Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Bullets From Hell. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Bullets From Hell. Sort by date Show all posts

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Bullets From Hell - Lyrics - Destruction

Title: Bullets From Hell
Artist: Destruction
Composer(s): Michael Sifringer, Marcel Schirmer

Lyric:
Hate is all I feel
Disgust is disease no one can heal
Frustration, no big deal
This suckin' life can't be fuckin' real

Salvation of our sanity
Is what they preach to the silly humanity?
But greed and ignorance
Knocks down the level of my tolerance

I don't give a fuck if they endorse political crime
The crap they preach is just like a bad rhyme
Don't trust the one with the smile on the face
Or you'll disappear without a trace

Suffer from this curse, a verdict of my hate
You won't forget this verse, you can't change our fate
You won't forget this words, no one can tell
Deep from my heart I shoot bullets from hell

Bullets
Bullets from hell
Bullets
Bullets from hell
Bullets from hell

An ambush, I'm born to scream it out
I ain't no preacher, there's no fuckin' doubt
Listen to these desperate words
Understand, I hit where it hurts

I don't give a fuck if they endorse political crime
The crap they preach is just like a bad rhyme
Don't trust the one with the smile on the face
Or you'll disappear without a trace

Suffer from this curse, a verdict of my hate
You won't forget this verse, you can't change our fate
You won't forget this words, no one can tell
Deep from my heart I shoot bullets from hell

Bullets
Bullets from hell
Bullets
Bullets from hell
Bullets from hell

See the nightmares I bring
Feel the unholy sting
Smell the fragrance of decay
Hear my screams they will stay

See the nightmares I bring
Feel the unholy sting
Smell the fragrance of decay
Hear my screams they will stay

Bullets
Bullets from hell
Bullets
Bullets from hell

Bullets
Bullets from hell
Bullets
Bullets from hell

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12d792a36922551ed76c21677266db22

Friday, August 20, 2010

Pearly Gates - Lyrics - Blood Money - Mobb Deep

Title: Pearly Gates
Album: Blood Money
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Robert Matthew Bowles, A Manfredi, Kejuan W Muchita, Curtis James Jackson, Albert Johnson

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Lyric:
Yeah

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

Now if you followed my footsteps and walked through my shoes
You wouldn't go against me cause you know you would lose
It's been along time comin' I done paid my dues
Now every time I turn around it's like I'm back in the news

I know alot of niggaz want me wearin' cement shoes
And Uncle Tom niggaz wanna see me locked up to
Around the same time KRS was writin' Black Cop
I was busy tryin' to pump cracks in the black blocks

Poppin' shit to my homeys about how my gat pop
Got rid of that chrome thing and got back a black glock
P ninety hold ten but I had six shots
I used to walk around with it and risk gettin' knocked

I bought a fresh box of bullets from Old Man Sam
Wanted to shoot a nigga so bad it was itchin' my hand
Some shot it out with me, and some of them ran
And some of them dashed were good and some of them jammed

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

Now if you take a good look and look into my face
And if they wouldn't even dare to violate my space
Som' I did so much dirt, I'm tryin' to clean my slate
And ate so many niggaz food and now they want mines ate

The dogs bark when I walk and since the souls I took
Moms pray for me with her right hand on the good book
Saw shots fly by me, no, I shouldn't been trippin'
The Pulp Fiction must have been God's divine intervention

Wouldn't thought then from that, I learned my lesson
And clean my act up and go straight to perfection
Uncle La got knocked the feds hit it with seven
And left me with the fifty cal and a mac eleven

Start everything from everything from heads to the worries
And had half the hood damn near wanted to mirk us
Found myself askin' God what the fuck is my purpose
You go to heaven, know I'm foul but put a good word in

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

Now homey if I go to Hell and you make it to the pearly gates
Tell the boss man we got beef
And tell his only son, I'm a see him when I see him
And when I see him, I'm a beat him like a movie

For leavin' us out to dry on straight poverty
For not showin' me no signs they watchin' over me
Yo! We a new breed in two thousand six
We don't give a fuck about that religious bullshit

Nigga show me where the cash at
The nice whips with the three car garage to fit them shits
Man my life is painful, pray to angels
I'm prayin' to myself hopin', I ain't got to spank you

My bullets shank you, and when my guns start cuttin'
Ain't nobody gon' save you
In the bible times, they ain't had to deal with the shit
We dealin' within, these survival times

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

Homey, if I go to Hell and you make it to Heaven
Just get me to the gate, and I'll talk my way in
Got a gift, I'm special with the flow I'm good
Shit, I done talk my way out of the hood

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1de5f787a3714b724de3063f4d4264b4

Saturday, August 21, 2010

I Don'T Wanna Party Wit U - Lyrics - Dj Quik

Title: I Don'T Wanna Party Wit U
Artist: Dj Quik
Composer(s): David Marvin Blake

Lyric:
Get back before I get raised, get lower
Do some extreme shit, keep from bein' bored
Now it's double up, hoes come a nickel a dozen
They get hot and get fucked and don't remember from buzzin'

That's why you don't see me, I ain't at the club
I'm chillin' with my homies in the city of hugs
Because they need me more than that hoe
The big fat hoe tryna' get every ballin' nigga in the saddle

Lap dance, fat chance, hot pants, you the man
Now a days you can't tell, watch the crotch, it might swell
You needs a pap smear, you need to know if you got an STD
Some little critters in ya trap dear

Get on, me and my homies is indivisible
And don't floss money, it looks better when it's invisible
We get props from Wall Street to y'all street
If ya missed it, I stay consistant, we got heat
C-P-T style, O-G me style, the D-J Q-U-I-K with no C style
In yo' town, don't trip nigga, it goes down

And when you see me in all blue, you gon' frown
But I'm rigid the ghetto, I'm rigid with rap
Money or respect bitch, I'd rather have the digits than DAT
So give me the hats, do you want the meat or the scraps?
Put heat on my naps and I'ma hell look sweet on my lap
'Cause it's the same thang tryna' kill the gang bang
Set examples for the kids, on how to maintain
Never be a lame brain

Y'all ain't gotta feel the same pain
That put a nigga like me on the mainframe
Bow down, back up nigga, I'm hot now
And don't try to resuscitate me when I'm shot down
Just call my homie Theo on the radio
And let him know his little homie Quiksta had to go
Because 'Gangsta, Gangsta', that's what they yellin'

But niggas do dirt, get caught, and start tellin'
Talkin' to you G's with no heart
We was throwin' and runnin' from bullets
Before gangsta rappin' was an art
Nigga so don't test ya bullet-proof vest
'Cause real niggas do real thangs up under stress
That's from the C-P-T, young G with heart, too
Oh we still party, but now it's part two

And I don't wanna party wit you, hell naw
'Cause bitch you scary
You 20 years old, with 3 kids, 7 tattoos
You're bald but your legs are hairy

I don't wanna party wit you, hell naw
You need to put some lotion on
'Cause ya skin is peelin' around them bullet wounds on ya back
You're fat plus you're abortion-prone

I'd rather be a young exec, than the puppet on the other end
Danglin' by a neuce on his neck
They can't handle me, 'cause I'm where the [Incomprehensible] be
And underground nigga on Erickston, now there is the family

That I'ma roll wit, take control wit
Have a ball, break bread, and share the store wit
Even though I'm thirsty for money in the worst way
I ain't go cry if I don't go platinum on the first day
Watch me, get my hustle on with the friendly competition

Y'all got papers but I got the latest tradition
A hundred-thousand dollars a truck, is what I crack
And if you ain't got that, keep wishin'
And to you bitch-ass niggas in the maze
Comin' at a player with [Incomprehensible] ways
Keep lickin' on that other sound

And stay north of the 105 Hip Hop heads, 'cause this is underground
Right by the water, can't do right by ya daughter
But look at all the shit that I done bought her
See lyrics ain't nothin' if the beat ain't crackin'
And these beats smackin', that's why the G's keep stackin', nigga

I don't wanna party wit you, hell naw
'Cause nigga you's a scuffla
Your braids is dingy, your clothes ain't got no creases
And your lips look like you sucked a muffler

I don't wanna party wit you, hell naw
'Cause bitch you didn't know me
When you was fine as wine and thick
Now you sick from smokin' that shit
You're broke and plus you're boney

W-E-S-T, C-O-A-S-T, that's where the hydroponic with no seeds be
So don't trip when you see me on the TV, or my CD
And my eyes are really R-E-D
See the [Incomprehensible] is free, pardon me for bein' speaky
Switchin' on y'all that wanna jeek me

What makes you even try that way?
Yeah I might be fly, but I don't fly that way
Hmm, even on a gallon a Sisco I could never go disco
Dude I ain't from Frisco

And to these bitches, y'all trippin', we ain't layin' wit y'all
Just because we say we wanna fuck, we playin' wit y'all
This is entertainment, we tryna' make us some change
We ain't impressed by what you got up under your Hanes
Bitch that's yo' trap, and that's yo' sap

Let me spit the cap while she sit in yo' lap
Homie, don't you know me
Jealous-ass niggas wanna flow me
Just because yo' woman wanna blow me
On the strength I give that hoe a tittie-toy
'Cause I'm the only ugly nigga gettin' away with bein' pretty boy

I don't wanna party wit you, hell naw
Now this is how the sporty bounce
We stay away from you broke-ass niggas
Always beggin' and ain't got a dime on the 40 oz

I don't wanna party wit you hell naw
'Cause hoe you toe-back, with that ol' long ass roll
And ya stockin' smellin' like Avon
And that horse want his 'fro back

I don't wanna party wit you hell naw
And nigga I can't stand ya
And I ain't got nothin' but some advice,
A map, a bar of soap, some water and a towel to hand ya

I don't wanna party wit you hell naw
Now I'ma be real wit it
All my fuckin' life I ain't never wanted fame
But since the shit done came I gotta deal wit it

I don't wanna party wit you
Ya know, but I'ma do it like my homie say
Check it, I don't give a fuck about fame
I'd rather deal with the money, y'all can have the name
I'm out, yeah

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d44c838af2ea9d15889320c65c3ba683

Ghetto Vet - Lyrics - War And Peace Vol. 1 (War) - Ice Cube

Title: Ghetto Vet
Album: War And Peace Vol. 1 (War)
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Stephen Anderson, Lionel, Jr. Short Hunt, O'Shea Jackson

Lyric:
Life
Niggaz used to come and get me
When it was time to disagree with an enemy
Pass the Hennessey it gives me energy
Packed the gat in the small of my back
Where these niggaz at I clear the whole pack

Talkin' shit 'cuz I'm down for my set I'm a vet
Smokin' on a wet cigarette
(Who these niggaz think they are?)
(Wishin' on a ghetto star I represent my tar, [Incomprehensible])

I start bustin' and they scatter like water bugs
'Cuz these Westside niggaz is harder thugs
Enslave us but nothin' can save us from sportin' Ben Davis
Shootin' at your neighbors
('Cuz sometimes I feel like a nut, don't give a fuck when I open ya up)

Hot rocks fly from the back seat
And busta ass niggaz run like a track meet
And if you crawl in the middle bleed mo' than a little
(What?)
Killer king is the hospital, feelin' numb from the bullets I hum
And when they hit, black mothers have fits, I don't give a shit

Fool, I'm a vet you can bet
That I could dance underwater and not get wet
(Check it)
It's rainin' bullets and I'm still there
(Foe life)
I'm still there

My house shoes get wet from the dew on the grass
Up early in the morning takin' out the trash
Feelin' like a loser alcohol abuser
Two youngsters roll up on a beach cruiser

One on the pedals the other on the handle bars
(What?)
Tryin' be ghetto stars they said
"Are you from the Westside, is it so?"
I said, "Hell yea and who wanna know?
(Me)

In slow mo fo', fo' slugs face down in the mud
Puddle full of blood left for dead
The pain starts to spread now I can't feel my legs
I meet Dr. Who, at King Drew Medical Center
As I enter I.C.U.

He said, "The bullet hit a nerve that was vital"
I said, "I can't move my legs", he said,
"Don't try to, now this ain't the end, my friend"
("What?")
"But you'll probably never walk again"
I sit there motionless holdin' this pain inside contemplating suicide

At night, I jerk and jerk
But my dick don't work, it don't even hurt
(Damn)
Now who'd ever thought a nigga rude as Ice Cube
I be pissin' through a tube
Fool, I'm a vet

Fool, I'm a vet you can bet
That I could dance underwater and not get wet
(Check it)
It's rainin' bullets and I'm still there
Young ghetto nigga in a wheelchair

Fuck a V A they need G A
Gang hospital for a cripple now I'm drinkin' rippal
Same corner same hood I'm still there
With bandanas tied to my wheel chair

To all the hood rat hoes, I'm fired
They mad 'cuz my tongue get tired
Now everybody wanna put they dope on me
Sayin' I won't get searched by the L.A.P.D.

I'm sitting on a doorway, duece five
Dependin' on that to keep my ass alive
I don't got bows but my arm's about a one-six
With fuckin' legs, lookin' like tooth picks

Sometimes I can't deal, got to beg the B G's to roll me up the hill
(C'mon man)
Put me on the porch, now I'm on the torch smokin' cocaine
Just to maintain nutin' to gain, nutin' to lose
And last night I couldn't make it to the bathroom

Feelin' like a two year old, you can't get a sip from the brew I hold
Nigga, its the only friend to a stranger, AKA handicap gang banger
There's a lot in my life I regret becomin' a ghetto vet
Fool, I'm a vet

Fool, I'm a vet you can bet
That I could dance underwater and not get wet
(Check it)
It's rainin' bullets and I'm still there
Young ghetto nigga in a wheelchair

Fool, I'm a vet you can bet
That I could dance underwater and not get wet
(Check it)
It's rainin' bullets and I'm still there
Young ghetto nigga in a wheelchair

Life
Yea
Life
Yea
Life, life
Dedicated to all the ghetto vets
For every nigga that done took one for the hood

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94bb341cd16c07e12e6318990ebb0337

Monday, August 16, 2010

Twelve Jewelz - Lyrics - Gravediggaz

Title: Twelve Jewelz
Artist: Gravediggaz
Composer(s): Robert F. Diggs, Omar Miller

Lyric:
As long as you got mentally dead people
Who are living in a mental death
Meaning living in a mental grave
You need somebody to dig that grave up and bring them back to life

There's no chance for a physical dead
But there's chance for the mentally dead
So, we gonna come and resurrect them
That's why they call me the Ryzarector

I'm out to resurrect the mental dead
By diggin' up they graves
Bringin' 'em back to the surface

Niggaz is caught up in the midst of six
You better grab ahold of your crucifix
And this is it, the black God exists
Can you understand this? Let me teach you a lesson, yo

The pre-existence of the mathematical, biochemical equations
The manifestations of God, Earth, Air, Fire and Water
Which are in it's basic formation, solid liquid and gases
That caused the land masses and the space catalyst
And all matter that exists and is dense

Third dimension, that must be observed through physical comprehension
It takes a nerve to be struck, wisdom is the wise
Poet spoken to wake up, the dumb who've been sleeping

The fourth dimension is time, it goes inside the mind
Run the channels, energized up through the back of your spine
So, observe as my G energy strikes a vital nerve
One swerve of the tongue, it pierces like a sword through the lung

Have you not heard that words kill as fast as bullets?
When you load negative thoughts, to the chamber of your brain
And your mouth pulls the trigger that propels, wickedness straight from Hell
From the pits of your stomach where negativity dwell

I searched the East coast and West coast down and most found
The small towns is like ghost towns, everybody moves slowed down
From Uptown to Bucktown, give a fuck, now, Shaolin gots the crown
And cops'll still serve you from Jamaica Ave. to Myrtle
And cats carry more shells than turtles

Brooklyn, Down Park Hill, pussies unfertile
Buy wholesale never retail get females in deep spells
If you eat well, you sleep well

Send enemies to Hell
What makes hair skin epidermis fingernail
Regenerate, when everything else disintegrate
A Teflon vest, so, bullets can't penetrate

On the corner of my block there stood this old man
A black immigrant from the land of Sudan
Who used to tell stories to the children in the building
But never had a dollar to keep his pocket filled in

He bombed, he knew Deuteronomy, the science of Astronomy
But didn't know the basic principles about economy
I say the wise man don't play the role of a fool
The first thing a man must obtain is Twelve Jewelz

Knowledge, wisdom, understanding to help you achieve
Freedom, justice, equality, food, clothing and shelter
After this, love, peace and happiness

He had the nappiest head, I told him total satisfaction
Is to achieve one goal in the scheme of things
He who works like a slave, eats like a king

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84b580083ca53d85e2732d314f455704

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Down '71 (The Getaway) - Lyrics - E. 1999 Eternal - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: Down '71 (The Getaway)
Album: E. 1999 Eternal
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Tony-C Bone D J U-Nee

Lyric:
Playa hatin' ass muthafuckas man fuck dat man put that shit out man
You ain't 'posed to be smokin' no muthafuckin' weed in court
Man fuck dat man they got my nigga man that shit ain't cool man
"Okay order in the court" The people versus Bone Thugs-N-Harmony

Case number C601999 will the defendant please stand
Is there anything you wish to say on this matter
Before sentencing Bizzy Bone? No man
You know the muthafucka did it
Well the court sentences you to death by electric chair

We had to get 'em up wid two thugs
Runnin' side by side wid number one
Murda mo drop my guage on 'em
When the po-po chase

If they catch me barehanded, I'm done
Rip's gripping the six shot pump, so spill it
Copper lettin' the lead off
Copper thought that he had me caught

Little Layzie blew his head off get him up, and get up
The bullets they start to get lit up
Number one best start duckin' wid ah gun already buckin'
Bust me lead on the double glock 'n

Where the fiends roll up for rocks 'n
This perfect getaway, from the pigs when I peel and I hit the fences
Rippin' up the trench and I'm bailing while they trailing
Better in hell than in the cell and it ain't no telling

Where the coppers be dwelling
One had spotted me, pick up ah piece and shot a me
But, I practice what I preach and see that these slugs
Up in his body got him, run, wid smoke coming

From the barrel ah, me gun
Hit the bend, oh what the dum, dum I got yum
Yummed on the dead end they set in, then they lead in
They wanting me off in the coffin

Cops from everywhere was yellin and wailin' I went unconcious
From the stompin' taking ah loss and waking up in the coffin
And without no stallin' cell I was tossed in to be arreigned at dawning
Looking in the eyes of a judge, he knew right where to put that thug

Made to be so, wid no parole In the hole but I won't budge
Sent me to deathrow, watchin' the time by fly past
But Rip'll be sittin' mindless never spineless, in silence

Hoping I die fast, but chill, never do, sleepa
Gotta get put that on all me reefer
Somehow must beat ya, so peep out the creep or
The reaper will meet ya

Bailin' on ah mission, flippin' the script
Betta check what the wind just blew in
Betta think again, it's a preacher wid ah grin
On ah mission for revenge, wid that Mack-10

Little nigga Rip, had to empty the clip
Gotta pump them slugs up in them cops
Steady made 'em drop glock went pop pop
Goin' out like a thug on the double glock

Back from hell and ready to bail
Time to hit they trail 'cause they wanted my nigga fried
Holdin' the Bible when I got a grenade, I'ma go inside the squad
Gettin' ready for the rumble

When I heard them mumbles, pullin' me guage in laughter
Keep buckin 'em faster all I was thinkin'
When I see them bustas scatter
Betta watch out for them buckshots

'Cause them can't fade me guage
Gotta bust them souls in the grave
So I'm buckin' them straight to the pave, can't be saved
I'm bucking, little Ripster reinforcements comin' in faster
Blast give my nigga double Zs the Mack-10

Lettin' the gun gun blaze on they ass
Gotta rip in them chests through vests
Mack-10s, sawed off eruptions, got plenty ammunition
No missing listen destruction, I'm bustin'

'Cause I'm making that getaway, bound to getaway
Niggas got to escape and it's never to late
When you dash and tryna' break
Nigga just can't test the Bone fate

We steadily runnin' duckin'
Comin' up to the front door barri-caded
And I pulled ah grenade, tossed to the door, let it explode
And we made it, creepin' in the courtyard

So Krayzie feelin' safety coming
Hittin' the fence and jump in it quick
From Krayzie's tech-9 bullets humming

Well it seems as if them two boys Bizzy and Layzie
Done got theyselves into another jam
Well I'd love to see them boys get theyself outta this one

Soon as I went in the smoke, rollin' real fast like a dog
And began wid a rage and the guage can't let go
They done labelled my nigga psychotic
Bitches is got him sittin' on deathrow

Scoping out the tower peeping the scene
So when my niggas trail
Screaming out one eighty seven and bail
Gotta get my nigga Rip out that cell, it's all over now

How my nigga number one disguised as the preacher
Won't be pullin' ah Bible mission for survival nigga so I creep the
Tech millimetre, somebody done pull the alarm now it's on
Slaughterin' Bone, sprayed off the tech

Gotta let 'em know which way was on
We got gone but them police was pullin' up quick nigga what's up
Quick bust in first when he hit that fence niggas got cut the fuck up
We steady bucking, steady duckin' buckin' while I was jumpin'

All we was thinking is don't get caught
Nigga like me get the gun running
Gunning fronting wid thugs gotta get to the smug
Turn around and we pump slugs, put 'em in the mud

And all across my face was the red that lay in blood
Dodging the who, make the gun flip wid ah swoo
Bailing back on wid my troops
I'm runnin' wid 4 crazy niggas

That's down wid they niggas they ain't scared to shoot
Now I'm rolling, no more than ah half ah mile we get stopped
Cops surround Bone, we load glocks
And squeeze say fuck all these road blocks

Busted ah you, then put that bitch in reverse
And I get the swish and I push the button
That boy came out the trunk and
Put it in drive see that Souljah boy bucking

Back in the other direction, Po-po came quick then heat up
Niggas blast at each other, open up they doors
And they get they feet up
I jumped outta the car, had to jump over the hood

'Cause I'm headin' straight for the woods
So the niggas they follow behind me
We getaway smooth, ah nigga made good
Came up quick to the hideout

Wait until midnight till we ride out, hit ah car so we can drive out
While we waited we all got fried out, fool
If youse a thuggish ruggish thug nigga scream mo
Took one ah my niggas off deathrow now we got one mo to go

St.Claire, St.Claire, St.Claire, St.Claire
St.Claire, St.Claire, St.Claire, St.Claire

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cc8a6ade271bbec90e015e39be611c7e

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Drag Shit - Lyrics - Drag On

Title: Drag Shit
Artist: Drag On
Composer(s): David Styles, Mel Jason Smalls, Darrin Dean, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
I make my block move like earthquakes, they call me Sandman
'Cuz while I smoke this up, I got coke to cut
Leavin' niggas so doped up, they chokin' off they throw up
Can't even see straight, leanin' like they need V8

Nigga call A G eighth, jail I can't see me in
A year's too long it's only shorter you got three in
I run with niggas on the run from 25
Y'all only heard me for 18 months, already I wanna spray shit up

Keep braggin' about your cars I'ma see drama before it happens
When I roll up hard, you wonder what the fuck cab I'm in
'Cuz I can pop up and peel back and all I can promise is peel caps
With holes, like the bullets was damn near pose

I see your Lex duped out, your sunroof's out
Now look at me droppin' three in your dome two to your mouth
Leave a nigga head blowin' his horn, with his signals on
Don't lie before a snitch call cops I'm fall blocks

See I spit hard 'cuz I know that's what y'all want
Y'all ain't said it first, I'm droppin' with a odor out my trunk
Now what the hell is that, you smell that?
All you see is a shoelace teared up from the back

Like I'm fishtailin' a AC
And who I sound like? C'mon dog my voice drown mics
But nigga don't compare, stop talkin' and come here
You know where I be at, BX and nigga bring that
I already got mine, the only difference I pop mine nigga

Ruff Ryder nigga, carry the pound
Get engaged with these bullets, then marry the ground
Drag dash on the fire is real
We don't talk about guns, we will pop our steel

You don't sound like us, get down like us
Make a nigga mom frown like us, we Ruff Ryde
Till I say enough died, I'ma still bust mine
Finished with the pound, then I'm startin' with the nine

I don't sound close to niggas, niggas runnin' around
Rollercoasting niggas, I make post of niggas
When I put the toast to niggas
Let me see y'all niggas run, 'cuz when I tote float niggas
And deep throat niggas

Spit flame, drop of a dime, drop of a quarter
I'm the real reason why niggas rush the border
They don't plea 'bout they freedom, they just wanna see him
So I can speak words to tease 'em, and mislead 'em

To have 'em smuggle me guns, smuggle me drugs
Fuckin' with thugs, cuttin' niggas up just out of love
Drag buy guns in New York, hell naw
I got Cubans send me Cuban cigars for these bars

So fuck y'all 'cuz all I could tell y'all the rest is no tax
I'm fire so y'all could never be no macks
Last nigga touched that couldn't get his skin back
Came in in all white, left out in all black

When I pop mine, my bullets ignore stop signs
So when you feel a burnin' sensation, know it's clock time
You know like 2 to 6, or 3 to 9
9 to 12 and under that, ain't nothin' but shells

Pick 'em up, throw 'em right at myself
Tell a kid this is for every bad month that daddy sent to hell
Those that wanna be like, shoulda just been Mike
And when you see me in the streets, we could do it like Nike

Ruff Ryder nigga, carry the pound
Get engaged with these bullets, then marry the ground
Drag dash on the fire is real
We don't talk about guns, we will pop our steel

You don't sound like us, get down like us
Make a nigga mom frown like us, we Ruff Ryde
Till I say enough died, I'ma still bust mine
Finished with the pound, then I'm startin' with the nine

Play the MP3 online for free!
5901d3a48b66829b8023f6ac4e2af245

Monday, August 9, 2010

Rumble In The Jungle - Lyrics - A Tribe Called Quest

Title: Rumble In The Jungle
Artist: A Tribe Called Quest
Composer(s): Stig Anderson, Benny Andersson, Jerry Duplessis, Kamal Fareed, John R Forte, Lauryn Hill, Wyclef Jean, Samuel Michel, Trevor Smith, Chip Taylor, Bjorn Ulvaeus

Lyric:
(Come on)
Root to the fruit, more bass than Bootsy Collins
You verses me, that's like Ali verses Foreman
(Aha)

God's act, stand back and watch, Devil's time out
Can't be timed with no swatch watch, who I am? The black Abraham?
Zunga, zunga, zang, yellow man, Vietnam
Add an extra bar as I spar with literature
Taking kingdoms from tsars, winning more wars than the Moors

Hey, what's the deal? I seen the Devil spar with Allah
Mathematics was the key to set my whole race free
You might debate we, a refugee
No harm hurt me, dying, thirsty from the struggle
To my own hustle bubble, on the low, woe is me

To show the Free Bob right, the righteous Asiatic thinker
While Satan rob light, civilized like the Molly
Burgundy, wildy rocking seen the fifth when Ali clocked him
John Forte will keep you locked in

People all around, you got to recognize and witness
The Mister who swift enough to knock you out with Mic fitness
Hands blistered from holding the mics tight
Some say, it's fright night

Well, throw the R after the F 'cause I'm gonna take away your breath
The bell rings and now it's just a daily operation
Yo, you saw my lubrication, you can see this occupation
(The winner)
Eh, you know we're from Q-Borough
L-Booie and Clef the trainers, Prazwell promote the throw

We used to bite bullets with the pig skin casing
Now, we perfect slang like a gang of street masons
(Uh)
Scribe check make connects, true pyramid architects
(Yeah)
Replace the last name with the X, the man's got a God complex
(X)

But take the text and change the picture
Watch Muhammad play the messenger like Holy Muslim scriptures
Take orders from only God, only war when it's Jihad
See Ali appears in Zaire to reconnect 400 years

But we the people dark but equal give love to such things
To the man who made the fam' remember when we were kings
Blocks on fire, fiends getting higher
(Block's on fire tonight, uh, huh)

Robbing blue collar, killing for a dollar
(Hey, yo, we rob them blue collars, stick 'em up)
Youths get tired, we're dealing with them liars
(Ali, ah, yeah, Ali, ah, yeah, we're dealing with too many liars)

From Brooklyn to Zaire, we need a ghetto Messiah
(Uh, huh, ah, yeah, ah, yeah, come on)
Send me an angel in the morning, baby
Send me an angel in the morning, darling
Send me Muhammad in the morning, baby
Send me an angel in the morning, darling

Once the pen hits the pad it's danger, to this, I be no stranger
Step inside the ring and I'll derange you, I'm hearing no comments
(Come on)
Everyone looks despondent, dejected, rejected similar to Liston
Catching lists, beat it, sonny, my man is still the greatest in this

To hell with Frazier yappin' about that negative shit
Now listen, you can try and escape if you want to
But ask yourself, who the hell you gonna run to
Like Sade Abu you got a punch that I can sleep to
Fugees, Tribe, Busta Rhymes forever coming through

We sing Amazing Grace over two dollar plate
One roll snake eyes like Jake The Snake
Many lies put up for stakes, wash our sins at the Great Lakes
You and I cannot see eye to eye, so therefore we cannot relate

I'm here when I make myself crystal clear
You fled to Cape Fear when I laced you in Zaire
Tussle with a lasso in the Royal Rumble
Separate boys from men in the concrete jungle

I remember when Cassius Clay flipped the script, taking trips
To Zimbabwe, Africans started calling the God Ali Bumbaye
(So bwoy)
It be the God stricken, God nutrition, lightly stricken
(Ha)
Blow that make you feel like you was poison bitten

Ha, yo, I'm 'bout to blister you and your sister
Predicting every ass whipping before my fights my nigga
This be your last warning once you walk past the doorman
Ali and Foreman gonna lock ass until the morning

Marvelous finances provided by Joseph Mobutu
Special guests of honor like the Archbishop Desmond Tutu
We watched the Rumble In The Jungle
To see who be the targeted uncle to be the first to fall and fumble

Nuff blows they getting thrown, like solid milestones
Internally shaking up niggas, imbalance your chromosomes
With the force of a thousand warriors
When I bust your ass identify me as the lord victorious

Blocks on fire, fiends getting higher
(You're a star, blocks on fire, you're a star)
Robbing blue collar, killing for a dollar
(You're a star, yeah rob them blue collars, you're a star)

Youths get tired, we're dealing with them liars
(You're a star, youths getting tired, you're a star
We're dealing with too many liars)
From Brooklyn to Zaire, we need a ghetto Messiah
(You're a star)

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646cd3b115d7960929793a94d25af7e7

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Gangsta - Lyrics - Loyalty - Fat Joe

Title: Gangsta
Album: Loyalty
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): J Eaddy, Joseph Cartagena

Lyric:
Ollie ollie, oxen free
Like one, two, three
Red light, green light, one, two, three
Yo, I pop six boxes, play some scalezes, uh

Pitch the ball, I'ma smack that shit
Yeah, ohh, goin', goin'
Yeah, yeah, what up son?
Yo, I got this twenty two nigga play me like

Nah, I ain't got no bullets
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Top two for five, three for five, we rollin'

Now I'm in too deep
Only sixteen already hold a name in the street
Makin' the fifth scream, rockin' older niggas to sleep
Make a fiend strip naked, 'cuz he owed for a week

Now the Squad's gettin' recognized, supplyin' connects with pies
Pumpin' pounds of weight, nigga like exercise
Joe been over quarter five with dope and homicide
Long before Charlie got knocked, until Madonna died

Young and not givin' a fuck
There ain't a nigga I ain't hit when I buck and left 'em shit outta luck
I'ma gangsta like my daddy was, hittin' number spots
Sendin' me to my room while he was puffin' pot

Still I use to peak from the door, couldn't believe what I saw
Stacks of money on the bed and the floor
It wasn't long til' I did what he did
I was an innocent kid and got exposed to the life that he lived

I went from grams into O's, pounds to bricks
On the strip pimpin' hoes on some Goldie shit
I'ma gangsta by destiny, OG's selected me
I earned my spot, my whole team elected me

Gangsta, gangsta
I wanna be a gangsta
My daddy was a gangsta

Gangsta, gangsta
I wanna be a gangsta
My daddy was a gangsta
(Yeah, unh, yo, unh)

Here goes this chick doing ten in the bing
But 'less we rhyme time we see her do it again
She started out fuckin' dudes that resembled her father
Mom knew shoulda schooled her, but the bitch didn't bother

You couldn't blame her 'cuz she got it from her
She was a rider from jump, her pop's died in the hands of a chump
Now she's mad at the world, no more daddy's little girl
Now she's rockin' bandanas, no more Shirley Temple girl

Now she be runnin' wit some scramblers that be down in Alabama
Packin' twin hammers, screamin', "Life doesn't matter"
It's a vicious cycle, her game is pretendin' to like you
Thinkin' you gettin' head, but she's just duckin' so they can snipe you

Movin' from state to state, runnin' everythin' from guns to trains
And pushin' packs from eight to eight
You know I can't say her name, but she was a looker
Pretty thin', such a shame how this life has took her

Now she's raisin' Hell in the cell, no more his are hollerin'
You might suffer the same fate if you repeat the followin'
Sell drugs, use drugs, get caught up in the mix
End up locked up or dead in a casket, that's it

Gangsta, gangsta
I wanna be a gangsta
My daddy was a gangsta

Gangsta, gangsta
I wanna be a gangsta
My daddy was a gangsta

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bc6ae3d121f26413e1b00642384e5db6

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Sentinel - Lyrics - '98 Live Meltdown - Judas Priest

Title: Sentinel
Album: '98 Live Meltdown
Artist: Judas Priest
Composer(s): Robert Halford, Glenn Tipton, Kenneth Downing

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

Lyric:
Along deserted avenues
Steam begins to rise
The figures primed and ready
Prepared for quick surprise
He's watching for a sign
His life is on the line

Sworn to avenge
Condemn to hell
Tempt not the blade
All fear the sentinel

Dogs whine in the alleys
Smoke is on the wind
From deep inside it's empty shell
A cathedral bell begins
Ringing out it's toll
A storm begins to grow

Sworn to avenge
Condemn to hell
Tempt not the blade
All fear the sentinel

Amidst the upturned burned-out cars
The challengers await
And in their fists clutch iron bars
With which to seal his fate

Across his chest is scabbards rest
The rows of throwing knives
Whose razor points in challenged tests
Have finished many lives

Now facing one another
The stand-off eats at time
Then all at once a silence falls
As the bell ceases it's chime

Upon this sign the challengers
With shrieks and cries rush forth
The knives fly out like bullets
Upon their deadly course

Screams of pain and agony
Rent the silent air
Amidst the dying bodies
Blood runs everywhere

The figure stands expressionless
Impassive and alone
Unmoved by this victory
And the seeds of death he's sown

Sworn to avenge
Condemn to hell
Tempt not the blade
All fear the sentinel

Sworn to avenge
Condemn to hell
Tempt not the blade
All fear the sentinel

Sworn to avenge
Condemn to hell
Tempt not the blade
All fear the sentinel

Sworn to avenge
Condemn to hell
Tempt not the blade
All fear the sentinel

Play the MP3 online for free!
52dea9e36a53cd0393fb944561de8516

Monday, August 2, 2010

1112 - Lyrics - The Genius Gza

Title: 1112
Artist: The Genius Gza
Composer(s): G Grice, W Reed, E Turner, K Moss, Robert Diggs

Lyric:
Bobby said, "Fuck spendin' 50 on a whip, buy equip"
Mental flip, got a thousand tracks stored on a chip
Said he had mad toys to make noise
You split and separate drums like asteroids

The concerned producer sampled this question
Hit him with the beat for the answer with extra compression
When sound travel, it quickly grab you
And equalizes the pitch up, until it have you

Bugged out, tryin' to think you can match this
The portrait's too graphic
Panoramic view for you, stamp Wu
The feature Gothic, the outcome will be catastrophic

We wrote block-tic checkpoints on your next joint
And who the nigga you anoint?
700 volts on the track to slay
Murderous wordplay displayed for killin' cascades

Throwin' bullets in the air to test wind
Which way the cyclone spins
Counter on clockwise, still civilized
Kill spies on the wall that still flies all dies

Give no extension on the lynchin'
It's tension if the name of the Clan is mentioned
It's the aura that's felt that causes one to flash his gun
And reveal how he really feel, confirmed

He'll never live after the show, see the promoted for the dough
I'm takin', breakin' his wax
Throw my shit on to perform my selection from the Swarm
Day 2 breaks, it's a stormy Monday

My ninjas lay in ravines and ditches
Underneath shrubs and leaves
They breathed through underwater reeds
The enemy walks above, Clan remain subterranean mud

Off shore banks, tanks approach the location
Bombarded by the circle of death formation
Telecom lines are sniped from these low altitude strikes
Shatterin' bulletproof helmets with scrap nail fragments of cell

Inhale these venomous thought that I propel
Through the North facility, the city must suffer at the hand
Of the Chief's command, volts is in
At 3 minute intervals the heat intenses
Deadenin' the power from electrical fences
Defenses are down, shake a nigga up
Bounce him off the sound

{You know what I'm sayin'?
The God Cadaver, in the streets of Iris
We talk about sex, money and drugs
(Ruled by power)}

{And y'all cats don't know what it's about
(Love and power)
It goes deeper than what you see on TV
Killah Priest, come on}

Burnin' desire, ebony eyes, painted toe nails, legacys die
Winnin' by the well, Egyptian Queens, Arabian Sheiks
Paid to knock off rich kings for the joy some sing

Graveyards filled with scarlet widows who stabbed they husbands
Sleepin' on silk pillows, blood on they robes
Disguised as beggar in cheap wool clothes
Lambs and wolfs in black hoods, pull out they gats

Like magic wands, castin' spells, sendin' niggaz to Hell
Trappin' they souls in realms, baptize 'em with holy water
Springin' on the heads of plenty witches' daughters
Interviews with the richest reporters

Silent nights over the dividers
A thousand Muslims bow before the Kaaba
Hebrews flee to the hills of Masada
For the love of God, guns make a loud sound

I'ma show you how thugs get down
Shoot outs, bullets turn into bloodhounds and hunt you down
Cursed nation, lost generation
X-Files, describe them in the future as cosmic rulers

Fallen angels from space intruders
Dyin' saints, blood spilled on the floor like wet paint
See it in the pictures, read it like the lost scriptures
Dissolve it with your 100 proof liquor

Ha, I shot the sheriff and the deputy secondly
Threatenin' the lives of those who threaten me
Lessenin' my chances of defeat by predeterminin' the victory
As taught by Sun Tzu in the chapter, after the third one

I heard my words shall be bombed
Regardless to anything or anyone or else
I die by the gun, my life has just begun
Thought I was livin' all along but I was wrong

This long road I have to travel in countless battles
These filthy snakes with poison fangs and rattles
Kings, queens and pharaohs change to cattle
Unable to [Incomprehensible] the Devil's [Incomprehensible]

Singin' at his eyes on the sparrow, mind narrow
2 positions, horoscopes and tarots
Hark harolds, angels and Christmas carols

Raven images hang from the mantels
Man made slaves and modern day babbles
Raw from Africa and golden ropes and sandles
By wicked thieves and vandals

Who man-handled us with leather whips and burnin' candles
And rambled through our castle, leavin' niggaz shambles
Stole our golden sodas like some Arab camels
We gazed, amazed and baffled as he loaded his ammo

With to the barrel and blasted out our bone marrow
We went to Gretal and the Hansel, tricked by this wicked jackal
Children of my grand old daddy, have me
In mind, were they lost in this wilderness blind?

Play the MP3 online for free!
8b021df8137ac1d3ce95135bb3efb165

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

1112 - Lyrics - Genius

Title: 1112
Artist: Genius
Composer(s): G Grice, W Reed, E Turner, K Moss, Robert Diggs

Lyric:
Bobby said, "Fuck spendin' 50 on a whip, buy a clip"
Mental flip, got a thousand tracks thought on a chip
Said he had mad toys to make noise
You split and separate drums like asteroids

The concerned producer sampled this question
Hit him with the beat for the answer, with extra compression
When sound travel, it quickly grab you
And equalizes the pitch up, until it have you

Bugged out, tryin' to think you can match this
The portrait's too graphic
Panoramic view for you, stamp Wu
The feature Gothic, the outcome will be catastrophic

We wrote block-tic checkpoints on your next joint
And who the nigga you anoint?
700 volts on the track to slay
Murderous wordplay displayed, for killin' cascades

Throwin' bullets in the air to test wind
And which way the cyclone spins
Counter on clockwise, still civilized
Kill spies on the wall, that still flies all dies

Give no extension on the lynchin'
It's tension if the name of the Clan is mentioned
It's the aura that's felt, that causes one to flash his gun
And reveal how he really feel, confirmed

He'll never live after the show, see the promoted for the dough
I'm takin', breakin' his wax
Throw my shit on to perform my selection from the Swarm
Day 2 breaks, it's a stormy Monday

My ninjas lay in ravines and ditches
Underneath shrubs and leaves
They breathed through underwater reeds
The enemy walks above

Clan remain subterranean mud
Off shore banks, tanks approach the location
Bombarded by the circle of death formation
Telecom lines are sniped from these low altitude strikes

Shatterin' bulletproof helmets with scrap nail fragments of cell
Inhale these venomous thoughts that I propel
Through the north facility, the city must suffer at the hand
Of the Chief's command, volts is in

At 3 minute intervals the heat intenses
Deadenin' the power from electrical fences
Defenses are down, shake a nigga up
Bounce him off the sound

You know what I'm sayin'?
The God ca-diver, in the streets of Iris
We talk about sex, money and drugs
Ruled by power

And y'all cats don't know
What it's about
(Love and power)
It goes deeper than what you see on TV
Killah Priest, come on

Burnin' desire, ebony eyes
Painted toe nails, legacys die
Drivin' by the well, Egyptian queens, Arabian shieks
Are paid to knock off rich kings for the joy some sing

Graveyards filled with scarlet widows
Who stabbed they husbands
Sleepin' on silk pillows, blood on they robes
Disguised as beggar in cheap wool clothes

Lambs and wolfs in black hoods, pull out they gats
Like magic wands, castin' spells, sendin' niggaz to Hell
Trappin' they souls in realms, baptize 'em with holy water
Springin' on the heads of plenty witches' daughters

Interviews with the richest reporters
Silent nights over the dividers, a 1000 Muslim bibles
For the cobbler, Hebrews flee to the hills of Masada
For the love of God, guns make a loud sound

I'ma show you how thugs get down
Shoot outs, bullets turn into bloodhounds and hunt you down
Cursed nation, lost generation
X-Files, describe them in the future as cosmic rulers

Fallen angels from space intruders
Dyin' saints, blood spilled on the floor like wet paint
See it in the pictures, read it like the lost scriptures
Dissolve it with your 100 proof liquor

Ha, I shot the sheriff and the deputy secondly
Threatenin' the lives of those who threaten me
Lessenin' my chances of defeat by predeterminin' the victory
As taught by Sun Tzu in the chapter

After the third one, I heard my words shall be bombed
Regardless to anything or anyone
I die by the gun, my life has just begun
Thought I was livin' all along, but I was wrong

This long road I have to travel in countless battles
These filthy snakes with poison fangs and rattles
Kings, queens and pharaohs change to cattle
I'm able to subtract the devil's arrow

Singin' at his eyes on the sparrow, mind narrow
2 positions, horoscopes and tarots
Hark harolds, angels and Christmas carols
Raven images hang from the mantels

Man made slaves and modern day babbles
Raw from Africa and golden ropes and sandles
By wicked thieves and vandals
Aho man-handled us with leather whips and burnin' candles

And rambled through our castle, leavin' niggaz shambles
Stole our golden sodas like some Arab camels
We gazed, amazed and baffled as he loaded his ammo
With to the barrel and blasted out our bone marrow

We went to Gretal and the Hansel
Tricked by this wicked jackel
Children of my grand old daddy, have me
In mind were they lost in this wilderness blind?

Play the MP3 online for free!
707b1710fd851e5cb68b12b8b54d2559

In The Ghetto - Lyrics - The Big Bang - Busta Rhymes

Title: In The Ghetto
Album: The Big Bang
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Rick James

Lyric:
You know, my homey treach from naughty by nature once said
"If you ain't from the ghetto, don't come to the fuckin' ghetto"
But I'ma let one of our most immaculate tour guides
Take us all through the ghetto, my nigga, Rick James

When I was a young boy, growin' up in the ghetto
Hangin' out on corners, singin' with the fellas
Lookin' for the cute chicks, tryin' to find me big fun
Lookin' for some trouble or anyone who'll give me some

I was young and crazy
(In the ghetto)
Didn't know what my life would be
(In the ghetto)
I was dumb and o, so lazy
(In the ghetto)
Something had a spell on me
(In the ghetto)

You all know what I'm talkin' 'bout
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life, talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
You all know what I'm singin' 'bout
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
Ghetto life
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)

(In the ghetto)
Sure we be takin' them chances while we search for the answers
We be smokin' them cancer sticks, police provokin' muhthafuckers
We dancin' and we be dodgin' them bullets they be poppin' off at us, shit
But yet we always romance the street and fall in love with the hood

'Til somebody come blast the heat, always up to no good
So all of my fam could eat, see in the hood we hungry
Hey, nigga, we playin' for keeps, my soldiers on the block get on it
It be good if you flaunt it, we will take if we want it
See, niggaz, from the ghetto got a different state of mind

With a different kind of hustle and we iller with the grind
And develop our muscle 'til we sicker with the shine in the struggle
Thus our money come quicker doin' crime
I see the way we rep the hood, gotta love me, you can take me out
The ghetto, but you can't take it from me, gotta love it

(Talkin 'bout ghetto life)
Ghetto life
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
You all know what I'm singin' 'bout
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
Ghetto life
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)

(In the ghetto)
That's where we get into that street, shit
Hustle hard, try to get money quick
(In the ghetto)
That's where I got my name from
I learned to get money and I got all my game from
(In the ghetto)

That's where you eat with a bunch of the wolves
And get to hustlin' as hard as you could
(In the ghetto)
Until your cake stackin' shit'll get good
Throw a block party for the whole hood
(In the ghetto)

With them burn out cellys, talk crazy, sell drugs in front of Pancho Deli
Crack head chicks still smuggle babies in they belly
And them piss in elevators 'til the lobby all smelly
(In the ghetto)

That's where I keep my ratchets
Get my instincts and survival tactics
Ain't nuttin' like the hood nigga, I don't care
You survivin' in the ghetto, you can make it anywhere
Gotta love it

(Talkin 'bout ghetto life)
Ghetto life
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
You all know what I'm singin' 'bout
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
Ghetto life
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)

To my east coast niggaz, rep your ghetto
West coast niggaz, rep your ghetto
Midwest niggaz, rep your ghetto
Down south niggaz, rep your ghetto

To my east coast niggaz, rep your ghetto
West coast niggaz, rep your ghetto
Midwest niggaz, rep your ghetto
To my dirty south niggaz, rep your ghetto

(In the ghetto)
Even though they act rude, you'll always find a good chick
To hold a brick for they dude, behind the bullshit
Me and my clique on the move, we honor the code of the street
And live by the rules Is where, all of the hood's at
(In the ghetto)

Find the most crooks and they sell the most drugs at
Where you find beautiful women and rugrats
And some of the most powerful people, I love that, come on

(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
You all know, what I'm talkin' 'bout
(Talkin 'bout ghetto life, talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
You all know what I'm singin' 'bout
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life)
Ghetto life
(Talkin' 'bout ghetto life, in the ghetto)

Never mind who you thought I was
I'm Rick James, bitch
Cocaine is a hell of a drug

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ac72ab80d66508eef34ae58498854442

Friday, August 20, 2010

Nighttime Vultures - Lyrics - Hell On Earth - Mobb Deep

Title: Nighttime Vultures
Album: Hell On Earth
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Albert J Johnson, Kejuan W Muchita, Corey Woods

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

Lyric:
Yo I rose early mornin' spread my wings yawnin'
Vague memory of last night now it's all dawnin'
Look down and see dry blood all on my garment
It stained all my guess farmer's colored enormous

I hopped up outta my bed holdin' my head
Flashbacks of gun shots shot past my head
I can recall an eight man brawl three men fall
Bullets flew I had to drug my man behind a wall

Left a wet trail, delivered these slugs like air mail
Directly at the cat that made my man blood spill
An eye for an eye you know my science of life
Is you man or mice thugs or the cowardly type

I kick the 98 shit for your ears to list
Nigga P where you headed it's time to pass kids
(What's the kids be doin' yo)
Kickin' rhymes that's true lies

Let me break 'em down to size minimize they air air time
After this you never will go back to that which
Sit back an' write half ass shit
The last official takin' out the artificial
Let me relieve you replace that shit with some lethal

Mobb, remember the name it's been along
That nigga's shook to death from the first fuckin' song
Fluidly my mind flooded with jewels infinite
The kinda rap bandits in attics stuck on some live shit

Bear witness to this diligent street cat
I carry myself hold myself down in fact
This one dedicated to my niggaz on run
Holdin' big gats go for your gun

Prepare to crush them we trust none
Man who ain't down with the clan
The Mobb dynasty apparently you thought I was some other type
Nigga you could fuck with you shit outta luck

Boss I break your compass throw you way off course
We buildin' from ground up startin' from ground zero
Mafia on da see the name upon the mirror
Durable physically fit raps articulate

You get your whole skeleton
Cracked somethin' ridiculous
Still fascinated by my site
Little P wanna be me, uh you no D

One time son you know we be the illest in this
Push the shit back, QBC gat, plottin' to move back
The big mouth cat ship will sink to the bottom
Easily overthrowin' niggaz, rollin' over niggaz

Yo, crushed grills, dollar bills, swiss suit on
Screw on dry sell nigga with his loot on
Watch this, gun glock less, fiends scopin' out my rock shit
Diamond on some H and R Block shit

Hear me, gets Larry and his sneakers are shot
Word to me Dunn, the uniform do mean a lot
I approach lit up cousin sit up matter of fact get up
What fuss on the bottom face slit up

Yeah where you from I'm from here
You know Brina and Javier, and Little Life doin' thirty years
Analyzin' this wise guy a look alike first prize guy
Lit up the Thai said right

Emotionally playin' him close like I'm supposed to be
Somethin' spoke to me, it was this little nigga pokin' me
I heard sirens now turn around about to hit 'em
Son was pro nine with the emblem

Grabbed my goose down the walkie-talkie
Foul I'm loose now shot went off knocked the juice down
It ricocheted and hit a GS now here comes EMS
Dunn was leanin' near a ZX next time shits parental
God slap fire out yer mental jet in a boat with rims to mental

One time son you know we be the illest in this
Push the shit back, QBC gat, plottin' to move back
The big mouth cat ship will sink to the bottom
Easily overthrowin' niggaz, rollin' over niggaz

One time son you know we be the illest in this
Push the shit back, QBC gat, plottin' to move back
The big mouth cat ship will sink to the bottom
Easily overthrowin' niggaz, rollin' over niggaz

Play the MP3 online for free!
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Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Man - Niggas Ain'T Playin' - Lyrics - Pooh

Title: Man - Niggas Ain'T Playin'
Artist: Pooh
Composer(s): Anthony Banks, Lawrence Thomas, Charlie Wilson

Lyric:
As a youngster I slanged cain, gangbanged
Not a worry in the world, I'm all about money, man
Getting my grind on was all my mind was on
Making a grip, nigga, my money was on

Double back, pulling nothing but mail, fuck a briefcase
Rolex watch with the diamond-studded face
More Benzes than a dealership
Slant-nose Porche with the whole damn kit

Slanging more keys than the older players
D.A. was on my dick but a real nigga didn't care
They kicked in my door a million times
And fine ass bitches was all that they'd ever find

Treated me like Vaseline, but quick as a fox
Drop a key for 25 like they was hot
Fools was jealous, I had too many tricks
Fuck a playa hater 'cause I was all about real niggas

Niggas like John-John, the boy from the deuce side
O.G. motherfuckers like Daddy G and Clyde
They gave me the game to survive, opponents gonna die
Fuck him and his family, let the motherfuckers cry

Nigga caught a bullet 'cause it wasn't my dope he was selling
So I shot him behind me, death was trailing
Always asking myself who would be next, bitch?
Gotta wear a vest 'cause I paranoid as shit

I gotta survive, I gotta survive, I gotta survive
Who wants to know I wanna die?
But the only way I'm going out is spraying
Because the niggas from the deuce ain't playing

From my way up in the dope game, I met a lot of stops
I got into some funk, one of my boys got shot
Some fool was on my turf selling dope that wasn't mine
I'm a gangsta, I mean problem with nines

It never mattered that I knew the fool a long time
Cross me once and death is all you'll find
But this here will be my last hit
To use a gun, it really didn't take shit

We did it, we did it, we did it, we done it
Mossberg street sweeper, I pumped it
Unloaded all 15 rounds
As I shot, and I shot, niggas went down

Bullets flying, niggas dying, but I ain't trippin'
I caught a fool with the back bitch slippin'
Pulled out the nine and I popped him 4 times
Now let's see your black ass cry

He looked at me with on his ass and said
"Fuck you", nigga, fuck you too
The hit was on and it was time to go
So I stood in my stide, jumped in the K5

Come on, niggas, come on, niggas, come on, niggas
I'm a business man, I can't stand bullshitters
I hate to cause your family dismay
But plain and simple nigga, we don't play

I went 5150 when we lost my nigga Bruce
27 shots from a clip, getting loose
For real motherfuckers, I was sharpening my shooting skills
Hella mad nightly, shooting motherfuckers at will

CTE, I got nothing to lose
And a hell of a lot to gain by killing you
A thrill killa from the heart of real killers know
In order to give, I might have to take a blow

It's kind of cold that you lost your brother
But we still lost Bruce, motherfucker
Tomorrow ain't promised a gangsta good luck
Just a bullet, motherfucker, 'cause death is a must

As I bust, squeezing on my nine on your block
Doing what I feel I gotta do to watch your ass drop
And if your punk-ass bitch is in my way
Let the stanky-pussy bitch meet my motherfucking AK

Making moves for money, ain't no delaying
It's '91 and the nigga named Pooh, he ain't playing

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