This Joint - Lyrics - Closer to the Sun - Slightly Stoopid

Title: This Joint
Album: Closer to the Sun
Artist: Slightly Stoopid
Composer(s): Miles Doughty, Kyle Mcdonald, Ryan Moran, Oguer Ocon

Lyric:
The taste of this joint

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali

Let's take a plane up out to Philly
We flying out to Dallas
Someone I'm meeting [unverified] is
Handing in it the chalice

Some premil, we come play
We getting the weed from Cali
And rolling it up in Philly
Smoking weed up all day
Now they say they come playing, really
And I really need to hear it, [unverified]

You know that we would not get near no ordinary sensimilla
And the only thing they wanted
When the Kryptonite is gone
We started smoking supersonic
If you got money to pay
Better put your money on it

A [unverified] they go on and on and on and on
And they say they never feel it
But we're smoking this 'semilli
No [unverified] needed
When I'm high I don't conceal it
Everything is okay, this joint

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Smoked up all my weed from Philly
And everything from Cali
I'm all up and I'm by you
Smoking the kind of Maui-wowi

Pakalolo, grade A
We call to the Caribbean
Deliver it up but their seeking
All connections get paid
Different strap for every season
If you really need a reason

We light the Kryptonite and I open Red Bull
Lighten b's, more than ounce or two of chronic
In the end it's what we needed
No artificial flavor, then they come
?Oh, no, no?, we said, ?Come and let the music play
And [unverified] repeat it?

Perfection, I go on and on and on and on
I've been from Minnesota
From there onto Daytona
We come from up in New York
Now up in Cali, superfona
Everything is okay, this joint

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali

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Light Speed - Lyrics - Dr. Dre 2001 - Dr. Dre

Title: Light Speed
Album: Dr. Dre 2001
Artist: Dr. Dre
Composer(s): Brian Anthony Bailey, Andre Young

Lyric:
Hey, yo whassup?
My name is Dre
Can I blaze some chronic witchu?
Nigga what? Fo' sho'
Roll that shit up

Hell yeah, still 'Always into somethin', heart still in Compton
The comp can't oppose, dope Cali platinum classicals
Introduced you to my dogs, that don't love hoes and firm fiascoes
Assholes, fucked you up with my last video, tuxed up doin' a Tango
And cash, always in my grasp
Came up in the game wearin' khakis not kangols, stranglin' hoes
When asked about it in most interviews I just laugh
Now I vacate with hoes with a gang of ass

One feed me mangoes, the other lightin' my hash
Rap tabloids write Dre's light in the ass
Came home uptight, ready to mash, like a gas pedal
Get on that sixty-four chevy level, AK-47 heavy metal
Who say Dre ain't ghetto? Just whistle like a tea kettle
I throw three at you, tell me if you see devils
'Cause we rebels over here, I smell chronic in the air
That means we takin' over this year, you hear?

Chronic, two-thousand
That means we takin' over this year, ya hear?

Light speed, blazin' chronic through the galaxy
Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
Or we might be sippin' on gin or Hennessey
Fuck that, where that new shit, the chronic iced teas?

I hang among hustlers, I slang and hoo-bang Bronson
When bustaz roll through, can't fuck with my bold crew
We will hold you captive and bust 'cause gangbangin' is the active
Activity, where I be livin' B, there ain't no Liberty Statue
Hope you got your gat, don't let them catch you
Slippin', without yours, it's warfare outdoors

Ambulance, violent uproars
Trash niggaz takin' out like chores I meet whores on tours
Jeans hot as pepper so I sip, champagne on stormy shores
We on some hardcore, pornographic
Totin Austrian firearms that's made out of plastic
In these drastic surroundings, it be sounding like
Lebanon, makin' fools retreat like Megatron and Starscream

Oh yeah, I scream-on-stars that get
Loot and crossover like Kareem Abdul Jabbar
Get out your car son, that's how I came to bougie niggaz
Act bad one, it's either that or make front page stardom
I'm the golden child, chased by Sodom
Newenze gots my bulletproof, it's hard to shoot me you hear?
By the time you see him
That means it's real fuckin' hard to shoot me, you hear?

Light Speed, blazin' chronic through the galaxy
Hydro, doja, chocolate thai weed
Or we might be sippin' on gin or Hennessey
Fuck that, where that new shit, the chronic iced teas?

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c4920b49fd8e1b5dc31fe559396ff59b

Cali Chronic - Lyrics - The Movement - Harlem World

Title: Cali Chronic
Album: The Movement
Artist: Harlem World
Composer(s): Andre Hudson, Marhsall Jones, Leroy Bonner, Deric Angelettie, Mason Betha, Walter Morrison, Andrew Noland, Marvin Pierce, Ameen Burns, Chauncey Hawkins, Gregory Webster, Michael Foster, Ralph Middlebrooks, Walter Morris, Norman Napier

Lyric:
Turn it up

Yo, when I roll you know the cats be out
So you cowards got no choice but to rat me out
I call in from the pen to try to see what that be 'bout
'Cuz I catch a fool slip and yo, his ass is out

Hud, stay on the low, pop two cops
Thug, against all odds, like Tupac
I'm caked up, dog-tired from Jacob
Platinum, reach for it then wake up

For top dollar yo, I squeeze my trigger
And Lord knows, I'll lead this nigga
'Cuz I'm down for whatever
Matter of fact, I'm down for the cheddar
Try to clown and get yo' ass layed down forever

Niggas hate to see a G come up
Young niggas that run up get gun up
That's the real, seen the nigga pass the steel
Even wink and yo' ass get killed, all out

This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
All weed smokers, Olde E sippers
All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
Whether blued out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with them big things out, yay a yay

Light up the izzy-izzy ba-ba, ask yourself, why try?
Touch the untouchable brotha that's in front of you
Harlem U.S.A be the place that I come from
Twenty-ninth and Lenox be that place I get the guns from
Vacant lots be the route that we used to run from
Thirty-second precinct until Jackie caught the dum-dum

It's hot now, cops now, all out gotta eat
Close food shop down, send them across the street
My force overheat 'cuz the cause is cheap
Reminiscin' all my homies that I lost on the streets
Dos Bruce, LB and even Stevie D
Pour some liquor out and throw it up for a G
NRB, be the click they claim to be
So if worse come to worse, do the same for me

This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
All weed smokers, Olde E sippers
All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
Whether blued out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with them big things out, yay a yay

Now, we drink Colt '45, tote 45's
Smoke 'til we high, loc til' we die
Got locked up in Crenshaw
Somebody said, "Foo, what you in for?"
Jail mental', named Wendel
Did 15, and got about 10 more
Oh, he was silent than braille
In '83 was the first with hydraulics

Caught his first bid dealin' with narcotics
And had Day tons and always kept 'em polished
You taught me about khakis and converse
And if a foo' try to move then you ball first, feel me?
But now I'm stackin' my grip
Back in the trick, come out a day early is a slap on the wrist
But one time never sleep on it
I went from Harlem to L.A. fool, so speak on it

This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
All weed smokers, Olde E sippers
All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
Whether blued out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with them big things out, yay a yay

This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
All weed smokers, Olde E sippers
All dead homies, and O.G. nigga's, throw it up
This is for the know-knotters
Six-fo' riders, all them ones are low riders
Whether blued out or flamed out
Mask on, ridin' with them big things out, yay a yay

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1e6e7f130b679aa7862c19f29c374410

I'M Throwed - Lyrics - Get Money, Stay True - Paul Wall

Title: I'M Throwed
Album: Get Money, Stay True
Artist: Paul Wall
Composer(s): Jermaine Dupri, Travis Farris, Lewis Kinoshi, James Phillips, Paul Michael Slayton

Lyric:
Y'all know what this is

When I'm on that beat, I'm a beast, I ain't never came weak
Got a mouth full of diamonds, you can hardly hear me speak
Especially when it sound like this, this
It's that H-Town, baby, you know what it is

(I'm throwed)
Got Styrofoam cup full of bar
(I'm throwed)
Four deep in my old school car

(I'm throwed)
Show Cali while I'm bangin' the screw
It's the ice man, baby, you know what it do
(I'm throwed)

I'm fresher than the fruit bowl, leanin' like a gas gauge
Straight up off the dome, freestylin' like hair braids
Makin' that candy dance, I'm throwed off the Cali plants
I'm prancin' on the scene, crawlin' down like fire ants
My mind in a trance, I'm sharper than starched pants
Stackin' franklins and grants from South Bank to Spring Branch

I'm posted like a stamp with my mind on cash
I'm wheel grippin' and still trippin', brandy wine on glass
I got a screen in the dash, a quarter tank full of gas
Smokin' that puff, puff, pass, throwed, I hope I don't crash
Reppin' the Swisha blast, so I'm flyer than a mockingbird
Throwed in the mode game, cold as a iceberg, baby

When I'm on that beat, I'm a beast, I ain't never came weak
Got a mouth full of diamonds, you can hardly hear me speak
Especially when it sound like this, this
It's that H-Town, baby, you know what it is

(I'm throwed)
Got Styrofoam cup full of bar
(I'm throwed)
Four deep in my old school car

(I'm throwed)
Show Cali while I'm bangin' the screw
It's the ice man, baby, you know what it do
(I'm throwed)

Now to broads, I'm a sharp-shooter like Steve Kerr
Flash the wrists, cause a blur, fox fur and flyin' spur
Undisputed for sure, so I'm collectin' these dimes
Name and number, lil' momma, 'cause it's checkout time

I'm slidin' on glass threes, inhalin' the chronic trees
Pack protection 'cause player hatin' spread like STDs
I'm cool as a ocean breeze, like Chester, I'm chasin' cheese
I'm stangin' like buzzin' bees, on South Lee with the cheese

That's why screens fall like all them leaves, makes the TV's rain
Take a picture if you please, yeah, my wrist is insane
Thirty karat diamond chain, so ballin' is off the chain
Mind frame, I'm stackin' change, I'm so throwed in the game

When I'm on that beat, I'm a beast, I ain't never came weak
Got a mouth full of diamonds, you can hardly hear me speak
Especially when it sound like this, this
It's that H-Town, baby, you know what it is

(I'm throwed)
Got Styrofoam cup full of bar
(I'm throwed)
Four deep in my old school car

(I'm throwed)
Show Cali while I'm bangin' the screw
It's the ice man, baby, you know what it do
(I'm throwed in the game)
(I'm throwed)

I'm full of that purple Sprite and I'm searchin' for broads
Paper stackin', so my money stretch like extension cords
I'm a wide body rocker in a four on them choppers
I'm on the grind, stackin' up my mail like the post office

Movin' at slow pace with T. Farris, my ace
Cup full of expensive taste, open mouth and showcase
I'm throwed with screens hangin', swangin', breakin' his trust
We pourin' up in them cups, that stuff got me leanin' tough

Hold up, I'm caked up, so all the boppers attract
I got 'em like Asafa Powell out there, runnin' the track
Pullin' capers, makin' paper, stacks fly as a dove
A bread breaker, taste maker, baby, all of the above, I'm throwed

When I'm on that beat, I'm a beast, I ain't never came weak
Got a mouth full of diamonds, you can hardly hear me speak
Especially when it sound like this, this
It's that H-Town, baby, you know what it is

(I'm throwed)
Got Styrofoam cup full of bar
(I'm throwed)
Four deep in my old school car

(I'm throwed)
Show Cali while I'm bangin' the screw
It's the ice man, baby, you know what it do
(I'm throwed)

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1f1a38a8c68709cc8e7db720ad3c616e

Sticky - Lyrics - Pitbull

Title: Sticky
Artist: Pitbull
Composer(s): Armando Perez, Jonathan H Smith, Joseph Jones

Lyric:
Hey Lil? Jon, know we tell these boys
When they campin' out with the blunt, right?
We tell ?em puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass

I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky
I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

You know the drill, break it up, break it up
You know the drill, roll it up, roll it up
You know the drill, light it up, light it up
You know the drill, smoke it up, smoke it up

Now, puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
You fuckin? up the rotation, that thang there burnin? fast
This ain't a joke, stop playin?, I need to smoke
This thang can get dirty and I ain't talkin? ?bout sprinklin? coke

I need that sticky icky, that Miami crippy
That Washington high purple, watch out that thang will hurt you
I need that Cali chronic, damn, a Chico on it
Some of that Seattle supersonic will have you like Nevada want it fucked up

That?s right high as a kite
Now roll the next one and pass me the light
?Cause we ready for sure, ready to go
Ready to blow, let's roll

I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky
I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

If thirty's the new twenty, Patron's the new Henney
Roll in a new Bentley, blowin? like two twenty
That ain't the price of the car, now that's a half ounce of piff, dawg
You gotta have a strong chest just to hit the raw

Or you'll be coughin? up a lung
Harlem, where we from so of course we gettin? drunk twisted
We hit the parties, poppin? bottles just for fun
Smokin? weed in your club, call the coppers, let ?em come

Miami, Trey O Five, we cop it out the bro house
A generator so the lights don't go out
A big profit in that greenery
We now stoppin? by the beach just for scenery

When here it's 45, up here it's 65
Meet you in Carolina, get it for 55
We got them pounds, nigga ?cause everyday we hustlin?
It's heavy cake and druggin? it, so heavyweight we smuggle it

I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky
I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass

Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass

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0a45624c2e91aeb58e0d5283d55a161f

Sticky Icky (Eaturing Jim Jones - Lyrics - The Boatlift - Pitbull

Title: Sticky Icky (Eaturing Jim Jones
Album: The Boatlift
Artist: Pitbull
Composer(s): Armando Perez, Jonathan H Smith, Joseph Jones

Lyric:
Hey Lil? Jon, know we tell these boys
When they campin' out with the blunt, right?
We tell ?em puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass

I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky
I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

You know the drill, break it up, break it up
You know the drill, roll it up, roll it up
You know the drill, light it up, light it up
You know the drill, smoke it up, smoke it up

Now, puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
You fuckin? up the rotation, that thang there burnin? fast
This ain't a joke, stop playin?, I need to smoke
This thang can get dirty and I ain't talkin? ?bout sprinklin? coke

I need that sticky icky, that Miami crippy
That Washington high purple, watch out that thang will hurt you
I need that Cali chronic, damn, a Chico on it
Some of that Seattle supersonic will have you like Nevada want it fucked up

That?s right high as a kite
Now roll the next one and pass me the light
?Cause we ready for sure, ready to go
Ready to blow, let's roll

I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky
I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

If thirty's the new twenty, Patron's the new Henney
Roll in a new Bentley, blowin? like two twenty
That ain't the price of the car, now that's a half ounce of piff, dawg
You gotta have a strong chest just to hit the raw

Or you'll be coughin? up a lung
Harlem, where we from so of course we gettin? drunk twisted
We hit the parties, poppin? bottles just for fun
Smokin? weed in your club, call the coppers, let ?em come

Miami, Trey O Five, we cop it out the bro house
A generator so the lights don't go out
A big profit in that greenery
We now stoppin? by the beach just for scenery

When here it's 45, up here it's 65
Meet you in Carolina, get it for 55
We got them pounds, nigga ?cause everyday we hustlin?
It's heavy cake and druggin? it, so heavyweight we smuggle it

I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky
I smell that sticky icky, who got that sticky icky?
I got that sticky icky, icky, icky

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? I do
I smell that sticky, oh yeah
Who got that sticky? Me too

Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass

Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
Puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass
I said puff, puff, pass with your pussy ass

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f6c2693138a60366d3eef9407c03ae7c

War - Lyrics - Street's Disciple - Nas

Title: War
Album: Street's Disciple
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): Keon Bryce, Nasir Jones, Salaam Remi Gibbs

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Lyric:
[Incomprehensible]
There's a war in the streets tonight
And nobody's really feelin' alright
I got a blunt for my chronic, a juice for my tonic
I know now that I'm feelin' right if it goes down

'Cause my third eye sees the lowdown
And I know it's not my time to go now
'Cause God's got my back in this showdown
So I know we'll be alright

Yeah, Brooks Brothers overcoat, know the ropes
Smooth is holdin' those briefcases, silk ties
Slick as them older folks, silver fo'-fo', got no
My chauffer driver just left, some of my colleagues smokin' that Cali
Caught a glimpse of myself in the Barney's shop window
Kinda' see my father's features creepin' in a little

Got an office on Broadway, business in Jamaica
Tell my daughter try the hardest so the best schools'll take her
And I'm late to a date with my wife, I realize
I stopped to shop, had to get her some type surprise
And I'm walkin' through it, chaos is all around me
But God got me, no fear, through the fire pride stop

There's a war in the streets tonight
And all this drama's got me feelin' uptight
I don't know what I'll do if I don't see my boo

'Cause she's standin' on the corner of Linden Boulevard
Holding our baby in her arms
So hold on, your daddy's in sight

Yeah, nine four, Destiny opens her eyes
For the first time, praise God, baby mom's cryin'
Planned to be a strong black family
But we both were too young
Too strung, too much flashin'
New come, I caught verbal assassin runnin'

With nothin' but the worst type, worst fight
When we brought my baby home the first night
Cursed like sailors, burst out the crib
Ragin' in my new car bought from entertainment
Champaign and gainin' clout fast, whiplash
Did this bitch just pass in the club pugged up, stupid ass

Grabbed her by the pony tail, never disrespect me
I'm a street vet, regret the sex, but not Desi
Moved back to your grandma
I'm single, the land's mine
She keeps the Benz, I'm all in the streets again
Squeezin' the pen, released again, chart toppers

Hard-bottoms blessed the feet
Now less baby mom's problems
New woman, she's great, this a different world
Checkin' out my wife's chemistry with my little girl
It's so amazin' playin', life is so crazy
I've grown up the thankful for lessons God gave me

There's a war in the streets tonight
And nobody's really feelin' alright
I got a blunt for my chronic, a juice for my tonic
I know now that I'm feelin' right if it goes down

'Cause my third eye sees the lowdown
And I know it's not my time to go now
'Cause God's got my back in this showdown
So I know we'll be alright

From the day [Incomprehensible] born
Your daughter Destiny
Was one of your destinations

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255f6d0531ecfbc632f8151c9719473e

Do U Wanna Roll - Lyrics - R.L.

Title: Do U Wanna Roll
Artist: R.L.
Composer(s): Calvin Broadus, Kevin Gilliam, Robert Lavelle Huggar, Kimberly Jones, Larry Troutman, Roger Troutman

Lyric:
Something about the west coast
That makes me thank the east
(East side)
It's something about the west coast
(Ah, yeah)
That makes me thank the east
(Help me sing)

Say u wanna roll?
(Do u wanna roll?)
In my '4
And have some fun, baby
Let's have some fun

We'll get low
(Let's get low)
And that's fo' sho'
(That's fo' sho')
And hop on doves, baby
And have some fun
Now check us out

From when I met you at the roller rink
Kinda funny with your Shasta drink
Braids with barrettes that were white and pink
While the kissin', we did was on the cheek

Remember like yesterday
We hop on a bus and just right away
Knew you'd be mine somehow, some way
And I must say I do

Say u wanna roll
(Think I wanna roll)
In my '4
And have some fun, baby
Let's have some fun

Oh, we'll get low
(We'll get low)
And that's fo' sho'
(That's fo' sho')
And hop on doves, baby
And have some fun
(Snoop, help me out)
Now check us out

Three battles or more, dope models fo' sho'
We havin' a good time, avoidin' one time
Blingin' in the sunshine, it's all gravy
Dip-dip, hit a switch, what's crackin', baby

Ride with it, slide with a double up
Sip on this mo-mo, get your bubble on
Bring your girlfriends, all y'all can come along
'Cause we'll be doin' this all summer long

In the Cadillac, beatin' up some battle cats
No, you's a fool, well, baby, let me handle that
Oh, you don't drink so you don't think
You can't wink, you ain't gon' speak, you ain't no freak

'Cause I can turn you, learn you and burn you up
Give me a cup, sit down and shut up
I'll be damn, we done ran up out of Mo' again
Here we, here we go again
(Do u wanna roll?)

Say u wanna roll
(Do u wanna roll?)
In my '4
(In my '4)
And have some fun, baby
Let's have some fun

Oh, we'll get low
(We'll get low)
And that's fo' sho'
(That's fo' sho')
And hop on doves, baby
And have some fun
Now check us out

I got a Chevrolet
White walls and them twenty inch thangs
In the Coup with Snoop hittin' juice on trues
Top down, I feel the sun rays

Feelin' kinda good right now
Rollin' 'round my hood right now
We can find somethin' to do like a barbecue
Or jump hot tub in the house

A little bit of music and a couple of babes
A little bit of drink and a game of spades
Take yo' kids to yo' mama house
Y'all know what I'm talkin' 'bout
It's 'bout to go down

Say u wanna roll
(Think I wanna roll)
In my '4
And have some fun, baby
Let's have some fun

Oh, we'll get low
(We'll get low)
And that's fo'sho'
(That's fo's ho')
And hop on doves, baby
And have some fun
Now check us out

I die, I admit I'm tight cookie
Take trips to Cali strictly for the sticky
I'ma get it crunk anywhere I go
Why you smooth haters actin' like y'all don't know

From barbecues to bar mitzvahs
OGs crack the OE while they listen to me
Cris' on the table, chronic in the air
Come on pass that shh, like that's that shh

We can go valley cat, bumpers in your Sony
The Bee showin' love to the west side homies
I'll give you somethin' you can feel, real recognize the real
'Cause, 'cause it's somethin' 'bout the east coast

That make us wanna squeeze most
But don't go think that we ride
We'll show you how we do the damn thing
We're gonna show you how we do it right

Say you wanna roll
(I think I wanna roll)
In my '4
And have some fun, baby
Let's have some fun

Oh, we'll get low
(We'll get low)
And that's fo' sho'
(That's fo' sho')
And hop on doves, baby
And have some fun

Say you wanna roll
(Do you wanna roll?)
In my '4
(In my '4)
And have some fun, baby
(We'll have some fun)
Let's have some fun
(We'll have some fun)

Oh, we'll get low
(And we'll get low, low, low)
And that's fo' sho'
(And that's fo' sho')
And hop on doves, baby
(We'll hop on doves)
And have some fun
(Do ya, do ya)
Now check us out

Crunk roll your flip gently down the street
With the DPG, S-N-double-O-P
R.L. an the Queen Bee
Do u wanna roll, roll?

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dfaae53dfc3e62ddc55756d00db5bab4

We Some Dogs - Lyrics - Method Man

Title: We Some Dogs
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): Calvin Cordazor Broadus, Mike Chavarria, Denaun M Porter, Reggie Noble, Clifford M Smith

Lyric:
If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

By any means necessary, it's on
Bitch, your fucking with a dog
All I wanna do is bury some bones
Take a piss on a tree and I'm gone
Girlfriend don't get it wrong
I hate to be the one to shit on your lawn
But I ain't got my dog license, I ain't nothing nice
And I ain't never met a piece of pussy I ain't liking

Sugar and spicing, kicked up with ice
You can do anything with these hoes except housewife 'em
Like Snoop said "it ain't nothing but a G thing"
Got a bitch in my bed in nothing but a G string,
So peep game, who the lucky female to taste these?
Snips and snails and puppy dog tails, huh?
You're messing with me, I'm messing with you
I'm a dog trick, I chase cats like Peppy La Pu, dead on shit
My life's like a Holiday Inn, if my girl's actin' up
Then I'm gonna fuck her friend, if I'm a what

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

I'm a dog motherfucker, I walk on all fours
Find where you live at, shit on your porch
Redman is hungry, don't leave the food out
I'm pumped like a Pamela Anderson boob job
Straight up bulldog, mixed with a Shitzu
'Cause I bullshit, party a little bit, swim with the sharks
You're bound to drown, my weed is like green and yours brown

The doctor the dog, from Cali to Georgia
When cats meow with nothing on top they halter
I don't have yes men that laugh when I laugh
Remember we all dogs, we can kiss our own ass
Like a golden retriever, retrieving the chronic
The do nose nose bitch, no need to hide it
Redman a flirt, always get my nuts stuck to the porch
Like the dog in Joe Dirt

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

If I'm a dog, then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

Fish don't fry in the kitchen
Bitch don't climb, keep bitching
Beans don't burn on the grill
3, 4, 5 with the pimping
Hoes get your pimps permission
Now pay attention

The big D O, double to the G O
To the liquor store to crack a hoe and get some V O
And mix it with some Pena Colidino
Then slip it on the bitch and then I dip with all her C notes
Scandalous? Yep bitch, 'cause we know
Every pretty hoe always down to pull a D low
On me? No, so there won't be no
Shaking me down, breaking me down, here we go

You know I'm just oh so slick
The way you chew that bubble gum
The way you sucking the dick
And I can tell, that you a freak
I wanna stick some dick up in you, can I skeet, skeet?
You know why?

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

If I'm a dog then we some dogs
We all gonna chase cats, tell 'em dog
Girl don't waste that, swallow it all
We just some dogs, we just some dogs

Ha ha
Suck the dick up your [Incomprehensible] bitch
I'm a dog damn dag an' I'll deny it
I'm a dog till I die
Shit on your lawn

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92e76c82a175bebaab6ed4ca1ac54a66

This Goes Out - Lyrics - Murphy Lee

Title: This Goes Out
Artist: Murphy Lee
Composer(s): Jon Smith, Murphy Lee, Tohri Murphy Lee Harper, David Brown Williams, Jason Epperson, Pierre Jones, Dwayne Carter

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

Lyric:
This goes out to my Midwest crew
Now hold ya M-Dub in the air if ya feel me
Fuck 'em all day, fuck 'em all night
Candy paint on D's and fo's

Yo, ayyo I eat, sleep, shit, rap
Hip hop, kidnap
Snoop Dogg 'Lac
Wit the diamond in the back

I rep it like a mayor mayn
Summin' like a playa mayn
St. Louis cookin'
And I'm Murphy Lee the killer mayn

As-salaama lakem, lakem salaam
Praise the Lord or say peace to God
I'm just a Skool Boy, call me Mr. Do-What-You-Do-Fool
Claim where you from or we will claim where you move to

Home is where you make it, eat a meal and get naked
You can, walk in yo drawers and nobody could say shit
I got STL tatted on my right arm, some of 'em saw 'em
I ain't dyin' but yo I'm definitely gon' fight for 'em

And keep it tight for 'em, and keep it hype for 'em
And buy at the bar whatever gon' keep the night goin'
Do what you do and you do it, just do it big
And if you live to get it then you gon' get it how you live 'cuz

This goes out to my West Coast crew
Throw ya dub up in the air if ya feel me
Fuck 'em all day, fuck 'em all night
Hit the switch on yo six fo's

Naps, rock, skit West Coast style
T-shirt, khakalack, swerve in the Cadillac
Young Roscoe, the black Burt Bacharach
Serve the sacks, flippin' skirts like acrobats

Now dip wit ya nigga, I take you on a ride
Through that place known worldwide as the Westside
Chronic, Daytons, switches, dubs
Cap turned to the back wit skirts at the Caddy shack

Los Angeles where they sag to the mud
Drop the back let it drag, du rags, full of thugs
Ya hard to the back, car full of "blat"
Why A's decay, we ain't hard to get at

I rock a 5 double O wit the bubble nose
Stop, drop the top I holla at a couple hoes
Fo sho they wanna roll wit the Philly fanatic
Runnin' the radio in Cali 'cuz I stay in the traffic

This goes out to my East Coast crew
Throw ya E's up in the air if ya feel me
Fuck 'em all day, fuck 'em all night
Rock ya hoodies and Timbo's

Yo, yo, step in the party like
Sippin' on Bacardi like
I hooked up wit the 'Tics they like
It's gettin' frisky for me
Girls, they strippin' for me
Lil' Jon you wit us homey?

I gettin' brainin', pimpin' I can't complainin'
It's crazy I can't explain' it, it's the Derrty Entertainment
Man, I like to stop and go, she like to mop and glow
Lovin' this track 'cuz we gonna rock and roll

I huff and puff until my indo's gone
So I, get to stompin' wit my Timbo's on
We might be floppin' homey, we all critic
Welcome to Harlem World A.K. New York City

We forever runnin' round, here forever creepin'
Up all night 'cuz homey we ain't never sleepin'
But I came to do this wit my derrty Murphy
Y'all niggas betta obey, 'cuz you can get it

This goes out to my Dirty South crew
Throw ya S up in the air if ya feel me
Fuck 'em all day, fuck 'em all night
If ya tempted to throw them bows

Get yo hands up bitch
Show yo goddamn clit
Get yo hands up bitch
Show yo goddamn clit

We gon' drink a fifth of Hen
And we gon' rock it to this bitch
We gon' drink a fifth of Hen
And we gon' rock it to this bitch

We represent that Dirty
We ain't expectin' no shit
We represent that Dirty
We ain't expectin' no shit

We wild out in the club
Same shit we don't give a fuck
We wild out in the club
Same shit we don't give a fuck

Lil' Weezy, fuckin' Baby, 5'4 fo'
4-5 make a nigga go
I'm a fly young nigga, ho South cold's great
Stay low when get cake

Yeah, me no play we can take it outside
Never met a nigga take myself pride
It's Wizzy Wizzle, Southside guy
Outside fly, gutta gutta in the South, wild 5

I represent that money
I ain't scared to throw my shit up
Soon as I throw it high up, holla back, Squire
I'm screwed up I drive slow not fast
Birdman Jr. I got stones not cash, bitch

I'm from the swamp I smoke dro not grass
P.O.C. rolled on my hands, got a 90 degree fo' in my pants
Give you this respect
I'm still mackin', you can smell the Pimp Juice on my breath

Get yo hands up bitch
Show yo goddamn clit
Get yo hands up bitch
Show yo goddamn clit

We gon' drink a fifth of Hen
And we gon' rock it to this bitch
We gon' drink a fifth of Hen
And we gon' rock it to this bitch

We represent that Dirty
We ain't expectin' no shit
We represent that Dirty
We ain't expectin' no shit

We wild out in the club
Same shit we don't give a fuck
We wild out in the club
Same shit we don't give a fuck

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9d3db74ef171761e2b287dd08fdfbb00

U Got Da Game Wrong - Lyrics - Three 6 Mafia

Title: U Got Da Game Wrong
Artist: Three 6 Mafia
Composer(s): Paul Beauregard, Jordan Houston

Lyric:
I need a couch bag, bitch you got da game wrong
I need my hair done, hoe you got da game wrong
I need my rent paid, bitch u got da game wrong
I need my nails done, hoe you got da game wrong

Yeah, she freaky, freaky, deeky did ya see her in a bikini
Porno movies we got plenty and you know they smoke them beanies
For this chick you might be feanin' for you virgins nuthin' but dreamin'
If she stuck up, I'm like wut up, I ain't got nuthin' but lent and pennies
Tell yo boyfriend cut tha crappin' heard he got that fire ass cappin'

Always wearin' that shiny white gold tellin' everybody it's platinum
Don't you groupies hate on Juicy actin' like you never knew me
Ain't the one be droppin' dollars, I'm just out ta get tha chewin'
Now she fuckin' one of my niggas pimp the hoe we comb tha trigga
Watchin' us on BET and chillin' wit our nigga tigga

Why they dated, I ain't hatin' got a call from Sally Payton
Now I'm gamin' on this, Hizzoe took her out real latey latey
Pushin' Bentley's ridin' Caddy's when she see me call me daddy
Heard she like ta cheef on chronic roll it up and hit this Cali
You fuck my bitch, I fuck yo, bitch that's the way it is in showbiz
Make for sho that freak you don't kiss, keep that spray for smelly fishes

I need a couch bag, bitch you got da game wrong
I need my hair done, hoe you got da game wrong
I need my rent paid, bitch u got da game wrong
I need my nails done, hoe you got da game wrong

Bitch drop that purse like it's hot, I'm pickin' it up like it's not
Stayin' fresh in brand new clothes sponsored by brand new hoes
Keepin' one on every block she fuck up bust her head wit glock
When I slam Caddilac doors, 17 inch vogues on tha curb sippin' syrup
Askin' broad what's tha word wrong answer mean as cancer

When I'm on that fuckin' burb runny nose and roastin' hoes kickin'
In them hotel does gotta keep that paper right up all night and high off
White big bizness, bizness big when you talkin' 'bout pimpin'
Trick gotta keep a eye out for them bitches tryin' ta pimp ya
Dig in tha two thou man that shit done got so popular push a pimp

Like me way back some backwards binoculars but real pimps
Gon' stay afloat like rubber ducks in white folks tubs clouds
Creepin' up above, smoke burnin' from this bud, bitch, feel it
For I deal it hoe how you gon' hustle me, I'm born and bred
By HCP, I'll leave your blood off in these streets biatch

I need a couch bag, bitch you got da game wrong
I need my hair done, hoe you got da game wrong
I need my rent paid, bitch u got da game wrong
I need my nails done, hoe you got da game wrong

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1d9abbbab3fe855bbee0a034aa7b1cf8

Gushy Wushy - Lyrics - Da Brat

Title: Gushy Wushy
Artist: Da Brat
Composer(s): Lenton Tereill Hutton, Shawntae Harris

Lyric:
You can find me in a cloud of smoke
Usually I'm posted up in the corner with my folks
Surrounded by thugs and models
Everybody getting fucked up and we all gotta bottle

Ain't nobody stuck up 'cuz we all wanna holla
We all wanna party till tomorrow
Let's follow the yellow red road to my humble of bowl
Trip over the ninety way, take off all of our clothes

Kiss most of me right away because I'm about to explode
And if you don't know, know you know
Nigga I'm sickening and I never get with
When I retire I'll be crushed up like a old battle ship

I'ma put the dip in your hip from right to left
It's that ghetto ass bitch and I'm so so def
It could get drastic, don't fuck around and get your ass kicked
'Cuz I have never been faithfully up lasted

I'ma 'bout to bust all you motherfuckaz, just a little
Don't touch me cuz you get fucked up, just a little
Where the party at, I'm tipsy nigga, just a little
When it comes to the doe I'm filthy, nigga, just a little

Can I get in and rock it? Just a little
Can I get this dirty money legit? Just a little
Can I make you wanna kiss on my kitty?Just a little
Just get down to the nitty, griddy, gushy, wushy, sticky, icky

Yo, in the club, in the heat in the V.I.P.
Sippin' on bub, lighten up a tree
It's tight enough the place for me, so I tight on doves?
Security, you still had to squeeze

Niggaz love chokin' on doves [Incomprehensible] wit me
Smokin' on my chronic 'cuz it's straight from Cali
If I'm provoking you, do do 'cuz I gotta do weed
Stay focused on the doe wit my family

I need to live all good, I need to sleep all good
I need to know who the niggaz in my neighborhood, in my neighborhood
So shit if anything happens, if somethin' go down
I'm gettin' ready for the motherfuckin' show down

And ain't no tellin' what I do 'cuz I know more now
I just might turn it ovea to my crew and roll out
'Cuz I'ma kool bitch breeze through the bullshit
Be eazy 'cuz I keep me focused

I'ma 'bout to bust all you motherfuckaz, just a little
Don't touch me cuz you get fucked up, just a little
Where the party at, I'm tipsy nigga, just a little
When it comes to the doe I'm filthy, nigga, just a little

Can I get in and rock it? Just a little
Can I get this dirty money legit? Just a little
Can I make you wanna kiss on my kitty? Just a little
Just get down to the nitty, griddy, gushy, wushy, sticky, icky

If you want drama, I'm from the shock coma Illinoi
Going wit the documentary on my boys
Some of them cold killaz
Doe killaz murda their babysitter

Gold realistic do whatevea for their li'l sista
Four G's, folks low [Incomprehensible] oh, please
No matter what city I'm in, I get what I need
Niggaz think that they love me 'cuz I'm the B to the R A T

Every second is appropriate for me to bust and discuss
Whatever the fuck, I wanna bring up and string up
My A F one laces would you niggeaz stay out of our faces
My team winning like the L.A. Lakers, my cron peepz
Spinning on a navigator when I stop niggaz there, they can't take it
It took my moma nine months to make, it ain't no mistaken

I'ma 'bout to bust all you motherfuckaz, just a little
Don't touch me cuz you get fucked up, just a little
Where the party at, I'm tipsy nigga, just a little
When it comes to the doe I'm filthy, nigga, just a little

Can I get in and rock it? Just a little
Can I get this dirty money legit? Just a little
Can I make you wanna kiss on my kitty? Just a little
Just get down to the nitty, griddy, gushy, wushy, sticky, icky

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bd61746c4280f9c123b0038f84f30833

What Cha Gonna Do? (The Anthem) - Lyrics - Wooden Leather - Nappy Roots

Title: What Cha Gonna Do? (The Anthem)
Album: Wooden Leather
Artist: Nappy Roots
Composer(s): Vito Tisdale, Kenneth Anthony, Jonathan Smith, Brian K. Scott, William Rahsaan Hughes, Wilson. Ron Melvin Adams

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

Lyric:
Yeah
Country boys, nappy roots
Lil' John, king of crunk
Y'all know this was comin'
Damn playa, here we go

Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?
Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?

Lean to the left and stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
To the right then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
Back to the left and then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
When you got it say yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)

Awnaw, hell naw, boy here come another anthem
Done worked up a head of steam and ain't lookin' to slow down none
Say it 'til ya, 'til ya tell it the way we told the shit
Let go for what, little daddy? We got control of this

Runners on you mark, get set, 'cause here we go with it
Walkin' a muck, ya half dead we put our soul in it
Not gon' let go for no one and I'm fo' sho' of it
But I'm for certain hurtin', and still wantin' more of it

Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?
Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?

Lean to the left and stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
To the right then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
Back to the left and then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
When you got it say yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)

I keep it slum when I fall and it all and pick up
Keys from grandma and it slaw and it set it up
Quick if you brawl nigga, talk business
Or we shut it down like the law, hit it all black, all tinted

From the top down to the rock bottom, now we in yo' town, street
From the fist fights to the glock shot, we known to clown
When the folk keep hollerin'
Shit what y'all wanna do? our haters keep on cock blockin', damn
Them niggaz is off they rocker, prolly got 'em off they gin and vodka

What happened? Brought them bottles in
That sum bitch has started a stompin'
And then from the left and to the right, that's when they got to squabbin'
Hog wild, grand mar' and chronic got them niggaz scrappin' often
But we gon' keep it nappy, slaw and slum and crunk and jumpin'

Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?
Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?

Lean to the left and stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
To the right then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
Back to the left and then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
When you got it say yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)

I think I got a hypnotic, drunk got me singin' bout it
Back off in Cali like Cool J, fresh on the scene with Sade
My nigga Big V said he seen a bitch and doubled back
I told him, "Nigga is you crazy, swear they at"

He said, "He seen one fine chick, hips thick and ass fat"
I told him pass her like a Swisher, we can double that
She pulled up, she started yappin' on how she loved the ass
I scratched my head 'cause I ain't tryin' to catch no drama back

We shakin' off y'all haters, takin' 'Land like the Raiders
All of our moves are major, Prophet sharp as a razor
Coast to coast, quick to toast, they know who we be
Seem like jealousy and envy has become a disease

Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?
Whatcha gonna do when we pull up in your city?
How ya gonna act when nappy roots in your city?

Lean to the left and stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
To the right then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
Back to the left and then stomp with it, stomp with it
(Stomp)
When you got it say yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah
(Yeah)

Play the MP3 online for free!

877b5d930f2a5e1f3f4d480790b8da59

Still D. R. E. - Lyrics - Dr. Dre 2001 - Dr. Dre

Title: Still D. R. E.
Album: Dr. Dre 2001
Artist: Dr. Dre
Composer(s): Shawn Carter, Melvin Bradford, Scott Storch, Andre Young

Lyric:
Yeah nigga, I'm still fuckin? with ya
Still waters run deep
Still Snoop Dogg and D R E, '99 Nigga
(Guess who's back?)
Still, still doing that shit, Andre?

Oh for sho', check me out
It's still Dre Day nigga, A.K. nigga
Though I've grown a lot, can't keep it home a lot
?Cause when I frequent the spots that I'm known to rock
You hear the bass from the truck when I'm on the block

Ladies, they pay homage, but haters say Dre fell off
How nigga? My last album was ?The Chronic?
(Nigga)
They want to know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they want to know how I feel about it

If you ain't up on thangs

Dr. Dre is the name, I'm ahead of my game
Still, puffing my leafs, still fuck with the beats
Still not loving police
(Uh huh)
Still rock my khakis with a cuff and a crease
(Fo sho)

Still got love for the streets, repping 213
(Fo life)
Still the beats bang, still doing my thang
Since I left, ain't too much changed, still

I'm representing for them gangstas all across the world
(Still)
Hitting them corners on the low-low's girl
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E

Since the last time you heard from me I lost some friends
Well, hell, me and Snoop, we dipping again
Kept my ear to the streets, signed Eminem
He's triple platinum, doing 50 a week

Still, I stay close to the heat
And even when I was close to defeat, I rose to my feet
My life's like a soundtrack I wrote to the beat
Treat my rap like Cali weed, I smoke ?til I sleep

Wake up in the A.M., compose a beat
I bring the fire ?til you're soaking in your seat
It's not a fluke, it's been tried, I'm the truth
It's "Turn Out the Lights" from the World Class Wreckin' Cru

I'm still at it, after-mathematics
In the home of drivebys and ak-matics
Swap meets, sticky green, and bad traffic
I dip through then I get skin, D R E

I'm representing for them gangstas all across the world
(Still)
Hitting them corners on the low-low's girl
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E

It ain't nothing but more hot shit
Another classic CD for y'all to vibe with
Whether you're cooling on a corner with your fly bitch
Laid back in the shack, play this track

I'm representing for the gangstas all across the world
Still
(Hitting them corners on the low-low's girl)
I'll break your neck, damn near put your face in your lap
Niggas try to be the king but the ace is back

So if you ain't up on thangs

Dr. Dre be the name still running the game
Still, got it wrapped like a mummy
Still ain't tripping, love to see young blacks get money
Spend time out the hood, take they moms out the hood

Hit my boys off with jobs, no more living hard
Barbecues every day, driving fancy cars
Still gon' get mine regardless

I'm representing for them gangstas all across the world
(Still)
Hitting them corners on the low-low's girl
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E

I'm representing for them gangstas all across the world
(Still)
Hitting them corners on the low-low's girl
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E

I'm representing for them gangstas all across the world
(Still)
Hitting them corners on the low-low's girl
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E
Still taking my time to perfect the beat
And I still got love for the streets, it's the D R E

Right back up in ya motherfucking ass
'95 plus four pennies
Add that shit up, D R E right back up on top of thangs
Smoke some with your dog

No stress, no seeds, no stems, no sticks
Some of that real sticky icky icky
Ooh wee, put it in the air
Oh, you's a fool D R

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6e3664faceb424f1be9b120b0b90cdc9

40 - Nigga Shit - Lyrics - E

Title: 40 - Nigga Shit
Artist: E
Composer(s): Brandt Jones, Bosco A Kante, Dedrick Rollison, Dulon Stevens, Earl Thomas Stevens, Tenina Stevens

Lyric:
I get my ride on the HumVee, walkin through the party
Puffin on chronic and drinkin on Bacardi
Gotta represent Cali and bang 'til death do us
Throwin the haters off and keep our folks next to us
For me to bust a Bay bitch she gotta be the thickest
I dig them Bay niggaz cause they Sic'Wid'It and Click-ish
Like that there nigga, re-cop from Mack Diamond
Pop a collar one time, let me know you're still timin

I'm a Bay nigga, all in L.A. nigga
No matter what you say nigga, long as you pay nigga
I figure - you want it bad enough, you gon' take yo' shit
A steel toe mack down to break yo' bitch
And she cain't be fixed, so what if she yours?
We turn housewifes to everyday whores
Send 'em up in stores with the false ID
To get DVD's and big screen TV's
Wanna be like me? I run from vice
Catch a out-of-towner and I'm takin his ice
Throw him in the trunk with the bag and the mice
I know it ain't nice but nigga that's life
Black black on the scratch, no tradin back
2000 'Llac, can you fuck with that?
Me, Mack, 40, Shot and Bosko
All strapped down with the roscoes

We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Click shit, big figure shit, Big figure shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Sick shit, big nigga shit, Big nigga shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Click shit, big figure shit, Big figure shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Smoke a spliff, hard liquor shit, Hard liquor beatch

Here I come, steppin out the Vader
They call me D Shot and I'm about my paper
Been in this game since eighty-six
One of the first bosses to hit the independent lick
Y'all know my dawgs is the C L I C K
Them true boss ballers that done paved the way
I throw my Roley up in the air
It cost me 25 K, do you think I care?
I rolls bodies, as thick as you can get 'em
You know them 600's with the V-12 emblems?
The rap game's been good to me
I like the money and the hoes and the V.I.P
The lavish lifestyle that I live
Consist of big-ass parties and sippin gin
We puff trees, we smoke 'em by the ounce
We hit the studio and then bounce

We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Click shit, big figure shit, Big figure shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Sick shit, big nigga shit, Big nigga shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Click shit, big figure shit, Big figure shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Smoke a spliff, hard liquor shit, Hard liquor beatch

See I'ma, street walker, gun clapper
Papered up hood nigga livin like a rapper
If you see me you would think I sold a million copy
Like what's-her-name? Ice all on my body
All kind of bitches be thumpin over a motherfucker for the worst
One of 'em got a pair of pre school college scissors in her purse
Ready to take off on a nig', take a nig', beatch
Stab a bitch, shoot a nigga for her nig'
See I'm a slick talkin boss playa
Full of straight mindgames and schemes
Find your botch's weakness, get off in her jeans
Tell her she's the sweetest, pull her mental file
See if I can help cause she's livin in denial, bitch
You liable to find me on the ave, slangin o's
Parked on the curb, sippin white Irish ross
Smokin herb, grindin in my dirty clothes what else?
Hella perved, standin on my P's and toes

We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Click shit, big figure shit, Big figure shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Sick shit, big nigga shit, Big nigga shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Click shit, big figure shit, Big figure shit
We on some nigga shit, Nigga shit
Smoke a spliff, hard liquor shit, Hard liquor beatch

I'm sportin Benzes, Cutlasses, smoke trees and hustle for G's
Pop game that pertain to plenty, shoppin sprees
Magic shows, gatherings and ceremonies
What's your testimony? Ain't nuttin bout me phony
I'm a boss bitch botch
Known for smugglin heroin balloons in my crotch
Beat a bitch down with copper pennies in a sock, I be on the block
Teasin on the dicks, doin nigga shit

We're just some real ass niggaz
We're ballaholics everyday
We're not your ordinary niggaz
Our only motive is to get paid
We're just some real ass niggaz
We're ballaholics everyday
We're not your ordinary niggaz
Our only motive is to get paid
We're not your ordinary niggaz
We're not your ordinary niggaz
We're not your ordinary niggaz
We're not your ordinary niggaz

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5110f072b45e859ac148e9d9ccfa4518