Showing posts sorted by relevance for query 100 Ways. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query 100 Ways. Sort by date Show all posts

Thursday, July 29, 2010

100 Ways - Lyrics - J.C. Chasez

Title: 100 Ways
Artist: J.C. Chasez
Composer(s): Joshua Scott Chasez, Robb Boldt, Eric Schermerhorn

Lyric:
Speak your mind, just speak your mind
Speak your mind, speak your mind

Gave me a call after workin' all day
Tell you, "Head on over, over to my place"
You're feelin' sexy 'cause you just got a raise
And you want to celebrate but you don't know what to say

Girl, speak your mind, 100 ways
It's better for ya, don't be ashamed
Just speak your mind, tell me what you like
Don't hold back now, time to play

Dripped through the hallways 'cause we started in the shower
(Not 99, not 98)
We didn't finish 'til we hit the kitchen counter
(I'll make love to ya in 100 ways)

You got me curious, I want to know your game
(Know your game)
It's really simple girl, our goals are both the same
(Both the same)
Send me on a bottle rocket straight up into space
(Into space)
You're so outrageous, I'm so glad that you came

Girl, speak your mind, 100 ways
It's better for ya, don't be a slave
Just speak your mind, tell me what you like
Don't hold back now, feels so right

Dripped through the hallways 'cause we started in the shower
(Not 99, not 98)
We didn't finish 'til we hit the kitchen counter
(I'll make love to ya in 100 ways)

Woke up next to you, you were lying fast asleep
Didn't think to wake you, you were all up in my dreams
She had, no makeup, no toothpaste, I don't wanna wait
'Cause she's such a sexy dame, I just can't control my thang

Come here closer, let me give it to ya
Wanna sneak up on ya girl, wanna, uh
Like this, just like this, like this, uh

Don't let that animal inside you be contained
(To be contained)
I'll be your Superman, you play Lois Lane
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)
Dip you in chocolate even though you taste good plain
(Taste good plain, plain, plain, plain, plain)
Bite you in the center, sweetest fields of sugarcane

Dripped through the hallways 'cause we started in the shower
(Not 99, not 98)
We didn't finish 'til we hit the kitchen counter
(I'll make love to ya in 100 ways, girl)

In the middle of the day, babe
(Any time you need me)
Hit me up on your lunch break
(It's so much fun being naughty)
Got to get you, don't stay late, ooh
(You're a centerfold, baby)

Adjust the button fly on my Levi's when you walked into the door
Standing five foot nine with legs high as the sky down to the floor
There's a fire burning deep inside you that you can't ignore
And all the crazy things you say to me just makes me want you more

Got to, girl, you know I love ya
(Listen to ya)
I want you to believe
(I'm tired of talking about it)
I just wanna lay you down
(I wanna slide up right up on ya)
And help you blow off steam
(Let's get our hands dirty)

The playa's crazy
(I wanna show ya)
And though she always came across it she was tame
(Girl, you know I love ya)
100 ways is what it takes to feed her craving
(I'm going downtown where it's business as usual)

Not 99, not 98, I'll make love to ya in 100 ways

Know it takes a while to go through all the different ways
(100 positions, we'll go through them all)
But I can't think of a better way I'd like to spend the day so
(With no intermissions until you get off)
Turn of your cell phone and crack out the Gatorade
(100 positions, we'll go through them all)
'Cause it's time to get to business and there's nothing left to say
(With no intermissions,until you get off)

Why chase the clouds we lay upon, love be set free
(Be set free)
So if you're ready lets get on with our release
(Talk to me)

Speak your mind, 100 ways
(100 ways)
It's better for ya, don't be a slave
(Come here, girl, that's right)
Speak your mind, speak your mind
Speak your mind, speak your mind

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147c4047ed1d24fe15880fa61980cacd

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

100 Different Ways (Bonus Tracks) - Lyrics - What Will the Neighbours Say - Girls Aloud

Title: 100 Different Ways (Bonus Tracks)
Album: What Will the Neighbours Say
Artist: Girls Aloud
Composer(s): Nick Coler, Miranda Cooper, Kimberly Walsh, Cheryl Tweedy, Nadine Coyle, Sarah Harding, Nicola Roberts, Lisa Cowling, Brian Thomas Higgins, Timothy Larcombe, Shawn Lee

Lyric:
As I tried to say goodbye
You wouldn't let me, kept holdin' me back
Now I see your face in the crowds
But it's never really you that I'm lookin' at

I've tried my luck callin' night and day
And now I'm stuck 'coz everything you throw away
I'd hold my breath and walk through fire for you
I've tried my best but all my letters will not do

Aye, aye, aye, I wanna tell you
Aye, aye, aye, my love is so true
Aye, aye, aye, you've got me holding on
Yeah

Aye, aye, aye, what was I thinkin'?
Aye, aye, aye, I've started sinking
Aye, aye, aye, told you time and time again
I was wrong

A hundred different ways I could say I'm sorry, oh
And every other day I try somethin' new, oh
I'd write it out in blood if I thought you'd change but, oh
It's not enough for you

Remember how we laughed together
Said, ?We'd be like this forever?
I know so much has happened baby, oh
Why did I hurt you so?

Remember how we stayed up dreamin'
Of all the thing that we believed in
I know too much has happened baby, oh
And everyday I wonder why I let it go

Aye, aye, aye, I wanna tell you
Aye, aye, aye, My love is so true
Aye, aye, aye, you've got me holding on
Yeah

Aye, aye, aye, what was I thinking?
Aye, aye, aye, I've started sinking
Aye, aye, aye, told you time and time again
I was wrong

A hundred different ways I could say I'm sorry, oh
And every other day I try somethin' new, oh
I'd write it out in blood if I thought you'd change but, oh
It's not enough for you

A hundred different ways I could say I'm sorry, oh
And every other day I try somethin' new, oh
I'd write it out in blood if I thought you'd change but, oh
It's not enough for you

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247224d9c4f7ae105abe67b7f54f377f

100 Years - Lyrics - The Battle For Everything - Five For Fighting

Title: 100 Years
Album: The Battle For Everything
Artist: Five For Fighting
Composer(s): John Ondrasik

Lyric:
I'm 15 for a moment
Caught in between 10 and 20
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are

I'm 22 for a moment
And she feels better than ever
And we're on fire
Making our way back from Mars

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

I'm 33 for a moment
Still the man, but you see I'm a ?they'
A kid on the way, babe
A family on my mind

I'm 45 for a moment
The sea is high
And I'm heading into a crisis
Chasing the years of my life

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to lose yourself
Within a morning star

15 I'm all right with you
15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

Half time goes by
Suddenly you're wise
Another blink of an eye
67 is gone
The sun is getting high
We're moving on

I'm 99 for a moment
Dying for just another moment
And I'm just dreaming
Counting the ways to where you are

15 there's still time for you
22 I feel her too
33 you're on your way
Every day's a new day

15 there's still time for you
Time to buy and time to choose
Hey 15, there's never a wish better than this
When you only got 100 years to live

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3fbd2e248752f50f57a033fbbd7be952

Friday, August 13, 2010

The Roc (Just Fire) - Lyrics - Come Home With Me - Cam'Ron

Title: The Roc (Just Fire)
Album: Come Home With Me
Artist: Cam'Ron
Composer(s): Cameron Giles, Malik Cox, Dwight Grant, Justin Smith

Lyric:
Yeah yeah, nigga
Just blazin' this shit, ya heard?
It's ya main man I'm back niggaz holla

My break I'm fresh off it
I never change I'm stuck in these ways
Nike Airs sweats and Taurus
But I'm a do it for my enemies
They wanna end my chill wanna see what that villa be

Now what that sound like?
Plus they know what a clip get down like
Turn bags from bladders legs to wheels paint it peels
'Cuz you fuckin' wit' a nigga that'll jump out raise the steel
I live this way it's real dog no joke

Blow smoke in ya bitch face piss in ya wheels
Slap ya custies, clap your workers, dead the strip
Stick ya connect, yap ya bitch

So let it be known I'm back for my grizzly
The sergeant, the cap, the mac holds 60
For rookies and vets I'll bang 'til it click
So run and tell ya duela the ruger come wit' two clips, dog

M easy won't leave my hood need me
Pop fa' sheezy who don't believe me?
We all criminals but live like a diplomat
We get low when the dough low get it back

Here is something you can't understand
How I could just kill a man for killa cam
Me and my Roc killa fam, top billers man
We run the spot, drop ceilings fam

Hit the wall drop ceiling fans
Listen boar, man I show you how to fill a van
Up with killers man and line the trunk
Keep a stash box for the nine and the pump
The coach walk you through and he grind you up

What chu want the dope or the weed?
How you want it packaged, in the cap or the bag?
How you want me packin' wit' the mac or the mag?
Yeah that bent get back, but listen scrap act real fast

And keep a wack that'll gag ya back
Block style from ya swagger, ya swacks
It's the broad street bully bitch
I bully niggaz on the broadest streets
I house niggaz on the narrowest block

Know my rules when the barrel get hot
When the gun blows and the shots fall and the smoke clear
Man I be hearin' you murder
Nobody hit up in the cross 'cuz I'm observin'

Nobody be missin' your loss 'cuz you deserved it
South Philly niggaz kill at will, I keep my Mac-Milli chilly chill
On the really real
'Fore I make you niggaz feel this steel

Go 'head stupid niggaz go fuck wit' them chicks
I'm the third little piggy I'm a fuck wit' them pricks
Better yet the bakery I got pies and cakes
Nigga think doublin' is turnin' 5 to 8

I turn 8 to 20, 20 to 100, 100 to 1000
That to 100,000, in front a housin'
Closed 'em all down dog, no one's allowed in
I'm coppin' everything I'm done wit' browsin'

It's the top don, glock palm, dot com
Get your shit rocked ma like Haseem Rahman
And I'm extra scary
CEO's all the frontin' ain't necessary, I fuck wit' secretaries

All for information it ain't necessary
They in love like the 14th of February
Play 'em like April 1st right before I slide off
It could be March 2nd, sound like July 4th

Halloween or Memorial Day
At your memorial be one year from today
All y'all think it's peace and peachy
I leave you reesy piecy all my bitches rock

Christian Dior, BCBG
'Round phony niggaz get the heeby jeebies
Hungry hoes say "Killa feed me feed me"
Calm down ma, easy, easy

Talk greasy, please me, get my man wheezy
Still rock ellesses, to squeeze appease me
He ain't no tease but measly
Not doggy's angels killa please believe me

You now rollin' with them thugs from the R O C
Niggaz wanna despise the team Roc a fella
When the shit gets down you know who's doin' the poppin
Killa easy

Fuck those who disagree, my bullets you get 'em free
Roc a Roc a
Roc a Roc a Roc a Roc a
Roc in this muh muh muhfucka

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6d8a30ff85e253a473da7cda0d8dff8c

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Southside - Lyrics - 100% Colombian - Fun Lovin Criminals

Title: Southside
Album: 100% Colombian
Artist: Fun Lovin Criminals
Composer(s): Steve Borgovini, Brian Andrew Leiser, Hugh Thomas Morgan

Lyric:
On a night with no lights, they found a young girl's body
Jigged and beaten and they made it a priority
But the boys in blue couldn't solve the case
Because the girl that hit the curb didn't have no face

They found her on Delancy street, Christmas Eve
No suspect sought, much to my relief
And I said wash your face little girl, for real
Pretend you came back with that mass appeal

Now diamonds for your pearl, clicking in heels
Shaking that ass for extra value meals
And down that part of town that frightens the masses
Filled with mean motherfuckers and noxious gases

Delancy, I love you, I need you
You're the only one for me
Delancy, I love you, I need you
I miss you on the south side of the street

Delancy, I love you, I need you
You're the only one for me
Delancy, I love you, I need you
South side, south side, south side

They're all bums, girl, they're all bums, girl
They're livin' in their fucked up places
I'm talking murder, I'm talking blackmail and jazz
And guys with burned up faces

Delancy, I love you, I need you
You're the only one for me
Delancy, I love you I need you
South side, south side

Delancy, I love you, I need you
You're the only one for me
Delancy, I love you, I need you
I miss you on the south side of the street
South side

You know that you're the flower, baby, I am Dr. Pepper
I saw you on the street and it made me feel much better
I dragged him 'cross the ground to show him what he'd done
I've seen an F train coming, shining like the sun

Yeah, I looked both ways before I pushed him in the track
I heard a scream, a crack and I never looked back

Delancy on my mind
Delancy on my mind
Delancy on my mind
Delancy on my mind, on my mind

South side, south side
Delancy on my mind, on my mind
Delancy on my mind, on my mind
Delancy on my mind, on my mind

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867befe66dc789fc313d146d9ae18c75

Monday, August 2, 2010

Power - Lyrics - Raekwon

Title: Power
Artist: Raekwon
Composer(s): Delmar Coward, Jamel Cummings,T Birkert, Sean Kelly, Bruce Mayfield, Cory Woods

Lyric:
Take it off, sho' 'nough kid, take it off
We gon' take it from the east to the west to the north to the south
Show y'all what it's about
Don't make me throw no gun in your mouth
Know? How long is your cream? This long?

Eh yo, his belt got karats in it
Swift description, E-320 nigga pitchin'
Rock a raw dinosaur chain, hang to his thang
It?s like, he pump isolated, still cashin' in cream

Niggas in the hood hate him, drew a vase of him
Blaze ?em, he actin' like Shallah raisin' him
This is hydrogen, son ain?t live as him
He like Maguyver, chin 4 spies with him

Roll relentless, desert that he hold is a gift wish
Smash the list, give his miss dick
Technique, operation sex scream
About the bet cream, them alligators jet like a vet swing

Nigga like Nicolas Cage with the gage in your braids
2 cannons that?ll spray, rockin' banana suede
Suck this drunk alcohol dick
Fuck y?all niggas with hits, we 'bout to shit on y?all shit

Y?all brothas wanna call us out?
Name names, otherwise it?d be the wise to shut the fuck up
Get pimp-smacked up, jacked up and macked up
You?re scared and froze of bein' exposed

I own Harlem, I bone Harlem, call me the Mayor
It?s my borough, you don?t want no problems
I?m on now, you dead pop, all jokes aside
I ride the top, you glide the bottom

Pitfall, 5 foot 9, my dick balls
Shit y?all, leave flat line to stick your?s
We flip off basic and brace it
8 kills, 47 ways to taste it

Never understand what you never been told
You did your book bitin' off of my scrolls
We hit man, Colombo, coats and hats to match
Bust off quick, and then, guns go back

Ah yo, I move like Arthur Ash against God
4 raquets, 8 balls and no practice
Every cypher?s a heated discussion
The industry was like a beat that needed percussion

And I brun the music, shit that make crews flip
Y'all might say that I?m the illest, this is Q.U. shit
I used to heat-hole, now I?m takin' over like the repo?
No bitches that roll, cee-lo that?ll sniff a kilo?

We went from Frank?s and beans to shanks and greens
Now we drive our navigators to banks in Queen?s
Y?all can?t fuck around, your words ain?t right
Every time I touch the mic, they say, "Perb ain?t right"

But that?s the truth though, d?oh, infact that?s it
When they drop this shit, I?m gon? cop that shit
It's the new star, you want me? I?m at the juice bar
Y?all once hap? niggas, give me 2 stars

I heard what y?all rappin' about, but bring your stash out
You shouldn?t throw rocks if you livin' in glass house
Sneak your weak shit at us, on the low though
Where these cats come from, speakin' about Po?

He got cash to cop and I?m crashin'
But half of y?all cats just catchin' up to Rae? last year
Got guns in the jungle, call ?em Jurassic
The chrome, the steel, the 22-shot plastic

While y?all niggas cop jars, me and my niggas cop bars
Gettin' head from rock stars
We blowin' everything apart, I?m smashin' the charts
How I see it? Yo, how you see it?

Eh yo, what you wanna be when you grow up?
Yo, I wanna be a leader
Slow your speed up and stop tryin' to be us
Say somethin' always, got a future? Stay out the hallways
And get yourself right, a 100 more ways

Fly like iceberg, nice with verbs, precise words
Bentley swerve, hit the curb, jump out, cock back, spit out
Shut your block down, get out, criminal route
Gangsta shit, can?t talk now, gun in your mouth

Cream team killas, cocoon cats like caterpillars
Giant size gorillas, break niggas backs from the skrilla
Scratch, greenback track, Fed?s berserk
That?s my word, disrespect Recca, get what you deserve

Inferno, melt down mic?s, millionaire in my afterlife
Broke bread with Christ on the last night
Apocalypse, sleep with 4-5th, 2 clips
Passport, cellphone with the removable micro-chip
Specialist, 40-karat Sicilian necklace
Matching bracelet, cream team crisp the basic

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c4a9f9ac4b9eea3142d933aa6f524569

Friday, August 13, 2010

The Heist - Lyrics - Big L

Title: The Heist
Artist: Big L
Composer(s): Lamont Coleman, Rondell Edwin Turner

Lyric:
Bust it
Hey yo, I just left the studio and it's about 2 in the morn'
I just finished doin' a song
Now I'm ready for sleep
But first I want spaghetti to eat
In this good Italian restaurant right up the street
So I jumped in the jeep, stash the heat under the seat
Then I got a beep
My voice is harsh, barely can speak

I called back on the cell, it's Coley, mad as hell
He told me to listen well as he started to yell
"I just seen Mike and Ben with your wife and a friend
And they just got a room at the Holiday Inn"
"It's my wife, you sure?", "Yeah I'm sure"
I saw the whore as soon she walked through the door"
"Yo, say no more, which one?"
"The one in Jersey, son, right over the bridge"
"We goin' hurt those hoes" "And hurt both of them kids"

Now I'm in the range
Switchin' lanes, doin' a buck 'n change
I can't wait to touch the lames and them fuckin' dames
Reach the destination, grab the heat without no hesitation
These niggas fuckin' up my reputation
I saw Corleone holdin' the chrome
Ice-grill, lookin' like he had a license to kill
And he had somebody else with 'em playin' the cup
Lookin' like he can't wait to start sprayin' shit up

"Yo, who that in the background?" "It's Tommy Giss"
"Oh, I didn't recognize you with your hat down
Son you ready, we got this whole shit mapped out"
Oh you ain't scared as no tome to back route
"Yeah, wo goin' to take the back route
And pull our gats out and throw our mask on
We ain't leavin' till everyone's dead and all the cash gone"
"We goin' to get our laugh on when we're through
But right now we got a job to do"

"So let's do it", hey yo, I stepped to the desk clerk
Put the gat to her dress-shirt
Told her to listen up before she get hurt
"They just walked in, party of four, two chicks, two males
What room they got?" She paused and said, "212"
Took the steps now I'm out of breath, I gotta stop smokin'
Them cigarettes goin' be the cause of my death
My heart beatin' fast now, 'cause it's about to pop off
Saw the door, let the glock off, tore the lock off

Took a deep breath, then ran inside at a quick pase
I felt disgraced, I should've shot the bitch in the face
Then my other two niggas ran in, each had a cannon
Ready to take care, how we done planned it
"These two crab cats, we know they hustle upstate"
We know they got stacks
'Cause they don't move with nothin' but weight
We got the cuffs and the duck tape and put it to use
Then told 'em when this is over we be lettin' 'em loose

Hey man, I kicked mike in his face, so I just had your back
You wanna live and tell my nigga where the stash at
He gave me the address then I ran outside
But first I took the keys to his van outside
And when I got there, I found 50 keys in a stash
A 100 pound of grass and 2 million in cash
I was dumb glad, the sit didn't fit in one bag
So I got three, filled 'em all up to the teeth

And put the bags in the van, then I locked the truck
When I got back, Coley done popped them punks
"Hey yo', fuck it l, we might as well pop these studs"
Man that's four bodies, two outta-towners and two hotties
And after that we ain't sleep for three days
We hit the PJ's, split the money three ways
Now we all laughin' hard, gettin' nice and weeded
Celebratin' nigga, heist completed

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d435966f582f578f153057f4de9529e3

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Return Of The Real - Lyrics - VI: Return Of The Real - Ice T

Title: Return Of The Real
Album: VI: Return Of The Real
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): Richard J. Ascencio, Tracy Lauren Marrow

Lyric:
Yo, what's up with all these niggas
On these muthafuckin' records talkin' all this bullshit
I ain't tryin' to hear that shit, man
These bitches ain't players, man

Peace to my street niggas movin' that weight
Much love to my comrades who's out in upstate
Mad connections from the bottom to the top of the game
Street fame, I got much that's in touch with my name

Got a overload of guns to unload on a lame nigga trippin'
Wake up my posse, interrup' the Rémy sippin'
Four in your back and keep bailin'
Listen to the HK wailin' and your vital signs failin'

Everyone that ever met me knows
I work bitches like niggas, pimp niggas like hoes
Command a mack that's immaculate, your girl's naked
You think she ain't been hit, kid yo, you best to check it

For ten years I been connected to the top of this
Hold your breath, kid, I'm never droppin' this
Too busy rollin' off them fat chrome rims
And niggas who trip get sung hymns

We crash clubs and security shits
'Cause they know they got size but they know we keep clips
Crazy muthafuckas lickin' shots in doors
Leavin' suckers' bodies bleedin' over nightclub floors

You don't want none, son, stay gone
Break north when I come and you might live long
Yeah, my face kickin' treble, you're just a pebble
You're gettin' rocked, yo, E, cock the glock

And let these niggas know, yo, that the west don't play none
Fire shoots out of my strap like a ray-gun
You broke ill and you cold fucked up
Now you're bleedin' through your fingers while you're holdin' your gut

So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through

Get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through

It's the return of the real
Return of the real

I go deep into the street life's anatomy
A nigga take me out, yo, what a upset that'd be
And if I fall I fall on cushions, [Incomprehensible]
Hittin' niggas up with the tec and watch the blood gushin'

I see your videos, a 100 niggas in it you don't know
Framed in the lens, bought friends
Who really got your back, nigga, check it out
You really possess like zero street clout

The only place you're safe is in the studio
Yellin' in the mic, you'se a bitch, that's right
I take a nigga like you and make him prostitute cute
So what you got a gun, punk, you're scared to shoot

You front hardcore, but I don't feel ya
Kids from my hood'll take your punk ass and peel ya
Let me check my Rolex quick because time's money
Squintin' from the pavet face because it's kinda sunny

Skinnin' the top back, flossin' the rag and the thing
Feelin' the sun, backin' off of my pinky ring
Hittin' the 'Shaw with my niggas and clown
Lift the ass, hit the switch, raise the front off the ground

But most of the time you can't see a nigga
Deep in the archives parlayin' new ways to get my bank bigger

So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through

So get your money how you want to, friend
But when it's time to count the chips only the real will win
The game of life is only fake and true
But it's all about the dollars when the day is through

It's the return of the real

Play the MP3 online for free!
6896c50196d36482d385a997c0a547d2

Monday, August 9, 2010

Glamour Life - Lyrics - Big Punisher

Title: Glamour Life
Artist: Big Punisher
Composer(s): Lashan Lewis, C Rios

Lyric:
Glamour life style baby, bottle the rocks
Lose the ice, 100 mil kid, money, money, money, mo
Platinum status, yeah, what up, what up?
Stick around

Yo, I plan to live a life a-glamour like my man Tony Montana
Stand and pose in front of cameras
With my golden silk pajamas on smoking Havanas, drinking Don P
Thinking beyond deeper than Gandhi, while I'm in the Diamante

Counting my G's, I'm out to be a millionaire
Dipped in gear, flickin' hundred dollar bills in the air
Oh yeah, Cuban Link is into getting Benjamin's
'Cuz if doesn't make dollars, then it doesn't make sense

I represent, I'm in to be the king of New York
Went from living in tenements to up in house resorts
I'm the Latino, that'll take you to war like Al Pacino
Even De Niro know not to gamble in my casino

Vino wanna rock, slaps, to dinners with mobsters
I got shit locked from Prospect Ave. to the tropics
Sitting on top of the world like the sun
A living legend from the Bronx, second to none, unless it's Pun

It's the glamour life, blow up the kids and the wife
Players who ain't half as nice swear to, but they sacrifice
Bottle the rock, freeze the ice, stash the dope and rice
And get ready for the glamour life

Ripped off from the infinity
Dump the body an' the shottie down the lake, leaving no identity
Just the memory, a casualty as I casually make move on my rivalries
All eyes I be, on the quest for loot

Pushing a Lexus coupe, to pursuit them troops, against the big-joker
Sipping alimoca, playing poker with some chocha
Heard an approacher, must be fam, but damn I had to smoke Pun
(Get the motherfucking gun)
Since [unverified] become the one wanted for a lump sum of G's

Dirty rats pack gats for cheese bullets of breeze at light speed
Taking your pretty wife life and sacrificing your seeds
Indeed, we let him bleed for 50 G's
Ship his body to the states, filled with 50 keys

Please, no remorse for your two face
Inside a symbol, my life throughout the motherfucking suitcase
You about to take who's place? Not Seis
Your body'll be laced, and left without a trace

The glamour life, the glamour life, yo
It's the glamour life, blow up the kids and the wife
Players who ain't half as nice swear to, but they sacrifice
Bottle the rock, freeze the ice, stash the dope and rice
And get ready for the glamour life

Yo, it's the motherfucking Don Cartagena
The leader, Terror Squad cleaner
Leave your family crying for you like Argentina, Mira
Sweet dreamer like Nas, my entourage is thick

Camouflaging this bitch, so God forbid you start some shit
My squad's equipped with an arsenal of ammunition
Hollow tips an', cop killers with the [unverified]
Accounts in Switzerland for rainy days

Nigga I'm staying paid, you's a joke
Always broke with your lazy ways
Anyway, back to the subject, in the bub-Lex
In the back seat, having rough sex

I love this glamorous life I live, having the ice and shit
Think twice, I give Christ your kids
I live life for gifts, keep the five burning while the tires turning
I blaze an L and seek a higher learning
Kaiser's learnin' everything illegally
We could de friend for years, cross me once that's theivity

It's the glamour life, blow up the kids and the wife
Players who ain't half as nice swear to, but they sacrifice
Bottle the rock, freeze the ice, stash the dope and rice
And get ready for the glamour life

Yo, the dough, the rap, the audience, party heavy till the 40's in
I'll like the Yakuza run the Orient
Take all the rent, and no man wept the path his daughter went
Dicks with the fallopian, wide as auditorium

She fuck for dough for opium, prostitute emporium
500 Benz, 500 friends sell Cambodian
8's cup of vodka, 4 cup of juice for sodium
Money, money, sweet as the smell of magnolia

It's get you down, but you spitting image of Appolonia
Now how can I go broke, pumping twenties of coke
Plus songs I wrote, milkin' dumb honeys I poke
The young blood sat on the bench in Vant Courtland, slingin'

Singing how he trying to get cash for Jordan's
Another cat toss his Beamer to get the insurance
Currency's gonna murder me, it's never enough
Breakin' my ass gettin' it, just as fast as I spend the stuff
Calling Uncle Sam's bluff dun, taxes don't bite us, bite us

My life, my life
It's the glamour life, blow up the kids and the wife
Players who ain't half as nice swear to, but they sacrifice
Bottle the rock, freeze the ice, stash the dope and rice
And get ready for the glamour life

The glamour life, play precise, defense is tight
I'm out to settle the score, let's do it right
Enough for looking at grave, it's paying back tonight
Yo Twin pass the lah, pass the light

The glamour life, this life I live is trife as shit
Least my wife and kid got somewhere nice to live
I used to live in the gutter, me and my mother
Now she's fifty years old, pushing a hummer

The glamour life, hand me a knife I'll slice and dice
Minimize, send them to Christ in the after life
Pass the mic down the line, let them hear it
Let them fear it, send it screaming to the Holy Spirit

Glamour life, the glamour life, the glamour life
It's the glamour life, yo it's the glamour, it's the glamour life
Glamour life, glamour life, glamour life
Cock the hammer, in this motherfucking life, bitch

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Tuesday, August 10, 2010

A Life Of Arctic Sounds - Lyrics - Building Nothing Out Of Something - Modest Mouse

Title: A Life Of Arctic Sounds
Album: Building Nothing Out Of Something
Artist: Modest Mouse
Composer(s): Eric Scott Judy, Isaac Brock, Jeremiah Green

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Lyric:
As long as you're gone I can't apologize
For all the things that I haven't said and done
And 100 miles is a long drive inside a car
200 is a long drive inside a car, 300 is a long drive inside a car

400 is a long drive inside a car, 500 miles is a real long drive in a car
600 miles is a long drive inside a car, 700 is a long drive inside a car
800 is a long drive inside a car, 900 miles is a long, long, long
Long ways in a car, 1000 miles is a long drive inside a car
1100 miles is too far inside a car

I wrote my name on the sun, hey alright
I might be god damned, a life of arctic sounds
Hey alright, I might be god damned, all the sad comedians

I wrote my name on the sun, hey alright
I might be god damned, a life of arctic sounds
Hey alright I might be god damned, all the sad comedians
Hey alright, I might be god damned

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Monday, August 16, 2010

Why Wouldn'T I - Lyrics - Street Dreams - Fabolous

Title: Why Wouldn'T I
Album: Street Dreams
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): P Cain, Sidney Brown, John Jackson

Lyric:
Yeah, yo Cain what up nigga
Why wouldn't these bitches love us nigga?
Why wouldn't these niggas hate us?
Why wouldn't they fab?
Yeah, Desert Storm, yeah

Why wouldn't I talk as greasy as cheese steak meat
In a strawberry range, pie crust piping on the cheesecake seats?
I'm known for hittin' women's soft spots
With Princess cut Canaries the size of lemon cough drops

I'm right behind 'em in the Porsche drop
Linen soft top, sick chain with twenty point rocks
Take your bitch, why wouldn't I?
The whip got chrome shoes, cream leather seats with old wooden sides

Yeah, what's really poppin', usually boys know
This ghetto superstar with the Bruce Lee Roy glow
Niggas has to hate the outcome
Plus I'm in a throwback from the same year they assassinated Malcolm

Make so much ends, I got to find faster ways to count 'em
A minute on the block, how fast I make a thousand?
That nigga you love to hate, still hug blocks and bubble weight
Off the love I can't

Baby girl, why wouldn't fellas stop ya?
After we come through the hood in helicopters
The dro I got in this wood, is hela-proper
We do the damn thing, who could they tell us not to?

Why wouldn't this joint make you wanna dance?
Why wouldn't these jewels make you wanna glance?
Why wouldn't this whip make you wanna ride?
And why wouldn't this thing be on my side?

Why wouldn't this game have you on your knees?
Why wouldn't these twenty's be on the V's?
Why wouldn't this money make you wanna hate?
Why wouldn't I huh, why wouldn't I what?

Why wouldn't I pull up to the spot, yellow is all ok?
Dressed in yellow linen, covered in Canaries never a flaw
Why shouldn't I wear this much ice
The princesses in my hair, are clear and cut, right?
Why wouldn't I talk this slick, why not?

With a watch and bracelet this flooded, and a cross this sick
So why wouldn't I get it homes? I mean
To a nigga gettin' money like myself, a little brain that's minimal
Might talk but I live it though, sick chain glitter roll
Never sleep and don't stop gettin' that

Hold up Cain, uh, why wouldn't I have samples of raw
And academic sample the laws, hypnotic samples the poor
The European sample is all yeah
Will on the right side do with the wings stamped on the door
It's the street family boss, I land by the shores

Get pampered by whores, eat scamp and claws
The kid's been trampled before by a tramp with no flaws
That's up to they get cramps in they jaws
I keep kefs jammed in the floor, amp meter draw
End up in a wheelchair rammed by your dog

Why wouldn't this joint make you wanna dance?
Why wouldn't these jewels make you wanna glance?
Why wouldn't this whip make you wanna ride?
And why wouldn't this thing be on my side?

Why wouldn't this game have you on your knees?
Why wouldn't these twenty's be on the V's?
Why wouldn't this money make you wanna hate?
Why wouldn't I huh, why wouldn't I what?

After a million scanned on it
Why wouldn't the Range look like it got twenty inch ceiling fans on it
Only reason you in my face ma'am
Is 'cause I got the same Nike's that Jordan had on in Space Jam

Why wouldn't I chase chips?
Come through Aves, like Pluto Nash in Coupes that look like Spaceships, ridiculous bracelet and the outrageous
Watch with flawless rocks, invisible placement

I oughta feel like a boss
Why wouldn't I get a 100 an appearance?
Quarter mil a endorse, I oughta feel some remorse
'Cause I'm killin' 'em out there, and a stick shift sport utility Porsche

Yeah, I know when you see us, it be pissin' you off
'Cause you would think we paid a fortune for the shit that we floss
Spend summers in my Sicily loft
Whole crib, interior decoration done by Christian Dior

Baby girl, I got cops thats on the payroll
Jet skies, and speed boats docked up in Barbados
Green and cream Tims, brocolli and potatoes
Why wouldn't you see the Storm for the rocks and these tornadoes

Why wouldn't this joint make you wanna dance?
Why wouldn't these jewels make you wanna glance?
Why wouldn't this whip make you wanna ride?
And why wouldn't this thing be on my side?

Why wouldn't this game have you on your knees?
Why wouldn't these twenty's be on the V's?
Why wouldn't this money make you wanna hate?
Why wouldn't I huh, why wouldn't I what?

Why wouldn't this joint make you wanna dance?
Why wouldn't these jewels make you wanna glance?
Why wouldn't this whip make you wanna ride?
And why wouldn't this thing be on my side?

Why wouldn't this game have you on your knees?
Why wouldn't these twenty's be on the V's?
Why wouldn't this money make you wanna hate?
Why wouldn't I huh, why wouldn't I what?

Play the MP3 online for free!
6ee3a2d17a4f5f74d386b7de6e5b8f9e

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Gangstas - Lyrics - Boyz N da Hood - Boyz N Da Hood

Title: Gangstas
Album: Boyz N da Hood
Artist: Boyz N Da Hood
Composer(s): Erick S Sermon, Jay Jenkins, Jacoby White, Wiz Lee Dixon, Miguel T Scott, Phalon Alexander, Eric Wright

Lyric:
Rock this mic
Jody Breeze, Young Jeezy, Big Gee, Duke
Eazy E, Wiz, Block ENT
Boyz N Da Hood, Bad Boy, E Serm, let's go

From the A all the way to Compton
They say the new NWA is comin'
Keep your basses bumpin'
Stay away from who fake and frontin'

Try and play me, I'm ma take your face to thumpin'
I'm a gangsta, I don't need rap for nothin'
And only play games in the A or Compton
Hop by the box, Chevy murder, any man standin'
It's Boyz N Da Hood, E tell 'em where it's standin'

I got beat for the street to tha beach I'll be rolling
Neva see me strolling, 40s I'll be holding
Girls in the daisies, drive Eazy crazy
Rolled up my windows as I turned on my AC

Rolling down Crenshaw, see tha hoes jocking
Sunday nights popping, see tha foes hopping
My stereo's bumpin' that ATL funk
You can call it what ya want, either way the shit bumps

Yeah, being a gangsta is so neat, yeah
Gangsta beat 4 tha street
All this gutter, gutter, pulled up with it
This just the beginning so don't fuck with us, yeah

Being a gangsta is so neat, yeah
Gangsta beat 4 tha street
The Boyz N Da Hood will keep their heart
Come talkin' that trash and we'll pull your car

I'm in the 6-4, 5th bitch strapped, no roof, roof
The Snowman pimp, bitch shoes on the coupe
Stepped in 100 deep, deep, blew a few bucks
G'd up a pair of black strings in the chucks

My wrist so rocky and my neck so bright
My stones change colors like a disco light
Whole team strapped up, let a nigga trip
Desert Eagle in the club, better, nigga flip

From the south to the west, I stay in a vest
Fully loaded, Smif N Wess to protect my nest
Let you trip, disrespect, you get checked
More direct, you end up with a hole in your neck

I must confess there's got to be somethin in the water
Cause every year I age, I gets harder and harder
Got a team of cutthroats, niggaz with hood hoes
Tryin' to cope slum dough, whenever the guns blow

Yeah, being a gangsta is so neat, yeah
Gangsta beat 4 tha street
All this gutter gutter, pulled up with it
This just the beginning so don't fuck with us, yeah

Being a gangsta is so neat, yeah
Gangsta beat 4 tha street
The Boyz N Da Hood will keep their heart
Come talkin' that trash and we'll pull your car

Yeah, I'm crusin' down the street in my LAC
Blowin' good Kenwood, bumpin' Eazy E
With dem Boyz N Da Hood, in the hood I be
We out the fryer, freakin' hoes with Gs
Give [Incomprehensible] to sniff

For all the J's I got thanks to give
If crime pays, then we looking for a gangsta lean
You bad niggaz better tang your lip before
We fuck around and get into some gangsta shit

All black boys in the hoods, four deep
Tote heat, four speed, grow tree, in a spokes?
So, niggaz don't want beef
Nigga run up on the corner, match a barrel through your teeth

Four foot celebrate, fifth all kinda ways
Oh, he ain't gotta say he think he gonna get away
Toting that thang, I'm d-cap that-a-way
The punk went that-a-way, the punk went that away

Yeah, being a gangsta is so neat, yeah
Gangsta beat 4 tha street
All this gutter gutter, pulled up with it
This just the beginning so don't fuck with us, yeah

Being a gangsta is so neat, yeah
Gangsta beat 4 tha street
The Boyz N Da Hood will keep their heart
Come talkin' that trash and we'll pull your car

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Monday, August 2, 2010

A Life Of Artic Sounds - Lyrics - Modest Mouse

Title: A Life Of Artic Sounds
Artist: Modest Mouse
Composer(s): Eric Scott Judy, Isaac Brock, Jeremiah Green

Lyric:
As long as your gone, I can't apologize
For all the things that I haven't said and done

And 100 miles is a long drive inside a car
200 miles is a long drive inside a car
300 miles is a long drive inside a car
400 miles is a long drive inside a car

500 miles is a real long drive in a car
600 miles is a long drive inside a car
700 miles is a long drive inside a car
800 miles is a long drive inside a car

900 miles is a long, long, long, long ways in a car
1000 miles is a long drive inside a car
1100 miles is too far inside a car

I wrote my name on the sun
Hey alright, I might be goddamned
A life of arctic sounds
Hey alright, I might be goddamned
All the sad comedians
Hey alright, I might be goddamned

I wrote my name on the sun
Hey alright, I might be goddamned
A life of arctic sounds
Hey alright, I might be goddamned
All the sad comedians
Hey alright, I might be goddamned

Play the MP3 online for free!
03ac73ef97b5786e5b75e1f748dd292c

Thursday, August 5, 2010