Showing posts sorted by relevance for query All Men Play On 10. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query All Men Play On 10. Sort by date Show all posts

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

All Men Play On 10 - Lyrics - Manowar

Title: All Men Play On 10
Artist: Manowar
Composer(s): Joey De Maio

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

Lyric:
I made a rock 'n' roll sin when I tried givin' in to
Make money had to turn down low
They said, "why be proud, don't play so loud
Be like us and get a sound that's real thin

Wear a polyester suit, act happy look cute
Get a haircut and buy small gear"
That's when I turned to them and said
"Hold it, right there"

Well it's more to me than just a job
And while I'm playin' you won't get robbed
Nobody tells a man how to play, it just ain't that way
Hey, hey, hey, can you hear me say?

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down

I'm jet fuel honey, plug me into 220
Step back and let my fingers fly
While I'm burning up my gear there's a fire in your ear
That won't stop until the day you die

I really put it to the floor when I hear the crowd roar
Oh it's music to my ears when they scream
Then I run back to the power rack
And deck all of my gear

Well it's more to me than just a job
And while I'm playin' you won't get robbed
Nobody tells a man how to play, it just ain't that way baby
Hey, hey, hey, can you hear me say?

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again

Let me tell ya it's more to me than just a job
And while I'm playin' you won't get robbed
Nobody tells a man how to play, it just ain't that way
Hey, hey, hey, can you hear me say?

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
I'm never gonna turn down again

Play the MP3 online for free!
be55e7aa88066276a90bddfcf7d430fe

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

All Men Play On Ten - Lyrics - Sign Of The Hammer - Manowar

Title: All Men Play On Ten
Album: Sign Of The Hammer
Artist: Manowar
Composer(s): Joey De Maio

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

Lyric:
I made a rock 'n' roll sin when I tried givin' in to
Make money had to turn down low
They said, "why be proud, don't play so loud
Be like us and get a sound that's real thin

Wear a polyester suit, act happy look cute
Get a haircut and buy small gear"
That's when I turned to them and said
"Hold it, right there"

Well it's more to me than just a job
And while I'm playin' you won't get robbed
Nobody tells a man how to play, it just ain't that way
Hey, hey, hey, can you hear me say?

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down

I'm jet fuel honey, plug me into 220
Step back and let my fingers fly
While I'm burning up my gear there's a fire in your ear
That won't stop until the day you die

I really put it to the floor when I hear the crowd roar
Oh it's music to my ears when they scream
Then I run back to the power rack
And deck all of my gear

Well it's more to me than just a job
And while I'm playin' you won't get robbed
Nobody tells a man how to play, it just ain't that way baby
Hey, hey, hey, can you hear me say?

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again

Let me tell ya it's more to me than just a job
And while I'm playin' you won't get robbed
Nobody tells a man how to play, it just ain't that way
Hey, hey, hey, can you hear me say?

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again

All men play on 10
Never gonna turn down again
All men play on 10
I'm never gonna turn down again

Play the MP3 online for free!
fb16be31928bdd9728d6cb1eea56bb7e

Friday, August 20, 2010

Payback - Lyrics - Montell Jordan

Title: Payback
Artist: Montell Jordan
Composer(s): Paul Anthony George, Artis Jr Ivey, Doug Rasheed, Kenny Gamble, Leon Huff, Alexander Mosley, Gerard Charles, Hugh Clarke, Montell Jordan, Lucien George, Curtis Bedeau, Brian George

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

Lyric:
I called you on the phone to see if you was at home alone
Somethin' just ain't right, tell me, where were you last night?
You were supposed to be with me and I paged your ass around 10:33
You didn't even call me back now tell me, baby, what up wit that?

Now you told me you need a man like me from the streets
Remember when I was tossin' that ass on 4th and Slawson
You said I was everything you want
And now all the condoms that I bought
I gotta box 'em up for the next one
'Cuz you just wanna flex and have your fun, baby

You wanna play those games thought you was dealin' wit a flea
But you're dealin' wit a G you better recognize the C double O L O
I'm down wit Montell
(How you livin' homie?)
I'm livin' kinda swell I thought you was the one, yeah
I thought you was my baby now I see through your games

And I know you're tryin' to play me
So you can put your pumps on and get your rump on
'Cuz your hump ain't that strong
Well, you can have my Land Rove

Give me 30 minutes and a fifth of yak
And I'll rip that, smack that, hit that ass
Like King-T dos it I got to go rippin' it
Put you to the side, so I can catch up on my pimpin'

Ya better make a left wit the bullshit you stickin' me with
Brothas be hittin' up they hood on your kitten
My partner don't play that yeah, I had to say that
What go around, come back around this is the payback

And it feels just like payback
(Ay yo, who's pimpin' who and shit like that?)
All those games you're tryin' to play
You'll miss out on a good thing baby

It feels like payback
(Who's playin' who, girl, 'cuz that was kinda wack)
All those gizames, you're tryin' to plizay
Yeah

Girl, it feels like payback
I really, really hate to say that
I thought you was triflin', givin' me the shove
But you're gonna miss, you're gonna miss my love

Oh, I thought she was mad as hell, 'cuz I was for one thing
Way back I was cheatin'
You wanna get even, but I ain't goin' out like that
If I apologize for all the lies

Oh, believe me girl, I'm sorry
There's a right and a wrong way to love somebody
And I know the right way can we start tonight babe?
You need to lose that loser in a hurry
And you're never gonna have to worry, no, no, [Incomprehensible] no

Feels like payback
(Who's pimpin' who and shit like that?)
All those games you're tryin' to play
You'll miss out on a good thing, baby

It feels like payback
Mistakes that I made way back, baby
All those gizames you're tryin' to plizay
You're gonna miss, you're gonna miss my love

Feels like payback
(Who's pimpin' who and shit like that?)
All those games you're tryin' to play
All those games that you were tryin' to play
Said it feels just like it payback

(Who's playin' who, girl, 'cuz that was kinda wack)
All those gizames your tryin' to plizay
Oh, girl

We'll miss that loving that we shared for, oh so long
Let's put this all behind us and love will always find us
You see, all of your men and my girlfriends they'll all be in the past
We'll be solid as a rock and we'll make it, we'll make it
Yeah, yeah, yeah, hey, hey, gonna miss out on a good

It feels just like it payback
And I ain't even like that baby
All those gizames, you're tryin' to plizay
You're gonna miss, you're gonna miss my love

It feels like payback
It feels just like it way back
All those games that you were tryin' to play

It feels like payback
Way back, all those gizames, you're tryin to plizay
It feels like payback
(Who's pimpin' who and shit like that?)
Way back, all those games you're tryin' to play

It feels like payback
(Who's playin' whom, girl, 'cuz that was kinda wack)
Way back, all those gizames you're tryin' to plizay

It feels like payback
(Who's pimpin' who and shit like that?)
Way back, all those games you're tryin' to play

Play the MP3 online for free!
820bdb158cfb86569d25b32179552a23

Nana - Lyrics - Monifah

Title: Nana
Artist: Monifah
Composer(s): Ja Ron Henson, Teddy Riley, Monifah Carter

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

Lyric:
Ay, can you say gangsta shit, gangsta shit
Say gangsta shit, gangsta shit
Can you say gangsta shit, gangsta shit?
Say gangsta shit, I ain't sayin' no mo'

We 'bout to step up and move on
We 'bout to step up and move on, ya
We 'bout to step up and move on, come on
We 'bout to step up

Now, I still be knockin' bitches like it ain't shit, it ain't shit
'Cus I'm dynamic high program it and makin' hit
Whetha I'm in Da Da jeans or crape silk slacks
Flyest be the reason that my shit cracks

'Cus when I'm on the beats
I'm fuckin' all y'all up, all y'all up
The I get up on the mic and scoop up all your mutts
All ya mutts

I make my [Incomprehensible]
Bitches wanna shake y'all butts, shake y'all butts
And you make you ballin', niggas wanna grab your Lux
Hangin' and bangin' niggas that bring the heat for real
And if you ain't gotta make a chip for my beats, no deal

'Cus I negotiate everything with no fuss, fuss
Spend 20 Gs on my record, it's gold plus
Fucking every competitor on the stage up
Then I come to your city to get laid up

Give it everything I got, to stay paid up
And if you feelin' a nigga then say what

As we move toward the light
With broads on our right, broads on our right
And haters to the left we part the way, we part the way
Put aside our prestige, prestige

We're really M A D, lite up
From the cage to the stage, we come to play
AMG let um know

With mo' bounce than a ball
Me and Q see-saw
Dick a slip, I clown hoes wit a, hee-hah
Relax, the Rolls is real, cardiac tank, platinum and steel

I was up in the club, now I'm up in the hill
Had quarters, lucky that we put in a bill

Cream de la cream, who you with baby girl, him?
Up your ass in the rag jag come to the gym
I ain't wit chu fo' love
'Cus if it was'nt me, you probably be calling me a scrub

But you like the marble tubs, and the marble flows
You's a copper bitch, tryin' to be a platinum hoe

Head to toes and don?t nobody wear no [Incomprehensible]
No mo', take that shit back
Baby have a six pack
I cant even say no mo', where my dick at?

As we move toward the light
With broads on our right, broads on our right
And haters to the left we part the way, we part the way
Put aside our prestige, prestige

We're really M A D, we lite up
From the cage to the stage we come to play, we come to play

Ay, We been doin' this shit since we was little boys
So don?t even trip us, nigga, do your own shit

Gettin' down for the crown ain't a puzzle for me
And you bitch niggas can't put a muzzle on me
'Cus when I'm gone on a rocket and a grape juice
I make the world rock when I let a tape loose

They say ghetto niggas is desperate and we shiztee
But I turn down every celebrity bitch I see
Shopping game with my nigga Mr. AMG
And pop a games in a coochie if it's F A T, fo' sho'

Treys, zeros, cuatro, I got you, lady friends
With new Mercedes men, what? All 5 double O's
Watch these pretty toe, hoes get liquefied, nut up
Mystified, shut up, dick get slide, if I memorize, hey

I'ma play you foeva, wood and the leatha
Me and DJ Q, me and AMG and the rest of the crew
And its plain to see, we make Gs like guarantee
We make Gs like guarantee, bitch

As we move toward the light
With broads on our right, with broads on our right
And haters to the left we part the way, we part the way
Put aside our prestige, oh yeah, we're really M A D, we lite up
From the cage to the stage, Quik and AMG, we come to play
We come to play and play well

We come to play
How you gon' play with out us, baby?
We do our thing, 10 years in the game
And ain't nothing change, Q, tell them how we fell

Play the MP3 online for free!
3c25cb745288b2fd9310b14d07844102

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

1st And 10 (Incognegro Album) - Lyrics - Incognegro - Ludacris

Title: 1st And 10 (Incognegro Album)
Album: Incognegro
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Arbie Wilson, Michael Richard Bull, Christopher Bridges, Shondrae Crawford, Jean Paul Maunick, Bobbie Sandmanie

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

Lyric:
Click, click, click, click
Yeah, click, click
DTP nigga

I started with ten mack tens, ten clips and ten pens
Got ten times richer in the span of ten years
Bitch I'm ten times two on a scale of one to ten
I'll battle ten crews with the strength of ten men

At nine, I was into crime, sex, and drugs
Pushin' an '89 Box Chevy sittin' on dubs
Nine thugs all ski masks, black suited with gloves
Break the imprinted chest with at least nine slugs

Man I ate eight clips with eight chicks watching eight flicks
You's 8-6 if you ate pussy with fake lips
I figure eight when my mind goes in circles
Did I Do That or was it Mystikal and Urkel?

On to seven AK-47, so what?
I got seven hoes stoppin' by at seven to fuck
Then put seven in your chest seven days a week
And add a foot for good measure you'll be seven feet deep

It goes 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2 murder, 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP niggas come ready for war
So don't start the fucking game if you won't settle the score

I got six hoes distributing on six blocks
It's blistering from cops tryna stop these rocks from distributing
Six gun shots left, one pint of Vodka before this pimp will hit
It's street justice, now it's six hole in your casket

Give me a high five and I'll put that nine lower than your esophagus
Then smack you so hard that you have to come with 2Pacalypse
Five stars, twenty rims, five cars
I'd add more but I had to subtract one from five bars

I got four forty-fours on a rip on the floor
For you niggas talkin' shit, I'm finish, so you what for
I did four months in the bing instead of a Hearst
Now it's DTP for life, dog for better or worse

I fuck three best friends, ran on all three the same game
In these streets I'm a murderer, I got three alias names
I'm three times insane, three shots will cave your brain
On three fire and ready, cock back and aim

It goes 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2 murder, 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP niggas come ready for war
So don't start the fucking game if you won't settle the score

I'm packing two twenty-twos and twice the ammunition
But at Friday the 13th, what's up now superstition?
I'm a two timer with a couple of twins, double jeopardy
With a pair of two deuces in the two seater Benz

I got one motto get dough till your gone
I got one main lady the rest of y'all is hoes
I'm Numero Uno with one more before I go
If you think I ain't the one bitch you too slow

And all you zero ass niggas ain't nothin' to me
Because I chop up O's, move dro', and chop keys
0-6 is my clique along with PC
Pretty Rick, Calil, V-Slim and Shondrez

It goes 1 to 10 and 10 to 1
Ludacris, Fake Feeze and that nigga I-Twain
It goes 1 to 10 and 10 to 1
Ludacris, Fake Feeze and that nigga I-Twain

It goes 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2 murder, 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP niggas come ready for war
So don't start the fucking game if you won't settle the score

Play the MP3 online for free!
b8aadf50d7f39abaf13c563779b06b01

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

1st &Amp; 10 (Back For The First Time Album) - Lyrics - Back For The First Time - Ludacris

Title: 1st &Amp; 10 (Back For The First Time Album)
Album: Back For The First Time
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Arbie Wilson, Michael Richard Bull, Christopher Bridges, Shondrae Crawford, Jean Paul Maunick, Bobbie Sandmanie

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

Lyric:
Click, click, click, click
Yeah, click, click
DTP nigga

I started with ten mack tens, ten clips and ten pens
Got ten times richer in the span of ten years
Bitch I'm ten times two on a scale of one to ten
I'll battle ten crews with the strength of ten men

At nine, I was into crime, sex, and drugs
Pushin' an '89 Box Chevy sittin' on dubs
Nine thugs all ski masks, black suited with gloves
Break the imprinted chest with at least nine slugs

Man I ate eight clips with eight chicks watching eight flicks
You's 8-6 if you ate pussy with fake lips
I figure eight when my mind goes in circles
Did I Do That or was it Mystikal and Urkel?

On to seven AK-47, so what?
I got seven hoes stoppin' by at seven to fuck
Then put seven in your chest seven days a week
And add a foot for good measure you'll be seven feet deep

It goes 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2 murder, 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP niggas come ready for war
So don't start the fucking game if you won't settle the score

I got six hoes distributing on six blocks
It's blistering from cops tryna stop these rocks from distributing
Six gun shots left, one pint of Vodka before this pimp will hit
It's street justice, now it's six hole in your casket

Give me a high five and I'll put that nine lower than your esophagus
Then smack you so hard that you have to come with 2Pacalypse
Five stars, twenty rims, five cars
I'd add more but I had to subtract one from five bars

I got four forty-fours on a rip on the floor
For you niggas talkin' shit, I'm finish, so you what for
I did four months in the bing instead of a Hearst
Now it's DTP for life, dog for better or worse

I fuck three best friends, ran on all three the same game
In these streets I'm a murderer, I got three alias names
I'm three times insane, three shots will cave your brain
On three fire and ready, cock back and aim

It goes 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2 murder, 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP niggas come ready for war
So don't start the fucking game if you won't settle the score

I'm packing two twenty-twos and twice the ammunition
But at Friday the 13th, what's up now superstition?
I'm a two timer with a couple of twins, double jeopardy
With a pair of two deuces in the two seater Benz

I got one motto get dough till your gone
I got one main lady the rest of y'all is hoes
I'm Numero Uno with one more before I go
If you think I ain't the one bitch you too slow

And all you zero ass niggas ain't nothin' to me
Because I chop up O's, move dro', and chop keys
0-6 is my clique along with PC
Pretty Rick, Calil, V-Slim and Shondrez

It goes 1 to 10 and 10 to 1
Ludacris, Fake Feeze and that nigga I-Twain
It goes 1 to 10 and 10 to 1
Ludacris, Fake Feeze and that nigga I-Twain

It goes 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4
3, 2 murder, 1 lyrics at your door
These DTP niggas come ready for war
So don't start the fucking game if you won't settle the score

Play the MP3 online for free!
d78716c9cd47d5399c1dc2ac776f08f1

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Fox Boogie - Lyrics - Ill Na Na - Foxy Brown

Title: Fox Boogie
Album: Ill Na Na
Artist: Foxy Brown
Composer(s): Inga Marchand, J C Olivier, S J Barnes

Lyric:
Yeah, without a doubt, we up in here chillin'
This is the Kid Capri
And I'm in the house with Foxy Brown
For the nine-pound, plus one
And we got things goin' on, in a big way in here
You know what I'm sayin'?
So what we gon' do right now is want you to get involved
In what's about to happen, yo, drop that Foxy

I'm Don like Perignon, peep me continuously to take money, indeed
They keep frontin' my firm'll keep sumpin', Fox, freak sumpin'
B-12 Coupes flossin', high-post, off me, killin' 'em softly', like Fugees
My lah be straight cheddar, in K sweater
Them pussies fuck dicks, raw dog shit

Bubblin' mad chips, hard in the six, where we at, Brooklyn
And you know that, niggaz'll get dismissed so peep this
I flows on like heron, Don like Deion, rewind the ill, na na
Layin' in the Telon, stone like Sharon, let's see, niggaz say he really
Yappin' about how that dick be all that, he blowin' backs out
Please, I was in the drop three it was D and his man from D.C.
On some straight P.D., I ain't mad Pa Pa, do your thing
Get your thug on, keep holdin' and I'ma keep rollin'

Now let me hear ya say, uh Na Na, Na Na
And let me hear ya say, uh Na Na, Na Na
And let me hear ya say, uh Na Na, Na Na
Ah let me hear ya say, uh Na Na, Na Na
Well, here we go now

You know the Na Na is all that
That's why I get briquettes and lazarus and all that
In fact, my sex games, all that
'Cause when I do my thing, no turnin' back

Bet that, I be stashin' in C-10
Chrome Lauren, shittin' hard in the Benz
Morocco bremen, niggaz scheamin'
Shoulda seen 'em, 850 y'all be men

Gettin' his wild on, frontin' at the bar, guzzlin' that low
Kiko, who he tryin' to style on? Courvosier sipper, all day
He was ballin', sway while the beat is 360 ways
Anyway, I continues to floss iceberg shit on the ass, of course
That's how we plays, high-post all day
Come 'round my way, see a true player play
Fox Boogie, straight ballin' all day
You know how I do nigga, the firm way, hey

Now let me hear you go, uh Na Na, Na Na
And let me hear you say, uh Na Na, Na Na
And let me hear you go, uh the Ill Na Na, Na Na
Let me hear you go, uh uh uh Na Na, Na Na

When it come to niggaz I'm game tight, game alright
High-post, I plays, the frame all night
Alright, life's ill, push twenty mil
Easy, unplugged, fucks with, only thugs
Pretty niggaz too but I'm, seein' you
Definitely I'm, untouchable, hair
Strokin' the Na Na is like cocoa
Bitches a dime go loco for that flow doe

Shit, it's dangerous, peep the wrist, explain this, rocks all crisp
Chicks fuckin' for nuttin', please mama, betta get that cheese
Villainese, on her knees, tell her fuck the mink, she want
A Persian Land frontin', from where he talkin' cribs then he sayin'
Sumpim', sexual status, we's the baddest
Girls, we got the weapons, niggaz, got to have this
Pure shan Don frontin', to start sumpin'
He buggin', lustin' over nuttin', 'cause I'm gone

Now let me hear you go, uh Na Na, Na Na
And let me hear you go, uh Na Na, Na Na
And let me hear you say, uh 'cause this the Ill, Na Na, Na Na
'Cause I wanna hear you go, uh Na Na, Na Na

Yeah, word up this is the Kid Capri
Along with Foxy Brown, big shouts to The Firm
Big shouts to the Track Masters
Big shouts to all my people in the Boogie Down B-X
Word up and everybody all over the world
'Cause it's goin' down like that
As we gon' get this money
We up outta here love

Play the MP3 online for free!
b1f292279afaacb2e7ccacab4d852f81

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Still On It - Lyrics - Young Jeezy

Title: Still On It
Artist: Young Jeezy
Composer(s): Tracey Sewell, Jay Jenkins

Lyric:
I'm back *** ya, this sounds like one ***
I ain't tryna sell a 10 million copies ***
I'm tryna sell a million 10 times ***
I told you ***, I do dis ***, I do this ***, what you say ***

I told you mutha****** I'll be right back
Shootin' dice in my hood must of lost 8 stack
Ain't nuttin' to a G hop back in my may back
But I'm only riding this 'cause the Chevy's in the shop

5 0 2 with the chrome 'n seats, I'm so excited
Ya damn right I can't wait
It's my birthday I got big cake, that's right
Rubrix Cube you know we keep dem white squares

Catch me in the e a mill lookin' fo' dem bucks
They pay a 24, I'm on my way wit tha ducks
26 inches make you sit up like a truck
I use to give a damn but I never gave a ***, dats wutsup

I said dat D boy bulls*** yeah, I'm still on it
I gotta half a brick left do anybody want it
They goin' for da 10, you can get 'em for da 8
Just holla atcha boy when you tryna get straight

I said dat D boy bulls*** yeah, I'm still on it
Think I gotta needle left, do anybody want it
They goin' for da 5, you can get 'em for da 4
We keep it round here just let a *** know

I'm on the block all day with them blocks all day
Straight splurge up in linen, I shop all day
Shut down champs did the food in product
Ya it's just a white tee but the shoes is product

I gotta bag full of stones 'n a pocket full of pills
Call me da x-men keep a pocket full of pills
Imagine this so much ice 'n a watch, how much?
You would of thought time froze

Welcome to my life ya the first episode
Never miss a beat, I gotta mini time code
Still count a quarter mill wit my f*****' eyes closed
In one hand behind my back get a f*****' blind fold

I said dat D boy bulls*** yeah, I'm still on it
I gotta half a brick left do anybody want it
They goin' for da 10, you can get 'em for da 8
Just holla atcha boy when you tryna get straight

I said dat D boy bulls*** yeah, I'm still on it
Think I gotta needle left, do anybody want it
They goin' for da 5, you can get 'em for da 4
We keep it round here just let a *** know

I'm so hot you know *** ain't cool
The boy get new money like the first day of school
Stay fresh like the first day of class
Two bricks 'n three choppas sold in one stash

It'll cost ya 40 grand and ya gotta pay cash
Dem blunts burn slow but that paper come fast
The garbage man you *** n***** so trash
I'm first place you *** n****** so last

In I'm back to the future *** n****** so past
I know what you thinkin' dat mutha****** so fast
Dat boy Young Jeezy I'm suppose to cut
Instead of gettin' money *** dis how you suppose to look

I said dat D boy bulls*** yeah, I'm still on it
I gotta half a brick left do anybody want it
They goin' for da 10, you can get 'em for da 8
Just holla atcha boy when you tryna get straight

I said dat D boy bulls*** yeah, I'm still on it
Think I gotta needle left, do anybody want it
They goin' for da 5, you can get 'em for da 4
We keep it round here just let a *** know

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588779816ade74440c9f7e01f42df67a

Thursday, August 12, 2010

For The Money - Lyrics - Mack 10

Title: For The Money
Artist: Mack 10
Composer(s): T Green, Dedrick Rolison, Tina Weymouth, Russell T Jones, S Stanley, Adrian Belew, Kenyatta S Blake, Christopher Frantz

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

Lyric:
Ladies and gentlemen, Flight 10 from LAX
Is now arriving into JFK International

What, what you do, motherfucker?
[Incomprehensible], nigga
How many, hey yo, how many niggas is really makin' money now?
Know what I'm sayin'?

It's '98, I'ma tell y'all cats somethin'
This is the year of 'Do it or don't'
If you gon' do it, you better roll on with this crew cat, Juggy

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money

I duck down with Buckshot, Hoo Bang with Wu-Tang
Won't hesitate to slang, so money ain't a thang
Called Buck an' Dirty, asked them what they need
They said, ?Send me two thangs an' some L.A. weed?

So my belief is fuck the beef, all money the same
An' when I get to New York, I'ma show you the whoop game
I make a bitch stay down 'coz I'm that type of guy
Put the work on the Greyhound an' fly to the N.Y.

Hit the east coast with a pocket full of cheddar
Tan khakis on with a thick red sweater
They see me with some hoes, couldn't be better timin'
'Coz though a nigga G'd up, I got on big diamonds, so nigga what?

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money
Yo, I am comin' over to your spot tonight
I promise you, my baby, that I'm gon' do you right

Through the gusty wind, I roll with fifty men
Ready to get nifty an' shifty an' low
So what's the movements, yo? Let me know
'Coz when I come for motherfuckers, I'm comin' for throats

It was sad I bled but the red in my eyes shed
Light on the dark, I led the blind in sight
Now I got all of them inside
It's the reason why I do this an' I night ride

If you an' a nigga outside, say the word
An' I'ma splurge with my flight team, soarin' like birds
Missed it on the Friday with my nigga Cube
But the bomb blew Saturday when Mack lit the fuse

Who other than Buckshot come pick up the pieces
An' straighten niggas out like creases
Speak on it, yeah, nigga
Buckshot, ODB, Mack 10, back at it again

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money
Yo, I am comin' over to your spot tonight
I promise you, my baby, that I'm gon' do you right

Hey yo, most of you know me, some of you don't
When it comes to challengin', none of you won't
Arrange this battle to improve your style
It's a brother with a totally different profile

Most of you play cold front in your face
Hesitatin' on the rhymes, shoulda been Memorex
But you forgot, you'se an amateur
Mystery worshipper, yo, I prefer

I mind you, tease you, who's the boss?
Sucka amnesia, memory loss
Well, hit this, just quiet as kept
MCs on the charts from the start had slept

Let's take them, wake them, you should be woke
'Coz you take MC-in' for a practical joke
I present myself to be
A similar nightmare of an 'Amazing Story'

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money
Yo, I am comin' over to your spot tonight
I promise you, my baby, that I'm gon' do you right

Yo, you ain't hearin' nothin' but a drop of the dime [Incomprehensible], Know what I'm sayin'?
To all my dogs, I wanna give a shout out
To the [Incomprehensible], know what I'm sayin'?

You got my nigga, Mack 10
You got my nigga, Buckshot shorty
An' you got the one, Dirt Dog, know what I'm sayin'?
An' we gon' do it like sweat hogs, my nigga
This how we get down

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money

Hoo Bangin' Records, pushin' weight in '98
Cookin' nothin' but the bomb, you know what I'm sayin'?
'Coz we got 'The Recipe', fo' sho'

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219c674bf0a361ad27b1dd4b3801c7ca

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Don'T Gotta Go Home - Lyrics - Grand Champ - Dmx

Title: Don'T Gotta Go Home
Album: Grand Champ
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Ryan Bowser, Antoine Macon, Monica Arnold

Lyric:
Grrr, yeah
I mean we all men, we all men
We know how the shit go, love one, fuck another
I mean, it is what it is, it is what it is
I mean, we knew what it was
When we became a part of it
(Yeah)
Ain't no sense whinin' about it now
Feel me? It's like

There's something on your mind
(What?)
I can see right through you
I know your girl been treatin' you wrong
(Yeah)
But she ain't no good for you

Why do you hold it inside
(Uhh)
Boy you should let me know
I just want to make you right
Wanna be the one you could cry on

Baby, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things and I ain't goin' home tonight
You got time for a nigga or is he still with you?
Wanna meet at the same spot or should I come and get you?

Aight, I'll be there in 10, be in the front
I been gettin' what I need so I'ma give you what you want
One-on-one, 'cause you know how to talk to Dog
You walk the dog and understand New York is hard, baby

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh, I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things
And I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

It's kinda strange, that when you call
(Mmm)
She's never home
Now you're there all alone
And, you deserve so much more baby
(What?)

I can treat you better than she can
(What?)
It doesn't make sense
To keep on loving and keep on trusting
When in return all you get is nothing

Damn, you got me fucked up and I'm feelin' it more
Never had a mistress distressed before
Oh, come on ma, like it ain't that deep
Like ain't no love there, like I don't hate that I gotta creep
We go to sleep in each others arms
(Yeah)

And I feel like this is where I belong
If lovin' you is right then I ain't wrong
This is the same ol' song, wife and fam
Gotta be a father and husband but I'm still yo' man, baby

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh, I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things
And I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

This situation's getting critical
(Uh-huh)
I watch so many tears fall
(Uh-huh)
I know she's not what you want
(Uh-huh)

So why you keep on holding on?
(Grrr)
When I'm right here
(What?)

All you need to do is call
(What?)
Don't be afraid
(Yeah)
'Cause she won't know at all

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh, I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things
And I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh, I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there

Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things
And I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

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7add9c842437afc06bfa6dc086c54946

Monday, August 23, 2010

Don'T Gotta Go Home - Lyrics - After The Storm - Monica

Title: Don'T Gotta Go Home
Album: After The Storm
Artist: Monica
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Ryan Bowser, Antoine Macon, Monica Arnold

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

Lyric:
Grr yeah
I mean we all men, we all men
We know how the shit go love one, fuck another
I mean, it is what it is, it is what it is
I mean, we knew what it was, when we became a part of it (yeah)
Ain't no sense whinin' about it now, feel me?
It's like

There's something on your mind (What!)
I can see right through you
I know your girl been treatin' you wrong (Yea!)
But she ain't no good for you
Why do you hold it inside (Uh!)
Boy you should let me know
I just want to make you right
Wanna be the one you could cry on

Baby, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things and I ain't goin' home tonight
You got time for a nigga, or is he still with you?
Wanna meet at the same spot, or should I come and get you?
Aight, I'll be there in 10, be in the front
I been gettin' what I need so I'ma give you what you want
One-on-one, cause you know how to talk to Dog
You walk the dog and understand New York is hard, baby

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there
Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things and I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

It's kinda strange, that when you call (mmm)
She's never home
Now you're there all alone
And, you deserve so much more baby (What!)
I can treat you better than she can (What!)
It doesn't make sense
To keep on loving, and keep on trusting
When, in return all you get is nothing

Damn, you got me fucked up and I'm feelin' it more
Never had a mis-tress dis-tressed before
Oh come on ma, like it ain't that deep
Like ain't no love there, like I don't hate that I gotta creep
We go to sleep in each others arms (Yea!)
And I feel like this is where I belong
If lovin' you is right then I ain't wrong
This is the same ol' song, wife and fam
Gotta be a father and husband but I'm still yo' man, baby

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there
Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things and I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

This situation's getting critical (uh-huh!)
I watch so many tears fall (uh-huh!)
I know she's not what you want (uh-huh!)
So why you keep on holding on? (GRR)
When I'm right here (What!)
All you need to do is call (What!)
Don't be afraid (Yea!)
'Cause she won't know at, Alll

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there
Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things and I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

So you, you ain't gotta go home tonight
You can stay right here with me
Uhh I ain't goin' nowhere
When you wake up I'm gon' be right there
Don't you worry 'bout a thing
I ain't worried about shit
You're here with me
Look, it's like I love my wife
But we goin' through things and I ain't goin' home tonight, aight?

Play the MP3 online for free!
218181bb3575cd57a3eb0b967217341e

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Monday, August 16, 2010

Tear It Off - Lyrics - Blackout! (with Redman) - Method Man

Title: Tear It Off
Album: Blackout! (with Redman)
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): Jerome Brailey, George Clinton, Erick Sermon, George Jr Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Clifford Smith, Philippe Wynn, Barbarella Bishop, Ronald Ford, Ricky Walters, Jason Hunter, Walter Morrison, Garry Shider, Linda Shider, Reggie Noble

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

Lyric:
Yo man glorious
This is protected
By the Red
And Tical

Slap it down
Way out of bounds
Throw in your towels
Fo' we gun down

Yo, flipmode, toilet bowls explode
When Doc come drop a shit load
Grip fo's
Mushrooms, did those

Deep pistol
Whip hoes
I bitch O's
Money, roll, I stick a zip code

Tiptoed, before Doc hit skid row
Thirsty, sniffin' out a pig nose
My Benz built with wings and 6-0's
My flows is North Pole cold

My hands got area's that fits snow
Doc, fixin' hoes in disco's
My dogs let 'em walk with ripped clothes
Shows, niggas pack 6 rolls

We're losin' 'em
His hart won't get pulse
Pack you bags off a 10 percent doze
I could hum and shit cold

Yo, yo tear the roof off
Yo, yo tear the roof off
Back off, don't make me shoot y'all
You don't want to fuck with us, you don't

I get scanned, rip sand
With this stick style
Pistol, lick ground
Get off my dick now

Kick crowd, hot style
You-get-shot-style
Timid, scared to get in it
These dogs is rock rowd

Unchained, untained, you know my name
Act strange, pack flame
It's not a game
Just ill flows, that kills shows

You can feel yo
Kickin' in you do', like a steel toe for real do'
Y'all gon' learn I spit germs
When you come showin' on Big Worm

You gets burned
Punks don't get turned, they get done
And get sun, come get some
The last victim lye in a ditch

Now who wanna fuck with Hot Nick
Niggas chew gum with they ass and pop shit
Me and Funk Doc get, toxic
A bowl of rice and some chopsticks
Go make your Wu just imposters

Yo, yo tear the roof off
Yo, yo tear the roof off
Back off, don't make me shoot y'all
You don't want to fuck with us, you don't

You try to O.K Corel
With Doc and Methical
Bar saloon fight without weapons out
Strechmarks like Belly on Kevin Lous

One yard to score, only second down
Hoes play wifey, wanna settle down
Try to lock cash, bitch better bounce
Boyfriend jumpin', Meth shut 'em down

Pound to echo loud, bout 7 miles
Doc, dirty Jersey, hunt 'em down
Uncut rhymes, won't even fit your foul
Baddest man out the bunch, pick 'em out

Drunk with a gun, miss you hit the crowd
Snitches, someone kiss to stitch you mouth
Wilder then rhinos or liquor trous
Mrs. how Mary-Ann, dig 'em out

Ginger watch with the gun and skip a mouth
Love the ruckas and love to dish it out
3 watched MC's, start wristin' out
Get your whole camp put on the missile foul
Pushin' 12 out, bumpin' digital

Yo, yo tear the roof off
Yo, yo tear the roof off
Back off, don't make me shoot y'all
You don't want to fuck with us, you don't

Method Man
We just ice
Men of mice, ain't nothing nice
Redman

Fuck your life
Method Man
Your tight, just light to fight
We move right, on fright night

When niggas right
We bust pipe, condo's that suck tight
We all right, you all hype and war's right
In the source, with half mic, you half life

And half dead, blasted on glass bed
I'm past dead, eyes red, the hash head
Burn somethin', earn somethin' and learn somethin'
Take my turn frontin'

Def Jam ain't heard nothin' yet
Suspect, ruff necks
Buck 'em down or you get busted
Never leave home without my muskett

Trust this, out for justice, clown
And caught on Judgment Day, call Joe Brown
Take MC's to town if they start blawn
Ashes to ashes, they all fall down

Master these bastards with hazardous tactics
Semi automatic full rap metal jacket
Blasted in plastic your brain on the mattress
All you kids is ass backwards and visa versa

Yo, yo tear the roof off
Yo, yo tear the roof off
Back off, don't make me shoot y'all
You don't want to fuck with us, you don't

Come on, yo tear the roof off
Nigga, yo tear the roof off
Back off, don't make me shoot y'all
You don't want to fuck with us, you don't

Huh
Yo, you don't want to fuck with us
You don't
Yo, You don't want to fuck with us
You don't

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5efc6ec53eb2144cde5f4898aa7d4b01

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Quiet Storm Remix - Lyrics - Lil' Kim

Title: Quiet Storm Remix
Artist: Lil' Kim
Composer(s): Mel Glover, Sylvia Robinson, Kejuan W Muchita, Albert J Johnson

Lyric:
In broad daylight get right
Just been through it all man
Blood sweat and tears, niggaz is dead and shit
What the fuck else can happen yo?
I don?t think much more son, word to mother yo
We done seen it all, and been through it all yo
Let y'all niggaz know right now
Word to mother, for real, for real
That shit is the truth
I'm not lyin'

I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines
I'm the "Quiet Storm" nigga who fight rhyme
P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them
Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin' them
Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men
Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right
Fuck your life hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike
You try to stop mines from growin', I'll make your blood stop flowin'
Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin'
Now here come the Mack 10

You use a dick blower, tryin' to speak the Dunn language
What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin'
You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics
Lyin' to the Pop Dog like you got it
You ain't no wildin' out for the night fist thrower
Rusty shank holder, we live this shit

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough

Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin' White Label
My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables
Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke
A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?
Goin' through the emotions, of gun holdin'
Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin'
Killer bee who still livin', even my pops too
He taught me how to shoot when I was seven

I used to bust shots crazy
I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me
I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black
I'll take the life of anybody tryin' to change what's left
And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death
All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death
I spent too many night sniffin' coke, gettin' right

Wastin' my life, now I'm tryin' to make things right
Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business
Do things for the kids, the little Dunns
Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth
CBR's and VCR's, ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please
Don't make me have to risk my freedom
We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in
For real, yo

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough

It go one, two, three to the fourth
That nigga P-Double got that shit
For y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin' up pots of brew
In hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible
To serve hot plates all across the unified states
Sit down and sup with top rap reps

We the streets that's watchin' boy move diligent
You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke
Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission
First assignment give 'em that shit they been missin'
My new edition's way bitchen
Those that listen, get addicted to my diction'
Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for you're diseased
Generic rap's just not potent like P's

One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle
I peel off chest naked on Katanas
Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred
Fully blown melanin' tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts
And verses, but thirst for worse beats
So I can put, more product out on the street
Get respect and love, all across the board
We've been adored, for keepin' it raw, nuttin' less or more
I score everytime for sure
While the rest of y'all niggaz just kneal to the real

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real hip-hop, hip-hop

Play the MP3 online for free!
d96b75f43c523a18858a5870e5b175ff

Friday, August 20, 2010

Quiet Storm (White Lines) - Lyrics - Mobb Deep

Title: Quiet Storm (White Lines)
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Mel Glover, Sylvia Robinson, Kejuan W Muchita, Albert J Johnson

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

Lyric:
In broad daylight get right
Just been through it all man
Blood sweat and tears, niggaz is dead and shit
What the fuck else can happen yo?
I don?t think much more son, word to mother yo
We done seen it all, and been through it all yo
Let y'all niggaz know right now
Word to mother, for real, for real
That shit is the truth
I'm not lyin'

I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines
I'm the "Quiet Storm" nigga who fight rhyme
P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them
Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin' them
Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men
Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right
Fuck your life hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike
You try to stop mines from growin', I'll make your blood stop flowin'
Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin'
Now here come the Mack 10

You use a dick blower, tryin' to speak the Dunn language
What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin'
You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics
Lyin' to the Pop Dog like you got it
You ain't no wildin' out for the night fist thrower
Rusty shank holder, we live this shit

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough

Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin' White Label
My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables
Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke
A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?
Goin' through the emotions, of gun holdin'
Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin'
Killer bee who still livin', even my pops too
He taught me how to shoot when I was seven

I used to bust shots crazy
I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me
I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black
I'll take the life of anybody tryin' to change what's left
And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death
All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death
I spent too many night sniffin' coke, gettin' right

Wastin' my life, now I'm tryin' to make things right
Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business
Do things for the kids, the little Dunns
Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth
CBR's and VCR's, ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please
Don't make me have to risk my freedom
We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in
For real, yo

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough

It go one, two, three to the fourth
That nigga P-Double got that shit
For y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin' up pots of brew
In hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible
To serve hot plates all across the unified states
Sit down and sup with top rap reps

We the streets that's watchin' boy move diligent
You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke
Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission
First assignment give 'em that shit they been missin'
My new edition's way bitchen
Those that listen, get addicted to my diction'
Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for you're diseased
Generic rap's just not potent like P's

One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle
I peel off chest naked on Katanas
Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred
Fully blown melanin' tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts
And verses, but thirst for worse beats
So I can put, more product out on the street
Get respect and love, all across the board
We've been adored, for keepin' it raw, nuttin' less or more
I score everytime for sure
While the rest of y'all niggaz just kneal to the real

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real hip-hop, hip-hop

Play the MP3 online for free!
2f4f7a61f525378059b7afbce6528182

Quiet Storm - Lyrics - Murda Muzik - Mobb Deep

Title: Quiet Storm
Album: Murda Muzik
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Mel Glover, Sylvia Robinson, Kejuan W Muchita, Albert J Johnson

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Lyric:
In broad daylight get right
Just been through it all man
Blood sweat and tears, niggaz is dead and shit
What the fuck else can happen yo?
I don?t think much more son, word to mother yo
We done seen it all, and been through it all yo
Let y'all niggaz know right now
Word to mother, for real, for real
That shit is the truth
I'm not lyin'

I put my lifetime in between the paper's lines
I'm the "Quiet Storm" nigga who fight rhyme
P yeah you heard of him but, I ain't concerned with them
Nigga I pop more guns than you holdin' them
Make my route while the sun's out and scold your men
Unload ten, in broad daylight, get right
Fuck your life hop on my ninety-eight dirt bike
You try to stop mines from growin', I'll make your blood stop flowin'
Take affirmative action, to any ass if he askin'
Now here come the Mack 10

You use a dick blower, tryin' to speak the Dunn language
What the drilly with that though? It ain't bangin'
You hooked on Mobb-phonics Infamous-bonics
Lyin' to the Pop Dog like you got it
You ain't no wildin' out for the night fist thrower
Rusty shank holder, we live this shit

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough

Yo the P rock forty inch cables, drinkin' White Label
My chain hang down to my dick, my piece bang glass tables
Diamonds and guns before the fame Duke
A nigga like me hold tecs, are you the same too?
Goin' through the emotions, of gun holdin'
Long shotguns down my pants leg limpin'
Killer bee who still livin', even my pops too
He taught me how to shoot when I was seven

I used to bust shots crazy
I couldn't even look because the loud sound used to scare me
I love my pops for that, I love my nigga D-Black
I'll take the life of anybody tryin' to change what's left
And through all of that a nigga ain't scared of death
All y'all brand new niggaz just scared to death
I spent too many night sniffin' coke, gettin' right

Wastin' my life, now I'm tryin' to make things right
Grand open some gates, invest, in Iraq business
Do things for the kids, the little Dunns
Build a jungle gym behind the crib, so they can enjoy youth
CBR's and VCR's, ATV's and big screen TV's, nigga please
Don't make me have to risk my freedom
We worked our whole life for this, you get your shit beat in
For real, yo

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough

It go one, two, three to the fourth
That nigga P-Double got that shit
For y'alls peoples to rock to, stirrin' up pots of brew
In hell's kitchen, I chef the impossible
To serve hot plates all across the unified states
Sit down and sup with top rap reps

We the streets that's watchin' boy move diligent
You better walk like a nigga on the tight rope Duke
Infamous first infantry, first division fourth mission
First assignment give 'em that shit they been missin'
My new edition's way bitchen
Those that listen, get addicted to my diction'
Fuck rhymes I write prescriptions, for you're diseased
Generic rap's just not potent like P's

One-thousand one-hundred CC's on the throttle
I peel off chest naked on Katanas
Spaghetti head Mobb niggaz is full bred
Fully blown melanin' tone, I rock skeleton bone shirts
And verses, but thirst for worse beats
So I can put, more product out on the street
Get respect and love, all across the board
We've been adored, for keepin' it raw, nuttin' less or more
I score everytime for sure
While the rest of y'all niggaz just kneal to the real

'Cause it's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real shit, shit to make 'em feel shit
Lump 'em in the club shit, have you wildin' out when you bump this
Drugs to your eardrum, the raw uncut
Have a nigga OD 'cause it's never enough
It's the real hip-hop, hip-hop

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