Beat 'Em Up - Lyrics - Blue Oyster Cult

Title: Beat 'Em Up
Artist: Blue Oyster Cult
Composer(s): Bob Halligan Jr.

Lyric:
Come with me, ready or not
You got to jump to the music
Come with me, it's gonna get hot
You got the rhythms to use it

Not everybody co-operates, and I'll say if they wanna play rough
Beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up

Come with me and reach for the sky
Get your fists up where I can see 'em
Come with me, dead or alive
Hey! I want to hear everybody screaming

Some people got a bad attitude and I'll say if they wanna act tough
Beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up

You take a lickin'; keep on kickin'
This fight we both can win
We'll stop sockin' when you stop rockin'
You don't give up, you just give in

Not everybody cooperates and I'll say if they wanna act tough
Beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up
Beat 'em up! You know you got to beat 'em up

Beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up
Beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up, beat 'em up

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2445ff60ac1bcc30dde0782528ae20a1

Line Em Up - Lyrics - Philadelphia Freeway - Freeway

Title: Line Em Up
Album: Philadelphia Freeway
Artist: Freeway
Composer(s): Leslie Pridgen, C Ries, Justin Smith

Lyric:
Thank you ladies and gentlemen
Hold your applause, yeah, holla
It's bout to go down, shut 'em down
Just Blaze, Freeway, Young Chris, Young Guru
The Roc is definitely building, yeah uh, holla

Yeah, listen, if the rhymes stop dumpin'
And beats stop knockin' then Free still fuckin' with Beans
R U to the G-S, maneuver the ve
Throughout the U.S. with two teks of keys

One start up your whip and the other start up your block
Retarded just like a Carter El Nino come take a sniff
Or take a few of you like the glass zit
Or stick shit in your artery

Hustlin's a part of me, niggas retardin' me
Come at the team wrong it's like a see-saw
They down and we up, the pound heat clowns up
I'm moving and re-up teks, blocks and keep gon'

Hustlers and cocks like a school bus
It make stops and it picks kids up
And they wake up the block really early in the mornin'
Word, niggas want drama? Then line 'em up

Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down

Listen, if the coke stop jumpin' and the block stop poppin'
Then Free still fuckin' with Schi M to the is-ash
Come down with the gat and take your sti-ash and kidnap your keeps

One puff in my face and the other go in your face
Retarded? This is a stick up if you slow then pick up the pace
I came to take everything out your safe

And even snatch all your jewelry
Robbins a part of me, you just oughta be
Singin' the same song when money low
Ain't no parameters, snatch chains even honeys know
Amateurs get state green's and hit with 24 months

From playin' the game long, the eight long
Make pockets short snatch hair and bones weight
They been taking from us for too long it ain't wrong
Line 'em up and I jam 'em all yo

Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down

They want a war with the Roc? Okay
Cases catch 'em and beat 'em like O.J.
I been stretchin' my d's since the O'Jays
Before I met Beans and Free, before Jay

Homie, Pops never was there
So I hustled 24 7 like the cops never was there
Yeah, fuck a box 'cause the metal was there
Fuck the cops 'cause the Fed's was paid

I been settled for years, I'm ahead of my years
Tuck the glock come pedal with K's we can settle it here
We run with this beef, we runnin' his peeps
Like five in the mornin' while they under them sheets

Like five gats drawn, soldiers come out they sleep
Tell me what they gon' tell me when the gun out they reach
Homie, we ain't gotta cheat, y'all ain't stopping Sig
Young Gunner startin' P. Guard from State Property

Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down
Line 'em up, line 'em up, line 'em up, I, I shut em down

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9de4876486092a533c4b7bf433976f08

52 - Cartoon Network - Lyrics - It's Pronounced Five Two - Kj

Title: 52 - Cartoon Network
Album: It's Pronounced Five Two
Artist: Kj
Composer(s): Todd V Collins, Jonah Sorrentino

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

Lyric:
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high, down

Now, I was just walking through cartoon land
When all of a sudden I ran into Sponge Bob square pants
He was chilling with the Power Puff Girls and Spider man
Driving down Sesame Street with Scooby Doo in a mini van

He was rocking to the beat driving as fast as they can
They almost ran over Ren and Stimpy and He-Man
I yelled at them slow down but they didn't understand
They said they heading over to a free hip-hop jam

And over in the park let me catch a ride then
I got in picked up Bart Simpson kept driving
Got to the spot and the party was live and
At the open mic contest Bevis and Butt Head was rhyming

I was like them kids is wack give me just a try
And waited patiently till it was just my time
And I told the crowd make noise get ya, hands high
And this is what I said when I grabbed on the mic I told 'em

Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high

Now, said to the crowd, my name's KJ-52
And I came to get down I got something to say to you
Understand what I mean even if you're a cartoon
Jesus reigns supreme that's how my team comes through

And then all of a sudden these wannabe Hard Dudes
From South Park walk up just talk 'nd smack too
And the Smurfs backed them up I guess they was just a crew
They said, let's battle fool, I said, check it out Fu
You're five inch tall plus ya, crew is all blue
I'd prized up on y'all if I just bettled you

They said la, la, la
That's all you ever say dude
And just right then just the crowd started to boo
Them right off the stage but I knew just what to do
I told D.J.Voltron just on the ones and two's
Man kick the beat check it out this is how I'm rocking you, common

Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high

Now the crowd started cheering the party was slamming
The Thunder Cats and Pokemon they was break dancing
Transformers hopped in and started pop locking
G.I.Joe and Johnny Bravo chilling and just watching

I stayed on the mic and kept the speakers knocking
Letting them know that Christ was the reason that I'm dropping
All the world's life need the reason why I'm rocking
I could go on all night and just keep on talking

But just right then Power Rangers started walking
Up, on the stage and said, I won the open mic and
As I reached to get my trophy and just claim my prize and
Well, out of nowhere well this is what happened

Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high, down

Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high
Oh, ah, push 'em up high, oh, ah, push 'em up high

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58f6e66c959d609d70ed3c543dc2197d

Beat Up On Yo Pads - Lyrics - Tha Blue Carpet Treatment - Snoop Dogg

Title: Beat Up On Yo Pads
Album: Tha Blue Carpet Treatment
Artist: Snoop Dogg
Composer(s): Desmond Travis, Denaun M Porter, Calvin Broadus

Lyric:
Who ride? We ride
Who ride? We ride
Who ride? We ride

On three, we ride
One, two, three, we ride
One, two, three, we ride
One, two, three, we ride
Mr. Porter

Beat up on yo pads
C'mon little homie, go on and beat up on yo pads
Yeah, beat up on yo pads
Steelers, Steelers

Yeah, beat up on yo pads
C'mon little homie, go on and beat up on yo pads
You love football? Well, beat up on yo pads
If you down with Snoop Dogg, go on and beat up on yo pads

All my little homies, beat up on yo pads
C'mon little homie, go on and beat up on yo pads
If you're runnin' the ball then speed up on 'em fast
Ain't no need to play with 'em, go on beat up on yo pads

They bang every Saturday and Sunday, loc
SYFL, man, it ain't no joke
Helmets and shoulder pads, ain't no bulletproof vests
See ain't too many options on the Wild Wild West

So I've been blessed, so I guess that I can give back
Football in the hood, dog, you dig that?
I brought the demos back and that's just one
I'm in Pomona with the Steelers, come and get some

Want some bad enough, take it
Them runningbacks dippin', cuttin' and shakin'
You ain't gettin' none
Inside out, hit the eight gap
I love it when they say that, ?Who's house??

C house, G house, P house, D house
Well, we house wherever we go, blowin' 'em out
Lettin' 'em know, never know that you could shine
It's all for the kids and plus they havin' a good time

And as long as I live
I'ma stay doin' positive and helpin' the kids
So when you see me on the football field
"I need to holla at you, Doggy Dogg", homie, chill

Now what you need to do is read up on my past
'Fore I have my little homies go and beat up on yo ***
Matter 'fact, little homie, go and beat up on yo pads
Show 'em how we get out ball on, beat up on yo pads

Yeah, go on and beat up on yo pads
All my little homies, go ahead and beat up on yo pads
If you a ball player, then beat up on yo pads
SYFL, homie, beat up on yo pads

Yeah, go on and beat up on yo pads
All my little homies, go on and beat up on yo pads
Aw yeah, beat up on yo pads
Ain't nuttin' to it but to do it, beat up on yo pads, pads

Yeah, go on and beat up on yo pads
C'mon little homie, go on and beat up on yo pads
Celebratin', just beat up on yo pads
All in together now, just beat up on yo pads

Yeah, go on and beat up on yo pads
All you football players, go on and beat up on yo pads
All in together now, c'mon y'all
Go on beat up on yo, beat up on yo, beat up on yo pads, pads

For all my little homies in the Snoop Youth Football League
Yeah, you know Coach Snoop love y'all
Ain't nuttin' to it but to do it

For all my future NFL stars, yeah from the SYFL to high school
On to college, on to the big leagues, that's what it does
Yeah, for the kids, man, it's for the kids, man
It's for the kids, hold on hold, back up

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0f3ee70760d42b8f014afbe43f7e8ae4

Beat It Up - Lyrics - Big Money Heavyweight - Big Tymers

Title: Beat It Up
Album: Big Money Heavyweight
Artist: Big Tymers
Composer(s): Marinna L Teal, Byron O Thomas, Bryan Williams

Lyric:
Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up
Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up

You know you want this pussy
Sure do
You know you want this pussy
It's true
You know you want this pussy
Bring it on
You know you want this pussy
And I'm gone

With so much pussy on the city streets
It's kinda hard for a pimp keepin' up with these freaks
But I tracks em' down, backs em' down, bustin' they guts
Leave pussy so gushi, overflowin' with nuts
I'm a hellified, superfied, pickle slingin' mack
Dick like a stick breaking off in your back
It's explicit when I gets it baby all night long
Knock your head against the bead till the insides gone

Give you big long wood, beat it real good
I ain't your man, I ain't Stan, but I wish I could
An hour in the shower, then on top of the dresser
Then the bed, give me head, and then I'm a letcha
Ride that pole, make you say, oh
The sex is incredible, the dick is like woah
Cussin', lustin', bout to get a nut when she looked at me
And said

Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up
Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up

You know you want this pussy
Sure do
You know you want this pussy
It's true
You know you want this pussy
Bring it on
You know you want this pussy
And I'm gone

I come with, TV's and DVD's in the cars, and I
Pack a big dick down in the drawers
I'm the neighborhood pickle slinger, pain bringer
Super sick big dick, nasty ass rap singer
Do it baby, stick it baby, do it baby, get it
Make that ass clap every time that I hit it
Now all I need, is liquor and weed
Two dyke bitches straight down to get G's

See I got it up, gotta hit it, gotta get it 'cause I moved up
Gotta split it, gotta fit it to a magnum
Gotta fuck it, don't love it, I don't want none
But you can have some, see I played homie
Fucked the bedspreads up, 'cause I banged on it
Hit tha hoe from the back and she sang homie
These same ass words from the same song, the same song

Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up
Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up

You know you want this pussy
Sure do
You know you want this pussy
It's true
You know you want this pussy
Bring it on
You know you want this pussy
And I'm gone

This story takes place on a late night
I was on the lake front trying to get some act right
Hoe was acting funny so I had to kick game
I said you be my queen, I be your king
And things will never change
Now I'm just sitting there, lookin' at the beaver
It's hairy like Barry and its bigger than Geneva
Something said stick my finger in it so I did

Then came the 2, the 3, the 4, the thumb and shit
I just don't believe it, how could she conceive it
My fist, my wrist bitch, you need to summer's eve it
Douche ya bush black, you smell like step back
What the fuck is that tuna cat
Put her out my jag fast, tell that bitch you get no cash
Get your shit together shorty, clean your little funky ass
Been a lot of places, did a lot of shows, met a lot of people
Fucked a lot of hoes, I

Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up
Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up

You know you want this pussy
Sure do
You know you want this pussy
It's true
You know you want this pussy
Bring it on
You know you want this pussy
And I'm gone

Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up
Beat it up, beat it up, beat it up daddy
Beat it up, beat it up

You know you want this pussy
Sure do
You know you want this pussy
It's true
You know you want this pussy
Bring it on
You know you want this pussy
And I'm gone

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186e3ae9f65a389606478fa70352f302

Get It Up (Remix) - Lyrics - Sticky Fingaz

Title: Get It Up (Remix)
Artist: Sticky Fingaz
Composer(s): Kirk Jones, George Spivey

Lyric:
Damn, is y'all ready to go up in here?
Alright, pull the black mask down
We 'bout to rush the door
Ah shit, hide your jewelry
I told y'all we was coming
Yo everybody watch out, word up

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player, pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Yo Sticky Fingaz, word out
I told y'all niggas, yo come on

Hennesied up, play the cut, lightin' it up
Rag on my head, eyes lookin' half way dead
Brought my thugs to the club, straight off the street
I'm iceburg to my feet about a third of the week

Relax baby, don't spazz 'cuz he touched your ass
I ain't say shit when your friend touched my dick
I see Brooklyn schemin', we all in the spot
But that's hip hop, we rap niggaz from off the block

Is it me or is it gettin' hot in here?
I think somebody 'bout to get shot in here
The nine mill guaranteed to clear the spot in here
And we ain't get searched kid, we got glocks in here

Somebody bring me to the hoe suckin' cocks in here
I think they trying to shut it down, I seen cops in here
I'm the hottest shit Universal got this year
And all my niggaz rockin' rocks in here, come on

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player, pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass, baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Black Trash, yo kick that old real shit
That Queens shit nigga

Fire marshall said it's too packed, nigga fuck the law
And the guest list, niggaz 'bout to rush the door
Got cats online in ties and suits
We come through VIP and button flies and boots

Everybody gettin' comped, I ain't paying no admission
Sticky Fingaz, I can't even pay attention
Love the freaks that tweek and be liftin' it up
Love the freaks that creep and be givin' it up

I got twelve inches, I'm well hung
Nine on my dick and three on my toungue
My manager, the bitch name is Helen Wate
Need a free show? Nigga go to hell and wait

And if God only helped those that help themselves
When I see somethin', I want 'em, I help myself
So unless you and me come to a understanding
You gonna be under, and I'ma be standin'

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player, pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass, baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Word up, we takin' all y'a money
We takin' all y'a bitches, what y'all thought it was?

I'm so hot to death, I'll probably get shot to death
Fuck who the cops arrest my killers is rough
Shoot up the club like Puff, niggaz'll duck
Chains tucked, Timbs get scuffed

I pull a four-four from out of the seat
Up out it and beat, picture me not ridin' with heat
Jump out of the Jeep, clear a nigga out of the street
Nobody can creep thirty deep nigga, I'm out of your reach

Ain't nothing but killers boastin' next to me
I'm prejudice, I hate every colors except for green
In the club, that's were my niggaz jewelry shop
When the hammer cock, we don't care who we box

So why you come to the club, what you livin' it up?
Why you fuckin' with that chicken, was she givin' it up?
Why you even cop jewels, what you can't get stuck?
Why you never say when, you ain't had enough?

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass, baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Let's go, get it up

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Get It Up (Snoop Remix) - Lyrics - Sticky Fingaz

Title: Get It Up (Snoop Remix)
Artist: Sticky Fingaz
Composer(s): Kirk Jones, George Spivey

Lyric:
Damn, is y'all ready to go up in here?
Alright, pull the black mask down
We 'bout to rush the door
Ah shit, hide your jewelry
I told y'all we was coming
Yo everybody watch out, word up

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player, pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Yo Sticky Fingaz, word out
I told y'all niggas, yo come on

Hennesied up, play the cut, lightin' it up
Rag on my head, eyes lookin' half way dead
Brought my thugs to the club, straight off the street
I'm iceburg to my feet about a third of the week

Relax baby, don't spazz 'cuz he touched your ass
I ain't say shit when your friend touched my dick
I see Brooklyn schemin', we all in the spot
But that's hip hop, we rap niggaz from off the block

Is it me or is it gettin' hot in here?
I think somebody 'bout to get shot in here
The nine mill guaranteed to clear the spot in here
And we ain't get searched kid, we got glocks in here

Somebody bring me to the hoe suckin' cocks in here
I think they trying to shut it down, I seen cops in here
I'm the hottest shit Universal got this year
And all my niggaz rockin' rocks in here, come on

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player, pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass, baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Black Trash, yo kick that old real shit
That Queens shit nigga

Fire marshall said it's too packed, nigga fuck the law
And the guest list, niggaz 'bout to rush the door
Got cats online in ties and suits
We come through VIP and button flies and boots

Everybody gettin' comped, I ain't paying no admission
Sticky Fingaz, I can't even pay attention
Love the freaks that tweek and be liftin' it up
Love the freaks that creep and be givin' it up

I got twelve inches, I'm well hung
Nine on my dick and three on my toungue
My manager, the bitch name is Helen Wate
Need a free show? Nigga go to hell and wait

And if God only helped those that help themselves
When I see somethin', I want 'em, I help myself
So unless you and me come to a understanding
You gonna be under, and I'ma be standin'

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player, pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass, baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Word up, we takin' all y'a money
We takin' all y'a bitches, what y'all thought it was?

I'm so hot to death, I'll probably get shot to death
Fuck who the cops arrest my killers is rough
Shoot up the club like Puff, niggaz'll duck
Chains tucked, Timbs get scuffed

I pull a four-four from out of the seat
Up out it and beat, picture me not ridin' with heat
Jump out of the Jeep, clear a nigga out of the street
Nobody can creep thirty deep nigga, I'm out of your reach

Ain't nothing but killers boastin' next to me
I'm prejudice, I hate every colors except for green
In the club, that's were my niggaz jewelry shop
When the hammer cock, we don't care who we box

So why you come to the club, what you livin' it up?
Why you fuckin' with that chicken, was she givin' it up?
Why you even cop jewels, what you can't get stuck?
Why you never say when, you ain't had enough?

Get it up, huh
The ice on ya wrist player pick it up, huh
My killers in the cut coast, stick 'em up, huh
Ladies grab your shirts and lift 'em up, huh
Lemme see your ass, baby, back it up, huh

My soldiers on the front line actin' up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh
Lemme see your guns, what? Throw 'em up, huh

Let's go, get it up

Play the MP3 online for free!

f91d03649ec1db940027a9b7567cf060

Playboy - Lyrics - The Hunger for More - Lloyd Banks

Title: Playboy
Album: The Hunger for More
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Christopher Lloyd, Brian Hines, Denny Laine

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

Lyric:
Aw man, can I get a raw beat?
Y'all ready, y'all ready
For the main man
The Lloyd Banks

Guess who's the man this winter, straight out the land of sinners
The Range is tan with spinners, check out the white mirrors
Blow with the damn winners, while you and your man's finished
Two in your Rams fitteds, turn off your light switch

Holdin' my torch down, even when the force 'round
You let your wife roam, she want a divorce now
You niggaz ain't this gully, play it I paint your skully
You never take this from me the riders and all the gangsters love me

You shouldn't be a problem, I ain't be a problem
See you later I read your head, you be a Robin
I know your type, hoppin' all over beat screamin'
You call it hypin' yourself up, I call it street dreamin'

I do it for all the haters, the players roll with the 'gators
They lookin' forward to favors, gossip is all they gave us
You niggaz wasn't quiet, meet the whales and the fishes
You leak the precinct up, play Tattletale with the snitches

Even my momma knows, I got all kind of hoes
They wait outside of shows, strict after the diner close
I'll get designer clothes, without the wine or rose
Take off my baby blue mink, and Carolina Vogues

Come here, take a look inside a entertainer's closet
I never trust a bitch, I blame Lorena Bobbitt
Niggaz stay in pocket, I know you're mad at me
But shit ain't all peaches and cream, and I ain't Sara Lee
Bitch

Don't ice me, you starin' at the wrong one
It's a lot of girls here, go and get a grown one
We at the bar poppin' bottles 'til they all gone
If you ain't leavin' here with us, you can walk home
'Cause someone else will, they know how we ride
If you a playboy, you got one on East side
Keep your mouth closed, we don't let the beef ride

(What)
Ride
(What)
Ride
(What)
Ride
(Right, damn)
(Let's go)

I do this for the hood, niggaz stuck in the slammer
I smile 'cause I'm good, you act tough for the camera
Run from the lil' kids, they fuckin' with Santa
'Cause they like 2Pac more, word? Word to my grandma

I figure I might as well leave here with my glock drawn
'Cause they'll take ya to jail, even when you're not wrong
Dawg, you're not this flashy, jux you got to blast me
Every rock is classy, nobody on your block can match me

You shouldn't wanna fight, unless you wanna fight
For your life in the hospital a hundred nights
I know your type, run behind your girlfriend rushin'
You call it quality time, I call it handcuffin'

I'm on a beach in Miami, so you ain't reachin' my family
All weekend with panties from Puerto Rican Cammie
You niggaz wasn't tough, I shoulda snapped two flicks
You wore your pants tight, played Pitty-Pat with the chicks

Even my father knows, where the revolver goes
I bring the beef to your front door like Dominoes
And my diamonds froze, that mean my time is froze
Me in the club from when it's poppin' 'til the time it close

Half of these so-called real niggaz'll probably sing
Nah, I ain't pullin' over, learned that from Rodney King
So tell your homey chill, you know I hold the steel
Everything be jabs and hooks, and you ain't Holyfield
Nigga

Don't ice me, you starin' at the wrong one
It's a lot of girls here, go and get a grown one
We at the bar poppin' bottles 'til they all gone
If you ain't leavin' here with us, you can walk home
'Cause someone else will, they know how we ride
If you a playboy, you got one on East side
Keep your mouth closed, we don't let the beef ride

Everybody on the left get yo' hands up
(Get yo' hands up)
Everybody on the right get yo' hands up
(Get yo' hands up)
Everybody up front get yo' hands up
(Get yo' hands up)
And everybody out back get yo' hands up
(What)

And if you in here with a strap get yo' hands up
(What)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)

What, man fuck what he said man, put 'em up
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)
Now put 'em up
(Put 'em up!)

Ooh
Lloyd Banks, what?
Ooh!

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6f75cc1a4c9a02107345feb4b1d7d678

Eat Em Up L Chill - Lyrics - Mama Said Knock You Out - Ll Cool J

Title: Eat Em Up L Chill
Album: Mama Said Knock You Out
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): J T Smith, M Williams

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

Lyric:
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)

Bring on the mo's and ho's
Don't snooze or doze, 'cause I'm rippin' up shows
Hold your nose, dead bodies are around
I leave scratch marks under the tears of a clown

I write rhymes that shine like lipstick
So much material but not materialistic
Imperial styles, I use
When the mic is lifted the crowd is amused

Come with it if you feel you're full fledged
Or yell, "Geronimo" and jump off the edge
Your E N D is near when I appear
The stage is yours but wait until the smoke clears

Rhyme sayer, and I'm here to lay a load
So watch a player when he's playin' in player mode
Uncle L's bad and you're soon to say
'Cause I rip the mic until the toon decay

Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)

MC's are dumb, I catch 'em in a dragnet
You're not complete, I'm battlin' a fragment
So creative and witty and outstandin'
And I be demandin' that you're abandoned

In the desert or a wild west town
While I'm at your crib on a cherry-go-round
Where will she stop? No one knows
Like I said before, bring on the mo's and ho's

I know my A B C's and my P C Q's
Just chill and listen to the rhyme cruise
All aboard, the cod is a reward
Some were ignored when they toured for they bored

The crowd was aloud, lyrics weren't endowed
Took a crack of the forty and went to show 'em, how
You like me now but you didn't before
'Cause you forgot, I was raw

Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Yo, eat 'em up, L)

Future of the funk
(Go ahead, baby, do it)
Go ahead, baby
(Do it, do it)

Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Yo, eat 'em up, L)

Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Yo, eat 'em up, L)

It's so visual the way I'm throwin' down
Visualize MC's goin' down
In a barrage of bullets combinated with rhymes
The moral of the story is, I'ma get mines
I saw the cordless, boy, I'm gonna house that
Your rhymes are cheesy, you found 'em in a mouse trap

Don't try to front while the freestyle's droppin'
He wants to battle, he must be needle poppin'
You better notify your next akin
'Cause when I begin it's like a needle to the skin
If you wasn't prepared, then you ought to be scared

But even if you was, you're aware, what the rhyme does
I remember when you was an amateur
Writin' your rhymes, starin' at my signature
Bought the album, analyzed the style, God bless you, child

I'm unique when I speak to a beat
Another rapper'll fall when the mission's complete
I daze and amaze, my display's a faze
Every phrase is a maze as uncle L slays

The competition that's lost in a freestyle
'Cause on the mic, I'm the golden child
With the magical wand that they're callin' a mike
And when MC's approach it turns into a spike

Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Chill
(Eat 'em up, L)
Why don't you just chill
(Eat 'em up, L)

Yeah, yeah, I wanna say what's up to my man, Kool Herc
And my man Afrika Bambaataa and the Zulu nation
Know what, what I'm sayin', my man, Marley, Marl and DJ clash
My man B-blast, Rush town, Def jam, we in the house
Of course I gotta say what's up to my homeboys EPMD
Yeah, I get busy, peace

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8b02791aa80f15b728e4e723c352ac4f

Wicked Bounce - Lyrics - 19 Naughty Nine: Nature's Fury - Naughty By Nature

Title: Wicked Bounce
Album: 19 Naughty Nine: Nature's Fury
Artist: Naughty By Nature
Composer(s): Keir Gist, Lorraine Whittlesey, Vincent Vinnie Brown, Anthony Criss

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

Lyric:
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, what?

Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now

Well here's a shout out to all those who think that we slipped
Doin' this ever since 165, north 15th breakdancin' with slick
Nigga what, I'll beat your butt, you niggas on a beef or what
And if I gotta go deep, I'll cut and if you try to face this
The naughty by the nature gonna lace this

Track, we be the cream of the pack
Don't come up in my face with bullshit 'cuz you're bound to get slapped
And then we'll take it to a level where you're gonna get clapped
And then we'll all be up in court, I don't got time for that

'Cuz I'm, one third, naughty, look into my eyes, yeah you know me
Ain't nobody pimpin' like us three, call us masters, O.P.P
And when I draw the line don't get in the way, I'm paper chasin'
Or I'll be cuttin' you off like Friday, the 13th and I'm Jason

Single don't mingle with ladies hearts, I'm a thief
I'm not a virgin but virgo, birthday September 17th
And don't ask me for favors 'cuz it'll be just like pullin' teeth
I'm on some new shit with niggas 'cuz you continually sleep, don't creep

Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, what?

Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now

Dun, dun, dun, dun, dun dirty, the motherfucker with them jewels on
Did the dirt, turn the news on
Nigga left layin' with his shoes on
With every clue gone

You actin' nervous, what'd you do wrong?
Nigga lookin' shaky, all fakey, all quiet
Ah, forget about it when the feud's on
Now wha-wha, what put 'em up that's what the party get

I bartend on some naughty shit and no play that shorty shit
We hittin' and kickin' like this shit
Shakin' like you know chicken like pick, pick, pick pickin' the town
Dickin' em down, pickin' a hoe, give 'em a show, the rigamarole

So, if you ever go report, you seen my tribe
I best to pray you got nine lives because your goddamn eyes lied
[Incomprehensible]
That's 25 lines motherfucker you on my side
What you gonna do, when a dude talkin' all the drunk talk
At least you'll die high

Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, what?

Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now

Just look don't touch, just tip my bitch
'Cuz things get crazy now
Punk motherfucker gonna pay me now
Got busy, got forty, got fam, got fuss, got jet, got slash

Diesel do, take apart that ass
Got another motherfucker get cash fast
Did dash smash, who you fought last, him or me?
Them or we? Get Hennessy, you memory

Treachery, and next to me, it's that nigga uncle Vinnie
What with K Boogie on the break release
The beat don't cease till we double fuckin' platinum apiece
Hands touched

Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, check it out
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now, what?

Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Put 'em up, what, what?
Don't fuck with us
Watch these niggas get wicked now

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a20ce3281dde1e5940dcb8f4cf803d7a

I Sho Will - Lyrics - Phinally Phamous - Lil Wyte

Title: I Sho Will
Album: Phinally Phamous
Artist: Lil Wyte
Composer(s): Paul Beauregard, Cedric Kelvin Coleman, Jordan Houston, Patrick Dhane Lanshaw

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

Lyric:
Yeah, hypnotize minds, no way
It's going down, the club crazy right now
I don't believe you'll do, we don't believe you
Yeah, finish it, wait

Would you beat 'em to the flo in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

You motherfuckers want true colors, I got white and I got black
Bay area motherfuckers comin' soon as I step off the track
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If this hater got stomped to the floor, faith took over all the shit

Frayser bizzle, DJ pizzle, Lil Wyizzle and Hypnotizzle
Run the shizzle for shizzle, roll up another one my nizzle
I gotta maintain, I gotta get change
I got to rip this mic from California to Maine

And take it over to Spain, send it to the Dominicans
Tell 'em to examine it, start jammin' all of my sentences
Make sure that they remember this, like if it was some religious shit
The white gold ghetto, platinum, honkey rippin' it

Take it to the bank, get to deposit slip and fill it out
Write it for thirty thousand, turn around and shove it in your mouth
To review hypnotize and you'll see nothin', but potential
People gettin' beat to the flo and it started with a pencil

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

Check it out at a brutal scene, Lil Wyte lighted with gasoline
Fire breathin', gettin' closer to the grass that isn't green
Which means, your team is expired to the back of the pack
Sixteen bars on the side and knowledge on every track

Holdin' it down, never happened, give my crown, keep on rappin'
Even at seventy-five, I'll still be able to work my magic
Be the, Willy Nelson of the next generation
A rising legacy shinin' across every nation

I need a passport luggage and a new wardrobe
Fifty billion, but I would settle for two point four
Check the scans on the man, in this independent land
No video, no single record companies like I be damned

This white cat can rap and put on a good show
It's funny how his music can put me down to the flo
I got to give it raw, I got to give it dirty
Whatever city you rappin', beat 'em down if ya heard me

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

See I had seen the brighter days, smokin' plenty, lightin' hay
My album hit a hundred thousand, now shit been going my way
I give my props to my pops, give my props to my mouth
Give my props to the camp, give my props to the south

Now I'm drunk and I'm high, but I bet you already knew it
You buck as me, you buck as us and we twice as buck as you
Security started movin' to the middle of the crowd
Only if he got a gun, will I agree to shut it down?

'Cuz I ain't trying to get shot by no motherfucking punk
A nerd by day just had too many drinks and all of a sudden crunk
Pick me up, let me out, blow me up and bump me loud
Too many styles be coming up out of me, whenever I hit the crowd

I have a high pace game, face, eye balls off in outer space
Keeping with this shit, tryin' to stay awake, what you think?
Only cracker good enough to be down with the six
Clearly understood that this is some original gangsta shit

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

Would you beat 'em to the flo' in the club?
(I sho will)
Would you jack 'em even if they ain't dub?
(I sho will)
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch
If he actin' like a bitch, we gon' treat 'em like a bitch

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c318d77518543b52c3c60ae7bc6e0f21

Bring 'Em Out - Lyrics - Smile It's the End of the World - Hawk Nelson

Title: Bring 'Em Out
Album: Smile It's the End of the World
Artist: Hawk Nelson
Composer(s): Jason Dunn, Trevor Mcnevan, Daniel Biro

Lyric:
All the girls and the boys
And people making noise
Just let me hear you shout
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Pump up your fist
If you twist like this
'Til the lights go out
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

All the girls and the boys
And people making noise
Just let me hear you shout
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Pump up your fist
If you twist like this
'Til the lights go out
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Katie, I don't know why I even try
'Cause lately, you're always out with other guys
Pretty baby, don't you know I'll treat you right
I'll go crazy, if you pass me up tonight

Hey, hey, hey hey
Hey, hey, hey hey, hey

All this time can't get it off my mind
Dance the night away, keep rocking with me
The groove's alright, rocking all night
I wanna hear you say

All the girls and the boys
And people making noise
Just let me hear you shout
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Pump up your fist
If you twist like this
'Til the lights go out
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Wake up, I'm calling you up, I need a ride
We're gonna shake up
So hurry it up, no wasted time

The girls in their makeup
(In black and white)
Exchanging looks tonight
I just ran into some other friends of mine
Someone's coming 'round to pick them up at nine

Hey, hey, hey hey
Hey, hey, hey hey, hey

All this time can't get it off my mind
Dance the night away, keep rocking with me
The grooves alright, rocking all night
I wanna hear you say
Hey, hey, hey

All this time can't get it off my mind
Dance the night away, keep rocking with me
The grooves alright, rocking all night

Shake it, shake it up until we break it
We won't stop till we just can't take it

Everybody move to the beat, come on
Everybody move to the beat, come on
Everybody rock to the break of dawn
Everybody else just sing along

Everybody move to the beat, come on
Everybody move to the beat, come on
Everybody rock to the break of dawn
Everybody else just sing along

Everybody move to the beat, come on
Everybody move to the beat, come on
Everybody rock to the break of dawn
Everybody else just sing along, go

All this time can't get it off my mind
Dance the night away
When the groove's alright, rocking all night
I wanna hear you say

All this time can't get it off my mind
Dance the night away
When the groove's alright, rocking all night
I wanna hear you say

All the girls and the boys
And people making noise
Just let me hear you shout
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Pump up your fist
If you twist like this
'Til the lights go out
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

All the girls and the boys
And people making noise
Just let me hear you shout
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

Pump up your fist
If you twist like this
'Til the lights go out
(Bring 'em out, bring 'em out)

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d9a071b65e59337db06eabb51b59353c

Go For The Throat - Lyrics - Beat 'Em Up - Iggy Pop

Title: Go For The Throat
Album: Beat 'Em Up
Artist: Iggy Pop
Composer(s): Whitey Kirst, Alex Kirst, James Osterberg, Moosma

Lyric:
I was layin' in a coma
By the side of some damn road
My fuckin' heart was poundin'
Like I thought I would explode

I had no protection
No family or friends
I had nothing really
But a will to make this end

Go for the throat, go for the throat
Go for the throat, go for the throat
I'm fucked up, I'm so fucked up

It isn't very nice
What I do to make end's meet
It isn't very pretty when you hate
The folks you meet

It's a shame to feel hurt
And angry everyday
It's a shame to take that out
On whoever's in the way

Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Man, I'm so fucked up

I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up
I'm fucked up, I'm fucked up
Man, I'm so fucked up

Poor little girl
I hurt her pretty bad
I ain't been the same
Since I lost my mom and dad

Where is the justice?
Well, I really don't know
When everybody's singin'
Like a fucking so and so

Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up
Yeah, I'm so fucked up

Yeah, yeah, yeah

They took away my freedom
They took away my games
They took away my innocence
Gave me shitty fame

There's nothing left to stop me
There's nothing left to feel
There's nothing left inside me
But a low down dirty deal

Go for the throat, go for the throat
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up, baby
Go for the throat, I'm fucked up, baby
I'm so fucked up, baby

I'm so fucked up
Oh, I'm fucked up, I'm so fucked up
Oh, I'm fucked up, I'm so fucked up
Go for the throat

I'm fucked up, yeah, I'm so fucked up
Go for the throat, go for the throat
Go for the throat, go for the throat
Go for the throat, go for the throat

Oh, the throat, go for the throat
I'm fucked up, man, I'm so fucked up
I'm so fucked up, I'm fucked up, oh
I'm so fucked up, go for the throat

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ffc281624f77d59a4089f32af3f0e584

Rock, Rocking Tha Spot - Lyrics - In Stereo (Tour Edition) - Bomfunk Mc'S

Title: Rock, Rocking Tha Spot
Album: In Stereo (Tour Edition)
Artist: Bomfunk Mc'S
Composer(s): Raymond Ebanks, Jaakko Salovarra

Lyric:
Right about now, in this place to be
Most definitely the Bomfunk MC's dropping the bomb

Whole lotta soul as he cuts it up
Rock, rock and roll as he cuts it up
Cutmaster King with hardcore cuts
Makin' it rough, rock, rocking tha spot

Cool evidently as he cuts it up
Break, breakin' the funk as he cuts it up
Wounded heart with the B-Boys drop
Dropping the bomb, rock, rocking tha spot

Watch behind move as he cuts it up
Delivering the groove as he cuts it up
Transforming the shit to the beat that rocks
Bad meaning, bad meaning, don't stop

You know you're itchy when he cuts it up
Place get wet as he cuts it up
Pure madness on wheels, throw 'em up, throw 'em up
Go, Gismo, go, let me see what you're made of

Hear me out now 'cause mic, I will rock
You can't say, I'm not 'cause the mic, I'll rock
(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
This a DJ, about to mash it up

(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
This a DJ, about to mash it up

(Fuck me)
Rocking tha spot, what?
(Fuck me)
Take it to the top, what?
(Fuck me)
Throw 'em up, what? what?
Doing the do 'cause the mic, I'll rock, what?

(Fuck me)
Rocking tha spot, what?
(Fuck me)
Take it to the top, what?
(Fuck me)
Throw 'em up, what? what?
Doing the do 'cause the mic, I'll rock, what?

Hear me out now 'cause the mic, I will rock
You can't say, I'm not 'cause the mic, I'll rock
Bom bom, you feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
This a DJ, about to mash it up

Blowin' the roof off 'cause the mic I'll rock
Got a rocket in my pocket 'cause the mic I'll rock
In the way to stars for the future shock
B.O.W. rock, rocking tha spot

Watch behind move as he cuts it up
Delivering the groove as he cuts it up
Transforming the shit to the beat that rocks
Bad meaning, bad meaning, don't stop

You know you're itchy when he cuts it up
Place go wet as she cuts it up
Pure madness on wheels, throw 'em up, throw 'em up
Go, Gismo, go, let me see what you're made of

Hear me out now 'cause mic, I will rock
You can't say, I'm not 'cause the mic, I'll rock
(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
This a DJ, about to mash it up

(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
(Bom bom)
You feel lick a shot, you feel lick a shot
This a DJ, about to mash it up

(Fuck me)
Rocking tha spot, what?
(Fuck me)
Take it to the top, what?
(Fuck me)
Throw 'em up, what? what?
Doing the do 'cause the mic, I'll rock, what?

(Fuck me)
Rocking tha spot, what?
(Fuck me)
Take it to the top, what?
(Fuck me)
Throw 'em up, what? what?
Doing the do 'cause the mic, I'll rock, what?

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Eternal - Lyrics - E. 1999 Eternal - Bone Thugs N Harmony

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Make It Funky - Lyrics - Songs About Girls - Will I Am

Title: Make It Funky
Album: Songs About Girls
Artist: Will I Am
Composer(s): William Adams

Lyric:
Make it funky for me
Make it funky for me
Make it funky for me, DJ

Make it funky for me
Make it funky for me
Make it funky for me, DJ
She said, she said she

Move it in, check it out
Move it in, check it out
Move it

It's the funk that make you jump
Sexy honeys shake they hump
Got them dummies spendin' money
Just to get up in your junk

Buy you drinks up at the bar
Fill you up with alcohol
Rendezvous you, try to do you
Even walk you to your car

You don't want what's goin' down
You freak them to the sound
The bass was steady poundin'
You dropped it to the ground

Hypnotized by the DJ
When he select the beat
Steady rockin on a weekday
Heavy on repeat

So put 'em up, put 'em up
Drop it down to the ground
Back it up, back it up
Somebody ask the DJ

Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it, DJ?

Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Gotta ask the DJ

I make it funky for ya
I make ya feel alright
I make it funky for ya
I make ya feel al

Reach for somethin' really high
Go ahead and touch the sky
Ain't no limit when you in it
Live it up 'cause it's your life

Any minute we gon' spend it
Like the shit never gets spun
Oh yeah, this shit just begun
And we came to have fun

Put away your guns
Ladies keep shakin' your buns
Some body grab some body
Party 'til the sun come up

And we ain't stoppin'
I don't care if 20 cops come in
Let 'em keep knockin' and knockin'
We keep on rockin'

So put 'em up, put 'em up
Drop it down to the ground
Make it hot, make it hot
Somebody ask the DJ

Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it DJ?

Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
Can you make it funky for me?
[Incomprehensible] DJ

I make it funky for ya
I make ya feel alright
I make it funky for ya
I make ya feel alright

I make it funky for ya
I make ya feel alright
I make it funky for ya
I make ya feel al

You like the beat? Yeah
You like the beat? Yeah
You like the beat? Yeah
You like the beat? Oh

Go 'head girl rock it to the beat
Go 'head girl rock it to the beat

Yo, you like the track? Yeah
You like the track? Yeah
You like the track? Yeah
You like the track? Oh

Go 'head girl shake it like that
Go 'head girl shake it like that

You like the sound? Yeah
You like the sound? Yeah
You like the sound? Yeah
You like the sound? Oh

Go 'head girl move it all around
Go 'head girl move it all around, yes

Go 'head girl rock your body
Go 'head girl rock your body
Go 'head boy rock my body
Go 'head boy rock my body

Go 'head girl rock your body
Go 'head girl rock your body
Go 'head boy rock my body
Go 'head boy rock my body

Go 'head girl rock your body
Go 'head girl rock your body
Go 'head boy rock my body
Go 'head boy rock my body

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