Adam Davis, Wilfredo Rosa Jr.

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

Lyric:
Are you tired of hanging out in your car
And getting sweated by the boys in blue?
Tired of getting shot by your best friend and not receiving
Any medical attention because of lack of insurance?

If these are a few problems that plague you and your friends
This November when you go up that
Ballot box and you see the proposition marked
?Fuck you?, you know what to do

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Step into the ballot box
Blowing up the muthafuckin' spot, tired of these cops
Tired of these judges, tired of the rules
Waitin' til the day to tell 'em all, ?Fuck you?

Playin' two, 'cause it ain't enough
Got the boyz in blue still roughin' me up
On the T.V. news still talking it up
Never thought Tommy Lee could be fuckin' it up

Methods of Mayhem, Filthy and Dutch
I walk up in your party and I'm spikin' the punch
If you've had enough, you know what to do
?Vote yes!? On proposition fuck you

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Filthee, Tommy Lee, steppin' casually
Middle finger in the air for everybody to see
Obviously you haven't read over my proposition
"Fuck you", collectively be runnin' the opposition

Opposition, proposition upon exposure
Our prediction, stop your bitchin' we takin' over
I told ya, we more like pottery, stop the monopoly
We turn around nigga's that burn learn to do it properly

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Go on take away welfare, medicare
Start riots everywhere, my style she could need some health care
I am well prepared, proposition fuck you, ammunition buck you
Gotta bud a crew

Who da farmers? House senate takin' over congress
Show 'em how to keep it on this passive judgment
Passin' on the government, no paper green card
By law we rock hard, hip hop rockstars

Collage, I borough street, hoods and guns
Take your goods and run, gettin' naked for fun
Give ya food to bluff, so spark another blunt
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

I've had it up to here with rules
Face plastered prime time, headline, on T.V. News
Fuck you! It's proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

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05d32df207f26b443dfa8be064346838

Billy Get Your Guns - Lyrics - Blaze Of Glory - Bon Jovi

Title: Billy Get Your Guns
Album: Blaze Of Glory
Artist: Bon Jovi
Composer(s): Jon Bon Jovi

Lyric:
I just seen trouble
He's calling out your name tonight
Billy get your guns

You could walk away
But I know you were born to fight
So Billy get your guns

The Bandileros are strung out
In the promenade
Billy get your guns

And the wind whispers softly
That the Devil's to blame
Billy get your guns

Billy get your guns
The trouble's blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns
That's the price on your head

For the price of fame
And it'll never change
Billy get your guns

There's a whiskey bottle empty
Sittin' on the bar
Billy get your guns

And some organ grinder singing
'Bout some sucker moving on
Billy get your guns

All the whores are hanging out
Waiting to get paid
Billy get your guns

From some Johnny on the spot
Who said, "Hey, keep the change, baby"
Billy get your guns

Billy get your guns
The trouble's blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns

That's the price on your head
For the price of fame
And it'll never change

They christened you with whiskey
And there's fire running through your veins
Well, you're an outlaw just the same
And every night a bullet wears your name

Billy get your guns
The trouble's blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns

That's the price on your head
For the price of fame
And it'll never change

I seen a hanged man dancing
'Neath the pale moonlight
Billy get your guns

And every stranger that you meet
Thinks it's his lucky night
Billy get your guns

I don't envy you, Billy
But I want to say
You better get your guns

'Cause every outlaw that's died
Will live to ride again
Billy get your guns

Billy get your guns
The trouble's blowing like a hurricane
Billy get your guns

That's the price on your head
For the price of fame
And it'll never change

Billy get your guns
Billy get your guns
Billy get your guns
Billy get your guns

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34e70b6b3fc2c6dad90d6082069d1f0c

Running Game - Lyrics - You Can't See Me - John Cena

Title: Running Game
Album: You Can't See Me
Artist: John Cena
Composer(s): M. Predka, J. Cena, Smokey Robinson

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

Lyric:
We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

I'll be makin' you move so quick you can't see me in slow-mo
Get your throat cut when you step in the dojo
Y'all got no flow, we be makin' hits
You like a proctologist, you feelin' my shit

Yeah, you all hype like a street team
I spend more time holdin' a mic than Mean Gene
Makin' beat fiends scream, they be lovin' the click
Roll solo to the party but I leave with ya chick

'Cause she know that when I'm flowin' it's hot
There's a party in my pants, she be blowin' the spot
Buck naked in the old school drop, givin' me skull again
She give me free strokes, that's why I call her a mulligan

See me on TV, knows everything about me
You can't fuck with me, she can't fuck without me
And if you think she don't be lovin' my thangs
That's like sayin' you eat at Hooters for the buffalo wings, what?

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

Fuck record execs, promisin' checks
I been cleanin' tables now I'm seein' labels, these chicks
Sayin, "Haven't we met", man holdin' my breath
Feel like the lesser of two evils that I haven't seen yet

I got girls running game with a pimp strut
Big butt booty bitches tryin' to link up
They walkin' toward me, conversation and they body bore me
I got no game, it's just some bitches understand my story

Nas said it before, that's raw
If you leavin' the club your clothes'll end up on the car floor
Man, I got no time for words after sex
I just kick you to the curb and be laughin' next

'Cause Trademarc is a clingy chick's nightmare
Even though you took me home, I won't spend the night there
I've had hookers to virgins, on they back
Wild sex all the way to dead lays like necrophiliacs

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

Johnny Cena got the girls, girls but I'm not Jay-Z
I play the field, I never let the field play me
You see my Chevy? You know there's ten chicks aboard
Plus the whip got more switches than the mixer board

I'm stickin' your whore, while you flossin' your Range
Gave her a dollar, she gave me back a buck and some change
She tried to swallow me whole, I brushed the back of her wig
She called my dick Frank White 'cause it's notoriously big

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

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85dbf82a11f725018b6a0ab96346f890

Serpent Boy - Lyrics - Hed P.E. - Hed Pe

Title: Serpent Boy
Album: Hed P.E.
Artist: Hed Pe
Composer(s): Wes Geer, Jerrad Shain

Lyric:
I said count the days
Don't hold your breath
Chikitee check 2012
The perpetrator never knew
Never properly represent the struggle
The boy in the bubble is you, not Barbarino
My flows unclog your souls like Draino
My logic tight like Plato
Whoop ass like Kato
With more troops than Nato
Wreckin' your house like a tornado in the Barbados
Drop down give props to the third rock
First come first serve shake the spot
See you not so big like you thought you was
Not my blood not my 'cuz
Not mi familia
I play like amnesia when I sees ya
Who needs ya
Ridin' my dick like a skeezah

Take a look around
You forgot what you came here for
What's your theory?
Why ya try to play that game?
You can forget my name
Take a look around
Take a deep breath
Recollect yourself
You a zero
You don't respect yourself
Still running that weak ass game
You can forget my name

It's time to bury the bloody hatchet in your motherfucking back
I laugh when I hear yo rib cage crack
I'm breakin' you down
Fuckin' you up like sprack
You always mixin' up yo fiction with yo facts
Now I'm a let you know
What the soul for real is
Come correct, let me know what the deal is
Bro, pack your bowl, with my flow
Shit just ain't workin' out
No, I'm a have to let you go

Ain't no love, no mo
Ain't no love, no mo
Ain't no love, no mo

Take a look around
You forgot what you came here for
What's your theory?
Why ya try to play that game?
You can forget my name
Take a look around
Take a deep breath
Recollect yourself
You a zero
You don't respect yourself
Still running that weak ass game
You can forget my name

So what's up?
Ain't seen your punk ass around lately
Still beatin' up bitches?
Said if from your grave
I'm already coming to remind you
That I'd be lookin' behind you
Yeah cause I know where to find you

Ain't no love, no mo, come on
Ain't no love, no mo, come on
Ain't no love, no mo, come on

Yeah, take a look around
Tell me what's your theory?
Why ya try to play that game?
Why ya try to play that game?

Take a look around
Take a deep breath
Recollect, resurrect
Run a check from the neck up
You fucked up
Running that weak ass game
You can forget my name

White boy, you shoulda known that your ass was banished
So tell your sissy peer
I'll make it perfectly clear
That we can't tolerate
No no we can't take from the broken man
Beatin' down their girls, and stealin' from my hydrosack
So now you know the deal, yeah our deal
Come on [incomprehensible]
Now you eject
You got no respect
No time to recollect
Only time to breathe your last breath
And let your mama [incomprehensible] as well, as well, as well

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00a36c0549e9bbddbc269f9dd1b7a4f2

Three The Hard Way - Lyrics - Jermaine Dupri

Title: Three The Hard Way
Artist: Jermaine Dupri
Composer(s): Rahman Griffin, Altorre Randolph, David Walker, Jermaine Dupri, David Blake

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

Lyric:
See Quick, I told you man, once we get a beat man
Shit like this right here
I got my nigga Black for me, uh
I got my nigga R.O.C. for me, uh

And y'all know who the fuck I be
And for a long time, I think niggaz been taking so so Def for a joke
But I guess that's why we rich
And y'all niggaz broke

Y'all got one chance to flow, I let y'all know
While y'all stretch your mouth, I stretch my dough
Also stretch the doors on my Navigators
Long as the Olajuwon

Rock mine, a Phenomenon Mr. Smith style
You wanna get, uh, oh, here he is now
Dot to the O caughted, blow your shit down
Dot to the C, you're feelin' me now?

Anyhow y'all niggaz can't measure up
I'm here to get my cheddar and who ever mess it up?
Then I'mma blow these rounds out, wet 'em up
For my dawgs like DMX who pound like Kurupt

And Snoopy in the club getting at the groupies
Stash the uzi tonight, flash the jewelry
And just post up we can't be touched
All my niggaz say, "What we don't give a fuck?

B-boy style, hot like tical
Four, five cal, check into the profile of a killa
Sonny Black my mellow, my ace playa get on the
Microphone and rock it please

I'm make y'all niggaz feel the heat homie
None of y'all motherfuckers know me
Three times a niggaz like T.O.N.Y.
All up in your spot like Navy Seals, wave your steel

Lay your shit down, clown, I'm for real
Spittin' Crips for chips, plant bombs in your whip
I bring the pain to the game on the real tip what?
Hittin' niggaz just like JFK

For the pounds and the bricks and yay, hear what I say?
Squeezing off, just to mash and releasing off
Y'all motherfuckers shouldn't be so soft
Oh, you too type thug niggaz, you'll be so called

Frump niggaz, yo, I got no love, niggaz
Expect the worse, yo, check it, can make you see the hearse
Tell mama I'm about to break the button for the nurse
Niggaz don't want it but they think they do
And soldiers should never fuck with me and my crew, who?

You know I'm gonna make them dance when I step in the club
Well, I know another way to make 'em put their hands up
I drop the beat on, I cock the heat on
I got this party niggaz, we lock the street corners

You know I'm gonna make them dance when I step in the club
Well, I know another way to make 'em put their hands up
I drop the beat on, I cock the heat on
I got this party niggaz, we lock the street corners

Well it come again, the Timbaland lacer
You trembling in the faces, Detroit hates us
Take us, come smooth the hard shit, rock jewelry
Like Mr. Antarctic

Watch an artist, move regardless of the chartless
Cock your automatic
So the safest thing for you to do is shut the fuck up
Let my crew do this, uh, like this niggaz from the bricks and uh

You don't want NWK to get to ya
So you heard we make believers out of dreamers
Now we make murder cases out of sleepers
S to the motherfuckers, O to the S to the y'all damned
O to the D to the E F uck you 'cause we buck you
Y'all niggaz can't touch us

Assume my position 'cause papermaking's a must
Straight mangle motherfuckers when it's time to bust
Lace flows with angel dust, all up in your spot
We got no things with us, kind of dangerous

Don't fuck around and get caught in a verbal onslaught
'Cause I'm label your bills and my man Too $hort , oh, Lord
Getting down one more time
For making motherfuckers, who out on the run

I gotta get mine daily, can't let these motherfuckers fade me
That's just the way my mama made me
Top size rider from the get go, known to spit flows
And keep them niggaz on their tiptoes

I goes to the extremity blind with weed and Hennessey
I know you niggaz don't remember me
Got the flow poetic and I stay diamond setted
Running over tracks like I'm Libyan, here's the past

Labeled a pussy, cash see her bounce
Shaking, moving, waiting, sipping the ounce
What's up with that? None of y'all niggaz can fuck with Black
Motherfucker where's your focus at?
JD, my mellow my ace, get on the mic and come rock, please

Nigga, I feel like why you gon come if ain't on time
And ain't no need in coming out, if you ain't gonna shine
That's why I am like I am with mine and y'all sick
While y'all keep it real, we keep it rich

Just clowning, pounding, riding around in
Some of the most elite shit to ever hit the town
Screaming out how you like me now and I'm gettin' busier
I stay platinum while y'all get dizzier

The difference between y'all is I get 'em out of their seats
And my balling techniques is out of your reach
Live and direct from the Peach State
Where we make hits, deep grits and steak, homes laced
We never hit the breaks, just continue to speed, stay in the lead
Y'all don't wanna fuck with me?

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3d8653458c019b8368de6b536b55398b

Heads Up - Lyrics - Birdman - Birdman

Title: Heads Up
Album: Birdman
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): A Nelson, D Boys, Kedrick Moore, Phalon Alexander, Bryan Williams

Lyric:
(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

Aye, I heard it was a murder
Robbing and kidnapping, lil one with that jaw jacking
Saying that he stacking ain't packing that tool go to clapping
You hear that, move out before the

Man I don't like that nigga anyway
I heard he been ratting
We can drag him to the river Stone
Nah, leave him for Patrice

I'm a gangsta, hustler, hoodlum, slow down
I came with the four pounds so fucking let it go down
I'm tired of them niggas talking, I'm letting the trigga sparker
Bull dog barking, Cadillac done did 'em awful

He ratting, stooping, bitching, and busting balls
Say Lac, I'ma send this nigga to the mall, it is what it is
It's one way in dog, heads up
Grab on them K-9 dogs

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

Stunna a street nigga, straight up make him act as money
And I don't sleep nigga, I stay up in a black 600
I play for keeps nigga, so pay up, ain't jacking nothing
The price is cheap nigga, heads up, crackers coming

See I'm a known D Boy so they hits my spot
Put my homies on they knees and they check for rocks
So we change stash spots 'cause the blocks is hot
On the rag-less cars so they can't clip my spots

The Caprice's on the block moving slowly
That's the motherfucking police
Here come the laws nigga heads up
Better raise up Big chips if ya made something

Move, move out nigga
They coming through, what about the traffic daddy?
Nigga, fuck you, heads up you know what to do
You best to break, run, 'cause nigga they coming through

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

They told me put my hands on the car and show me your hands
I had some raw in my draws so I broke out and ran
I can't afford to be busted 'til my money advance
But I'm running with the Bird man so I'm straight nigga

I'm on the block with the rocks and the 44
It's so hot and we still burn a pound of dro'
Million stashed in the trunk or compartment doors
A hundred birds stashed in a Bentley four door

I'm sticking to tha G-Code, Tees and Bauts
Break it up [Incomprehensible] covered in rocks
Got a bitch on every exit that's holding my blocks
And I drive a [Incomprehensible] but keep my Lexus by my older shops

Streets watching, I know that's why I'm on my shit
When them people riding with four doors up my click
Showing them off to rookie cops to watch out for me
And I know this from crooked cops that get blocks from me

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

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165cfcba6b5ab1e5d95727c1d49bf928

Still Standing - Lyrics - Dirty South Classics - Goodie Mob

Title: Still Standing
Album: Dirty South Classics
Artist: Goodie Mob
Composer(s): C Gipp, D Sheats, T Burton, W Knighton, R Barnett

Lyric:
This for the soldiers, soldiers
Stay strong my niggaz
Gangsters, players
Stay up my niggaz, real niggaz

Leavin' the cut in a rage
Loadin' up my Mac, goin' to my crib, to get my 12 gauze
One of my boys just got shot, huh
Fuckin' around, in that million dollar spot

A educated brother didn't have no money for college he was taught
The street knowledge, part of the plan
To keep us fightin' in the street
Instead of becomin' a strong black man

Every two weeks I see Sam
Pitchin' out my check with no respect but I still don't give a damn
Because I gotta make my dough
My kill, rocked down, 'til I started seein' cash flow

Everything happens for a reason, choose the season
To commit the perfect treason
Who brought me to the land, of unfree man?
To move about and catch trout, by the dozens

Even had my cousin locked down, at the feet shackled
A one-way seat, to Milledgeville
Nigga this real, how can you kill another
When it's your brother? Still standing

I never thought about, talked about what I did
Just experimented life as a young Gump
Them days long gone, school bells done rung no mo'
Spendin' hours at the house in my favorite chair

Slow mo', custom funk fingerprinted to carry a hucklebuck
Feelin' stuck with the art that my skin carries, scary
If I ever had to plot again, needin' my stick
Yeah, gidgets to pidgits, moves to Philly and the crew?

Nothin' else to prove, fold a plot like chrome
Salt lick teddy bears in the college student's room
Speed, Gipp got that too
Watch that dude, inspect that fool, still standing

Unscathed, cause this is pain
This for soldiers to feel
MC's, are running out of things to say
Radio stations are running out of songs to play

Still standing, unscathed, 'cause of pain
This for soldiers to feel
MC's, are running out of things to say
Radio stations are running out of songs to play

On the sick side, of South Central
33rd Avenue, block 600
Workers have wash and car details
The ese's got the fresh Chevrolet's for sale

Twenty G's or better, the whole neighborhood tanked up
What? On the fortress walls, there is no letters
Buddha say, the Bloods are strictly outnumbered
They besieged, on the beats, Goodie MoB, run the creeps

Y'all can have the streets, asphalt caught many suckers
Slippin' on wet floors, we puttin' out the signs
On krokers, C I T Y, such a pity
Bein' suckled dry, like a newborn

On his momma's titty before I retired I hit twenty
True to cellulite with big room pesquite on the porch
Poundin', like cartoon Ennis, old school efforts
Through the Sunday down, Crenshaw sparkin'

Zoned out, off the ink, for life
Goin through time and metal detectors
I can't take my weapon
And I can't be no dope dealer

'Cause they be done put a hit out on a nigga, plus I can't keep up
With them keys, locked in the fo'-do'
Backseat drivers havin' out-of-body experiences
Wakin up, somewhere else, still standing

Yeah, each and every element that exists in this
Universe is manifested from a thought first
Through the inner mind's eye of the unseen power in the sky
Gave birth to Mother Earth and all it's worth to you and I

This most loved invention, my consciousness is an extension
Of Him, yet I'm flesh and bone with a mind of my own
To dig deeper than the surface, whether I learn
From your upcomings or your downfalls we all have individual purpose

It's amazing, how the streets do the majority of raising
Of children who end up dead before hearing what you said
And it's sad, so all I can write about is what I had
Interpretations of life good and bad with a pen and pad

It seems like abortion, when I just write a small portion
It's either crumpled up or torn without lettin the thought be born
Young minded, and blinded in those days, I didn't want to
Have a thought that I couldn't raise, nurture, and care for

Be there for, help prepare for, the times ahead
When someone doesn't agree with what is said, huh
And if they did, don't get all arrogant 'cause that's my kid
Just be thankful that it's good and somebody overstood

Now, the listener in here want the same flow but I gotta let it grow
Clever enough to let it go, if I don't wanna rap no mo'
And I'll make sure that no one ever forgets
It's immortalized forever, on wax CD's and cassettes

And when someone goes to the store and purchases it for ten
The life cycle starts all over again
And I was granted this music as my soul mate, to procreate
And give back what I was given, a life worth livin'

And I, am still standing, unscathed
Pain is for suckers to feel
MC's are running out of things to say, and
radio stations running out of songs to play, shit!

We still standing, unscathed
And pain is for suckers to feel, huh
And MC's running out of things to say

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High Times - Lyrics - Cypress Hill IV - Cypress Hill

Title: High Times
Album: Cypress Hill IV
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Louis M. Freeze, R Fritz, Lawrence Muggerud

Lyric:
Now this some bad weed

The very first time I hit the weed I was young
Coughing up a lung, high strung, back in '81
Going to school, hitting the buddha behind the bleachers
Coming to class high, selling the lie to the teachers

Nickel bag, nickel bag, dime to a nickel
Selling joints to the honeys, suck it like an icicle
Others wanted the 40 but I wanted the weed
While everybody was running out, I was planting my seeds

Homegrown, backyard boogie, I'm still stoned
Got my weed plants taller than your telephone's pole
I can remember when I could only get sess in those days
Now, I'm rocking that Chocolate Thai, skunk and the haze

Roll a fat one, pass it to the left don't front
But I hate it when they don't take the seeds out the blunt
Amateur of blunt-rollers are like rookies on the field
Spilling the weed plant fucking dookies with no skill

I should write a book, how to roll it then pass it
Light it, grow it, sell it and then divide it
Mr. Greenthumb, Dr. Weed, I proceed to give
The herb man what they need

True indeed, blow your fucking smoke up in the sky
And get high with your bong
Or your Philly, or duchess give me a light

Grab the weed up, pack it in, put it in the pipe
Light it up, smoke a bowl, we puffing the lye right
Put your finger on the hole and hold it in brother
Take a puff, that's enough and pass it to another

Get the weed sack, smoke it up, 'til it's all gone
No roaches up in the ashtray, smoke up all the bomb
I use ta spend money but now I'm growing the crops
But I hate it when the pigs throw a raid on the spot

It was once said I smoke so much weed, by a brother
That I look like the nigga on the zig-zag cover
Maybe I use ta look like that way back when
When my nigga Sen Dog was around sipping on the Hen

Let the fly rhymes smother you with the scent of the skunk
We got the High Times cover, shows you how to roll a blunt
Quarter pound, quarter pound, pound to a quarter
Making trips to Mexico running down to the border

Long hairs, bald heads, dreads and punk rocks
Kids of all colors be puffin it down the block
I got the weed on lock with all the hydro methods

Call me Puffy 'cause I making and taking a hit record
Blow your fucking smoke up in the sky and get high
With the bong, Philly or duchess, give me the light

Grab the weed up, pack it in, put it in the pipe
Light it up, smoke a bowl, we puffing the lye right
Put your finger on the hole and hold it in brother
Take a puff, that's enough and pass it to another

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