Showing posts sorted by relevance for query A Little Luck Of Our Own. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query A Little Luck Of Our Own. Sort by date Show all posts

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

A Little Luck Of Our Own - Lyrics - Keith Urban - Keith Urban

Title: A Little Luck Of Our Own
Album: Keith Urban
Artist: Keith Urban
Composer(s): Gary S Burr, Lisa Dale Daniel

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Lyric:
The cards are stacking up against us
These days our luck is running low
It's hard to explain but a little bit of rain
Seems to follow us wherever we go

Black cat sittin' on a ladder
Broken mirror on the wall
We're not a bit superstitious
No need to worry at all

'Cause when we can't roll a seven
And our last lucky penny is gone this world can be tough
But I know when our love is this strong
We can make a little luck of our own, luck of our own

The storm is only temporary
But you and I are here to stay
Baby can't you see true love is all we need
So just throw that rabbit's foot away

'Cause when we can't roll a seven
And our last lucky penny is gone this world can be tough
But I know when our love is this strong
We can make a little luck of our own, oh we can make it baby

'Cause when we can't roll a seven
And our last lucky penny is gone this world can be tough
But I know our love is this strong
We can make a little luck of our own

We can make a little luck of our own
Yeah, yeah, ooh we can make it baby
Make a little luck of our own

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682fec64c4f837f9ee23989720ca0658

It Takes Two - Lyrics - Chris Cagle - Chris Cagle

Title: It Takes Two
Album: Chris Cagle
Artist: Chris Cagle
Composer(s): Chris Cagle, Monty Powell

Lyric:
Yeah, sometimes you make me so crazy I wanna turn and go
Then you drive me wild and it makes me want to stay
Yeah, sometimes it feels like I'm walking down a rocky road
Just to fall in your arms at the end of the day

You ain't perfect, but your perfect for a man like me
And I know that I'm not the man that I'm supposed to be

But it's gonna take faith, it's gonna take trust
It's gonna take everything we've got
Even when we know it won't be enough

It's gonna take hope, we even need a little luck
And if anybody tells us we can make it on our own
It ain't true, oh 'cause, baby, it takes two

Yeah, sometimes my work and the world get the best of me
Then I come home and try to give you what's left of me
And sometimes you wonder if I'm even listening
And I hate how it hurts you when I forget the little things

But I'm not perfect, but for you I'll do the best I can
'Cause without you I'll never be more than just another lonely man

But it's gonna take faith, it's gonna take trust
It's gonna take everything we've got
Even when we know it won't be enough

It's gonna take hope, we even need a little luck
And if anybody tells us we can make it on our own
It ain't true, oh 'cause, baby, it takes two

I don't wanna walk alone now, baby
I know I can't make it on my own, baby
Even though sometimes you make me so crazy
I know together we can make it

With faith, it's gonna take trust
It's gonna take everything we've got
Even when we know it won't be enough

It's gonna take a little hope, we even need a little luck
And if anybody tells us we can make it on our own
It ain't true, oh 'cause, baby, it takes two

It's gonna take faith, we're gonna need a little trust
It's gonna take me, you, the both of us
It's gonna take two

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Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Mama'S Just A Little Girl - Lyrics - Better Dayz - 2pac

Title: Mama'S Just A Little Girl
Album: Better Dayz
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Kimmy Hill, Alex Wood Stiff, Kip Wilson, Johnny Jackson, Tupac Shakur

Lyric:
Young mothers
I feel you
I know how it is
Mama's just a little girl
Don't nobody understand
I feel you

She was born a heavy set girl with pig tails and curls
A heart full of gold still it won't change the world
Though she could never understand why?
Some underhanded plans witnessed a man die
Was only fifteen should've been a beauty queen
See here cryin' by the caskets when her parents got killed
Little girl don't cry
'Cause even though they died
You can best believe they watchin' over thee from the sky
Never asked for this misery
But look at what you gettin'
It's a blessin' in disguise
When you find out you're pregnant
No money, no home
And even though you all alone
You've got to do this on your own
So baby go
I wish you luck and if you need me call
Just come to me and let me feed you all
I can understand
The way it feels when you fightin' the world
Facin' all this drama
When Mama's just a little girl

Mama
Don't know why
Mama's just a little girl
Woman tho' she is alive
Ooh
Time ain't on her side
'Cause Mama's just a little girl
She gotta hold her head up high
Ooh

At sixteen what a beautiful thing
The very essence of a jet black ebony queen
And who could tell she get pregnant at an early age
She didn't listen had sex
Watch her belly raise
Hey, got violated by someone she dated
If this is fate I hate to see the seed she created
So we wait though it takes time to build the body and the mind
She reclines nine months then finally it's time
What do we find?
A little grown boy a mind with a tortured soul
Addicted to a life of crime at no time for growin' stage
He learned his values on the streets at an early age
Watch for police don't come home
'Cause Mama's actin' crazy at the hospital
'Bout to have another baby
Like the rose from a concrete
Grown within' blessed with twins
How the hell can Mama raise three men
So we began a closest family
Such insanity a happy home
For one act inhumanity
Plus Mama said, "The seed was corrupted"
Used the rubber belly
Beggin' us to breathe if she love us
Now Mama sits quiet sippin' peppermint Schnapps
Turned the house into a spot and made her watch for cops
How could Mama bring a thug like me in this world?
She ain't the 'cause of all the drama
'Cause Mama's just a little girl

Mama
Don't know why?
Mama's just a little girl
Woman tho' she is alive
Time ain't on her side
'Cause Mama's just a little girl
She gotta hold her head up high, ohh

Now would she remain in the same spot?
The gunshots rang they came from the cane spot
Now look here I see her clutchin' her son
In her arms she hurt
Her heart bleedin' as she watched her seed die in the dirt
Fulfill prophecy
But who could stop the grief?
I walk away I'm tryin' to hold the world up on top me
Probably be an innocent man
Still I'm the victim of a curse
What could be worse?
Nothin' but pain
Since my birth taught me functions at the pen
'Cause everybody's in payin' back society
I'm guilty of a life of sin
I watched the drama occur
My eyes blurred 'fore I jet it
I wonder why we all have to die for we get it
Though we shed tears
So many peers I done buried
Worried and scared
Knowin' I'm a see the cemetery
Must be prepared in this cold world
No one cares
No it ain't fair
But we all there
And do our share
In this land of underhanded schemes and plans
Vivid dreams of a nigga havin' G's in hand
Mama told me not to be a punk
Fuck what you talkin' about coward?
What you niggas want? Hey
There ain't a thing I wouldn't do for my mama in this world
'Cause you know I ain't mad atcha
You're just a little girl
See Mama's just a little girl

Mama
Don't know why?
Mama's just a little girl
Woman tho' she is alive
Time ain't on her side
'Cause Mama's just a little girl
She gotta hold her head up high, ohh

{They ask us why we mutilate each other like we do
And wonder why we hold such little worth for human life
Facing all this drama
But to ask us why we to turn from bad to worse
Is to ignore from which we came
You see you wouldn't ask why the rose that grew from the concrete
Had damaged petals
On the contrary
We would all celebrate its tenacity
We would all love its will to reach the sun
Well
We are the roses
This is the concrete
And these are my damaged petals
Don't ask me why
Thank God nigga
Ask me how
You see, Mama's just a little girl}

Mama

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145708d8346f1c26b05fd9c7740bc27d

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Playboys Of The Southwestern World - Lyrics - The Dreamer - Blake Shelton

Title: Playboys Of The Southwestern World
Album: The Dreamer
Artist: Blake Shelton
Composer(s): Neal Coty, Randy Van Warmer

Lyric:
This is a song about best friends

John Roy was a boy I knew
Since he was three and I was two
Grew up two little houses down from me

The only two bad apples on our family tree
Kind of ripened and rotted in our puberty
Two kindred spirits bound by destiny

Well now I was smart but I lacked ambition
Johnny was wild with no inhibition
Was about like mixin' fire and gasoline
And he'd say

"Hey Romeo let's go down to Mexico
Chase senoritas drink ourselves silly
Show them Mexican girls a couple of real hillbillies"

Got a pocket full of cash and that old Ford truck
Fuzzy cat hangin' from the mirror for luck
Said "Don't you know all those little brown-eyed girls?"
Want playboys of the south-western world

Long around our eighteenth year
We found two airplane tickets the hell out of here
Got scholarships to some small town school in Texas

We learned to drink Sangria till the dawns early light
Eat eggs Ranchero and throw up all night
And tell those daddy's girls we were majoring in a rodeo

Oh but my favorite memory at school that fall
Was the night John Roy came runnin down the hall
Wearin' nothin' but cowboy boots and a big sombrero
And he was yellin'

"Hey Romeo let's go down to Mexico
Chase senoritas drink ourselves silly
Show them Mexican girls a couple of real hillbillies"

Got a pocket full of cash and that old Ford truck
Fuzzy cat hangin' from the mirror for luck
Said "Don't you know all those little brown-eyed girls?
Want playboys of the south-western world"

And I said we had a little change in plans
Like when Paul McCartney got busted in Japan
And I said we got waylaid when we set foot on Mexican soil

See the boarder guard with the Fu Manchu mustache
Kind of stumbled on John's pocket full of American cash
He said "Doin' a little funny business in Mexico Amigo"

But all I could think about was savin my own tail
When he mentioned ten years in a Mexican jail
So I pointed to John Roy and said "It's all his
Now please let me go"

Well it was your idea genius
I was just layin' there in bed
When you said

"Hey Romeo let's go down to Mexico
Chase senoritas drink ourselves silly
Show them Mexican girls a couple of real hillbillies"

Got a pocket full of cash and that old Ford truck
Fuzzy cat hangin' from the mirror for luck
Said "Don't you know all those little brown-eyed girls?
Want playboys of the south, real playboys from the south-western world"

Now we're still best friends
Temporary cell mates

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14cf49419bc68919d73bb1ec5ab84636

Thursday, August 12, 2010

100 Miles And Runnin' - Lyrics - Nwa

Title: 100 Miles And Runnin'
Artist: Nwa
Composer(s): George Clinton, L Dozier, B Holland, E Jr Holland, G Hutchinson, L Patterson, E Wright, A Young

Lyric:
You don't really think you're gonna get away, do you?
We haven't spotted them yet
But they're somewhere in the immediate vicinity

A 100 miles and runnin', MC Ren, I hold the gun and
You want me to kill a motherf*** and it's done in
Since I'm stereotyped to kill and destruct
Is one of the main reasons I don't give a ***

Chances are usually not good
'Cause I freeze with my hands on a hot hood
And gettin' jacked by the 'You-know-who'
When in a black and white, the capacity is two

We're not alone, we're 3 more brothers, I mean street brothers
Now wearin' my dyes 'cause I'm not stupid, motherf***
They're out to take our heads for what we said in the past
Point blank, they can kiss my black ass

I didn't stutter when I said 'F*** Tha Police'
'Cause it's hard for a n*** to get peace
Now it's broken and can't be fixed
'Cause police and little black n*** don't mix so

Now I'm creepin' through the fall
Runnin' like a team, well, see, I might have slayed y'all
So for now pack the gun and hold it in the air
'Cause MC Ren has a 100 miles of runnin'

Into this news, four fugitives are on the run
FBI sources tell us that the four are headed
100 miles to their homebase, Compton
Lend me a motherf*** ear so I can tell you why

Runnin' with my brothers, headed for the homebase
With a steady pace on the face that just we raced
The road ahead goes on and on
The s*** is gettin' longer than the motherf*** marathon

Runnin' on but never runnin' out
Stayin' wired and if I get tired, I can still try out
Hitchhikin' if that's what it gotta do
But nobody's pickin' up a N*** Witta Attitude

Confused, yo but Dre's a n*** with nuthin' to lose
One of the few who's been accused and abused
Of the crime of poisonin' young minds
But you don't know s*** 'til you been in my shoes

And Dre is back from the C P T
Droppin' some s*** that's D O P E
So f*** the P O L I C E
And any motherf*** that disagrees

Stuck and runnin' hard, haulin' ass
'Cause I'm a n*** known for havin' a notorious past
My mind was slick, my temper was too quick
Now the FBI's all over my d***

Got us tick and runnin' just to find the gun that started the clock
That's when the E jumped off the startin' block
A 100 miles from home and yo, it's a long stretch
A little sprintin' motherf*** that they won't catch

Yeah, back to Compton again
Yo, it's either that or the Federal pen
'Cause n*** been runnin' since beginnin' of time
Takin' a minute to tell you what's on my motherf*** mind

Runnin' like I just don't care
Compton's 50 miles but yo, I'ma get there
Archin' my back and on a straight rough
Just like Carl Lewis, I'm ballin' the f*** out

From city to city, I'm a menace as I pass by
Rippin' up s*** just so you can remember
I'm a straight up n*** that's done in, gunnin' and comin'
Straight at yo' ass, a 100 miles and runnin'

This one goes out to the four brothers from Compton
You're almost there but the FBI has a little message for you
Nowhere to run to, baby, nowhere to hide
Good luck, brothers

Runnin' like a n*** I hate to lose
Show me on the news but I hate to be abused
I know it was a set up, so now I'm gonna get up
Even if the FBI wants me to shut up

But I've got 10,000 n*** strong
They got everybody singin' my 'F*** Tha Police' song
And while they treat my group like dirt
Their whole f*** family is wearin' our T-shirts

So I'ma run 'til I can't run no more
'Cause it's time for MC Ren to settle the score
I got a urge to kick down doors
At my grave like a slave even if the Ren calls

Clouds are dark and brothers are hidin'
Dick-tricklin' at the sunny motherf*** are ridin'
Started with five and yo, one couldn't take it
So now there's four 'cause the fifth couldn't make it

The number's even, now I'm leavin'
We're never gettin' took by a b*** with a weave in
Her and the troops are right behind me
But they're so f*** stupid, they'll never find me

One more mile to go through the dark streets
Runnin' like a motherf*** on my own two feet
But you know I never stumble or lag last
I'm almost home, so I better haul ass

Tearin' up everything in sight
It's a little crazy motherf*** dodging the searchlight
Now that chase, the s*** is done and
Four motherf*** goin' crazy with a 100 miles of runnin'

Stop, stop, stop, stop
Surprise, n***

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Saturday, August 14, 2010

Patti Dooke - Lyrics - Buhloone Mindstate - De La Soul

Title: Patti Dooke
Album: Buhloone Mindstate
Artist: De La Soul
Composer(s): Kelvin Mercer, David Jolicoeur, Vincent Mason, Rodney Jones, Melvin Parker, Keith Elam, Larry Goldings, Frank Wes, Paul Huston

Lyric:
Why do we have to cross over?
Why are niggas always crossing over somethin'?
And what's the matter?
They accept our music as long
As they can't see our faces?
One, two, one, two, you got it

Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches
It's the Patti Dooke, it's the Patti what?
Runnin' through the trenches, oh
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches
It's the Patti Dooke, it's the Patti what?
Runnin' through the trenches, oh
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

Just the other day I got a starter kit
An M is a terrible thing to waste
Caught the face from the backs of the border of the mind state
I play control to a fraud

Nah, it ain't happenin', nada to make it even
Robbin' and theivin' is one who infiltrates with a Colgate frown
And all remember my nasal for I sniff frequencies
Well, it started in the year of '78

But it's '93 or should I say '94?
For my style is much more
I said, "Come in", come in
Come on, come out into my reservoir

As I macks a man, your bastard style has just been stuck
By a sticker with a 'Frigerator Lickin''
What if, how's about, why would?
Never thought that the napalm would bust the jeans

Mash it up, the one with the beard
Mega mustache the beat, hide it
Deep under sheets, cover this hint
Hostin' all threats but watch out Mr. Jarbage

Jimmy and the Jet, standin' on the pier
I'm known as the farmer
Cultivatin' mate without mendin', bendin'
Compromising any of my styles to gain a smile

Listen while you hear it, there's no pink in my slip
I reckon that the rhythm and the blues and the rap got me red
While the boys from Tommy plant bridge crossin' to a larger community
Yet they're soon to see I have a brother named Luck

A nigga named Dres
A groupie named Cassandra caught bobbin' on the head
Of a baby named Chris, I missed a kid who caught wreck when sayin'
Afrika and I when Sammy B's on the set

Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches
It's the Patti Dooke, it's the Patti what?
Runnin' through the trenches, oh
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

Prevention against sucka M.C.'s
Prevention against sucka M.C.'s
Prevention against sucka M.C.'s
And now, prevention against sucka M.C.'s

We decided to change the cover a little bit
Because we see the big picture
Negroes and white folks buyin' this album

Negroes and white folks buyin' this album
Everybody's gonna know who this group is
We just felt that the picture wasn't as important
As it was that we succeed in crossing over

Cross over ain't nuthin' but a double cross
Once you lose our audience
We never gon' get them back
He may even try to change our sound

Let no man put asunder
Severin' the groups I never blunder
Cashin' all the checks on the mic
I might cherry to the bush, brand Plug Wonder

Funk to the fame against hoods
Bridges saggin' to woods down under
They can't be raised with the feminine praise
In conjunction with no chocolate in the mix

White boy, Roy, cannot feel it
But the first to try and steal it
Dilute it, pollute it, kill it
I see him infiltratin' to the masses
And when the leechin' I'ma shoot 'em all in they asses

Runnin' through the trenches, what?
Runnin' through the trenches, yeah
Runnin' through the trenches
It's the Patti Dooke, it's the Patti what?
Runnin' through the trenches, oh
Runnin' through the trenches, it's the Patti's Dooke

It might blow up but it won't go pop
It might blow up but it won't go pop
It might blow up but it won't go pop
It might blow up but it won't go pop

It might blow up but it won't go pop
It might blow up but it won't go pop
It might blow up but it won't go pop
It might blow up but it won't go pop

I shed light and not skin, I ain't from Europe
Afro connects at the root of the retina of the third
Mums the word when ya blind, baby, blind to the fact

Don't rest the Compton so I don't own a gat
But respect is clear crystal 'cause Millie got a pistol
And she's down with me, wild, of most wild
Born child to the old school legitimate soul

Talker of the many paragraphs ago
Walker of the plenty broken calves ago
Phantom of the phrase, black in many ways
'Cause I see her runnin' through the trenches
Comin' into rent my style

I'm not the one to fuck with
I'm lockin' you out
I'm just not the one to fuck wit so check it

Y'all, y'all know who I am, listen up, son
Peace to my man, Premier
And y'all better guard your trenches
'Cause we runnin' through 'em

Do it, fluid, mess up my mind
Do it, fluid, mess up my mind
Do it, fluid, mess up my mind
Do it, fluid, mess up my mind
Do it, fluid, mess up my mind

Tell me somethin'?
How come they never cross over to us?
I never seen five niggas on Elvis Presley album cover

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Wednesday, August 18, 2010

How Not To Get Jerked - Lyrics - Boogie Down Productions

Title: How Not To Get Jerked
Artist: Boogie Down Productions
Composer(s): Lou Donaldson, Lawrence Krsone Parker, Isaac Hayes, Edward K. Archer, David Porter, Paul Huston

Lyric:
"And now, a word from our sponsor "

Now technically speakin I ain't 'sposed to be doin this
Like givin information to the ones that are new to this
You wanna make a record and get into the business?
Here's a little plan from a six-year witness
First you gotta understand the music game
It's not about fame, it's about a rich name
And who you're down with, and who you clown with
But most of all, you got to have a gift ("it's like that")
Either music or the fresh lyrics
Or a vibepeople like to buy your spirit
Everybody knows KRS-One is dope
To really see it, you gotta use a telescope, hah
There's no hope when you're shoppin for a deal
Either sex appeal, or the hard street feel
But if you don't have a lawyer you're a goner
Don't even think about chillin in a sauna
You need a lawyer, and a good manager
Without this, the record companies won't be havin ya
So I'm grabbin ya now and showin ya how
Not to get jerked when you do hard work

"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"

"One, two, three, whoo!"

Yo, there's more to it, but let's get through it
Many MC's reached the top and then blew it
You say, "I knew it, that last jam was wack"
Either you're strung out on crack, or you don't wanna
Be black anymore, or, you don't wanna rap anymore
Or, you do a wack tour, or, you get in trouble with the law
Or, your fans you ignore, or, you get punched in the jaw
Cause, you're not hardcore
What makes a jam isn't luck or fate
It's writin the jams that the people can relate to
Or else they'll hate you
The public will mark you down as a fake crew
You don't need allathat
Just rap from the heart and you'll have a good start
But a lot of MC's want girls
And wanna live on top of the world
In the jam they wanna flirt
Here's how not to get jerked when you do hard work

"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"
"It's like that y'all"

Now understand, rap is rebellious music
Therefore, only the rebel should use it
But pop artists abuse it
When the audience hears real rap, they boo it
See rap music is a culture
And everyone outside that culture is a vulture
The vulture makes money on the culture
Understand, I ain't tryin to insult ya
But you're either usin rap like the devil
Or you're pushin rap to another level
So don't wait for your company's promotions staff
Promote yourself with your own cash
But this might mean you can't buy gold
You might have to put that on hold
Cause if the artist falls, they diss him
But if the company falls, the artist falls with them
This ain't about a tight skirt
Here's how not to get jerked when you do hard work

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