America The Video - Lyrics - Chroma Key

Title: America The Video
Artist: Chroma Key
Composer(s): Kevin Moore, Mark Zonder

Lyric:
I was half outside and half inside a dream
When I thought I heard your voice on my machine
Sang along had the song almost memorized
Liked the track so I laid back and let it fossilize

I've got all of this on video
It just gets better every episode

America I was blind but now I see
America right there in front of me

Lost my head in my hotel room
When the ground shook
Had to choose between the Bible
And the phone book

You're never home but that's okay
It's so much easier that way
'Cause I can't tell it to your face
In real time anyway

America I was blind but now I see
America right there in front of me

And it makes no sense to me
Unless I see it on TV
So just launch that satellite
And get it right

America I was blind but now I see
America right there in front of me

And it makes no sense to me
Unless I see it on TV
So just launch that satellite
And get it right

Sometimes the answer just comes
Sometimes the answer just comes

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8bf50d9784c600d311326305efc122a8

Fly Till I Die - Lyrics - Pete Rock

Title: Fly Till I Die
Artist: Pete Rock
Composer(s): Denosh Bennett, Talib Greene, Corey Penn, Pete Phillips

Lyric:
It's Talib Kweli in the place to be Brooklyn
Most definitely yaknowhatImsayin', Mount Vernon
And Pete Rock and C.L. Smooth, the brothers who brought ya
Escapism, Return Of The Mecca, Straighten It Out, The Creators
Yeah, right about now, we about to make history

The track make you nod like smack through the needle
Niggaz don't sell crack is they evil
America's build on the backs of my people
Cats say they packin' the heat but they actin' like Chino
'Cause when it's time to bounce it back they fall back in the field though

I went from crashin' the beat in the passenger seat
Drivin' like many straight trees don't even mix coke with the Henney
Flow with so many styles ladies open all night like Denis
24 hours party people soakin' in the Remy and Cris'

The video is directed by Benny and Chris
Treat a pager like a website with plenty of hits
I tell 'em this, you gotta be at least a dime for a piece of mind
I deal with porters and keys just like the leachious mind

I like mature girls just now reachin' they prime
Know how to conversate to the man and don't eat no swine
If you ready to roll than we can rock shit
My niggaz so cold we hot

Pete Rock, murderville keep the joint on smash
See the don come through enough bray that cash
Talib Kweli, he can speak to the mass
Why the great minds think alike 'cause we keepin' it fly

See we keepin' it fly till the day I die and you can't deny
Son we keepin' it fly, how we keepin' this fly
Better master your eye, 'cause we keepin' it fly
Bring it back to life

Psychedelic we sell it and niggaz jealous fellows
Go get your hate up get your weight up, I'm tellin' you straight up
You need to turn that frown upside down you use less muscles
The smile is easier than it sound, it's true

Lookin' all crooked, I be tellin' these dudes
They should Straighten It Out on a Pete Rock track like C.L. Smooth
See we livin' in the Matrix way before the movie
Kids fiend before the camera screaming, just shoot me

Now they scream a million miles away from the sun
But you still feel the heat when we packed us the way of the gun
Like tape digs, raise kids to escape the slave ships
Instead they wanna pump weights not the state

Better exercise take from work the rest get left inside
And whips chicks and kicks money we specialize
I be the respirator so hip hop is kept alive
So many niggaz buggin' me, I need a fuckin' pesticide

Pete Rock, murderville keep the joint on smash
See the don come through enough bray that cash
Talib Kweli, he can speak to the mass
Why the great minds think alike 'cause we keepin' it fly

See we keepin' it fly till the day I die and you can't deny
Son we keepin' it fly, how we keepin' this fly
Better master your eye, 'cause we keepin' it fly
Bring it back to life

You put light back to life 'cause these rappers ain't actin' right
Thinkin' they cut like Mack the knife, rap the fight
Battle right through the afterlife
'Cause when you die make you look way past the life

And high sight, I drop the type of rhyme to give the blind sight
Sparkle a shine bright like lemon lime, sprite up in the limelight
Yeah as we still at the track, you feel it when the chorus tack
You deal it twist a cap back with a skillet, official would kill it

'This is fake the way we sill it as the great Pete Rock and Kweli
Got Pete to make you chicks knees knock to Pete Rock my life
It's the soundtrack other niggaz sound wack
Like white kids tryin' to sound black

I spit on mics wet up the essence where L drowned at
This Guerrilla Monsoon Rap first comb rap
Soon rap come through a crossroads and all these lost souls
Will stand out with stress signals like morse code

Pete Rock, murderville keep the joint on smash
See the don come through enough bray that cash
Talib Kweli, he can speak to the mass
Why the great minds think alike 'cause we keepin' it fly

See we keepin' it fly till the day I die and you can't deny
Son we keepin' it fly, how we keepin' this fly
Better master your eye, 'cause we keepin' it fly
Bring it back to life

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7a697461f88dda86460523d947d129c6

40 - One More Gen - Lyrics - E

Title: 40 - One More Gen
Artist: E
Composer(s): Samuel Ramone Bostic, Earl Thomas Stevens

Lyric:
I'm tryin' to hear some of that Mobb
Make it sound like a gorilla tryin' to get up out the trunk
(Yeah, well let's get this crackin' then)
Super duper super duper, trunk rattlin'
(That's what I'm talkin 'bout)

Old school, in the basement
(Some for the trunk)
Magazine Street, Hillside type
(This is what we do, all day like this)

Mobb now
(Get this crackin' den)
It's a drought on
(Now)

What you holla? What you say? What dey know?
What dey know about this? So what dey know?
What dey know about this? So what dey know?
Now, strictly mobb, strictly mobb

I might be rich and I rap
But, a hundred dollars worth of food stamps for 45 dollars
Nigga fat, I wasn't fin' to bite on that
I stay on stuff, a cup

I likes to drink out the bottle
Mix Gordon's Gin with Donald Duck ? Secure my novel
When, I was fifteen years old
Straight dope game, I was told

I had them hoes stealin' clothes for me, boostin' and sellin' they body
That's how it's supposed to be by nature 'cause I'm naughty, naughty
La-Di-Da-Di, we likes to pull triggers
We do 'cause trouble 'cause we dump on

Yeah, I'm just a hustler, remember that? Mr. Flamboyant 1989
Down and Dirty, Federal, B-Legit the Savage, D-Shot the Shot Caller
My little sista Suga T Sprinkle Me on the money motivated mission

Tryin' to have it in a major way after I was on the late night grind
Strapped with nines and Desert Eagles
Me and my weeples come deeper than them skinny

Crept on us not too long ago
Sold our Lexuses and went back to the Cutlass Supreme
Buster demand they Zima's and forked toes

Starwise, with the helicopter knockoffs
My down south thugs call 'em elbows, turnin' heads
With the personalized license plates with the tremendous bump

They nose, fakin' them domes
Breakin' and shakin' the neighborhood up, disturbin' homes
Ridin' on rims, Reyimmms, slidin' through stop signs
Just like them action films

Watch me no cost to pay off my speeding tickets and fines
Giving myself up to the Elroy's
Doing time on the weekends, all up in the county writin' rhymes

It's just some, that you can ride to
Some, for you to smoke to
Some, that you can to
Some, that I can relate to

It's just some that you can listen to, one mo' gen
Make you stop at the liquor sto', and purchase some gin
Some to make a nigga practice lookin' hard
Some for all my folkers on the boulevard

It's traditional, heavy ass for the mobb
I got more bass in my rock, than Third Eye Blind
Forty-Wata-Wata main don't tell me you gonna resign
It's too early for this, dude you in your prime

I said, no not me, I won't stop
I'ma do it for my Tupac
Sober see, that can't be
I been pervin' all day since six o'clock
I pull a bootch like a bad tooth

With the cheapest econo lodge a like me can find
Drop her off out in the middle of nowhere next to a phone booth
Stranded freezin' to death

Empty handed can it
Stubborn hella hard to reason with
It's game orienfested, let me explain it
I know they say that I been givin' up too much game

But I'ma teach ya how to blossom with my new invention
You might wanna pay attention
I used to sell Kirby vacuum cleaners but I wasn't a punk
I worked at Mickey D's
(What did you make?)
Employee of the Month

Livin' above my means that's a bald-faced lie
Po-po's raid, I got an alibi
Shot my first video for 20 bucks

Some cheap , Marriot's Great America
Mean Green hooked me up down South
Made a name for myself by word of mouth

It's just some, that you can ride to
Some, for you to smoke to
Some, that you can to
Some, I can relate to

It's just some that you can listen to, one mo' gen
Make you stop at the liquor sto', and purchase some gin
Some to make a nigga practice lookin' hard
Some for all my folkers on the boulevard

Hah, oh, what dey know?
Oh, what dey know about this? Oh, what dey know?
Oh, what dey know about this? Oh, what dey know?

Hella, the board of weebleizations up in this
The board of weebleizations
Head Above Water productions

Collaborated with my, Sam Bosstigili
Professor Bosstigili up on this track
They nose up like this
Where that Sojourn at, whattup boy?

It's just some, that you can ride to
Some, for you to smoke to
Some, that you can to
Some, I can relate to

It's just some that you can listen to, one mo' gen
Make you stop at the liquor sto', and purchase some gin
Some to make a nigga practice lookin' hard
Some for all my folkers on the boulevard

With this here, we mobbin' out, we mobbin' out, Suga T
(Ay, whassup gurl?)
D-Shot
(D-Shot?)

B-Legit up in this
(Yo, E-Feezee main)
Young Muggzy, Keveo
(You know)

Tap that ass Celly Cell
(Whassup? Whassup?)
My Big Bone Tyrone
(Big Buddha)

D-Day from A-1
They doin' it like that down they ass
The Resevoir Hoggs up in this
(All day smashin')

There go Max and that Parlay
LeVitti the R&B singer on they ass
Gonna they nose with that Mobb
They head like that

My little young cousin' Mac Mall up in this
From the V-Town I thought you thought all the time
Up in they, ass tall can B
(Sic-wid-it nigga)

Cousin C-Bo, that Otis and Shug singin'
"I hope I don't go back to slangin' llello" on they ass
Cousin Lil Bruce, Mac Shon
That K-1, Gino, Smitty, The Funk Mobb up in this ass

They heads up like this
V-Town nigga Millersville I thought you thought
(Uh, huh)
Yeah, my cousins Down-n-Dirty
Kamikaze and the Mobb Unit
I thought, they thought

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Space Hoes - Lyrics - Danger Doom

Title: Space Hoes
Artist: Danger Doom
Composer(s): Brian Joseph Burton, Daniel Dumile Thompson, Keith Mansfield

Lyric:
I don't believe this, I get rid of those two evil maniacs
Trying to ruin my show and I get two evil guests
Who are trying to ruin my show
Feh, just who came up with the stupid idea of giving
Space Ghost the talk show in the first place?

How they gave his own show to Tad Ghostal?
Any given second he could go mad postal
Stay wavin' that power band space cannon
And had the nerve to jump in the face of Race Bannon

Punked out, luckily he detonate it
Guess who just smothered whose credited with editing it?
He meant molter, the cop out
And have no other career choice, he dropped out

Since when the Wayouts included Zorak
Way back he used to rub his thorax in Borax
I'm not the one who sold him to it
If he won't admit it, I'm not gonna hold him to it

It's all love and no hate though
For all that, he really need to get his own late show
Do a monologue and jest with the guests
Madlib switch the beat and walk him to the desk

With Danger holding down the control room
Late again returning from commercial
I told you Doom, early, hes on BPT
Catch him on public access free TV

And we're back on the air with Brak, so, Brak
How you're man got a show that's so wack? What?
Have you ever thought to work with Earl Ignignat and them?
Do you got enough oxygen from this toxic phlegm?

Another sec, his neck woulda caught flames
Mouse switch the screen to some hot dames
Tonights audience received big screen video games
And fifteen seconds of fame, pitiful aims, it's just a shame

Zoning, competing for the same prime time slot as Conan
No, dummy, Ichigawa, announcement free lunch to any stunt
Who lets me plow her in the shower for a hour, the kids supposed
To be sleeping or else join us sound like Road Runner, beep, beep

Later this week Big Ben Klingon
After him there's no one else we could afford to bring on
Keep it ghetto and let 'em know B Y O B from the get go

I'd like to propose a toast to the grossest host
Space ho's coast to coast that destructor ray's a played out gag
And that cape and the pantsuit, looking like a straight out
.

Dag, don't mean to sound crunchy
Hit a honey from the back and crumpled up her scrunchy
A light snack hungry munchy
Felt a funny hunch and then she told me, "Donkey, punch me"

Tomorrow is Father Guido Sarducci
Father MC and Charo, coochie coochie
With her new bestseller, who you call a Hoochie
Proud sponsor of the Snoochie Boochie Noochies

Look Leela eyeball to eyeballs and find out
How they get inside those sugar pie walls?
Our next guest, a real cutie specimen
And she's starting to get a little booty, Miss Judy Jetson

So, Judy, boxers briefs or fig leaf
As you know I wear my boxers over my big
Cue the rapper, tell him to bring what little he got
Up against Villy, he's really not diddley squat until they head hurt

When it come to wreck, cruisers like them dudes
Are red shirts off Star Trek, ke Kirk, he Spock, he McCoy
Been B-boy, since you jerks first squeezed toys
Born to be the host with the most when it's on it's on
Space ho's, coast to coast

You think I'm just gonna hand over my show to you?
Doom, have you lost your fucking mind?
Listen, I'm not gonna hand my show over to you
You know why? Because it's my show, mine, not yours

Space Ghost, it ain't Doom coast to coast
Yeah, yeah, sure, here are the keys to the show
Why don't you drive for awhile?
Yeah, America's craving some Doom, here you go

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Fish - Lyrics - Ironman - Ghostface Killah

Title: Fish
Album: Ironman
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): Dennis David Coles, Darryl Robert Hill, T. Master, Corey Woods

Lyric:
Hey yo, you know they're killers themselves
Hey, hey, hey, 46 people die
For them you know, guys that I fooled with
Were killers themselves how you
Want it? How you want it? Stop that, stop that

These are the men who lead the crime
Families of america, I control 26,000
Men except for dope, we operate in all aspects
Of organized crime and if
There's one thing i'm sure of, it's that
Drugs destroy your mind and destroy
Your home in the end it'll only lead our country into ruin

We eat fish, tossed salads and make rap ballads
The biochemical slang Lord'll throw the arrows in the dope fiend
Vocal chords switch laser beams my triple sevens
Broke the slot machines out in queens, grey poupon is rebel on rap
Smack on, swing like batons
Most want niggas smoked like Hilshire farms
Check the gun we sew, underneath my shoe lies the tap
That attract bow legged bitches with wide horse gaps

In steel mills iron he'll smoke the blow on duns
You run heroins, primatine mist is afraid of my lungs
Turn my channel, it'll blow your whole bench off the panel
Like 80 roman candles that backfired then slammed you
Every day is like a video shoot, check this shit
I take you back to Playboy, stash guns and whips
Picture Afro, big shish, ka bobs and daishikis
1000 civil marched blazed their fists in early sixties

Now check this one, you must have been stupid to miss this one
'Donna shogunnin' flip a ton of fashion
Destination be the cash when I step past one
Don't make me blast one, I'm cold like Eskimo flow
Cappadonna stay chillin' take shots of penicillin

Clean out and let the steam out, she fiend to blow out
But i'm equipped with mad white, Morris the rap got nine lives
I'll take a few hundred thousand dollar dives
And then I still never go down
Until the last round I shine
When Rza do his thing motherfucka, I'ma do mine

Now, where I come from cats be carryin' marryin' drug money
Fuck up your wife, get four to life, claim we handling
Midtown niggers scramblin', moving examine the fly shit
Plus quick to buy shit chef, yeah, you know the whole gods
Asterick, Fidel Castro suits plus depositin' cash rule big time
Play it like Canadian wine, Rza's the rhyme now, the sacredness of

One's true mind now let's get colorful like money green
High roller coaster, sosa, million dollar nigger roaster
Yeah, god, be havin' my whole steez laced
Now let's wrap our tapes, connect dots
Aim glocks train style, figaro fly jewel

Tri color cubans swervin we'll pow with germans in suburbans
24 niggas with vests's on, my own restaurant
Dons sendin' my sons membership forms
They still gettin' this paper scraper
Fake haters from Jamaica, wizards be passin' like Lakers
And if you comin' from Lex, Lewis, rich Liberace
Fetus style and block your goals like hockey

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21e8c5c05f458f27dde7df087ac65f44

We Gives No Fuck - Lyrics - Bizaar - Insane Clown Posse

Title: We Gives No Fuck
Album: Bizaar
Artist: Insane Clown Posse
Composer(s): Mike E Clark, Joseph Bruce, William Dail

Lyric:
I think it's the heart's desire for every person in America and Canada
To succeed worldwide, yeah, success is one thing
That's the motivating force behind many men, Amen
And tonight I want to speak in a way that you'll realize that
God ordained every one of his creations to be successful

Look at this, millionare, suave
Definitely paid, lemonade, stock market played
Marinate in shade, top craze, bitches blowin' up phones
I walk by, never lie

I'm the type of guy with sparkles in my eye
Rollin' by, BMW, never take the truck with your kid
Who, what, where, over there, with the diamond sinclare
Looky there, everywhere I stay flossin' them things

I'm like bang, bling, bling, bang
Chingy, bling, blang
What the fuck bitch, hurry up and suck
Move along, c'mon, until it's gone

Get the fuck out the room, I'm rollin' chrome
700 spoke, whicky, whicky, what
Keep your hungry mouth shut
'Cuz I'm livin' it up

Hey, we gives no fuck
Million dollar house, we gives no fuck
Lavish cars, we gives no fuck
Baby, baby, we gives no fuck

Hey, we gives no fuck
7 digit bank, we gives no fuck
Mad paid, we gives no fuck
Woh, we gives no fuck

7 figure bank, what you think
Bitch you tickle me pink
You lookin' rank, coulda stank
Still I did ya, spank, spank

Whore is dank
'Cuz I'm livin' like a video
Fuckin' every shitty hoe you know
Call me jigga-liggy-lo

Fuck the juggalos
Escort, billion dollar drop
Non-stop, from my pop
Never need to cop a mop

What you got, get the fuck off my block
I call the cop, with your fuckin' hippy hop
Whooee, whooee, chop, chop
Tryn'a marry me

Rich until they bury me
Stop it 'cuz you're scarin' me
With all that jive, clap, clap

Take you back to where your
Whack crack neighborhood at
'Cuz look-ee Jack, 'cuz where we at
We're havin' none of that, none of that

Hey, we gives no fuck
Million dollar house, we gives no fuck
Lavish cars, we gives no fuck
Baby, baby, we gives no fuck

Want you to love me
Want you to need me
Want you to use me

Hey, we gives no fuck
7 digit bank, we gives no fuck
Mad paid, we gives no fuck
Woh, we gives no fuck

Pow, let me show you how, exactly where ya really now
Cash cow, cheddar, wow
Dig it y'all, wicky wild, wild, wait a minute y'all
I might've over-did it y'all, forget it, I'll admit it, can't get it

'Cuz I'm greedy, greedy, greedy
Fuck the needy, fuck the treaty
Line'em up and pow, pow
Clicka pow, pow, click, click

Chicka pow, pow, bang, bang, ching, ching
Bang, ching-a-ling bang
Pow, pow, chicka bang, bang
Chicka, chicka bang

Hey, we gives no fuck
Million dollar house,we gives no fuck
Lavish cars, we gives no fuck
Baby, baby, we gives no fuck

Want you to love me
Want you to need me
Want you to use me

Hey, we gives no fuck
7 digit bank, we gives no fuck
Mad paid, we gives no fuck
Woh, we gives no fuck

Want you to love me
Want you to need me
Want you to use me

Want you to hate me
Want you to take me
Want you to kill me

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