My Knight In Black Leather - Lyrics - Thighs & Whispers - Bette Midler

Title: My Knight In Black Leather
Album: Thighs & Whispers
Artist: Bette Midler
Composer(s): Jerry Ragovoy, Estelle E. Levitt

Lyric:
Time 2:15, the AM
Place Ronardo's "Boom-Boom-Room" on South Street
I'm a hot blond and it was a cold night
This is my story. I ain't ashamed to tell it
I was hungry, tired and lookin' for love

I was just a pilgrim in the hot pursuit of love
Wandered from disco to disco, that's all my life was
Suddenly you danced up against me
It felt warm and smooth, I knew in an instant
You were my moment of darkest truth

Oh, my knight in black leather
Hold me tight and love me forever
Rings on your fingers, love in your heart
Knight in black leather, we'll never part

Only you can shine the light on the dark side of my mind
And your evil sweetness leaves a trail of lovers behind
When you crush me to your heart
I feel just like a queen, I'm a willing victim
Tell me, all my life where have you been?

Oh, my knight in black leather
Hold me tight and love me forever
Rings on your fingers, love in your heart
Knight in black leather, we'll never part

Oh, my knight in black leather
Take me down and love me forever
Walk on through the halls of my soul
Knight in black leather and you've got control
Oh, don't you know, baby?

Oh, my knight in black leather
Take me down and love me forever
Rings on your fingers, love on demand
Knight in black leather, oh, you've got command
And how I love yo, baby

Oh, my knight in black leather
Hold me tight and love me forever
Rings on your fingers, love in your heart
Knight in black leather, we'll never part

We're the knights in black leather
And we will chain you down and love you forever
Walk on through the halls of your soul
Yeah, the knights in black leather we're in control

You know he smells just like a brand new car
'Cause everything he owns is leather
A leather shirt, leather hat, leather gloves, leather spats
Leather chaps, leather pants, leather socks, leather cap
Leather coat, leather wrap, leather neck, leather ring
Leather thing

Knight in black leather, we'll never part
Oh, my knight in black leather
Hold me tight and love me forever
Rings on your fingers, love in your heart
Knight in black leather, we'll never part
...

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Black Leather - Lyrics - The Spaghetti Incident? - Guns 'N Roses

Title: Black Leather
Album: The Spaghetti Incident?
Artist: Guns 'N Roses
Composer(s): Paul Cook, Steve Jones

Lyric:
Well she's all geared up, walkin' down the street
And I can feel the slime, drippin' down her sleeve

Well you can't refuse and you just can't choose what she's gonna do
Well you can't refuse and you just can't choose what she's gonna do

Well it's late at night and I'm all alone
And I can hear her boots, as she's near her home

Well you can't refuse and you just can't choose what she's gonna do
Well you can't refuse and you just can't choose what she's gonna do

Scratch, scratch, she's clawing at the door, oh no I can't take it anymore
Crack, crack, I'm feelin' so sore, I never should've asked for
Black leather, black leather, black leather, black leather

And you can try to hide, but you won't get far
You can let her in, and start again

Well you can't refuse and you just can't choose what she's gonna do
Well you can't refuse and you just can't choose what she's gonna do

Scratch, scratch, she's clawing at the door, oh no I can't take it anymore
Crack, crack, I'm feelin' so sore, I never should've asked for
Black leather, black leather, black leather, black leather

Black leather, black leather, black leather, black leather
Black leather, black leather, black leather, black leather

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a43451e47bce882723c8ec68313b1769

Black Leather - Lyrics - The Runaways

Title: Black Leather
Artist: The Runaways
Composer(s): Paul Cook, Steve Jones

Lyric:
He's all geared up, walkin' down the street
I can single the slime, drippin' down his feet
Well, you can't refuse and you just can't choose what he's gonna do
Well, you can't refuse and you just can't choose what he's gonna do

Well, it's late at night and I'm all alone
I can hear the boots gettin' near her home
Well, you can't refuse and you just can't choose what he's gonna do
Well, you can't refuse and you just can't choose what he's gonna do

Scratch, scratch, he's clawin' at the door
Oh, no, I can't take anymore, crack, crack, I'm feelin' so sore
Never should have asked for black leather
Black leather, black leather, black leather

You can try to hide, you know you won't get far
You let him in and you'll start again
Well, you can't refuse and you just can't choose what he's gonna do
Well, you can't refuse and you just can't choose what he's gonna do

Scratch, scratch, he's clawin' at the door
Oh, no, I can't take anymore, crack, crack, I'm feelin' so sore
I never should have asked for black leather
Black leather, black leather, black leather

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0bd176ecb2e7f23c048d95b8f0a06e36

Shiny Black Taxi Cab - Lyrics - Shampoo

Title: Shiny Black Taxi Cab
Artist: Shampoo
Composer(s): Jacqueline Blake, Caroline Askew, Conall Ronan Fitzpatrick

Lyric:
We're in a shiny black taxi cab
Cruising through busy streets
Neon lights shining bright
On shiny black leather seats
Hang a left hang a right
On the corners outta site

Midnight traffic light green's for go go
Backstreet joyride, we love soho

Shiny black, shiny black
Shiny black taxi cab
When you're trowing up
You feel bad in a shiny black taxi cab
In a shiny taxi cab

Our meter's doing overtime
Suberbia has gone to sleep
As the city starts to come alive
And everybody's on the street
Late shows, adult mags
Sleezy brown dirty macs

Midnight traffic light green's for go go
Backstreet joyride, we love soho

Shiny black, shiny black
Shiny black taxi cab
Havin' the most fun you've ever had
In a shiny taxi cab

Plumstead, you must be joking

Shiny black, shiny black
Shiny black taxi cab
When you're trowing up
You feel bad in a shiny black taxi cab
In a shiny taxi cab

Shiny black, shiny black
Shiny black taxi cab
Havin' the most fun you've ever had
In a shiny taxi cab

Shiny black, shiny black
Shiny black taxi cab
Havin' the most fun you've ever had
In a shiny taxi cab

D'you know, I had them girls in
The back of the cab the other week?
Sick all over the back seat
I had to charge 'em double
They oughta bring back the birch

You know, bring back national service
Bring back hanging, hanging
Hanging's too good for 'em
I'm not prejudice or anything

You know, these mini cab drivers
They've got no tax, no insurance
Some of 'em don't even have a bleedin' car
Anyway John, where yer wanna go then?

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1489291ea6d82b63bebbec9b307d7db4

Black Elvis - Lyrics - Black Elvis / Lost In Space - Kool Keith

Title: Black Elvis
Album: Black Elvis / Lost In Space
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Keith Thornton

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

Lyric:
Yeah
For the two thousand
(Two thousand)
Black Elvis
(Black Elvis)

We get raw with this
(Hand me my guitar)
Tour bus packed
(Tour bus packed)

Black Elvis, recordin' in the forty-eight-track studio
Madison Square Garden sound check, to speak direct
Fans in the upper level, backstage passes
Wearin' diamonds around my glasses, leather coat

Thirty thousand from Wilson, countin' the mill's
I'm talkin' to Andre Harrell with a chauffeur drivin' me around
In the green Rolls Royce, parked parallel on Fifth Avenue
Steppin' in Bloomingdale's, waitin' for Celine Dion to get her nails done

Tour dates start tomorrow
MCI send the cash through Wells Fargo
Black Elvis, twenty-eight G's a night
Tour bus with the Motley Crue, who gon' stop who?
Rock star don't need no tattoo

Guitar out of the sharp
Fender bass with the Stratocaster
With Prodigy, Rage Against the Machine
Flyin' over the Atlantic ocean with the potion

Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
What y'all thinkin' about?
Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
Chillin' in the project hallway

Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
What y'all thinkin' about?

Tour bus painted neon green with black wheels
We do big wheels, count big head Franklin bills
Movin' up, that's when I'm Black Elvis at the Civic Center
Promoter book venues that are too small, ignore the call

Seventy thousand jam-packed arenas
With rock fans wearin' backpacks
Merchandise sell nice gold shirts with red lights
Sponsored by Dial soap and a Heineken

The biggest rock star gon' rhyme again
Roadie cases for eight months, Samsonite suitcases
Rappers comin' home with no money on the red eye with dead eyes
Stadium tickets, watch scalpers get wicked

Pull up in my limo, ejectin' your demo
(Your demo)
Stretch Lamborghinis with four doors, with four floors
Followin' right behind yours, basic Continental
Get out your rental before I get mental
(Yeah, baby)

Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
What y'all thinkin' about?
Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
Chillin' in the project hallway

Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
What y'all thinkin' about?
Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
Chillin' in the project hallway

Huge signs on highways, you see the biggest advertisements
I'm at [unverified] office getting my next assignment
Walk in the Sony building, grab checks
Stop in a Hilton, [unverified]

On the back of my royalty statements
My name is Matthew
Three apartments on the West
With two hundred songs

Five minutes each on Ampex reels
At the [unverified] chewin' billionaire meals
At the Apollo, can you digest?
I'm a hard act to swallow

With a Paris France model, with a real estate agent
That's building me a kid's playground in Denver, Colorado
Vacation unknown when I'm speakin' three-way with Roberto Duran
And Sugar Ray Leonard on the cellular phone
Upstate Connecticut, hold you rap style with a better grip
(I'm a rock star now)

Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
What y'all thinkin' about?
Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
Chillin' in the project hallway

Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
What y'all thinkin' about?
Black Elvis, rock star, walkin' down Broadway
Chillin' in the project hallway

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285fdbf8262a990b34ac3a7d12dc7def

Shock Me (Live) - Lyrics - Ace Frehley

Title: Shock Me (Live)
Artist: Ace Frehley
Composer(s): A Frehley

Lyric:
Lightnin's all I need, my satisfaction grows
You make me feel at ease, you even make me glow
Don't cut the power on me, don't cut
I'm feelin' low so get me high

Shock me, make me feel better
Shock me, put on your black leather
Shock me, we can come together

Baby, if you do what you've been told
My insulation's gone, girl you make me overload
Don't pull the plug on me, no, no
I'm feelin' low so keep me high

Shock me, make me feel better
Shock me, put on your black leather
Shock me, we can come together, come on

Shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, oh yeah
Shock me, oh yeah

Shock me, make me feel better
I'm down to the bare wire
Shock me, put on your black leather

I wanna feel your power
Shock me, we can come together, oh yeah, oh yeah
Shock me, make me feel better, oh yeah, oh yeah

Shock me on the low, oh yeah

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dbe4fa23117017e1b5058f8c58a06ca5

Grunge Whore - Lyrics - Turbonegro

Title: Grunge Whore
Artist: Turbonegro
Composer(s): Thomas Seltzer, Bengt Agnob Calmeyer, Hans Erik Dyvik, Rune Gronn, Pal Kjaernes

Lyric:
He walks the streets alone , his day's complete
Another showdown between the sheets
When he remembers the first time score
The scene was nasty and his ring was sore

He saw his chance to make it big
Red rubber mask and a dreadlocks wig
New music seminar, he made a scene
He drove them crazy, they made him scream

Tacoma Washington, a motel room
A sordid wedding, they switched as groom
They rode him hard but it just felt fine
He got to sign the dotted line

Fame and fortune, he struck it big
Hard but melodic became his gig
And every interview was so profound
A worthy exponent of that grungy sound

Grungy, well he's a grunge whore knows what he likes
Black leather men on motorbikes
No self respect, he's in it for the action
A million dollar satisfaction
He 's a grunge whore

Grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore

But now the sad part, it's time to cry
Our indie hero is about to die
Turned blue in a locker room
He got to high, he shot his smack right in his fucking eye

Well he's a grunge whore knows what he likes
Black leather men on motorbikes
No self respect, he's in it for the action
A million dollar satisfaction
He 's a grunge whore

Grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore
Grunge whore

Well he's a grunge whore knows what he likes
Black leather men on motorbikes
No self respect, he's in it for the action
A million dollar satisfaction
He 's a grunge whore

Big wheels keep on turning, he 's a grunge whore
Napalm keeps burning, he 's a grunge whore
Paying for the CIA guns, grunge whore
With his distorted guitars and pounding drums, he 's a grunge whore

He 's a grunge whore, he 's a grunge whore
He 's a grunge whore, he 's a grunge whore
He 's a grunge whore, he 's a grunge whore
He 's a grunge whore, he 's a grunge whore

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Hell Bent For Leather - Lyrics - '98 Live Meltdown - Judas Priest

Title: Hell Bent For Leather
Album: '98 Live Meltdown
Artist: Judas Priest
Composer(s): Robert Halford, Glenn Raymond Tipton, Kenneth Downing

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

Lyric:
Seek him here, seek him on the highway
Never knowing when he'll appear
All await, engine's ticking over
Hear the roar as they sense the fear

Wheels a glint of steel and a flash of light
Screams from a streak of fire as he strikes

Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather

Black as night, faster than a shadow
Crimson flare from a raging sun
An exhibition, of sheer precision
Yet no one knows from where he comes

Fools self destruct cannot take that crown
Dreams crash one by one to the ground

Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather

There's many who tried to prove that they're faster
But they didn't last and they died as they tried

There's many who tried to prove that they're faster
But they didn't last and they died as they tried

Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather
Hell bent, hell bent for leather

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3ab2f59b92dbe244a87c9a1eede4827f

Black Limousine - Lyrics - Galore - Dragonette

Title: Black Limousine
Album: Galore
Artist: Dragonette
Composer(s): Greg Kurstin, Daniel Kurtz, Martina Sorbara

Lyric:
He told me I was worth it and he took out his wallet
He had a nice top, a wrist watch
And how do you call it, evening jacket
He bought me this, I wanted pink
But I took red instead, that's all they had

And his phone rang and he said
I'm sorry baby, you caught me at a bad time
I'm entertaining a woman with taste and a girl with true ambition
But I would really love the two of us to talk

And I got in a black limousine
And I don't care much for the money
But you spend it on me
In the back of your black limousine
We got the time for a little bit of luxury

You're paying for my company, babe
When you're paying for my company, babe
When you're paying for my company, babe

Cash, last I checked I was overdraft
Spend more money than I guess I have
What do I do about that? It's too bad
But I get by, I got a car waiting outside
He's paying for the pictures and taking me for a ride

There's those things you have to pay for
There's things you get for free
It doesn't cost a fortune
When the fortune pays for me

'Cause I'm a woman with taste
And a girl with true ambition
I guess I rather like the feeling
Of the leather in a moving car

I mean in a black limousine
I don't care much for the money
But you spend it on me
In the back of a black limousine
We got the time for a little bit of luxury

You're paying for my company, hey
When you're paying for my company, hey
When you're paying for my company, hey

I know you gotta live some, honey
I know you got a table for two
Full of confidence and money
Find out what it could do

It's true, your looks are passable
Cool, you're unattachable too
I'm a natural catch for a chap to be sat

In the back of a black limousine
I don't care much for the money
But you spend it on me
In the back of your black limousine
We got the time for a little bit of luxury

You're paying for my company, babe
When you're paying for my company, babe
When you're paying for my company, babe

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05e0aef18f05dde057a550b6d7dee610

Big Truck Boys - Lyrics - Let's Get Ready - Mystikal

Title: Big Truck Boys
Album: Let's Get Ready
Artist: Mystikal
Composer(s): Michael Tyler, Craig Lawson

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

Lyric:
Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Don't get caught up with my big truck boy
Fuck up, dog
Respect my line and keep my shit clean
Ain't gone let the big buck fall

White on black tinted windows with the big black dog
Nigga slipping bitches, toten, trying to get knocked off
It's with the corna shit, sidewalk, 3 6 hard
Ain't no motherfucka know what's on my old man log

From y'all with the paint balls, horrible dogs
Ten hut but I can pay for it fog, fog
Somebody following me in my rear view
And it probably them Lawerys
Thinking I'm slanging that powder

But I ain't 'bout to cop no charge
That's the Pt Crosier, Double R, no job
But I ain't got no time, I'm 'bout to ride to the frayer
Hope they don't bring my shit back 'cause he ain't to far
If they take my shit, straight over to business for war

I'm talking better, he said, ?You talk to B.K.?
I said, ?I ain't got the day?, I said, ?You straight?
Yes, I'm on my way with my shit
That's what I did broke off head
?Show me what's up??, that's what I said
Hot curds front light in the streets
Wodie wanted every small car 5 10 east

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Telling a mothafucka to strada
Talk on the phone, drinks grada
State troopers can kiss my ass
The rest of you bitches gon' eat my dust

Hit the city limit, lyrics start
Yelling, "That's my truck", pull up the red light
Trying to watch which nigga bone get back bra
Packing towla, gone rolling through town
Catch up with the fella

With drug deals, hookas and stellas
Better watch out for car jackers
Some of the bitch ass niggas jealous
Betta lock you tower girl
They coming to get you, need developed

Uptown hot be serving like they be slapping round niggas
Them nigga got a Guillotine in they Navigator
On the back, niggas standing, dancing
Keeping this nigga on the Nextel, won't even answer
Some white nigga trying to be like a snake
Don't even know what's happening

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Believe me, niggas on 18 and 19
20 up, tinted up, piped up
Tank up, filled up, grilled up, loaded spiked up
Hyped up, iced up, polo striped up, might up

They want fresh cuts, they rush all like big trucks
Big house, big car, big dogs like big stuff
Big piano, pig feet, pig smoked, hut, hut, hut
I like the to let the sun roof to let the wind blow my hair
I turned on 5th avenue, boom, there them niggas go right there

Looking at all them guns will do harm to yo' eyeballs
These niggas live, you might not see, can the side walk
Showing off with some thing, Mystikal drip
Drop, he ought know being a dog he gone tag it

Looking like he gon' charge at me cut
Nigga drinking taboscian mixed with wine
Put it L, I put 'em with a cat fish
Dangerous niggas having fun
Hollering at Q, we got a show in Florida, here we come

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy

Buckle up, boy, don't give a fuck, boy
Here the Guillotine
Big Ryders with the rest of the Big Trunk Boys
Leather shit with the big chrome, boy
Hit 'em with flat double barrel big strung, boy
...

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e802e3266a41dff25434fab4a8ddb1db

Drop Top - Lyrics - Ali

Title: Drop Top
Artist: Ali
Composer(s): Jason Epperson, Ali Jones

Lyric:
Rollin' in a drop top, ol school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like, all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats
Rollin' in a drop top, ol school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like, all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats

Yo, I'ma sucka for head wraps, no perms, just naps
Long shirt, fat ass, wit a brain to match
No poke, no soda, no talkin' back, grabbin' 'em out of college
I'm wisdom lookin' for knowledge, who got it
I got it, I love it when you get that Zippendale in ya body
And shakin' ya la-de-da-de, in the party
Gon' shawty, now throw it on me naughty
And if both of y'all together, I'm in the center like Jahadi

And I like that, plus the both of y'all so fine
Why should I bite back, I'm just waistin' my lines
And havin' time after time, I'm just speakin' my mind
It don't matter if I'm in the range, or the Benz I'ma shine
Now ask, who that is, walkin' and talkin' that bull stuff
Somebody probably jealous 'cause they truck pulled up
Am I gon' sweat that, hell naw, I'm gon' go
Out the do', to the ride, and just roll

Rollin' in a drop top, ol' school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats
Rollin' in a drop top, ol' school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like, all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats

Check, check, well I got no love for losin'
Never been full of hate, no love for Uzi's
Wahchin' me again and again, like favorite movies
MC's wit brains, obsessed wit oochie-coochie
I got more flavor than them, motherfucker
You other facts of life acts too no but, no drink, I gets very moody
I guess that why, I'm in love wit bud just like brew
Truly yours, see my concert be too packed, just like Shakur

What's in store, I'ma let jet like Acu-ra
Gas pedal hit the floor, zoom like the Camadors
See I'm your, lunatic for hire
A will call them MC's out like a bad umpire you're outta here
I snap neck, like a T roll before we retire
Oh Jim Carrey ass nigga, quit being a liar, liar
Am I gon' sweat that, hell naw, I'm gon' go
Out the do', to the ride, and just roll

Rollin' in a drop top, ol' school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats
Rollin' in a drop top, ol' school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like, all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats

Now for real, I be to break 'em off
Hoe hopper, trick knocker, nobody does like we do each proper
Think he like papa, when I drop her
Lyin' on that ass now we fuckin' 'til the beat don't stop her
Could it be I move too smooth, groove
That'll make the whole party move
Spots I keep 'em hot, so honey be hot to try
Pull up on the lot, black gloves and a Glock

My crew stand up, y'all crew catch rounds
Desert EG, 4 pound, it's got to, go down
Should I sweat that, hell naw I'm gon' go
Out the do', to the ride, and just roll

Uh, Ali, Ali, keep rollin'
St. Lunatics, keep rollin'

Rollin' in a drop top, ol' school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats
Rollin' in a drop top, ol' school on 20 inch, 100 spokes, all day long
I like, all the fly guys wit the rims and the beats
Million, candy paints, screens, wood, and leather seats

Oh, Ali

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a4e4b6579f4924472a79df94513f2f9f

Berlin - Lyrics - Marillion

Title: Berlin
Artist: Marillion
Composer(s): Mark Kelly, Steve Hogarth, Steve Rothery, John Helmer, Pete Trewavas, Ian Mosley

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

Lyric:
The mascaraed blond from the Berliner bar
Rises at twilight, gets dressed in a daze
Black leather crackles, cold water runs
As she touches the walls of her memory maze

The shadows of men she has known fill her day
She's held half the world in her arms so they say
But she wakes up without them with a hole in her heart
And she puts on her clothes, lives her life behind bars

Mascaraed blond from the Berliner bar
Sighs at the skylight, gets lost in the haze
Black leather crackles and cold water runs
As she touches the walls of her memory maze

Someone got stranded in no man's land
Dancing in the spotlight to the sound of clapping hands
Nobody knows whose side he was on
It's a risk that you take in no man's land

Nobody knows what made him decide
To run for freedom and to certain suicide
When they turn off the guns and his fingers uncurl
He's clutching a photograph of a Berlin party girl

Come in from your checkpoints on your lonely roads
Come in from your ditches in your silent fields
Where intensified light from a rifle sight
Makes the darkness day and the day too bright, too bright

We wake up without you
We wake up without you
We wake up without you

We wake up without you
With a hole in our hearts
With a hole in our hearts

You mad dog shaven head, bottle boy freaks
In martens and khaki drunk on sake
You stare at yourself in the cruel flush of dawn
Terrified, sunken eyed, withered and drawn

The butcher, the baker, the munitions maker
The over achiever, the armistice breaker
The free-base instructor, the lightning conductor
The psycho, the sailor, the tanker, the tailor

The black market mailer, the quick an the dead
The spotlight dancer, the quick and the dead
The quick and the dead, the quick and the dead

We wake up without you
Yeah, we wake up without you
With a hole in our hearts

The mascaraed blond from the Berliner bar
Rises at twilight, gets dressed in a daze

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efb44f5af8397588bc47520032f207c9

All We Got Left Is The Beat - Lyrics - 14 Shots To The Dome - Ll Cool J

Title: All We Got Left Is The Beat
Album: 14 Shots To The Dome
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): George Jr Clinton, Frank Waddy, Walter Morrison, Garry Shider, William Collins, Bobby F Ervin, James Todd Smith

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

Lyric:
Ey, ey, check it out homie
Man, you need to get up out of this spot man
And get a job man before you get smoked man
I know you don't wanna hear it man
But, man, wait, hold up loc you've got company man
Where's my guns?

When I'm ridin' on the street I hear gunshots, rare shots
Swear crack niggas 'cause they're moms missed flips
So black man really care about politics
In the ninety's, our governments so slick

I watch CNN sometimes and I realize
They're playin' tricks on my mind
They want a man to work with his hands
Too young to die, and they don't give a damn

Rare-momma got down on her knees
But not no more, god damn it, I make cheese
I'm on the move and I'ma show and prove
You might cry to my political groove

Rest in peace, sauce brothers underneath
I love you to death while my beat's like a reef
In the middle of the night on the city streets
The only thing we got left is the beat

All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, huh, give it to me
All we got left is the beat, the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, uh

Who brings guns into the USA?
And then makes sure that they come around the way
Gain the points until the whole race traps
And teach up my woman that she should call up the cops

The projects are hell, wait a, minute
There's nothin' we do but ride on top of an elevator
Say the clubs, I can't get a job
Mouth to feed, somebody's gettin' robbed

I ain't worked, but I ain't workin' for crumbs
You ever seen a man-shelter? Check out the bombs
Brother of pain, their whole lives are over
They spent every dime tryin' not to be sober

And all the ladies got bags of clothes
They'll be your long lost momma, one never knows
The streets are like a nightmare
While the presidents secretary is chillin' in his leather chair

All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, give it to me
All we got left is the beat, the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, uh

Lemon to a lime, lime to a lemon
When you need a toga-black, hire black linen
Your ripper's man applause when he can't get a job
He gets up all of his family and feels like a slob

The black women don't understand
'Cause they don't realize what it is to be a black man
In the mornin' a brother feels like a jerk
Seein' black women and white men go to work

So all women fear, the brothers ain't real
'Cause they won't give us no jobs, that's the real deal
Hold my hand while I get it all together
They don't deserve me at times of bad weather

'Cause I'ma make it out the concrete walls
And there's another way besides basketball
Let me go, let me do what I do
I'm red, black and green, then red, white and blue

All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, give it to me
All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, uh, give it to me

Ridin' in the street you can feel the city heat
A little bit of grass and a whole lot of concrete
Creepin' I'm standin' on the corner
And you can get robbed if you wanna

Paybacks a mother on the street
You're seein' gold teeth, ya hearin' funky beats
Brothers ride by real slow
You get leary when they got tinted windows

Sittin' on the steps with a blunt
I'm drinkin' valentine, I wasn't raised up front
My aunt Ellie always talked about God
Tell me you never cried 'cause it's so hard
Government got a hell of a plan
But word is born they ain't destroyin' this black man

All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, give it to me
All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, uh, give it to me

All we got left is the beat, is the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, huh, give it to me
All we got left is the beat, the beat, yo
All we got left is the beat, uh, give it to me

Uh, uh ,uh
Uh, uh, uh
Uh, uh, uh
...

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10b1e5410c020bbaaec8006286c3f6da

Street Fighter - Lyrics - Accept

Title: Street Fighter
Artist: Accept
Composer(s): Jorg Fischer, Udo Dirkscheider, Peter Baltes, Frank Friedrich, Wolf Hoffmann

Lyric:
Black leather, steel engines
All the people call us street fighting man
Rude manners, hard woman
That's the reason why we join the gang

No friendship, damned cops
We just stay the way we are
Drugs and whiskey, downtown heroes
We control the city roads

Free wheeling on the highway
A hundred engines are racing around
Like thunder and lightning
Can't you hear the roaring sound?

Making rules, giving orders
You're thinking that you are the stars
But we hate you damned faces
You're little houses and bloody cars

Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are
Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are

Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are
Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are

Black leather, steel engines
All the people call us street fighting man
Rude manners, hard woman
That's the reason why we join the gang

No friendship, damned cops
We just stay the way we are
Drugs and whiskey, downtown heroes
We control the city roads

Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are
Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are

Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are
Hate you, hate you, leave us alone, man
Keep your stuff and stay where you are

Stay where you are

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168a01f07040e847a03a7e3d887fb92a

1952 Vincent Black Lightning - Lyrics - Reckless Kelly

Title: 1952 Vincent Black Lightning
Artist: Reckless Kelly
Composer(s): Richard Thompson

Lyric:
Oh, says Red Molly to James, "That's a fine motorbike
A girl could feel special on any such like"
Says James to Red Molly, "My hat's off to you
It's a Vincent Black Lightning, 1952"

And I've seen you at the corners and cafes it seems
Red hair and black leather, my favorite color scheme
And he pulled her on behind
And down to Box Hill, they did ride

Oh, says James to Red Molly, "Here's a ring for your right hand
But I'll tell you in earnest I'm a dangerous man
For I've fought with the law since I was seventeen
I robbed many a man to get my Vincent machine

Now I'm twenty-one years, I might make twenty-two
And I don't mind dying, but for the love of you
And if fate should break my stride
Then I'll give you my Vincent to ride"

"Come down, come down, Red Molly," called Sergeant McRae
"For they've taken young James Adie for armed robbery
Shotgun blast hit his chest, left nothing inside
Oh, come down, Red Molly to his dying bedside"

When she came to the hospital, there wasn't much left
He was running out of road, he was running out of breath
But he smiled to see her cry
And said I'll give you my Vincent to ride

Says James, "In my opinion, there's nothing in this world
Beats a 52 Vincent and a red headed girl
Now Nortons and Indians and Greeves's won't do
Ahh, they don't have a soul like a Vincent 52"

Oh, he reached for her hand then he slipped her the keys
He said, "I've got no further use for these
I see angels on Ariels, in leather and chrome
Swooping down from heaven to carry me home"

And he gave her one last kiss and died
And he gave her his Vincent to ride

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b4e3064b3418e714aaa1f6b2ec684b69

Rock'N'Roll Lifestyle - Lyrics - Cake

Title: Rock'N'Roll Lifestyle
Artist: Cake
Composer(s): John Mccrea

Lyric:
Well, your CD collection looks shiny and costly
How much did you pay for your bad Moto Guzzi?
And how much did you spend on your black leather jacket?
Is it you or your parents in this income tax bracket?

Now tickets to concerts and drinking at clubs
Sometimes for music that you haven't even heard of
And how much did you pay for your rock 'n' roll T-shirt
That proves you were there, that you heard of them first?

Now how do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
Oh tell me
Oh yeah alright, alright, oh yeah, alright, oh

How much did you pay for the chunk of his guitar
The one he ruthlessly smashed at the end of the show?
And how much will he pay for a brand new guitar
One which he'll ruthlessly smash at the end of another show?

And how long will the workers keep building him new ones?
As long as their soda cans are red, white and blue ones
And how long will the workers keep building him new ones?
As long
(As their soda cans are red, white and blue ones)
Oh yeah, oh
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah, alright

Oh no aging black leather and hospital bills
Tattoo removal and dozens of pills
Your liver pays dearly now for youthful magic moments
But rock on completely with some brand new components

Now how do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?
Alright, oh yeah, so good alright

Excess ain't rebellion
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
You're drinking what they're selling
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
Your self destruction doesn't hurt them
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
Your chaos won't convert them
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
They're so happy to rebuild it
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
You'll never really kill it
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
Yeah, excess ain't rebellion
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)

You're drinking what they're selling
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
Excess ain't rebellion, you're drinking
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
You're drinking, you're oh yeah drinking what they're selling
(How do you afford your rock 'n' roll lifestyle?)
Oh yeah alright, oh yeah alright

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31b84d9f353eb02df00f8baf209879ca

When I Leave This House - Lyrics - Adam Gregory

Title: When I Leave This House
Artist: Adam Gregory
Composer(s): Colin James, Tom Wilson

Lyric:
Just like Cain and Able
I let the devil come 'round
Now I'm the king of the garden
With a snake for a crown
When the lord points his finger
Baby, I'm goin' down

Well, I'm no hell's angel
But I like to pretend I'm the king of the highway
On the prairie wind with a black leather soul
I'm gonna ride to the bitter end, here we go

When I leave this house
I ain't coming back
When I leave this house
I ain't coming back

Tie my sins to a railroad track
Carve my initials with chicken scratch
The garden of Eden hasn't broken my back
When I leave this house I ain't coming back

Well, hey now mama
Don't let your love dry up
I'm a hungry child with an empty cup
You can't feed your babies
When you're all shook up, yeah

When I leave this house
I ain't coming back
When I leave this house
I ain't coming back

Tie my sins to a railroad track
Carve my initials with chicken scratch
The garden of Eden hasn't broken my back
When I leave this house I ain't coming back

Well, I'm no hell's angel
But I like to pretend I'm the king of the highway
On the prairie wind with a black leather soul
I'm gonna ride to the bitter end

When I leave this house
I ain't coming back
When I leave this house
I ain't coming back

Tie my sins to a railroad track
Carve my initials with chicken scratch
The garden of Eden hasn't broken my back
When I leave this house I ain't coming back

When I leave this house
I ain't coming back
When I leave this house
I ain't coming back

Tie my sins to a railroad track
Carve my initials with chicken scratch
The garden of Eden hasn't broken my back
When I leave this house I ain't coming back

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4ad3e2d1f589f721d069d08826bdeae1

We Are The Hustlaz - Lyrics - Untold Story Volume II - Game

Title: We Are The Hustlaz
Album: Untold Story Volume II
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Joseph Marcelle Tom, Jayceon Terrell Taylor

Lyric:
Yeah
Yeah, man we them niggaz everybody talkin 'bout
Hey yo, yo

Whether it's, chips or whips or bricks of 'caine
I still shine at the end when y'all forced to rain
Changed the game, three shots parade ya Range
Hit the passenger, driver, old man on a cane

I'm a shell in the chamber, waitin' to pop
Like Stoudamire on the court I'm used to movin' the rock
Cruise in the drop, 740, snub in the box
My attitude shifty, never callin' the cops

A Green Bay jersey, out on Bennett puffin' Hershey
D's on the route tryin' to catch a nigga dirty
Respect the flow, better yet respect the dough
He get respect like rich and po'

Fuck a 9 to 5, I'd rather wake up and spit bars
And your wife, known to make my dick hard
Cartier lenses, 22's on my Benz's
When shit break out, y'all hit the fences

We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin' sticks, spliff up
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about
Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about

Unidentifiable straps makin' heat clap sicker
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about
We about reliable scratch and gettin' this math quicker
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about

Shit I might as well be duels, 'cause they call me the Flow master
I keep ridin' tracks like a natural disaster
You know I'm 'bout macra, I'll clap ya, a pirate like [Incomprehensible]
Far from a Hollywood actor

A factor, focused on paper and cars
I move like crowds, stay minglin' with the stars
I'm in the 6500 Benz truck with some broads
Dimes in every state I strike through be on me so hard

You know them Bentley bound, [Incomprehensible], wild Hummer chicks
That wanna take the car, cover up your tight summer shit
The game's heavy, man that's way off the charts
Heavier than killer whales at animal theme parks

You niggaz is SweeTarts, my family is street sharks
We keep the ER busy tryin' to revive the treat marks
Shit, we merk niggaz like Eddie, get ready
We got heat that set car alarms off like M-80's

We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin' sticks, spliff up
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about
Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about

Unidentifiable straps makin' heat clap sicker
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about
We about reliable scratch and gettin' this math quicker
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about

The Game on some regular rhymin', fuck all this new shit
When they gon' let real niggaz get on that cruise ship
Black Sox and Dallas Squad got, chains and cars
Get, brains from stars after those awards

Miyagi's or doubles, don't think I won't buy out the bar
That's little shit, Mercedes dealership, buy out the cars
Sticker in the window, let 'em know that it's ours
Sittin' on shit you ain't never seen like we got it from Mars

Game like Laker Will, snatch a bitch off your arm
She see Game covered in ice like I lived through a snowstorm
Plus I blow digits like my first name was [Incomprehensible]
Pay off security at clubs, get our guns admitted

Outside the club in the parkin' lot, four dot six
Not know it's stocked? Nigga it's the one we keep the bricks in
Hard black on black leather's what we keep the chicks in
And bitches stay sniffin' like smellin' dubs is a sixth sense

We stay bent, laid back behind tint, puffin' sticks, spliff up
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about
Big belt, flossy shades, paint on glaze, nigga
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about

Unidentifiable straps makin' heat clap sicker
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about
We about reliable scratch and gettin' this math quicker
We are the hustlaz everyone's talkin' about

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474c140e9119693c0483cbbc513f4e38

Ah Yeah - Lyrics - D.I.G.I.T.A.L - Krs One

Title: Ah Yeah
Album: D.I.G.I.T.A.L
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): Lawrence Parker

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

Lyric:
Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you see a devil down
Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you take the devil's crown
Ah yeah, stay alive all things will change around
Ah yeah, what? Ah yeah

So here I go kickin science in ninety-five
I be illin, parental discretion is advised still
Dont call me nigga, this MC goes for his
Call me God, cause that's what the black man is
Roamin through the forest as the hardest lyrical artist
Black women you are not a bitch you're a Goddess
Let it be known, you can lean on KRS-One
Like a wall cause I'm hard, I represent GOD
Wack MC's have only one style gun buck
But when you say, "Let's buck for revolution"
They shut the fuck up, kid, get with it
Down to start a riot in a minute
You'll hear so many Bowe-Bowe-Bowe, you think I'm Riddick
While other MC's are talkin bout up with hope down with dope
I'll have a devil in my infrared scope, WOY
That's for calling my father a boy and, KLAK KLAK KLAK
That's for putting scars on my mother's back, BO
That's for calling my sister a hoe, and for you
BUCK BUCK BUCK, cause I don't give a motherfuck
Remember the whip, remember the chant, remember about rope and
You black people still thinkin about vot-ing
Every president we ever had lied
You know I'm kinda glad Nixon died

Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you see a devil down
Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you take the devil's crown
Ah yeah, stay alive all things will change around
Ah yeah, what? Ah yeah

This is not the first time I came to the planet
But everytime I come, only a few could understand it
I came as Isis, my words they tried to ban it
I came as Moses, they couldn't follow my commandments
I came as Solomon, to a people that was lost
I came as Jesus, but they nailed me to a cross
I came as Harriet Tubman, I put the truth to Sojourner
Other times, I had to come as Nat Turner
They tried to burn me, lynch me and starve me
So I had to come back as Marcus Garvey, Bob Marley
They tried to harm me, I used to be Malcolm X
Now I'm on the planet as the one called KRS
Kickin the metaphysical, spiritual, tryin to like
Get wit you, showin you, you are invincible
The Black Panther is the black answer for real
In my spiritual form, I turn into Bobby Seale
On the wheels of steel, my spirit flies away
And enters into Kwame Ture

Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you see a devil down
Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you take the devil's crown
Ah yeah, stay alive all things will change around
Ah yeah, what? Ah yeah

In the streets there is no EQ, no di-do-di-do-di-do
So I grab the air and speak through the code
The devil cannot see through as I unload
Into another cerebellum
Then I can tell em, because my vibes go through denim
And leather whatever, however, I'm still rockin
We used to pick cotton, now we pick up cotton when we shoppin
Have you forgotten why we buildin in a cypher
Yo hear me kid, government is building in a pyramid
The son of God is brighter than the son of man
The spirit is, check your dollar bill G, here it is
We got no time for fancy mathematics
Your mental frequency frequently pickin up static
Makin you a naked body, attic and it's democratic
They press auto, and you kill it with an automatic

Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you see a devil down
Ah yeah, that's whatcha say when you take the devil's crown
Ah yeah, stay alive all things will change around
Ah yeah, what? Ah yeah

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114896805419aad34d7b3e706b71dabb

Cali To New York - Lyrics - Bridging The Gap - Black Eyed Peas

Title: Cali To New York
Album: Bridging The Gap
Artist: Black Eyed Peas
Composer(s): Kelvin Mercer, David Jolicoeur, William Adams, George Pajon

Lyric:
[Incomprehensible]

As soon as A La stepped off the floor
People started hollerin' for more
Beggin' us to bless 'em with an encore
You know the Peas, they game to do that for sure

No matter what the coast we be on
Pacific or Atlantic, we stay strong
Foreign or domestically, we conquer
All obstacles professionally an' rock on

An' that's exactly how we made it rock, made it rock
We turn this on an' then we make it hot, make it hot
We also known to cause a state of shock, state of shock
We start at 2, then go to 10 o'clock, 10 o'clock

10 o'clock the next day that is, day that is
No matter what city or state that is, state that is
Don't ask no questions, that's the way that is, way that is
Don't ask no questions, that's the way that is [Incomprehensible]

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

Introduce Posdonus, y'all, 'nus y'all
Sticky like cous-cous, y'all, cous, y'all
Be the words that I apply, apply
My peeps mass, karma N.Y, N.Y.

Check it out, you see, you other emcees sound like brother emcees
Raised by the same pop an' mother emcees
While I got a lot of brand in my name, I'm recognizable
Leavin' me the cash amount that's quite sizable

Rich in that English that's broke as hell
That's why my niggaz in the hood understand me so well
Its the modern rap type talk, used to walk
All over your ears, you hear the thump, this track pumps like

Well order, some others fell short of the line of finish
You didn't practice harder at the scrimmage
Now my image is the golden cup
My career is dirty compared to yours, it's all washed up

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

We, we, we, we regulate an' cross plates, destructs ya
Toss coins to distract it an' we bust ya
Minds blow bigger than tempers out in Russia
Cuss like a sailor, make you shame like Thelya

Stitch a verse tailored to fit, spray paintin' your spit
On the deco we art, spread apart
I raid mo' tracks than flicks in "Beat Street"
With kicks until the sole wear out, never that

We weather that, you light in the ass an' feather that
Heavy like black leather coats, you pleather that
Last dick on the line, we way ahead of that
Squeezin' like Freddie Foxx an' his two glocks

Rocks don't impress niggaz who speak to God
We get jams to make a tuna melt
Held down by the beep, beep, beep, we strictly, new getty
Two fifty up in front of the mic, so what it look like?

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York
Back, back, back, back, an' forth
From Cali to New York

Back

[Foreign content]

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a899e24eab65db26f7859182c65fdef9