Beats At The Office - Lyrics - Bis

Title: Beats At The Office
Artist: Bis
Composer(s): John Mckenzie Clark, Steven James Clark, Amanda Mackinnon

Lyric:
Your beats are at the office, sir
Your beats are at the office, sir
Your beats are at the office, sir
Your beats are at the office, sir
Your beats are at the office, sir

Sit upstairs in the leather chair
You talk to people and pretend to care
It's no good working for the company
When resisting power comes naturally

'Cause there's one thing I know for
One thing I know for sure and that's you
There's one thing I know for
One thing I know for sure, I got that feeling

I don't want to be a high-fly, no mind
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
Look right, skin tight
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
High, dry, tough guy
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
White line, feels fine
(Your beats are at the office, sir)

Don't want responsibility
Just ask that girl sitting next to me
She works alone where nobody's near
And she's making music like you'd never hear

'Cause there's one thing I know for
One thing I know for sure and that's you
There's one thing I know for
One thing I know for sure, I got that feeling

I don't want to be a high-fly, no mind
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
Look right, skin tight
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
High, dry, tough guy
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
White line, feels fine
(Your beats are at the office, sir)

Programming is my one outlet
It beats the sickness in my chest
I have these beats inside my head
Back to the office block instead

Your beats are at the office, sir

High-fly, no mind
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
Look right, skin tight
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
High, dry, tough guy
(Your beats are at the office, sir)
White line, feels fine
(Your beats are at the office, sir)

Your beats are at the office, sir
Your beats are at the office, sir
Your beats are at the office, sir
...

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Z - Parking Lot Pimpin' - Lyrics - The Dynasty Roc La Familia - Jay

Title: Z - Parking Lot Pimpin'
Album: The Dynasty Roc La Familia
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Cynthia Loving, Shawn Carter, Malik Cox, Dwight Grant, Richard Thomas

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

Lyric:
Yea standin' knock right here
You fuck around not have the right speakers in your system
Your shit be soundin' like this

Big things, thick chains, ain't shit changed
Get brain in the four dot six range
Shit mayn, switch slanes every town I hit you
Switch slames bitch flip big caine

I givin' 'em whiplash when I'm whippin' the whip fast
Which one pick one nigga I gotta six stashed
Continental T's no tense like I got a thick stab
Big cigar, old money, when I drop it is so funny

Six-four switches, slam doors on sixes
Big trucks when I wanna fuck and it's time to get ass
I turn automobiles to hotels on wheels
I got money for a room it's just the fact that I'm trill

Bitches love when I cruise up the boulevard
They have contests to guess which car I'm a pull out the yard
They know I come for dolo and pull off with a broad
Spin away, spend a day tryin' to pull menage

Just Mac is God the sunlight hit the ice it's flawless
Run lights like I'm the king of New York I'm lawless
Bitches, they wanna hang like plaques in the office
'Cause I push Black Porsches, Benzes and Jaguarses

When the rag's off it gat on my lap I'm that cautious
Never trust grimy ass New Yorkers
'Specially when you're sittin' on twenties they get nauseous
Standin' in the azure with white air forces

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on things

Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at
So when I holla at you, holla back
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

You can catch mac in the parkin' lot, pimpin' crazy
S Five navy cedes sittin' on eighty
That's four dubs not S Four dub
Stash box, push hot wheel like matchbox

Bitches wanna push my world, they flash box
One sixty push my wheel, mash cops
One sixty took my wheel to cash drop
Run sixty you big will, match cop

Lookin' through the rearview and Mac was wylin'
New driver, screwdriver, cracked steering column
Pushin' somethin' stolen, blastin', picture me rollin'
Baghdad couldn't picture me rollin'

Now the truth different Mac come through coupe roof missin'
I'm the truth till my fuckin' roof missin'
Mac stay stuck in the coupe to school pigeons
Feathers gettin' plucked in the truck from loose chickens, listen

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on things

Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at
So when I holla at you, holla back
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

Yo aiyyo I dip, dive what can I say?
I can't fit 'em all inside the escalade
So I called up murder to further my parkin' lot pimpin'
Told 'em get the Impala so I can start dippin'

Lay back, seat recline, they notice the hand
Car movin' slow driven by the invisible man
Everything on the dash, digital and
I got a fast stashbox don't make me spit at you man

In the parkin' lot, where I spark a lot
I come to show my new feet, slide off with a few freaks
Bleek, turn up the beats, turn up the heat
Then we burn up the streets, bitch

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on things

Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at
So when I holla at you, holla back
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

You can catch me in the parkin' lot
Hollerin' at bitches, parkin' lot pimpin'
Everyday we be off the chains
Workin' with grain, sittin' on things

Tryin' to find out where dem dollars at
So when I holla at you, holla back
Everyday we be off the chains
Ain't nuttin' different, parkin' lot pimpin'

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cf420f7264568d834155449d51d0aae9

House Of Hits - Lyrics - Hip-Hop Lives - Krs One

Title: House Of Hits
Album: Hip-Hop Lives
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): Marlon Williams, Lawrence Kris Parker

Lyric:
Yes, yeah, it's chief rocker, Busy Bee
Y'all don't know what time it is right now
I got my main man Marley Marl
My motherfuckin' main man, KRS-One the teacher
We gettin' ready to do a little history in here
Y'all don't know what time it is
History is in the makin', work it out

Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out
Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out

I said, "Where's that place we work it out?"
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out
Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out

And when it's time to work it out
We take 'em straight down to the house
And blow some, that jingle-jang, jingle
Yeah, chief rocker, Busy Bee

Check my lingo, check what Busy Bee brings you
Check out the lyrics I sing you
I fly through the hood like chicken wings do
Like a chef Marley likes mixin' things too

We came together just to change the weather
Busy Bee, he made this game remember?
These unoriginal rap flows, I don't speak those
Too many rappers just copy like Kinko's

Dressin' like they from office depot
Tryin' to be CEO's with whack weak flows
I teach those that flow how to be better
I train MC's to gain in any endeavor

But if you tryin' to diss, you'll get dismissed from the class
In other words, I'm kickin' yo' ass
Beats, bars and breaks, really that's it
And you get that sound at the House of Hits

Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out
Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out

I said, "Where's that place we work it out?"
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out
Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out

And when it's time to work it out
We take 'em straight down to the house
And blow some, that jingle-jang, jingle

Yo, look, look
KRS reportin' from the House of Hits kids
'Cause in the future you gonna doubt it existed
Comin' up the block your whole spirit gets lifted
The whole spot designed for the lyrically gifted

You walk in the spot, you walk in the history
This is where the greatest MC's spit it lyrically
I don't think you hearin' me today
Big Daddy Kane, Rakim, LL Cool J
Kool G. Rap, Roxanne Shante
Craig G, man, what else can I say?

The home of hits, where one spits and records
In the other room we live on the broadcast boards
The internet's hooked up with all these cords
And the outboard gear man you can't afford
You can rest assured we comin' out with it
KRS, Busy Bee at the House of Hits

Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out
I said, "Where's that place we work it out?"
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out

I said, "Where's that place we work it out?"
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out
Where's that place we work it out?
Hey, the House of Hits, we work it out

And when it's time to work it out
We take 'em straight down to the house
And blow some, that jingle-jang, jingle

And ba bah-ba bah-ba-da-dang-a-dang-diggy-diggy
Ba bah-ba bah-baba-da-dang-a-dang-diggy-diggy
Ba bah-ba bah-baba-da-dang-a-dang-diggy-diggy
Ba bah-ba bah-baba-da-dang-a-dang-diggy-diggy
Ba bah-ba bah-baba-da-dang

Ayyo, this goes out for all them cats
That ever stepped foot inside the House of Hits
LL Cool J, Big Daddy Kane, Jay-Z, Big Punisher
The Lords of the Underground, Tragedy Khadafi
Roxanne Shante, TLC, Kool G. Rap & Polo, Masta Ase

MC Shan, Eric B. & Rakim, Nas, Craig G
Heavy D & The Boyz, Pete Rock & CL Smooth
Scarface, CNN with Mobb Deep, Ed Lover & Dr. Dre
Aaron Hall and Redman, World Reknowned, Run-DMC
And that nigga 50! What? That's just to name a few
Fresh for 2007, you suckers

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67be2762ab751be1c138cf48b40c9423

Maintaining - Lyrics - Resurrection - Common

Title: Maintaining
Album: Resurrection
Artist: Common
Composer(s): Lonnie Rashid Lynn, Ernest Dion Wilson

Lyric:
Gotta watch out for them critters
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh

I was born in Chicago, raised on Planet Rock
Talking zsa zsa zsa zsa
Catch knock my tape like beats, I'm fresh as fruits
(Uh)
You pussy MC, it's you I rebuke, repent
You burn up, you got me bit, I'm coming as ebit
Got on big hoes at Freak nit, frequently your telling me
Won and worn your rockets
So he ain't put no scratch in my pocket

Yo heard, with my head I cock it
And rock it like that brother in Colors
'Cuz I want y'all to live, my crew is 2 Live, we sneakin' to the rear
But I can't get us all in free, it's just another case of that 2 dollar MC
(What?)
I rock the same clothes 3 days straight to you
They wrinkled but to my they straight
Now I'm straight, are you straight? I'm straight as long as I got beer
I thought about it Jack, and now I'm out of here

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

I need me some new socks, I need me some new drawers
I draws attention like a letter to a sargent
Theres a few good MC's the wack, I'm giving code red
Slim say I got nobody but when they see me at the party
They be like, "Go 'head, go 'head"
'Cuz I got's the cuts like Bobby, rappers are dick heads
Choppin' they demo, I do it like Big Red
My office hours are from 9 to 5
While you avoid the party I make it live

The fellas nod and the chicks dance
While I'm coolin' in my jumpers and my big pants
I'm as dope as PCP, MC's see me and start having flashbacks
I don't flash scratch, I gotta watch my back
Now a days blacks don't know how to act
Besides Larry Fishburn, Charles Jug and Wesly Snipes
Marks wanna test me because I test the mics
I check 'em like sound, and like loose I'm down
Plus I done got better since soul by the pound, I maintain

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

I fall fresh apon the spirit, with the lyric that's overwhelming
And house more hoes then Spell man
Worse unwelcome like James Johnston
My brains sponsoring speech on the mic, I'm like a Jackson
Rappers I'm fondling, they try to settle out of court
But I, could never be bought, what type of rebel eats pork?
I'll take the cat and never get caught, you wack together we fought
'Cuz I can't see my melons boxing if he's not boxin' with 'em

I don't care who started it, I'm gonna be apart of it
Regardless of the odds of how hard
It's been many times we was outnumbered and we still got with them
I got rhythm from some boogers and some foxes
But if I becomes a 10 then some brothers all some gin
And I got juice, and this niggas scared

I'll F your head up, like the L.A.
For when I flow for cash I got for broke like Mel for Moore
Why should a male with a B8 get more then me?
When Rashid got an MC degree and a doctrine in rockin' shit
I go to docs to get a fish wish with cheese
I don't mix with MC's 'cuz I just don't like the mother [unverified]
But I'm still maintaining

Maintain the rock
I get the party live, Common Sense will get the party live, huh
Don't stop the rock

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2b98585d86c5fda8e9d3f20c030ffe7f

Tragedy - Lyrics - Rza

Title: Tragedy
Artist: Rza
Composer(s): Annie Lennox, Robert Jr Diggs, Derrick Harris, Dave Stewart

Lyric:
Word up
Wu Tang up in this joint
Wu Tang forever
Wu Tang, Wu Tang

Wu Tang, Wu Tang forever
(Here comes the rain)
Word, Wu Tang Forever
(Here comes the rain)
Wu Tang forever, the Ryzarector in your sector
(Here comes the rain)
From Shaolin to the holy city of Mecca
(Here comes the rain)

Yo, yo, assassination, vaccination, poor education
Infatuation with Satan with global nation taxation
Fiber optic microscopic biological germ
Mad Cow burger on the market, captain of your starship

I never departed once I started
To explore these regions that was uncharted
Leave your heart broken, yo I stand tall
Like buildings on Van Dyke's, all mics

Beats strike like a noisy four train late night
Chase got New York for the Life, we out of state
Can't smoke a bone in the staircase with out gettin' chased
Penny candy poisonous rappers

Best to chill or get your head gashed
Lemon head, sour patch kids, best to grab
A Life Savor, I'll Jaw break ya, Boston Bake ya
Then plant my sunflower seed on every square acre

The beauty of my nature shown through Shaquaisha I Mecca
When I made myself Equality, known to my reflector
Stay in your playpen boy, and babble for your formula and cried
You pacified, this lullaby from the black butterfly

Here comes the rain again
Falling on your head like a tragedy
Falling on your head causing new demotions
Not even

Yo, yo, I'ma show this metamorph-is as the King takes his office
Keep my planets in orbit, never forfeit, or quit
Move forward, I talk with the awkward slang
I walk with, the Wu Tang, yo

Heavy thoughts can't be held down by the laws of gravity
Watch for the lime in the temple tryin' to plot your tragedy
A game rank with, the high officials at the banquet
For attemptin' to hijack the Wu Tang Manual under his blanket

Can't interpret 'cause your brain is short circuit
This dumbness left your body numbness try to come amongst us
What's your angle?
Rectangle or triangle?

As my truth of square drains you
Of your power the death angel
Strangles you like a weed, choking the helpless flower, you cower
You feel the power of the final shower

Here comes the rain again
Falling on your head like a tragedy
Falling on your head causing new demotions
Not even

Here comes the rain again
Falling on your head like a tragedy
Falling on your head causing new demotions
Not even the naked eye, can see
Not even the naked eye, can see
(Tragedy)

Here comes the rain again
(The reign of terror)
Falling on your head like a tragedy
(Fallin' on your head like a tragedy)
Falling on your head causing new demotions
Not even eye can see

Word up, word up Wu Tang
Wu Tang, Wu Tang
That's right, ninety-seven February
Wu Tang comin' at you, word up

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09a6967f8a0d1ec0657256bff83f443f

Serpentine - Lyrics - Evolve - Ani Difranco

Title: Serpentine
Album: Evolve
Artist: Ani Difranco
Composer(s): Ani Difranco

Lyric:
Pavlov hits me with more bad news
Every time I answer the phone
So I play and I sing and I just let it ring
All day when I'm at home

A de facto choice of macro
Or microcosmic melancholy
But, baby, any way you slice it
I'm thinkin' I could just as soon use the time alone

Yes, the goons have gone global
And the CEO's are shredding files
And the [unverified] and the republic rats
Are flashing their toothy smiles

And Uncle Tom is posing for a photo op with the Oval Office clan
And Uncle Sam is rigging cockfights in the Promised Land
And that knife you stuck in my back is still there
It pinches a little when I sigh and moan
And these days I'm thinkin' I could just as soon use the time alone

'Cuz all the wrong people have the power of suggestion
And the freedom of the press is meaningless
If nobody asks a question, I mean, causation by definition
Is such a complex compilation of factors

That to even try, to say why, is to oversimplify
But that's a far cry, isn't it, dear?
From acting like you're the only one there
Unrepentantly self-centered and unfair

Enter all suckers scrambling for the scoop
Exit Mr. Eye Contact who took his flirt and flew the coop
But whatever, no matter, no fishin' trips, no fishin'
'Cuz Mamma's officially out of commission

And did I mention in there somewhere
Did I mention somewhere in there that I traded Babe Ruth?
Yes, I traded the only player that was bigger than the game
And I can't even tell you why 'cuz you'd think I'm insane
And that's the truth

And the music industry mafia is pimping girl power
Sniping off their sharpshooter singles from their Styrofoam towers
And hip-hop is tied up in the back room with a logo stuffed in it's mouth
'Cuz the master's tools will never dismantle the master's house

But then I'm getting away from myself
As I get closer and closer to home
And these days I'm thinkin'
I could just as soon use the time alone

An' I must admit, today, my inner pessimist
Seems to have got the best of me
We start out sugared up on Kool-aid and manifest destiny
And we memorize all the president's names like little trained monkeys

And then we're spit into the world
So many spiny-eyed TV junkies
Incapable of unraveling the military industrial mystery
Preemptively pacified with history book history

An' I've been around the world now
And I can see this about America
The mind control is steep here, man
The myopia is deep here

And behold, those that try to expose the reality
Who really try to realize democracy
Are shot with rubber bullets and gassed off the streets
While the global power brokers are kept clean and discreet
Behind a wall, behind a moat and that is all, that's all she wrote

An' my heart beats an [unverified]
'Cuz folks just couldn't care, care, care, less, less, less
As long as every day is Super Bowl Sunday
And larger than life women in lingerie
Are pouting at us from every bus stop
She loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not

And "Big government should not stand between a man and his money"
'Cuz "What's good for business is good for the country"
Our children still take that lie like communion
The same old line the confederacy used on the union

Conjugate liberty into libertarian and medicate it
Associate it with deregulation, privatization
We won't even know we're slaves on a corporate plantation
Somebody say hallelujah, somebody say damnation

'Cuz the profit system follows the path of least resistance
And the path of least resistance
Is what makes the river crooked
Makes it serpentine

Capitalism is the devil's wet dream
So just give me my Judy Garland drugs and let me get back to work
'Cuz the Empire State building is the tallest building in New York
And I always got the feeling you just liked to hear it fall off your tongue

But I remember my name in your mouth
And I don't think I was done hearing it close to my ear
On a whispers way to a moan
But Pavlov hits me with more bad news every time I answer the phone
So I play and I sing and I just let it ring all day when I'm at home

A de facto choice of macro or microcosmic melancholy
But, baby, any way you slice it
I'm thinkin' I could just as soon use
The time alone

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6895468219ff50dff1f048f3240d7768

Robert Perry - Lyrics - The Lost Masters - Kool Keith

Title: Robert Perry
Album: The Lost Masters
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Keith Thornton

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

Lyric:
Robert Perry (Robert Perry)
Bronx! (Bronx!) Manhattan (Manhattan) Queens (Queens)
Staten Island (Staten Island) Brooklyn! (Brooklyn!)
Across the George Washington Bridge from New Jersey (Jersey)
You know about the Robert Perry (Robert Perry)
A.K.A., the Double K

Man get off my back
Y'all sound whack like the, Brown Sugar, soundtrack
You know the office decomposer
Commercial cleaner, garbage disposer
Hang my underwear in New York on top of your Times Square poster
Pullin your snipes down
Sample you, and your girl bring the Vaseline lotion
Babywipes down, nobody can handle me
Overcrowd 20th to 50th Street
The top ten rappers in the Big Apple work janitor
Clean my defecation off the concrete
My pee stains shock your family, piss on your man's hand
While your girl make the beats
Y'all nothin but packs of candy and sweets

125Th Street (125th Street)
125Th Street, Robert Perry (Robert Perry)

The national dominator, urinate on your best hater
The mad people love the vanilla flavor
Take your rap unserious like your movie roles
Don't smile when the Doberman Pinscher
Finishes bad work on your sneaker soles, all V.I.P. material
Don't play me, to hype your lyrics
Tear you a new ass, go pay Jay-Z to write your lyrics
Send your girl to dance out of state on spirit
Don't get jealous cause the Avirex DJ usually act like he don't hear it
(I don't hear it) A lot of guys at the station can't play they mother's record
Let alone, their little brother's record
New York is Hollywood, downtown Manhattan is Los Angeles
The truth hurts, everybody in America is sportin them shirts

125Th Street (125th Street)
125Th Street, Robert Perry (Robert Perry)
125Th Street (125th Street)

Y'all still sportin them jerseys, I got Tom laundry gear
Man bring the Stoli's Vanilla over here, girls floss the beer bellies
It ain't sexy drinkin beer
Talk under the Cerwin Vegas
I'ma act like I can't understand your rap, man it's too loud
Foes are whack, I can't hear, watch the cops escort you out the club
Enjoy yourself, man you scared
Ain't nobody thinkin about you let your shoulders rub
Youse a paranoid studio killer
Stayin home by the fireplace and drinkin Miller
Women with fat ugly men sayin, Girl he is fine
Lookin at his fake jewelry shine

125Th Street, yeah
125Th Street (125th Street)
125Th Street, Robert Perry (Robert Perry)
125Th Street, (125th Street)
Yeah you'll see me walkin down, 125th Street

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28dcb7f054364dd418c14700812d26db

Z - Hola' Hovito - Lyrics - The Blueprint - Jay

Title: Z - Hola' Hovito
Album: The Blueprint
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Tim Mosley, Shawn Carter

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

Lyric:
It's that hop I'm talkin' bout right here Timbo
I can't be stopped when it hop like this family
(Uno, dos, tres, cuatro)

They say hola' hovito
That's what they sayin' when I roll up with my people
My music bangin' like them vatos locos got rap in a chokehold
And I won't surrender it with, beats by Timbaland
Calle-te la boca, my baby
All I wanna, do is, stroke ya all crazy
My, dick game is vicious, insane at bitches
Mami keep comin' back 'cause mami came vicious

Catch hov' in the drop, nasty thang lane switchin'
Once you turn your neck for a sec your dame's missin'
Bujando, bujando, the cops is comin'
Got that rap patrol behind yo, get to runnin'
I'm unstoppable hov', untoppable flows
I'm the compadre, the Sinatra of my day
Ol' blue eyes my nigga, I did it my way
If y'all not rollin' with hov' then hit the highway

(Hola' hovito)
Yeah, yeah
(Hola' hovito)
Yeah that's what they sayin'
When that music get to bangin'
Put it down for my people
(Hola' hovito, hola' hovito)
Yeah yeah that's what they sayin'
When that music get to bangin'
Put it down for my people

Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah naw I don't fuck around, stay on my J O
Hov' been about that dough since I was a day old
Oh, push perrico if I need to for the rule of evil
Was born in the belly that's the way the streets breed you
One life to live notice you get no sequel
So I truly got to live this like my last movie
Six oohie, jewels drippin', big toolie
I ball for real, y'all niggaz is Sam Bouie

And with the third pick I made the earth sick
M.J., hem Jay, fade away perfect
I rhyme sicker than every rhyme spitter
Every crime nigga that rhyme or touch a mic
Because my mind's quicker
I'm a eighty-eighter, nine-six to "Reasonable Doubt"
Temper short, don't take much to squeeze you out
Yeah you shinin' but the only thing you're leavin' out
You're a candle in the sun that shit don't even out

(Hola' hovito)
Yeah, yeah
(Hola' hovito)
Yeah that's what they sayin'
When that music get to bangin'
Put it down for my people
(Hola' hovito, hola' hovito)
Yeah that's what they sayin'
When that music get to bangin'
Put it down for my people

Hold up, now muh'fuckers, y'all muh'fuckers
Better run to the post office and get a job muh'fuckers
Or starve muh'fuckers, 'cause Jay's been the only one
Eatin' thus far sub-par muh'fuckers
Naw even though y'all hate I love y'all muh'fuckers
Friend or foe y'all all my muh'fuckers
If you haven't heard, I'm Michael Magic and Bird
All rolled in one, 'cause none got more flows than Young

Plus got more flows to come
And if I ain't better than Big, I'm the closest one
So move over hoes, choose Hova
My food for thought so hot it give you dudes ulcers
Rovers, roasters, poseurs
Gettin' it in with me, livin' like they supposed to
Watches, chain, front row at the game
Sold out arena, all screamin' my name, c'mon

(Hola' hovito)
Yeah, yeah
(Hola' hovito)
Yeah that's what they sayin'
When that music get to bangin'
Put it down for my people
(Hola' hovito, hola' hovito)
Yeah that's what they sayin'
When that music get to bangin'
Put it down for my people

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ebfddc781132430393d923102ea7e105

Hot - Lyrics - The Sneak Attack - Krs One

Title: Hot
Album: The Sneak Attack
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): Lawrence Parker, Maurice Ernest Gibb, Robin Hugh Gibb, Barry Gibb

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

Lyric:
Yeah, who will be standing when the smoke clears?
(KRS-One)
Word up, what's up with this? We're coming through
Boogie Down style, kid, what's up?
This is KRS-One, the light at the end of the tunnel

Yo, they not hot, all they do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not 'cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

I'm hot, been hot, repeatedly heated
Don't call the teacher, hah, you best be seated
You got these kids gazed up like you own the inventory
Fake muthafuckas ain't tellin' the whole story

Tell 'em how you borrow from everyone you knew
And now that you're on top, they can't borrow from you
That's not hot, tell 'em how you love bein' pop
'Cause you was so broke before sleepin' cold on a cot

You don't rock, you grab money
Your crocks rock the spot and you grab them honeys
It's about to get ugly
I don't even go to these bullshit kiddie-ass clubs

You wanna be a thug? Let's thug
First of all, soldiers speak to soldiers
Captains speak to captains
Lieutenant, lieutenant, cool?

But your first mistake is, he's steppin' to me, rookie
Like you a O.G. and you just a run-up, fool
Who really got these streets on lock?
Whose name really holds high respect on the block?

Who opened up these clubs and taught you how to mix?
Who opened up these thugs from Compton to the Bricks?
I don't even sound like the rest of you kiddies
I study the ways of God, you studyin' titties

And ass, I pity your class
'Cause you come out with a blast
But you're trash, so you really don't last

They not hot, all they do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

They not hot, all they do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not 'cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

This is hotter than heat, too deep, I'm on top of the streets
You weak, you ain't really rockin' these beats
You [unverified], you dress straight, eat straight
But you're a slave and yo, you can't come up in a heat tank

God we thank, we watch what we sell
You better hope these Christians are wrong 'cause you goin' to hell
Think about that when you're spittin' your raps
And you call out KRS, I'll put you flat on your back

You're not hot, all you do is talk a lot
That's not hot, where's your respect on the block?
That's hot, not cause you're friends with the cops
That's not hot, a real MC you're not

What's hot?
(KRS-One)
That's hot, what's hot?
(KRS-One)

That's hot, who's hot?
(KRS-One)
That's hot, where's your respect on the block?
(KRS-One need to be runnin' for office)
(So Butta-Pican Rican, tell 'em to get off it)

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ccd9f8ff4682c06d6dbaf13bb7af6a76

Forgot About Dre - Lyrics - Eminem

Title: Forgot About Dre
Artist: Eminem
Composer(s): Marshall Mathers, Melvin Bradford, Andre Young

Lyric:
Y'all know me, still the same O.G.
But I been low key
Hated on by most these niggaz wit' no cheese
No deals and no G's
No wheels and no keys, no boats no snowmobiles

And no ski's
Mad at me 'cause I can finally afford to provide my family
With groceries
Got a crib wit' a studio and it's all full of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques

Hangin' up in the office in back of my house like trophies
Did y'all think I'ma let my dough freeze? Ho, please
You better bow down on both knees
Who you think taught you to smoke trees?
Who you think brought you the oldies?

Eazy-E's, Ice Cube's and D.O.C's
The Snoop D-O-double-G's
And the group that said, "Mother, fuck tha police"
Gave you tape full of dope beats
To bump when you stroll through in your hood

And when your album sales wasn't doin' too good
Who's the Doctor they told you to go see?
Y'all better listen up closely
All you niggaz that said that I turned pop
Or The Firm flopped

Y'all are the reason that Dre ain't gettin' no sleep
so fuck y'all, all of y'all, if y'all don't like me, blow me
Y'all are gonna keep fucki' around wit' me
And turn me back to the old me

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

So what do you say to somebody you hate
(What?)
Or anyone tryin' to bring trouble your way?
Wanna resolve things in a bloodier way?
(Yup)
Then just study a tape of N.W.A.

One day I was walkin' by, wit' a Walkman on
When I caught a guy, give me an awkward eye
(What you lookin' at?)
And strangled him off in the parkin' lot
Wit' his Karl Kani
I don't give a fuck if it's dark or not

I'm harder than me tryin' to park a Dodge
When I'm drunk as fuck
Right next to a humungous truck in a two-car garage
Hoppin' out wit' two broken legs, tryin' to walk it off
"Fuck you too bitch, call the cops"

I'ma kill you and them loud ass motherfuckin' barkin' dogs
And when the cops came through
Me and Dre stood next to a burnt down house
Wit' a can full of gas and a hand full of matches

And still weren't found out
(Right here)
From here on out it's the Chronic 2
Startin' today and tomorrow's the new
And I'm still loco enough
To choke you to death wit' a Charleston Chew

Slim shady, hotter than a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz wit the windows up
When the temp goes up to the mid 80's
Callin' men, ladies, sorry Doc but I been crazy
There's no way that you can save me
It's okay, go with him Hailie

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

If it was up to me
You muh'fuckers would stop comin' up to me
Wit' your hands out lookin' up to me
Like you want somethin' free
When my last CD was out, you wasn't bumpin' me

But now that I got this little company
Everybody wanna come to me like it was some disease
But you won't get a crumb from me
'Cause I'm from the streets of
(Compton)

I told 'em all, all them little gangstas
Who you think helped mold 'em all?
Now you wanna run around talkin' 'bout guns like I ain't got none
What you think I sold 'em all?

'Cause I stay well off
Now all I get is hate mail all day sayin' Dre fell off
What 'cause I been in the lab wit' a pen and a pad
Tryin' to get this damn label off?

I ain't havin' that, this is the millenium of Aftermath
It ain't gon' be nothin' after that
So give me one more platinum plaque
And fuck rap! You can have it back

So where's all the Madd Rappers at?
It's like a jungle in this habitat
But all you savage cats know that I was strapped wit' gats
When you were cuddlin' a Cabbage Patch

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got somethin' to say
But nothin' comes out when they move their lips
Just a bunch of gibberish
And motherfuckers act like they forgot about Dre

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7830c861675a3f073cabea0677ab992c

Forgot About Dre - - Lyrics - Dr. Dre 2001 - Dr. Dre

Title: Forgot About Dre -
Album: Dr. Dre 2001
Artist: Dr. Dre
Composer(s): Marshall Mathers, Melvin Bradford, Andre Young

Lyric:
Y'all know me, still the same ol' G
But I been low key
Hated on by most these niggas
Wit no cheese, no deals and no G's, no wheels and no keys
No boats, no snowmobiles and no ski's
Mad at me
'Cause I can finally afford to provide my family wit groceries

Got a crib wit a studio and it's all full of tracks
To add to the wall full of plaques
Hangin' up in the office in back of my house like trophies
But y'all think I'm gonna let my dough freeze
Ho please
You better bow down on both knees
Who you think taught you to smoke trees?
Who you think brought you the oldies?
Eazy-E's, Ice cube's and D.O.C's and Snoop D O double G's
And a group that said, "Muthafuck the police"

Gave you a tape full of dope beats
To bump when you stroll through in you hood
And when your album sales wasn't doin' too good
Who's the doc that he told you to go see?
Y'all better listen up closely
All you niggas that said that I turned pop
Or the Firm flop
Y'all are the reason Dre ain't been getting no sleep
So fuck y'all, all of y'all
If y'all don't like me, blow me
Y'all are gonna keep fuckin' around wit me
And turn me back to the old me

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre
Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre

So what do you say to somebody you hate
Or anybody tryna bring trouble your way
Wanna resolve things in a bloodier way
Just study your tape of NWA
One day I was walkin' by
Wit a walkman on
When I caught a guy givin' me an awkward eye
And strangled him off in the parkin' lot wit his Karl Kani

I don't give a fuck if it's dark or not
I'm harder than me tryna park a dodge
But I'm drunk as fuck
Right next to a humungous truck in a two car garage
Hoppin' out wit two broken legs, tryna walk it off
Fuck you too bitch, call the cops
I'm a kill you and them
Loud ass muthafuckin barkin' dogs

And when the cops came through me
Dre stood next to a burnt down house
Wit a can full of gas and a hand full of matches
They still wouldn't found out
From here on out it's the chronic two
Startin' today and tomorrow's the new
And I'm still loco enough
To choke you to death wit a Charleston chew

Slim Shady hotter then a set of twin babies
In a Mercedes Benz wit the windows up
And the temp goes up to the mid 80's
Callin' men, ladies
Sorry Doc, but I've been crazy
There is no way that you can save me
It's okay, go with him Hailey

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre
Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre

If it was up to me
You muthafuckas would stop comin' up to me
Wit your hands out lookin' up to me
Like you want somethin' free
When my last C.D. was out you wasn't bumpin' me
But now that I got's new company
Everybody wanna come to me like it was some disease
But you won't get a crumb from me
'Cause I'm from the streets of The Compton

I told em all
All them little gangstas
Who you think helped mould 'em all?
Now you wanna run around and talk about guns
Like I ain't got none
What you think I sold 'em all
'Cause I stay well off
Now all I get is hate mail all day sayin' Dre fell off
What 'cause I been in the lab wit a pen and a pad
Tryna get this damn label off

I ain't havin that
This is the millenium of Aftermath
It ain't gonna be nothin' after that
So give me one more platinum plaque and fuck rap
You can have it back
So where's all the mad rappers at
It's like a jungle in this habitat
But all you savage cats
Knew that I was strapped wit gats
When you were cuddled in the cabbage patch

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre
Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre

Nowadays everybody wanna talk like they got something to say
But nothin' comes out when they move they lips
Just a buncha gibberish
And muthafuckas act like they forgot about Dre

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f8039078d38adad05b69a72651ecba51

Where'S Summer B.? - Lyrics - Ben Folds Five - Ben Folds

Title: Where'S Summer B.?
Album: Ben Folds Five
Artist: Ben Folds
Composer(s): Darren Jessee, Ben Folds

Lyric:
I'd like to tell you, like to tell you
Tell you everything
'Cause nothing changes, ever changes
Doesn't seem the same these days

Dave's been a mess since Cheryl left
Just sits at home and beats back death
And Beth still wears his stupid dress

There goes Joe Caparo again with Darren's girlfriend
They're asking where ya been, like I know
Where ya been? Hey Summer, where ya been?

I tried to tell you, tried to tell you
Took a little bit too long
And now your phone is disconnected
And your shit's out on the lawn

The Hardback Cafe closed down
Now we got office town
You shoulda stuck around

There go Ross and Frank again, they're holding hands
Asking where ya been, like I know
Where ya been? Hey summer, where ya been?

I could take a train or fly away
Maybe write a book and change my name
I could settle down

There goes Joe Caparo again, hey that's Darren's girlfriend
Ross and Frank are holding hands
They've been asking where ya been
Hey Summer, where ya been?

And I
Could smoke a bowl with Caleb or fly away
Or settle down, but
Hey Summer where ya been?

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806c825e6198518666d91bed42f4578d

Where'S Summer B.? - Lyrics - Ben Folds Five - Ben Folds Five

Title: Where'S Summer B.?
Album: Ben Folds Five
Artist: Ben Folds Five
Composer(s): Darren Jessee, Ben Folds

Lyric:
I'd like to tell you, like to tell you
Tell you everything
'Cause nothing changes, ever changes
Doesn't seem the same these days

Dave's been a mess since Cheryl left
Just sits at home and beats back death
And Beth still wears his stupid dress

There goes Joe Caparo again with Darren's girlfriend
They're asking where ya been, like I know
Where ya been? Hey Summer, where ya been?

I tried to tell you, tried to tell you
Took a little bit too long
And now your phone is disconnected
And your shit's out on the lawn

The Hardback Cafe closed down
Now we got office town
You shoulda stuck around

There go Ross and Frank again, they're holding hands
Asking where ya been, like I know
Where ya been? Hey summer, where ya been?

I could take a train or fly away
Maybe write a book and change my name
I could settle down

There goes Joe Caparo again, hey that's Darren's girlfriend
Ross and Frank are holding hands
They've been asking where ya been
Hey Summer, where ya been?

And I
Could smoke a bowl with Caleb or fly away
Or settle down, but
Hey Summer where ya been?

Play the MP3 online for free!

1cd0781a90823e1e5d17138cc87d7832