Bm J.R. - Lyrics - Tha Carter (Screwed And Chopped) - Lil' Wayne

Title: Bm J.R.
Album: Tha Carter (Screwed And Chopped)
Artist: Lil' Wayne
Composer(s): Dwayne Michael Carter, Ronald Williams

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Lyric:
Yea shorty, you know what I'm talkin' bout'
I peepin' these niggaz out here they slippin' like they ain't bout
Money no more man, so what fuck, you know what we gon' do ha?
We gon' do what we been doin' nigga, we gon' load up,
Get a lot mo' and a lot mo' and say fuck em', nigga
Keep buyin' shit, keep fuckin' hoes, loading' up on mo' bitches
Then you know what I'm sayin', we gon' get greedy too nigga
I ain't never gettin' full, I'm full blooded with this grind

I got it
I got it

Murder Capitol, only key to survive is kill
If the elements don't murder you, tha Rydahs will, fa real
And niggaz know I go hard to the fullest, get involved
And I got em' playin' dodge ball wit bullets
Yeah, I got the sawed off, fully in the Sean John hoodie
Get fucked ya play pussy
Haa, we hit em' up while dey ain't lookin'
And tha body shots hurt but tha head shots took em'

Damn and if tha red dot spot em' then tha hollow-head got em'
Knock his tops to his bottom Jack, yea
Ya see we grind from the bottom just to make it to da bottom
At the very bottom of da map, Louisiana
Piranhas, every where you at, you gotta wear a extra condom and a
Extra gat, ya bitch could get it fa actin' like a man and niggaz in
Pakistan, impactin' on ya man, I backed his hand
Ya man on command in fronta niggaz he cool wit dem boyz on fan

I'm on hot, I adjust in different climates
Stuck in a animal, keep runnin' wit my prime mates
You ain't did it 'til you done it like in fives states
Weezy-hustle, no blubber, I put on weight
And in a drought I go on a diet and stretch more
Lose all dat weight, leave a nigga wit stretch marks
You'nt even come up to a nigga chest
Pause-up, paw, what tha fuck they play dat in da club fa?

Real Shit I'm duckin' bombs from a drug war
No religion but da cops swear dat I'ma drug law
Father forgive em' fa dey know not who dey pushin' Lord
Father forgive me if I have to send em' to you Lord
I'm just tryna dodge tha shots dey send to da God
They ridin' up high way to Heaven Boulevard

Damn, dem niggaz pussy and jive, not even in tha eye exam
They ain't lookin' fa I, fa A and a K
I'll make ya face crook to tha side
Now when you smilin' everybody gotta look from tha side.
'Cuz when you wilin' you ain't lookin' you jus lookin' high
And when we hungry, you look like pie
Sweet potato-ass nigga, you lemon meringue, apple custard
Cherry jelly, don't make me get tha biscuit busta, yeah

What up chizzle? You my distant brotha
Real shit nigga, same father different motha, shit
I skip tha frontin' and stick to keepin' it trill
You not know me fa nothin' otha
I'm somethin' otha than people you feel
I'm deeper fa real
I'm deeper than skills, my speeches can kill
Rest in peace

Yeah, you underdig, shorty it's all about one thing nigga
If you bout money nigga come fuck with us
If you ain't bout money get the fuck from round us nigga
And whatever you bout we bout it
However you wanna get it we can give it to ya nigga
Order bitch, ya underdig, put ya prints in nigga
Put ya feet down and ya nuts on the concrete and let's roll
Let me get it back, hey, hey

You sleep in a field fa tryin' a dude
I'll bust ya head to da meat
Turn ya mind 2 food, food fa thought
Think, I ain't lyin' to you
I'll lie his body in grease, set fire to em'
I'll tie his body in sheets, put tha tires to em'
Make em' feel tha escalade
Put his feet in tha blades

Damn, I'm tha heat in tha blaze and niggaz keep they ways
When I'm in tha streets wit Blake, watch
My nigga hungry, he'll eat tha plate
And if I ask tha homeboy, he'll eat ya face, yeah
And tho' he got me, you can ask
I'm like a pool table, I keep tha 8
My side pocket, side wayz, when I pop it
Leave a nigga side wayz, fa five days, bird man talk

Yeah nigga, I tell em', I tell em' again shorty
If it ain't about money
Get all the fuck from round us
Fuck dat, I'm comin' bak gurl

Check my swag, I travel light, sound dog, you play hard
And I gravel like ground dog, I'm under ground call me ground hog
Lay down laws call me ground law but don't confuse me wit da law
Naw, but just confuse me wit my paw because I am the Birdman J.R.
I ain't trippin' nigga, I play tha corner like Rip-Kin nigga
Wit tha 40 Cal Rip-kin nigga, rip a nigga, flip ya vehicle
Split ya windshield, whack ya baby mama
But I let tha kid live

And people say that I am a kid still, 'cuz tha lil' nigga
Still ride on big wheels, you feelin' animal then
Come on and get killed, this kid peel bandannas like bananas
Say I'm slight bananas, I blow a weekend in Havana
In my Gabana wit my bottom bitch from Savannah
Man a train couldn't stop ya man, I'm man up and you not a man
I stand up, say I got my land, I'm tha man of my land
Call it Lil' Weezyana, that's tha new plan

Yeah nigga, you 'bout some money get at me nigga
That?s the only way
Dumb shit we bout that get at me
Nigga roll solo, dolo nigga

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Ghetto Life - Lyrics - Birdman - Birdman

Title: Ghetto Life
Album: Birdman
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): Dewayne Carter, Dean. K C Giles, Terrance Quaites, Brian Williams

Lyric:
Ok, we got the Birdman in the building
We got Killa in the building
We got Young Weezy in the building

Nigga, it's B.M, J.R, Weezy, baby
Tryna see him, naw, he need to even eighty
An' I ain't speakin' Gs, I'm talkin' M
An' I'm walkin' like a pimp in them all street tims

Man, shorty got more green than a Boston Gems
Green Austen, they don't cost in rims
Wayne appear, nigga put a walls in ya ear
Let ya know a fuckin' boss up in here

How much it cost for this here? How much it cost for this year?
'Cuz Me an' Stunna 'bout to buy it
Put yo spoons down, cash money off the diet
I pass in a ride on triot, that's traze
But those who was in the days when the teachers was on that pay

I'm raised in the cajun cage, with a bit of amazin' grace
An' prone to move coke at a amazin' pace
Man, my daddy, super Dave, let's race it
Real, not have me, B. I'ma win it, I'm a champ

In the ghetto life, I'm a ghetto boy
Livin' in the ghetto me, in the ghetto streets
I'm a ghetto life, any second dog, I can blow up
For ghetto me an' you best to be watchin' me
Ghetto, ghetto, ghetto life

See, I ride on them shake when I'm pimpin' them hoes
Just that Sunshine City, when I'm smokin' that dro
When it comes to this ice, real livin' his life
Get money, pimpin' hoes with these ghetto type

Nigga, check the background, I got O.G. stripe
Just a hood rich nigga, flippin' birds on a bike
Not survive in this world with guns, pahs an' knifes
Pour out a lil' liquor, mami lost her life

All my niggaz in the penitentiary, holdin' that life
See I'm stunnin' for my niggaz with this chromed out pipes
This swish interry foreign German lifes
An' I keep this big toolie just protect my ice

I act, a damn fool, when I'm full of that white
But it's the Birdman, Daddy, with these ghetto stripes
Ghetto hood, ghetto pipe
Ghetto walk, with my ghetto life

In the ghetto life, I'm a ghetto boy
Livin' in the ghetto me, in the ghetto streets
I'm a ghetto life, any second dog, I can blow up
For ghetto me an' you best to be watchin' me
Ghetto, ghetto, ghetto life

Ayyo, the duck just born, I need seven more leaders
C.Five, Fo' Fum an' a 74 fever
Act up though I let the 4 fever leave ya
Dice game, head crack, 64 fever

When I'm in L.A., I got 64 fever
An' a fever for the flava of a six foot diva
I told the po' to feave her, I'm about to crook
Out to just, not a chef, but I know how to cook

With the piece stocks, cook up the rocks
Seventh Delenix is hot, I done cook up the block
Send glocks to ya block, out done cook up yo spots
That's how coke for that cook up his watch

I'm one of those, that will look up to Pac
'Cuz when I get pulled over, cook up the cops
All they say is, look at his drop
Hand on my license, look at his watch

But, thug shit, dog, we down with Baby
We come through clownin', baby
An' if we, surrounded babies, duck tape the kids to the wall
Then shoot circle all around the baby, Killa

In the ghetto life, I'm a ghetto boy
Livin' in the ghetto me, in the ghetto streets
I'm a ghetto life, any second dog, I can blow up
For ghetto me an' you best to be watchin' me
Ghetto, ghetto, ghetto life

It's nothin', man, Killa, Diplomats, Cash Money, Baby, holla
Jim Jones, Santana, what's good? Roc-a-Fella
Birdman, fly to hood near you, then they got 'em cheap
Yeah, ya know, ya know, get that call out one more time

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Dipset (Santana'S Town) - Cam'Ron - Lyrics - From Me to U - Juelz Santana

Title: Dipset (Santana'S Town) - Cam'Ron
Album: From Me to U
Artist: Juelz Santana
Composer(s): Cameron Giles, Edward Hinson Jr., Laron L. James

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Lyric:
Dipset
Dipset
Dipset

Juelz, dip dip, Santana, set set
What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs
Who you wit wit, throw up yo set
Dipset, dipset, dipset, what

Juelz, dip dip, Santana, set set
What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs
Who you wit wit, throw up yo set
Dipset, dipset, dipset, what

Yo, I be wit a gang a gangs, who hang and bang
Animals, arrangatangs
Hammers move, bangers bang
Damn, it's dude the game has changed

I got a hoe selection, a whole collection
A whole selection of my hoe collection
And I'm big pimpin', stick dipin', quick shiftin'
Bitch listen, this isn't, no damn game in here

Yeah, the whole Byrd gang's in here
Like Kurt Cobain was here, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

And I'm dangerous yeah, brainless yeah, stainless yeah
Aim it yeah, bang it yeah, y'all some dead motherfuckas
And my diddy-pop, barge through the city blocks
Hard with the pretty glock, dodge and you getting shot

[Incomprehensible] to the bar, hard liquor get a shot
Get a broad, get her hot, get her home give her cock
Go, it's your birthday
Go, go drink it girl, it's cumming, I know you're thirsty

Harlem's my birthplace, tombstone dirt place
Doomsday, goons day, Tuesday to Thursday

Juelz, dip dip, Santana, set set
What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs
Who you wit wit, throw up yo set
Dipset, dipset, dipset, what

Juelz, dip dip, Santana, set set
What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs
Who you wit wit, throw up yo set
Dipset, dipset, dipset, what

Jump, stomp, move, breathe, we in too deep, okay
I'm lo-lo from the block again
Po-po and the cops again, no homo but they cocking them
Four-fos and glocks and 'em

They the paparrazi, they the livest posses
Kamakazi, Nazi, Nazi, copy papi

I'm a baller baller, you're not at all a baller
That's why I scorched your daughter
Left her home, call her, call her
I'm in the low BM, yeah, with your old BM
We smokin' ozium, Trojans and petroleums

Yeah, and that's just in case the hole is thin
Take it off, bend it over, throw it in, work it, work it
Oops, squirt it, squirt it
Oops, oopsy dais, ohh I'm crazed

Cho-cho train, co-ca mane, Zulu Gang
I'm old school like Bambatta, no man's hotta
The damn dadda, I jam proper, ya man's nadda

Juelz, dip dip, Santana, set set
What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs
Who you wit wit, throw up yo set
Dipset, dipset, dipset, what

Juelz, dip dip, Santana, set set
What he grip grip, nigga tec tecs
Who you wit wit, throw up yo set
Dipset, dipset, dipset, what

Santana, Killa, Jim Jones, Freaky
Killa, you already know what it is
My man Juelz Santana, that boy got that crack man
Diplomat Records man

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Ghetto Bird - Lyrics - Lethal Injection - Ice Cube

Title: Ghetto Bird
Album: Lethal Injection
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Bernard Worrell, William Earl Collins, Quincy Jones, David Spradley, O'Shea Jackson, Jr., George Clinton, Garry Shider

Lyric:
Why, oh why must you swoop through the hood
Like everybody from the hood is up to no good
You think all the girls around here are trickin'
Up there lookin' like Superchicken

At night I see your light through my bedroom window
But I ain't got shit but the pad and pencil
I can't wait till I hear you say, "I'm going down, mayday, mayday"
I'm gonna clown 'cause every time that the pigs have got me

Y'all rub it in with the flying Nazi military force
But we don't want you, standin' on my roof with the rocket launcher
So fly like an eagle but don't follow us wherever we go
The shit that I'm saying, make sure it's heard
Motherfuck you and your punk-ass ghetto bird

Run, run, run from the ghetto bird
Run, run, run from the ghetto bird

Now, my homies here to lick on a trick for a Rolex
And let me try the four next
Now the four I was driving is hotter than July
Looked up and didn't see it whippin' in the sky

Saw a chopper with numbers on the bottom
Calling all cars, I think we've got 'em
I hit the gas and I mashed past Inglewood
I think I drove through every single hood

South Central, Compton and Watts
Long Beach, bust a U, here come the cops
Wish I had a genie with about three wishes
Metal flake green on D's, I look suspicious

You know that I'm running, shit, I hear it humming
Fuck, I see it coming, is it a bird? Yup, is it a plane? No
I hit me a right on El Segundo
Wanted to holla, had to ditch the Impala

Let's see if they would follow
Me, hit a fence, hit a fence and another
Met me a baby pitbull and his mother
Ran up in some people's house and looked out of the window

I wish it was my ten-four
Had to pull a strap on a fool named Louis the Third
'Cuz I'm getting chased by the ghetto bird

Just put his hat, he combed his hair and then put his hat back on
He's acting nonchalant up there in that cockpit, going 115 miles an hour
With the police chasing him, they're not gonna be real happy
When they catch up with him, no matter what, but the
They hate, they hate a bigmouth even worse

Officer Bird's on his way and I don't wanna see him
Could you please give me the keys to the B.M.?
See, I didn't want to gank you
But don't make me bank you, thank you

Tried to get to the hood, and you might guess
That a fool like me woulda shot Cyrus
Incognito, Ghetto Eagle
Saying, "Fuck, where did he go?"

I bust me a left from Rubellon
Parked the 735 and I'm bailin'
Went to my home girl's house and got a hug man
She helped me run like Harriet Tubman

Looked out the window by the black bed
I saw the pigs and the four on a flatbed
Then the light from the bird hit me in the face
I close the blinds 'cause I didn't wanna catch a case

All that night, I heard the bird circle
While I was eating fish and watching Urkel
She said I could sleep on the couch
By two a.m. I was digging her out, fuck the ghetto bird

Which way is he going now?
Okay, now, now he's, he's actually Southbound on a service street
And, Gee whiz, uh, I'm gonna get my maps out here
And figure out which service street he suddenly turned off on
The sheriffs are, are, well I know that sheriffs ground units got thrown off

Motherfuck you and your punk-ass ghetto bird

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Bust At You - Lyrics - Loyalty - Fat Joe

Title: Bust At You
Album: Loyalty
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Jordan. B George Jr Clinton, Brian Williams, Alan Maman, Joseph Cartagena, Gary Lee Cooper, William Ear Collins

Lyric:
Excuse me, while I sing to you
I'm bein' real and that's the thing to do
I'm just livin' and lovin'
Smokin' and fuckin'

Out here on the grind
(Alchemist this beat is stupid dope fresh)
If I can't get no love then I can touch you
(Shit is fly, throw back ya heard me)

I'd rather touch you
(We ridin' on these niggas, come on)
'Stead I'd rather bust at you
(Yeah, Terror Squad)

I'd rather touch you
(It's goin' down my niggas)
(Stunna, Face, Joe Crack the Don)
'Stead I'd rather bust at you

You motherfuckers must be crazy
I been doin' this shit since the eighties
Run up in yo crib, snatch ya baby, baby-baby
It's the kid still holdin' the crown

Now that they give it I'm holdin' a pound
And I'm lookin' for some bustas who be actin' like them niggas do dirt
Come to find out they ain't put in no work
And now my feelin's is hurt

'Cause they decided that they wanted to murk
But I'ma chase 'em to the end of the earth
'Cause I'm a motherfuckin' rider
You can see the pain in my face

Got no problem exchangin' the hate
They got me fightin' a case
And if I blow will I face a fifteen
And I'll probably do it all in the pen

But yo I'm livin' with it
Death before dishonor for my niggas that ride
A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride
Death before dishonor for my niggas that ride

A thousand deaths if ya sellin' ya pride
You motherfuckers need to know that

I'd rather touch you
'Stead I'd rather bust at you
I'd rather touch you
'Stead I'd rather bust at you

Hey Joe, we gon' ball like dogs but keep it gangsta nigga
I'm a guerrilla on the streets but it's time for the fun time
Out of line, I bust with my tech nine
Choose ya loose, I give ya the blues

Ol' pussy ass nigga with his pussy ass crews
It's the murder man mack, I stash in the 'Lac
I bought my bricks from these dro back stacks
It's the Birdman baby, come and holla at me later

Duck ass niggas, we deal with 'em later
First you, go to the mall and you ball like a dog
And we drop the car, then holla at ya boy
Tell them pussy ass niggas, break bread with the boy

Joe, they breakin' bread with the boy
Tell Big Pun nigga, Stunna ride for the boy
Win or lose I ride for my boy
It's the B-M gangsta, the D-Boy Click
We mash on bustas and we flip these bricks nigga

I'd rather touch you
'Stead I'd rather bust at you
I'd rather touch you
'Stead I'd rather bust at you

Niggas tell me money talk
But bullshit is walkin' out on four feet
That's why I'm ridin' on ya whole street
I'll be a nigga till it's said and done

I'm from a section where ya fight till ya die 'cause ya never run
I keep my forty cal cocked 'cause these niggas on my block bang
Right up the street from where the cops hang
And in my head I hear Pac sang

And then them rushin' memories make me cry till I can't stop man
Tell my mama I'm a killer if I happen to die
That's how I lived, ain't no sense in me lyin'
My whole life's filled with danger

Never been a stranger to homicide
My neighborhood's full of gangstas and drive-bys
And niggas fightin' for position
The demon has risen from out of prison

Now I'm losin' my religion
That's how I'm feeling when I'm fuckin' with you
'Cause I don't fuck with you, now I'm bustin' at you
So fuck you dude

I'd rather touch you
(Terror Squad, Facemob)
'Stead I'd rather bust at you
(Cash Money Millionaires, come on)

I'd rather touch you
(My tech, my mack)
'Stead I'd rather bust at you
(Lick my uzi straight like that)

I'd rather touch you
(My tech, my mack)
'Stead I'd rather bust at you
(Lick my uzi straight like that)

Dedicated to my homeboy Pac
Love daddy, Facemob in the house
Fat Joe and it don't stop
Come on

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