As Long As Harley Gets To Play - Lyrics - Steve Azar

Title: As Long As Harley Gets To Play
Artist: Steve Azar
Composer(s): Steve Azar, A.J. Masters, Roger Murrah

Lyric:
Down in Stoneville, Mississippi
You can sure have fun
Harley Walker's got a fiddle
And Harley's brother's got a gun

All the neighbors start to gather
When the band cranks up
It's like the Grand Old Opry
On a flatbed truck

You got the Walker family
Scattered all over the place
But everything'll be okay
As long as Harley gets to play

Ice cold watermelon
Chicken, southern fried
The whole trailer part is rockin'
Like it's the fourth of July

Oh, the band can feel the tension
Building in the crowd
Brother Walker's gettin' restless
Oh, for cryin' out loud

The Walker family's movin'
Up close to the stage
But everything'll be okay
As long as Harley gets to play

Everybody's gettin' quiet
Somethin's gotta give
Has that band gone crazy?
Why don't they get it over with?

Let 'em dedicate it
To all the Walker girls
It's just the orange blossom special
It ain't the end of the world

You'll see the whole Walker family
With a smile on their face
And everything'll be okay
As long as Harley gets to play

Down in Stoneville, Mississippi
You can sure have fun
Harley Walker's got a fiddle
And Harley's brother's got a gun

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40ae43473fa992933ee1592a641fd565

Nutmeg - Lyrics - Supreme Clientele - Ghostface Killah

Title: Nutmeg
Album: Supreme Clientele
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): R Diggs, Stephanie Andrews, Ron Kersey, Arthur Wilson, Don Cornelius, Dennis Coles

Lyric:
Yeah, whassup, y'all, whassup?
This is Ghostface, straight from Staten Island
You know I don't really mean no harm

But it just happens you know
When I step approach a motherfuckin' wack nigga
That tryin' to spit his darts and can't spit 'em
Check it out though, aiyo

Scientific, my hand kissed it, robotic let's think optimistic
You probably missed it, watch me dolly dick it
Scotty, watty, cop it to me, big microphone hippie
Hit Poughkeepsie crispy chicken, verbs throw up a stone Richie

Chop the O, sprinkle a lil' snow inside a Optimo
Swing the John McEnroe, rap rock, 'n' roll
Tidy Bowl, gung-ho pro, Starsky with the gumsole
Hit the rump slow, parole kids, live Rapunzel

But Ton' stizzy really high, the vivid laser eye guide
Jump in the Harley ride, Clarks I freak a lemon pie
I'm 'bout it, 'bout it, Lord forgive me, Ms Sally shouted
Tracey got shot in the face, my house was overcrowded

You fake cats done heard it first on how I shitted on your turf
At times, Cuban Link verse, yo
Check out the rap kingpin, summertime fine jewelry drippin'
Face in the box, I seen your ear twitchin'

As soon as I drove off, Cap' came to me with three sawed-offs
Give one to Rae', let's season they broth
Lightning rod fever heaters, knock-kneeder, Sheeba for hiva
Diva got rocked from the receiver bleeder

Portfolio, lookin' fancy in the pantry
My man got bigger dimes, son, your shit is scampi
Base that, throw what's in your mouth, don't waste that
See Ghost lampin' in the throne with King Tut hat
Straight off

Yeah, yeah
I just wan't y'all niggaz
Smack all y'all niggaz, niggarettes
Universal death threats, yeah
This be the God Body, yeah, no doubt
Judge Wise

Aiyo, spiced out Calvin Coolidge, loungin' with 7 duelers
The Great Adventures of Slick, lickin' with 6 rugers
Rock those, big boy Bulotti's out of Woodridge
Porch for the biggest beer, season giraffe ribs

Rotissiere ropes, hickory scented mint scented glaze
Perfected find truth within self, let's smoke
All hail to my hands, 50 thou' appraisal
Dirty nose with the nasal drip, click flipped on fam

Dancin' with Blanch and them bitches, flickin' goose pictures
Kick down the ace of spades, snatch Jack riches
Olsive compulsive lies flies with my name on it
Dick made the cover now count, how many veins on it

Scooby snack, Jurassic plastic gas, booby trap
Ten years workin' for me, you wanna tap shit?
Bung, bung, bung, your bell went rung, rung, rung
Staple-Land's where the ambulance don't come

Yeah, you see what I mean?
You see what I mean, you motherfuckin' crybabies?
Get in line punk, you should be studyin' your odds
Instead of studyin' me

That's how you lost your first job, punk
Now, get in line, for you get your lil' thick-ass tossed up
Shit, I studied under Bruce Lee, nigga
He was on the fourth, I was on the third

Pass me a honey-dipped spliff, black mental cause continental drift
One whiff of Pow, you gets my divine stiff
Brick rock, late night, hear the tick-tock of my clock
I used to run up and pick a crab lock

Hit his stash, dip back, to the Lab, make him flip
Uptown, boo-doop, now we back on your ass
Incognito, fatal aikido blow, pop a needle
Dick a knock-knee hoe, bust out her fetal

Nine inch long, strong, Bobby pop the bitch thongs
Spit on her, then I banged on my chest like Kong King
Merciless Meng, point the killa bee sting
Ring dings right through your head bing

Snap the wing off of bats, my battle-axe tongue hacks tracks
Once the ball drop, I'ma snatch ten jacks
Pass the crack to a niggarette, puff a looseleaf cigarette
While your man search the Internet for Bob Digitech

In Stereo, crazy as Shapiro
Multiply myself ten times standin' next to zero
And snap my fingers like the Fonz
And bag me a golden bronze skinned girl with the honey blonde

Dip hair, make a nigga flip in his chair
Had the armpit shaved off perfect with the Nair
Stomach fat as a pancake for her man's sake
Used to fuck her when she menstruate
But it made her hyperventilate

Brooklyn
I know, I know, I know, I know
Queens
I know, I know, I know, I know

Shaolin
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know

Bronx
I know, I know, I know, I know
Jersey
I know, I know, I know

Long Island
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, break it down

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Unit - Wanna Get To Know You - Lyrics - Beg For Mercy - G

Title: Unit - Wanna Get To Know You
Album: Beg For Mercy
Artist: G
Composer(s): Curtis Jackson, Christopher Lloyd, Leon Ware, David Brown, Jacqueline Dayl Hilliard

Lyric:
I wanna get to know you
I really wanna fuck you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I really wanna to drive you, crazy

I wanna be your lover
I wanna get to know you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I'm simply going to drive you , crazy

I'm lovin' how you look in my eyes
Swingin' them hips when you pass
I'm visualizin' my name tattooed on that ass, baby
Jump on this Harley, let's go smoke some of that Bob Marley
Sip some Bacardi, then go pull up at the after party
I think we make a perfect couple but you think I'm trouble
Maybe that's the reason you gave me the wrong number
She got me feelin' like, 'maybe she the wrong woman'
Think I'ma be chasin' the chicken head, you on somethin'
Your toes painted, half fixed all the time
And your Gucci boots the same color as mine
If you read between the lines you can see that I want you
I betcha I have you doin' what you said that you won't do
Make the decision, Shorty, good things don't last long
Your girlfriend keep showin' me that thong
Before I head home, I'ma stop at your house and blow the horn
If you come outside you know it's on
Holla at yo boy

I wanna get to know you
I really wanna fuck you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I really wanna to drive you, crazy

I wanna be your lover
I wanna get to know you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I'm simply going to drive you, crazy

Bitches be frustrated with the baller, wonder why I don't call her
Maybe because I'm busy and she needs someone to spoil her
It gets annoyin' from time to time I gotta ignore her
In order to let her know we'll be friends and nothing more
She loves it when I'm in town, hate it when I'm not around
I get her and wear her down, next door neighbors hear the sound
Pictures hittin' the ground, just enough to hold us down
I'm stickin' n' moving cruisin' after the third round
Just lay back baby and let me drive you crazy
I can make a forty year old feel like a young lady
I admit I fell in love with a frame and to make her feel special
I let her call me by my governor name
Her panties wet over fame fall in love with my chain
I wonder if I wasn't an entertainer would she remain
Surrounding me hounding me trying to be my only
I'm not your boyfriend, I'm your homie

I wanna get to know you
I really wanna fuck you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I really wanna to drive you , crazy

I wanna be your lover
I wanna get to know you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I'm simply going to drive you , crazy

Yeah now, what would fuck me up more watchin' her lick her lips
Or watchin' her walk, she hypnotize me with her hips, man
I sweet talk her if she like
'Cause all she really want is a nigga to treat her right, right
Look I'm legit now, used to break laws
Now you can reap the benefits of world tours
Big house, big Benz, girl, its yours
Mink coats, Italian shoes, stones with no flaws
You ain't go to look like a model for me to adore you
All you gotta do is love me and be loyal
Don't indulge in my past, fuck what happened before you
'Cause there be some honeys gonna hate you that never saw you
Come here, let my touch on you, I let you touch on me
Put my tongue on you, you put your tongue on me
Let me ride on you and you can ride on
We can do it all the night, we can have a balla night

I wanna get to know you
I really wanna fuck you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I really wanna to drive you , crazy

I wanna be your lover
I wanna get to know you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I'm simply going to drive you , crazy

I wanna get to know you
I really wanna fuck you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I really wanna to drive you , crazy

I wanna be your lover
I wanna get to know you, baby
One dose of your lovin'
I'm simply going to drive you , crazy

I wanna be your lover
I will understand you baby
I wanna be your lover
I will understand you baby

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Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll: Too Young To Die - Lyrics - Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young To Die! - Jethro Tull

Title: Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll: Too Young To Die
Album: Too Old To Rock 'n' Roll: Too Young To Die!
Artist: Jethro Tull
Composer(s): Ian Anderson

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Lyric:
The old rocker wore his hair too long
Wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light

Death's head belts buckle, yesterday's dreams
The transport caf' prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double sewn seams
In his post-war babe gloom

Now he's too old to rock 'n' roll
But he's too young to die
Yes, he's too old to rock 'n' roll
But he's too young to die

He once owned a Harley Davidson
And a triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs
And prays that he always will

But he's the last of the blue blood greasers boys
And all of his mates are doing time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line

And some of them own little sports cars
And meet at the tennis club do's
For drinks on a Sunday, work on Monday
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes

Now they're too old to rock 'n' roll
And they're too young to die
And they're too old to rock 'n' roll
And they're too young to die

So the old rocker gets out his bike
To make a ton before he takes his leave
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
Just like it used to be

And as he flies, tears in his eyes
His wind-whipped words echo the final take
And he hits the trunk road doing around a 120
With no room left to brake

And he was too old to rock 'n' roll
But he was too young to die
He was too old to rock 'n' roll
And he was too young to die

No, you're never too old to rock 'n' roll
If you're too young to die
[Incomprehensible] never too old to rock 'n' roll
But he was too young to die

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Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll: Too Young To Die (Edited Version) - Lyrics - Jethro Tull

Title: Too Old To Rock 'N' Roll: Too Young To Die (Edited Version)
Artist: Jethro Tull
Composer(s): Ian Anderson

Lyric:
The old rocker wore his hair too long
Wore his trouser cuffs too tight
Unfashionable to the end drank his ale too light

Death's head belts buckle, yesterday's dreams
The transport caf' prophet of doom
Ringing no change in his double sewn seams
In his post-war babe gloom

Now he's too old to rock 'n' roll
But he's too young to die
Yes, he's too old to rock 'n' roll
But he's too young to die

He once owned a Harley Davidson
And a triumph Bonneville
Counted his friends in burned out spark plugs
And prays that he always will

But he's the last of the blue blood greasers boys
And all of his mates are doing time
Married with three kids up by the ring road
Sold their souls straight down the line

And some of them own little sports cars
And meet at the tennis club do's
For drinks on a Sunday, work on Monday
They've thrown away their blue suede shoes

Now they're too old to rock 'n' roll
And they're too young to die
And they're too old to rock 'n' roll
And they're too young to die

So the old rocker gets out his bike
To make a ton before he takes his leave
Up on the A1 by Scotch Corner
Just like it used to be

And as he flies, tears in his eyes
His wind-whipped words echo the final take
And he hits the trunk road doing around a 120
With no room left to brake

And he was too old to rock 'n' roll
But he was too young to die
He was too old to rock 'n' roll
And he was too young to die

No, you're never too old to rock 'n' roll
If you're too young to die
[Incomprehensible] never too old to rock 'n' roll
But he was too young to die

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e8ddb8faef27df9eceee462804286207

Gone Delirious - Lyrics - Presents G.H.E.T.T.O Stories - Swizz Beatz

Title: Gone Delirious
Album: Presents G.H.E.T.T.O Stories
Artist: Swizz Beatz
Composer(s): Kimberly Jones, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
Uh,the monster,Queen Bee,uh huh
You can't be serious
Fix ya face
We gon' do a song
That you never heard before
We comin' to take this yall
We comin' to rock this yall
(This is the world premiere)
Yall ain't ready for it
But get ready for it
Queen Bee
Talk to 'em
(Yo Swizz where it at baby?)
Talk to 'em
(Where it at?)

Just to prove to y'all niggas that I'm still on top
I told Swizz gimme the guttest shit you got
I'ma give it to you raw weather you like it or not
Like its my last bullet and I only got one shot
Aim straight for the middle like I'm throwing a dart
And when I spit belive its going straight to your heart
I lay my Mack game down nigga straight from the start
Don't take it personal baby, fuck you,pay me

Ain't nothin' but ladys in my dark blue Mercedes
With the Beravas kit, got niggas mad as shit
No, we never sip unless there ice in our drinks
But sometimes we get cold from the ice in our minks
That fly girl persona its a premadonna world
Act like you ain't heard about the Gabana girls
Hollyhood style gettin' love around the globe
You might catch me next season on the cover of Vouge

Y'all niggas done gone delirious
Y'all hoes can't be serious
Queen bee,Swizz Beatz,they scared of us
Y'all know it ain't no comparing us

I make moves in the games
The other chick is a fraud
I'm important like the Queen on the chessboard
Bitches talk slick but they ain't got nothin' for me
When I'm in there territory
Its a whole nother story
We never get stuck sometimes take the long route
When our backs aganist the wall we bang our way out

I'm in the "Gettin' money" mode
Livin' by the street code
'Bout to have every corner of this rap game sewed
Hattin' homies better start,showin' some respect
Or get slaped silly heard my man G Dep,
Tryna holla at the bee and you think ya fly
Impress me dawg throw some money in the sky
Dream team rockin' the yellow and black jerseys
Pull out the black Amali when I'm ridin' with my dirtys
666 thats the mark of the beast
I love God nigga and I'm reppin' the streets

Y'all niggas done gone delirious
Y'all hoes can't be serious
Queen bee,Swizz Beatz,they scared of us
Y'all know it ain't no comparing us

Return of the widow, it's goin' down kiddo
Yall hate me,yeah alright ditto
That's why I keep the 4-5 in the pillow
Tresspassers they gon' die in the cribo
Black Barbie knows how to party
Don't ride but I still cop a Harley
Don't lie who else hot besides me
World wide I crush everybody

And I should'nt have to tell yall who run the city
Even my seven year old neice Rizzy
Knows I gets bizzy
You know the name Lil' Kim high class
Shake it Shorty with ya high priced ass, priced ass
Tryin' to be a billionare I got things to do
I made my mark in this game who the fuck are you
They say I'm pretty like chrome on chrome
And that feeling at the top is like home sweet home

Y'all ain't ready for it
Queen bee,y'all ain't ready for it
Y'all ain't ready for it
Y'all ain't ready for it

Y'all niggas done gone delirious
Y'all hoes can't be serious
Queen bee,Swizz Beatz,they scared of us
Y'all know it ain't no comparing us

Get your hands in the air
Everybody get your hands in the air
Get your hands in the air
Everybody get your hands in the air
Get your hands in the air
Everybody get your hands in the air
Get your hands in the air
Everybody get your hands in the air

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