Check Your People - Lyrics - Downset

Title: Check Your People
Artist: Downset
Composer(s): Christopher Hamilton, Rogelio Lozano, James Morris, Rey Anthony Oropeza, Roger H Ramirez, Brian Neal Schwager

Lyric:
Make it back, y'all
Check me out

My enemies is in too motherfuckin' close
Cut throat, zone association, cold like stone
Whom I gettin' with, too connected with infected kids
Who ain't done shit but strip my kit

Can't believe what I see, sickening scenery
In the heat of things you won't be with me so flee my team
Bloodsucker, yo, you think you got me ruffed up
You ain't got the stuff to cut my gut, what's up

Check your people, check your camp
Check your camp, check your people
Check your people, check your camp
Check your camp, check your people

Check 'em, what I got

Who's got me like that, who's true like that?
Who's got my back in this pivotal pack of masks?
Bail my people outta lock up 'cause I got love when they caught up
Will I get my grands back? Testin' where they're hearts at

Dead first before betrayal to my main network
Visible signals, what's the move? Cut 'em loose

Check your people, check your camp
Check your camp, check your people
Check your people, check your camp
Check your camp, check your people

Slipping and falling I threw my pearls to swine
I parted my fruit to squandering flesh who chase prestigious design
I guess that's what I get, a fool is dangerous company
Who brings much regret

You are so transparent
You are so transparent
You are so transparent
You are so transparent, transparent

Take your piece and run
I'll become whole again with the sight of a new sun
Take your piece and run
I'll become whole again with the sight of a new sun

You played me again
You played me again
Keep it real, y'all

Check your people, check your camp
Check your camp, check your people
Check your people, check your camp
Check your camp, check your people

Watch out who you run with

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fe39dc8a660267e34f39079a7c31735a

Call The Ambulance - Lyrics - It Ain't Safe No More... - Busta Rhymes

Title: Call The Ambulance
Album: It Ain't Safe No More...
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): C Hugo, Roger Mcnair, Pharrell L Williams, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Yeah! Busta Rhymes now, Flipmode now, check it
See we in 2003 already
Catch up to us
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, hah, huh

Now motherfuckin' case closed
The shit blow your speaker, keep turnin' your base low
Spaz out because I motherfuckin' say so
Before I blow this bitch like we down in Waco

Thick in cock diesel, that's the way we roll
Big truck shit, even my bitch whippin' the range rov'
We 'bout to skyrocket and the way we go
The way the bitches lookin' love the way we blow

Check it, we light shit up like broadway yo
The crack head rappers better just say no
Before I turn stupid and back the heat slow
Lay and wait for niggaz in the back street yo

Weak flow, take your shit like i'm comin' to repo
Create a crowd scene and stack a bunch of people
We bustin' through the doors, shootin' through your peephole
The shoot that never miss, like shootin' a free throw

All you niggaz better go and

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
I'll put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out
Call the ambulance

Catch sixteen to remove your organs
H2O ridin' round in same orbits
Notorious from New York to New Orleans
House come with the lake swimmin' with dolphins

Fifty G's with large proportions
Caught a few niggaz on money extortions
Niggaz snitch, F.B.I is hawkin'
Call Johnnie Cochran, yo this nigga is walkin'

Shit, we gotta close down the club
Me and my cousin Bust, we like crockett and tubbs
I pushin' lambo's, big chains and dubs
Lead ya' Flipmode security with snubs

Uppin' club levels, hundred G's enough
And if them ducks rollin' bust i'm beatin' it up
The streets ain't safe, yo we heatin' it up
The party's on smashed up, now we tweakin' it up
The bitches want this dick so they eatin' it up

Now all you bitches better go and

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
I'll put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out
Call the ambulance

Flipmode, we in heavy conjunction
We shutin' down in every function
Beat you in yo' head until your brain malfunction
Yo Bust, call the label, tell 'em we in production

Pinky ring status so it's no discussion
Stop talkin' shit, niggaz dodgin' and duckin'
I'm cream cheese with the English muffin
I still got respect in the flatbush junction, hey

Huh, it's like we shakin' down a dude
We like a pack of dogs that come to take a nigga food
My niggaz flip quicker than a fuckin' interlude
I beat niggaz head and blood drippin' through a tube

Peep bitch, I'm only here to change the fuckin' mood
And freeze you niggaz money like a nigga gettin' sued
And leave you in the church watchin' your body gettin' viewed
Don't get it fucked up or even misconstrued

All you niggaz better go and

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out

Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
Call the ambulance, come and pick up your people
I'll put they body on the stretcher, carry they ass out
Call the ambulance

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f24079e80f6fae6b9f31391aad71a188

To My People - Lyrics - Flipmode Squad

Title: To My People
Artist: Flipmode Squad
Composer(s): R Lewis, R Mcnair, R Fisher, Leroy Jones, G Spivey, Trevor Smith, R Evens, J Webb

Lyric:
Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

Uh, straight off the bat
My squad is known across the map
When y'all niggas show love
Then we show you love back

Y'all niggas want beef
Fuck it take it to the streets
Y'all niggas gon' chill
Then we sit down and we build

My squad finally here
Unit of the year
We settin' up shop
And we ain't going nowhere

We want it all
Even if we gotta brawl for it
We want it all
Even if you gotta fall for it

We stage wreckers, fifty two car deckers
Reppin' to the world till the law come and get us
You jealous fellas
I'm puttin' holes in vendettas

Twist your body
With two shells from a shottie pow
Niggas wanna get me touched
(Naw, they cant touch you)
Shinin' and flossin' too much
(Naw, they can't cross you)

Light on my toes
Left him ten feet
Part from his heat
Play it softly

The truth speaks through this poetry
For me to call shot
Cock block my life
Add a little spice

Devil eyes snake rise on dice
Have your fam call Christ
Flipmode battle for mics
All my shit be high priced

I'm slashing dikes, feel me
Liftin' thugs out they crease it's quickly
Shift two keys in two weeks
And gross forty g's

Report me and live shortly
Slouch cat livin' off calibil breeze
You wanna get involved
Better grip on tight, take the next flight
We got it locked on the next bike

Check it out
I got the eye of a tiger
That's plan to go higher
My squad is on fire

And till death do us
If the label wanna sue us
Yo I'm taking the reels
I'm the man with the gat that be ready to peel

I'm the one next to Spliff when it's time to ill
I'm a show by astro red cross and blue shields
Watch us make a move
Catch us on smokin' groove

Rules house of blues, MTV news
On the bus with my Flipmode loco
(Loco)
Takin' flicks, hittin' chicks by the dozen
(Dozen)

Keep a shot runnin'
Now I'm on a journey
It take you twenty light years to burn me
(Burn me)
If you want beef call my attorney
All that other wack shit don't concern me

I'm being felt
I got a title under my belt
I'm out to get the wealth
I'm 'bout my squad and myself

Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

Uhh, comin' correct for all my Flipmode brothers
Stats ratin' higher then that of single mothers
Peace to my Outz clique
Bitches that I bounce with

Everybody else get the gas like Auschwitz
Like, flows for real like a rap bitch should
Type takin' niggas out like they packaged goods
Rappers wanna contest

They buggin', straight up and down
We run the underground like H. Tubman
What, I'm the bomb bitch
Nigga Rah, D I G got Rah

God be my witness
Long as I walk this globe
I be spittin' more verses
Than the 'Book of Job'

Why are you ignoring us
Running into hiding and avoiding us?
Niggas on the low be recording us
My rhyme flow remain poisonous

Thus
Yo your shit sound wack still annoying us
We alive nigga ain't no destroying us
You better off if you come join with us

Perpendicular
Or analyzing my whole molecular
In particular
Roll with my squad or go singular

I ain't into bitches who fuck animals like caligula
More hot shit so get your water sprinkler
Fire extinguisher, rhyme, prime minister
C'mon

Never mistake me for nobody else
Another blast make you shit on yourself
I hope all y'all know that I always master the art
Rip you apart

Put your hand on my heart
Flipmode number one on the charts
Solo or collective
My perspective the objective
Is to win

All praises due to my squad one in the same
Cherish every blessing
I have to make y'all witness my name
Burn another calorie

Come inside my galaxy
Put your money where your mouth is double your salary
Hey dude you know we stay rude high on a aquelude
Bust your shit bouncin' in a Honda Prelude

Let's G off
Nigga ease off
I make you breeze off
Brickfull make you rip your jeans off

Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

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997308a83afd0c54f283a4ddec5a5fee

The Balance - Lyrics - Aceyalone

Title: The Balance
Artist: Aceyalone
Composer(s): Edwin M Jr Hayes

Lyric:
Mr. Mix Mr. DJ play that beat
Won't you play if for me? In the mix mister hop
Forward hop back, hop, hop, hop

The second somebody dies somebody else is born
People are celebrating while other people mourn
Home may be home to you but to me it's foreign
Even the matador don't pull the bull by the horns
One man's enemy is another man's friend
One man's poisons is another man's medicine
So let us stand, let us sit and let us view
The changing of the guard, oh, it's so hard to keep it true

It's the balance of the scales, it can't be challenged or expelled
Soon as somebody lost somebody else prevails
Some someone is quiet at the same time someone yells
Half full or half empty, water in the well
It's the half and half hypothesis the 50, 50 theory
Eerie as it may seem, check your balance beam
It's the half and half hypothesis the 50, 50 theory
Eerie as it may seem, check your balance beam

Now check your Balance Beamer with a feather and a rock
whether or not you find the answer is really not the plot
See it's like love and hate
(Love and hate)
The same emotion different weight
People love to hate so I know you know just how this all relates
It's the posa and the negative, mini and mega live
Arm a leg a leg an arm headed by a nigga

Like big and small, short and tall
Night and day and so on, some people are bashful
Some people just love to get their flow on
(They flow on)
So here goes one to grow on
I'ma go on and on and on till the principles are laid out
The scales of justice weighed out
Till your memory starts to fade out and your game of life is played out
Got to balance out the power don't we?

Balance your emotions
Push and pull positions like the moon pulls on the ocean
Balance on one foot that's equilibrium
Opposites attract and retract that's a fact, I'm a Libra y'all
180 degrees but not that hot
So whether or not you find the answer is really not the plot
(Really not the plot)
Because giving is receiving and seeing is believing
(And, and)
And the solar system rotes so harmonious and even
It's perfectly balanced

Some people say life is about taking chances choices and decisions
Voices and opinions, politics and religion
Clues the past and cash and keys to the future
It's a possibility and probability on who's gonna execute yo ass
Some slow and analytical, some quick fast on the dash
Like heads or tails but the head usually leads the tail
So I tell my tales from the head
'Cuz they're embedded inside my cells

Real quick let me tell you about a fact I know things will even out
You can disbelieve or doubt or even shout or leave it in your mouth
'Cuz how you gone reason wit' grand Mother Nature
Running mother Earth controlled by Father Time who's the chaser
It's living and dying homey, laughing and crying dude
Trying or lying my brother, walking or flying fool
Now half of you are gone find the time to shine
The other half gone find crime, money weed wine

Till it's to late in a disillusion state of mind
I just found my peace of mind, now they want a piece of mine
To late in a disillusion of mind
The orthodox is the unorthodox they just got you on the names
The insane and the sane are the same
It's a damn shame so many people's aim is so lame

And their gain is so minimal, caught up in the subliminal
It's pleasure and pain, water for the flames, the wild and the tame
The style still remains if you use the right side of your brain
Instead of going against the grain
You can penetrate the vein to the point where
What remains is a stain of this universal thang
That we call balance, balance

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2a089d30d97f9f3058aea18566010c85

Handle Ur Bizness - Lyrics - M.O.P.

Title: Handle Ur Bizness
Artist: M.O.P.
Composer(s): J Grinnage, Lawrence Elliott, E Murry

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

Lyric:
Check, check, check

Handle ur bizness, can't get your grip, can I get a witness?
Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled, grip your steel
Handle ur bizness, can't get your grip, can I get a witness?
Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled, back out your steel

What the rawdog feelin'? An author like Terry McMillan
The cat that, maniac, my fam dark as death in less than a minute
(The world stop spinnin')
The Rapid Firing Squad, keep on mix fire and loud wires
(Hard to kill)
And bombs, firing arms, look, we all for it
It's the dutch burning herbalice, gallon drinkin' alcoholics

Walk through your toughest pack of goons with my chain out
Kept it real ever since the first jam came out
'First Family' turned this whole rap game out
Sheisty individuals tryin' to wipe my name out

But they don't fuck around 'cause they know I back that thing out
And try to mark 'em off when the gun shots ring out
And in the Myst of black, kid I'ma try to wipe they name out
And keep on dubbin' till I break a fucking spring out

Handle ur bizness, can't get your grip, can I get a witness?
Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled, grip your steel
Handle ur bizness, can't get your grip, can I get a witness?
Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled, back out your steel

You motherfuckas better raise up
(They already did)
Who that? The '87 stick up kids
(We're back)
I'm hopin' that your focused on the side
'Cause frontin' on me and my mad niggaz die

Is this hip hop? Hell no, this is war
I've been trying to tell you that since [unverified] rocked some hardcore
You don't listen, see gee, I'm on a mission, look be
They gonna find your ass missing

Ever since me and Fame came, we maintained
A strange, but a strong game
(That can't change)
The real ghetto bad shit for blastin', subtractin'
Those that ain't matchin' my fashion I'm mashin'

(Retality's real)
Fatality's ill, when your stash in my path
Then your stash is a raw deal, get your gat
(Clap, clap, bucka bucka bub bub bub bucka bucka)
Blow, blow, get the fuck back

Handle ur bizness, can't get your grip, can I get a witness?
Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled, grip your steel
Handle ur bizness, can't get your grip, can I get a witness?
Ghetto people, your dreams have now been fulfilled, back out your steel

Face mine 'cause I'm here, dog its' all clear
Rap jewels put it on my baseline from a snare
Then the wanna doubt The Kid who analyze this whole fucking shit?
Trying to make somethin' out of it, explode quicker than land mines

M.O.P. tapes make earthquakes and cause landslides
Bump this in your Lex coupe or your Lex hoop
Danze, finish 'em, twenty-one gun salute
(The Crew)

How many niggas runnin' with me? A hundred niggaz gunnin' with me
(This few, to shoot)
Firing Squad, draw blood on the enemy at point-blank range
Deliverin' the penalty, ain't nothing but the thugs slangin' out hollow slugs

(Nigga)
Anti-love keepin' it real
(Thug, let 'em slide today)
I'm known best for leavin' 'em stretchin' like Doc Holliday, salute

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746a10fac282a47268e1464ef6896f44

Know That - Lyrics - Black On Both Sides - Mos Def

Title: Know That
Album: Black On Both Sides
Artist: Mos Def
Composer(s): T K Green, L Dorell, Dante Beze

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

Lyric:
Hey, hey, hey man
I strike the empire back
I strike the empire back
Fuck the empire

High flyin' like the Millennium Falcon, piloted by Han Solo
I never roll for dolo, frontin' on me's a no-no
Understand? Doin' this for my family
Ha ha, check it out y'all

Yo, I'm tryin' to make a dollar out of what makes sense
Add it up, told my daddy I'd be a rich man
You never know when your fate gon' switch hand
Get today's solid ground out of yesterday's quicksand

I was a young boy, who dreamt about being a big man
On small looseleaf sheets I sketched a big plan
Gotta handle business properly, boost up my economy
Store it up and get my mom some waterfront property

Yesterday was not for me but nowadays it's time for me
The streets is watchin' me, I watch back, that's the policy
Movin' along my oddesey like blood through the artery
Navigate the treacherous and make it seem effortless

Let those who make the exodus seekin' the North beacon
From beatin' and hog-eatin', from punishment all season
From hands cracked and bleedin' cotton thorns in your palms
It's for y'all that I sketch these songs, and it goes

Yeah, though I walk through the valley of the shadow
I fear no man, because faith is the arrow
My vocal chord travel worldwide to block narrow
We can blow with the ammo or go mano-a-mano

Kweli is you wit me? Let's make it happen
(Whattup whattup?)
I burn through your argument with action
My eyes stay fastened to tomorrow lookin' for a brighter day
When y'all wanna leave y'all? Right away

Shout it out from East-West, from South to Northern
From Cakalak' to California
From the coldest to the warmest
To the borders 'cross the waters, understand
And know that I love you
We got love in the place

Shout out to all the Queens all the seeds
To all the teams that's gettin' cream
From outlaw to emcee's
Make it happen do your thing, understand
And know that I love you
Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen

Guess who? The illest MC in the atmosphere, yeah the Soul Controller
who roam the frontier like a Buffalo Soldier
I follow the code of honor like a real man gonna
Never disrespect no women 'cause I love my momma

These cats be givin' us praise but it ain't that accurate
I give it up to God, all that, love and attachment, get
Scary well-prepared with the shears when it get hairy
Like how these niggaz is lookin' like some fairies

And singin' like canaries to the beast
And anybody who will listen to 'em clearly
Y'all don't hear me though, even when I'm comin' through in stereo
You make a mockery of what I represent properly

Yo, why you startin' me? I take that shit straight to the artery
Intellectual property I got the title and the deed
I pay for rent, with the tears and sweat, and what I bleed
MC's imitate the way we walk, the way we talk

You cats spit lyrical pork with no spiritual thought
Plus your flow a little bit off, you come across soft
Back in the days, niggaz like that on stage got tossed off
Need to get crossed off the guest list

It's like you gotta be disrespected
And thrown out the exit to get the message
Sometimes your sunshine get snatched like a necklace
when you get too drunk on power and your drive get reckless
Check it, MC's in my face after I slug you then I hug you
If I gotta dead you know it's only 'cause I love you

Shout it out from East-West from South to Northern
From the richest to the poorest
To the elders in the coffins
Livin' native dyin' for it, understand
And know that I love you
Yeah, yeah, we got love in the place

Shout out from up top to the middle
To black bottom, sky high
Whether you colder than December or hotter, than July
It don't stop 'til we complete this
And know that I love you keep this fly
It's so much to life when you just

Stay black, stay black
Stay black, stay black
Stay black, stay black
Stay black, stay black
Stay black, stay black

My people, my people, my people people p-people
My people, my people, my people people p-people
My people, my people, my people people p-people
My people, my people, my people people p-people

My people, my people, my people people p-people
My people, my people, my people people p-people
My people, my people, my people people p-people
My people, my people, my people people p-people

My people, oh oh oh oh ohh, oh ohh

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9c0f0ff5328c6fe5bf1e05a3aa2a8494

Get Ur Freak On (Remix) - Lyrics - Missy Elliott

Title: Get Ur Freak On (Remix)
Artist: Missy Elliott
Composer(s): Timothy Z Mosley, Melissa A Elliott

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

Lyric:
[Incomprehensible]

Headbanger hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me, hit me
(Yeah )
Gimme some new shit
(Yeah )
Gimme some new shit
(Yeah )
Gimme some new shit
(Yeah )
Gimme some new shit

Missy be puttin it down, I'm the hottest round
I told y'all mother [Incomprehensible], y'all can't stop me now
Listen to me now, I'm lastin twenty rounds
And if you want me, then come on get me now
(Nigga)
(Yes)
Is you with me now?, Then biggie biggie bounce
(Yes)
(Yes)
I know you dig the way I sw-sw-switch my style
(Hullo)
People sing around
(Yes)
Now people gather round, now people jump around
(Yes)

(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Getcha getcha getcha getcha getcha freak on

(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Getcha getcha getcha getcha getcha freak on

Is that your chick?, People you know
(Yes)
Me and Timbaland been hot since twenty years ago
(Yes)
What da dilly yo, now what da drilly yo?
(Yes)
If you wanna battle me then, lemme know
(Nigga)
(Yes)
(Hullo)
Got to feel it son
Lemme throw you some
(Maut mujhko)
(Yes)
People here I come, now sweat me when I'm done
(Yes)
We got the radio shook like we got a gun
(Yes)

(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Getcha getcha getcha getcha getcha freak on

(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Getcha getcha getcha getcha getcha freak on

Quiet!, ssh, hush yo' mouth
Silence when I, spit it out
In yo' face
Open your mouth, give you a taste
(Hullo)
Ain't no stoppin me
Copywritten so, don't copy me
Y'all do it, sloppily
And y'all can't come, close to me
(Yes)

I know you feel me now, I know you hear me
Loud
(Yes)
(Yes)
I scream it loud and proud, Missy gon' blow it
(Yes)
Down
(Yes)
People gon' play me now, in and outta town
(Yes)
(Yes)
Cause I'm the best around, with this crazy style
(Yes)

(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Getcha getcha getcha getcha getcha freak on

(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Get your freak on
(Go)
Getcha getcha getcha getcha getcha freak on

{Bitch means sound check}

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c7177a66c0cc43d355f37489a0cd444a

Cold Hard Bitch - Lyrics - Dirty Sweet - Jet

Title: Cold Hard Bitch
Album: Dirty Sweet
Artist: Jet
Composer(s): Curtis Mayfield

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

Lyric:
Here's something that you never had, it slid in on an oily rag
The price is right up on the tag, I'll put in a brand new bag
This thing will let you be yourself and won't offend nobody else
Nothing like you ever saw and it's not against the law

Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time
Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time

People thinking they've been took, just finding out they over looked
They never found the missing link, forgot they had a mind to think

Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time
Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time

Check out your mind, check out your mind, check out your mind

Trust in me and I in you, no matter what you see me do
I'm doing me for all I'm worth, none do be better on this earth

Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time
Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time
Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time
Why don't you check out your mind, been with you all the time

Check out your mind
Check out your mind
Check out your mind
...

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024e379fba5611634542aa934597c58b

Back On Top - Lyrics - Gameface - Master P

Title: Back On Top
Album: Gameface
Artist: Master P
Composer(s): Obi Nwobosi, George Jr Clinton, Walter Morrison, Garry Shider, Ainz Prasad, Percy Miller

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

Lyric:
Gameface, uuh
Check them haters out, check them haters out
Check them haters out, check them haters out
Check them haters out, check them haters out
What? What? What? What?
The new No Limit you heard me them 'round platinum tank

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

Criticism in the party like it's H20
In the back of the club sayin' bring some more
Me and my soldiers where the party at?
Hinicy, Gin, and Juice who ordered that?
'Cuz ya'll got cars and we got locked
Ya'll buy houses and we buy blocks
It ain't No Limit to the dough I got
The Ghetto Bill Gates in the parkin' lot

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

Got my pork chop mixed with 2 eggs
A country tycoon with a hole lot of bread
Bentleys and Hummers we 'bout that there
And all my No Limit Soldiers how you do that their?
A couple of pages left but man we got colder
6 feet 5 in the hood we break boulders
Smash supermodels 'cuz they chicks to me
And a million dollars more is like grits to me

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

Always willin' out but if I'm not willin'
You can take a picture of me on the island smilin'
Love for the haters but they mostly envys
More type of shepherds on lock but they mostly 20's
Play this game, we suppose to win
I drive a lot of cars but they mostly Bentleys
Lot of glass for Cris but they mostly bottles
See me with ghetto chicks but mostly models and um

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

Ya'll now we on top, but the tank ain't dropped
We be like non stop with the one spot on locked
You wanna play these games where the MVP's
So fresh and so clean like some people in jeans, uuh

Oh look, what? Look
We from the south where they got golds in they mouth
Barbeque's all day right in front of the house
We use slit and slang like
What's cracky man? What's happney man?
We goin' to a platinum, man
We play ball all year, it's that all year

No Limit, P. Miller man, that's all we wear
We run it phat, soldiers get down like that
From the club to the streets we get around like that
Sad vapor roll with dogs that will chase ya
There's love in the game but some will still rate ya
I'm the type jump a crowd and get hype
Rip in track check the source while mights

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

Where them ballers at shot callers at?
Cris style more wet we want all of that
Where them ballers at shot callers at?
D. D. Rimin, we want all of that
No Limit run this for you?
Hell yea
I said No Limit run this for you?
Hell yea

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)

No Limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
No limit is back on top, ya'll haters can't stop us now
(Turn your Gameface, represent your nameplate)
...

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1beab972b6a2b1b2bb7e32626a79eee9

That'S The Nigga - Lyrics - Ghetto Fabulous - Mystikal

Title: That'S The Nigga
Album: Ghetto Fabulous
Artist: Mystikal
Composer(s): Shawn Leigh Moltke, Michael Tyler, Marlon Lu'Ree Williams

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

Lyric:
Say K, are we gon' lay up back?
Kick this bitch raw, you heard me
Like some of that ol' [Incomprehensible] shit

Microphone check, check, check one
Microphone check, check, check two
Microphone check, check, check three
Microphone check, check, check four

What y'all niggas wanna do, how y'all gon' do it?
Check, check one, kick this shit raw
Y'all know me

They say that's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga

Turn your hands towards your ass an' say bye bye
From the South side, South side, puff ya ya ya
Nothin' but the fire ya
Eardrums snatchin', champion, cheap rhyme busters
'Til the day I die

I say I lie
Bitch, I'll be fuckin' on your grave singin', ?Ay la ba?
I throw 'em off, I'm two scoops from coo coo
I swoosh through your fruit loops, poo poo in your Fubu

Y'all niggas remember what happened to that mosquito
Tweeter tweeter, the MC, the sweeter I be [Incomprehensible]
Stop your water, turn off your gas, cut off your lights
Move you out, cut your grass, watch your kids, fuck your wife

Like a bacon, egg an' cheese sandwich, I'm good
Mmm, like syrup on the biscuit an' orange juice [Incomprehensible]
Come an' let me take you by the hand an' walk ya
I'm the thief in the night that slide your drawers off ya

Watch where ya steppin', I'm a verbal weapon
Bring more pain then when John Wayne came on old westerns
What is the actual fuckin' meanin'?
I come in this bitch without leavin', this bitch that think we leanin'

It's been like that since way back
I used to rock eight tracks before I rocked eight decks
Concepts goin', stay fat, concerts goin', stay packed
Ownership's goin', stay black, nigga, this is payback

I scrape ya somethin' crawlin' to establishment
Now I'm Country Club livin' from the scribble, scrabblin' my talent
Proper, proper droppin' somethin' decent
Y'all niggas is as fucked up as Santa Clause for Easter

I'm a keep comin' as long as KLC keep drummin'
An' the only way to stop me is call the people for me
Fuck them people, I'll fuck over you if I have to
That's the nigga, that's that bastard

That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga

That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's that bastard

I'm that nigga, I'm that the nigga
I'm that nigga, I'm that the nigga
I'm that nigga, I'm that the nigga
I'm that nigga, I'm that the nigga

Who that with that say they can't sell, boy?
They from third ward, I'm from 12th ward
For y'all [Incomprehensible]
The guitars on these boys an' get down an' go off

All sides get high when they ride to my words
They mine an' they high when I'm live in concert
Fuck who you bringin', just ain't no show [Incomprehensible]
I don't need nine or ten pack
Of niggas rappin' with me, I'm independent

Make frontin', stuntin' niggas lose their stomach
They lose their clout, they lose their cool
An' after I come in this bitch, they lose their woman
Hello Ghetto Fabulous an' big mansions an' fine fabrics
Like a man, my money an' my pussy come automatic

You don't wanna status with a hardcore rhyme fanatic
Full speed dead at it, vocabulary acrobatic
That's him, that's that rapper
That's the man, that's the nigga, that's that bastard

That's the nigga, that's the nigga
That's the nigga, that's the nigga

What is the actually fuckin' meanin'?

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7f9a3893f1bdbfdfa8e5756288d8dfb1

The Jump Off - Lyrics - Mos Def

Title: The Jump Off
Artist: Mos Def
Composer(s): Mark Adams, Steven R Arrington, Cordozar C Broadus, Harry Wayne Casey, Richard Finch, Gary Miller, Mark Richardson, Dante Smith, Raymond Guy Turner, Steve Washington, Daniel Webster, Douglas Arthur Wimbish, Andre Romell Young

Lyric:
Black
(Black)
Jack Johnson ain't scared of you motherfuckers, ha, ha

(It's the jump off)
Yeah, y'all now, c'mon
(It's the jump off)
Push it up now, ha
(It's the jump off)
What you want now?
(It's the jump off)
Keep cool, now
(Put your hands up, it's the jump-off)

Yeah, it's that Freak Daddy shit
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands)

With so much drama in the NYC
It's kinda hard bein' MOS Def-initely
But I, some how, some way
Keep comin' up with funky ass shit with the Black Jack Jay

May, I, spit a lyric for my ghetto people?
Show me 'nough respect when I breeze, through
Riders beep they horn
'Cause I keep the party jumpin' like yo' momma ain't home

I'm just a freak individual singin' my song
Shinin' bright on the mic like it's six in the morn'
(Six in the morn')

So, peep out my manuscript
Reach up, sleeves up, for a second now bounce
This is the one that make the party wile' out
Nigga, I said wile' out, nigga, I said wile' out
Lemme show you what we're talkin' about
(C'mon)

Huh, ha, yes, hah, uh, hah, rock wit' me now
Uh, ha, yes, ah, uh, rock wit' me now
(You are now rockin' with the best)
Uh, hah, yes, unh, ha, uh, come check me now
(Black Jack)
Uh, hah, uh, yes, hah, uh, uh, back to the beat like

(It's the jump off)
Get it up now
(It's the jump off)
C'mon, push it up now
(It's the jump off)
Get it up now
(It's the jump off)
And make it jump now

(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off)
Uh, push it up now
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off)
Nigga, jump now
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off)
Push it up now
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands)

Tables fulla hi-hat, a dash of drums
Sprinkle in a little keyboard, a pint of rum
With just a pinch of purple haze and a gallon of bass
Mix snares with rock 'n' roll and throw it all in ya face

Pre-heat the studio to about a hundred degrees
Ludacris, Mos Def and your best emcees
You'll get burnt just for thinkin' you can step to me
And that's the end of my little ghetto recipe

My destinies are rhythm, hit 'em with the rhythm
Hit 'em, click 'em, then ha, ha, ha, strip 'em
Jump the fuck
(Back)
No gun can pump
(That)

I punch the engi
(Neer)
And slap the whole
(Track)

Then pop all the speakers and strip the wires
Blow smoke from the MPs and amplifiers
Here to spit truth for the liar, liars
I'm the hottest emcee, y'all a fire fired

Huh, yes, uh, ah, yes, uh, yes, hah, c'mon
(You are now rockin' wit' the best)
Woo, Brooklyn, New York City
Hah, take 'em there, Doc
Hah, uh, yeah, Black Jack, c'mon
So incredible, fantastic
(Ohh)
Freak Daddy shit, fire

C'mon
(Woo)
Nigga, rock to it, uh
(Uh)
Hah
(Hah)
Yeah
(Yeah)

(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Ridin' high
(High)
Ridin' low
(Low)

(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Ridin' clean
(Clean)
Ridin' dirty
(Dirty)

Nobody high as we are, Black Jack Johnson
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Told you my hot was incredible, y'all
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Woo
(Woo)

(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Tell 'em again
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Hey, I don't think y'all heard me
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Black, Jack, Johnson ain't scared of you motherfuckers

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76e7118415c56d6e6ad4377e85630ccb

What`s It Gonna Be - Lyrics - Extinction Level Event - Busta Rhymes

Title: What`s It Gonna Be
Album: Extinction Level Event
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Busta (Trevor Smi Rhymes, Antoinette Roberson, Darrell Allamby

Lyric:
Ah ah
Ah ah
Ah, ah, c'mon
Ah, ah, ah uh uh-uh
Uhhh, ahhh
Yeah, Busta Rhymes
Janet Jackson, here we go, one time!

Baby just tell me just how you feel
We livin' it, I'm just givin' it to you real, baby c'mon
Every time we crossin' the borderline
Be giving it to you makin' you feel fine, turn the heat up
Better believe we gon' shine, make your body wind
Baby the pleasure is all mine, to my people
Who be regulating the dance floor
Better step to your business and handle yours, how we do it?

Making your people just wanna bounce and get busy
Because you know that we always'll hit you off, what you say?
You wondering why you feeling the force
And don't you worry 'cause yo we ready to floss
Mohicans'll always a put you on
And blow the spot 'til the very second I'm gone, get your groove on
Now that you tired I hope your body recoupin'
Because we keepin' you movin' that's what we doin' and you know we're

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Yeah, yeah, gonna make your body wet)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Yeah yeah, make your body just scream out yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make you think of naughty things
(Ha ha, make you think of naughty things)
Like me on you
(Or me on you)
And you on me
(Yeah, what it's gon' be?)
What's it gonna be?

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Ah, ah, ah, make your body wet, c'mon)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Hah, make your body scream yeah yeah, yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body cream
(Make your body cream)
Make you have wet dreams
(Make you have wet dreams)
What what what, what's it gonna be?
(What, what, what)

Party people, seeing you waving your hand high
Hot shit, burning you making your ass fry, baby c'mon
Give you the shit what that make you quiver while I deliver
The shit that'll hit you right in your liver
Always sound scannin', we never leavin' you hangin'
I'm always doin' my thang and my music always be bangin', so check it
You know we be always movin' the crowd

Type of feeling that make you wanna go play it loud, whatup?
When we come and hit you
Best believe, we really gon' get you
Light up whatever you wanna flaunt
'Cause we be dippin' it baby, so what you want? Here we go
Paintin' the picture we keep it hot in the winter
Now big up my people you know I'm always wit you, Flipmode
We blowin' and takin' over the planet, full blast
Hittin' with Busta Rhymes and Janet and you know we're gonna

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Yeah, yeah, gonna make your body wet)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Yeah gonna make your body just scream out yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make you think of naughty things
(Ha ha, make you think of naughty things)
Like me on you
(Or me on you)
And you on me
What it's gon' be?
(What's it gonna be?)

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Ah, ah, ah, make your body wet, c'mon)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Hah, make your body scream yeah yeah, yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body cream
(Gonna make your body cream)
Make you have wet dreams
(Make you have wet dreams)
What what what, what's it gonna be?
(What, what, what, what, what?)

We gonna make your body feel wet, wet
We gonna make your body say yeah, yeah
I wanna know where my road dawgs is it
I wanna know where my live women is at, where you at?
We gonna make your body feel wet, wet
We gonna make your body say yeah, yes
Now everybody wave your hand real high, real high

And let me see you all put em up in the sky, c'mon
Makin' my niggaz just say ho, word up
And makin' you women just say ah, baby c'mon
Bringin' it to you in many ways
We makin' and takin' you people right through another phase, c'mon
We rocking it baby, that's how we dropping it baby
There ain't no stopping it baby, I know we driving you crazy
And then we hit with the greatest of all times
No matter what you do baby, we gon' shine and you know we're gonna

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Yeah, yeah, gonna make your body wet)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Yeah yeah, make your body just scream again yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make you think of naughty things
(Make you think of naughty things)
Like me on you
(Or me on you)
And you on me
(Yeah, what it's gon' be?)
What's it gonna be?

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Ah, yeah, gonna make your body wet)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Hah, gonna make your body scream yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body cream
(Hah, gonna make your body cream)
Make you have wet dreams
(Make you have wet dreams)
What what what, what's it gonna be?
(What what what what what what's it gonna be?)

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Yeah, yeah, gonna make your body wet, girl)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Hah yeah, gonna make your body scream again yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make you think of naughty things
(Ha ha, make you think of naughty things)
Like me on you
(Or me on you)
And you on me
(What it's gon' be?)
What's it gonna be?

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Ah, yeah gonna make your body feel wet, girl)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Hah, make your body scream again, yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body cream
(Gonna make your body cream)
Make you have wet dreams
(Make you have wet dreams)
What what what, what's it gonna be?
(What what what what what what)

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Gonna make your body wet, girl)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Yeah, gonna make your body just scream out yeah yeah, yeah, yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make you think of naughty things
(Ha ha, make you think of naughty things)
Like me on you
(Like me on you)
And you on me
(Yeah, what it's gon' be?)
What's it gonna be?

Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body wet
(Ah, gonna make your body feel wet, yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make your body scream again
(Hah, gonna make your body scream again, yeah yeah)
Gonna make, gonna make, gonna make your body cream
(Gonna make your body cream)
Make you have wet dreams
(Make you have wet dreams)
What what what, what's it gonna be?
(What what what what what, what's it gonna be?)

What wha-what, what, what what it's gon' be?
Busta Rhymes, and Janet Jackson
Finally
Flipmode baby what?
Yeah yeah, what it's gonna be?
What it's gon' be?
What it's gon' be?
What's it gonna be?
What what what, wha-what what?
Yeah
Uh uh uh, ah ah, ah ah, ah, ah-ah
Close the door nigga
(Yes)

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47a3c866ecf98e8155fb58136a1790e8

Check The Rhime - Lyrics - The Anthology - A Tribe Called Quest

Title: Check The Rhime
Album: The Anthology
Artist: A Tribe Called Quest
Composer(s): Steve Ferrone, Alan Edward Gorrie, Jay Davis, Malik Izaak Taylor, Malcolm Duncan, Richard Rudolph, John W Davis, Owen Onnie Mcintyre, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, Roger Ball, Hamish Stuart, Leon Ware, Minnie Riperton

Lyric:
Check the rhime

Back in the days on the boulevard of Linden
We used to kick routines and presence was fittin'
It was I, The Abstract
And me, the five footer
I kicks the mad style so step off the frankfurter

Yo, Phife, you remember that routine
That we used to make spiffy like Mr. Clean?
Um, um, a tidbit, um, a smidgen
I don't get the message
So you gots to run the pigeon

You on point Phife?
All the time, Tip
You on point Phife?
All the time, Tip

You on point Phife?
All the time, Tip
Well, then grab the microphone
And let your words rip

Now here's a funky introduction of how nice I am
Tell your mother, tell your father, send a telegram
I'm like an energizer 'cause, you see, I last long
My crew is never ever wack because we stand strong

Now if you say my style is wack that's where you're dead wrong
I slayed that body in El Segundo then 'Push it Along'
You'd be a fool to reply that Phife is not the man
'Cause you know and I know, that you know who I am

A special shot of peace goes out to all my pals, you see
And a middle finger goes for all you punk MC's
'Cause I love it when you wack MC's despise me
They get vexed, I roll next, can't none contest me

I'm just a fly MC who's five foot three and very brave
On job remaining, no I'm chaining 'cause I misbehave
I come correct in full effect, have all my hoes in check
And before I get the butt, the jim must be erect

You see, my aura's positive, I don't promote no junk
See, I'm far from a bully and I ain't a punk
Extremity in rhythm, yeah, that's what you heard
So just clean out your ears and just check the word

Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhime y'all

Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhyme y'all
Check it out, check it out

Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhime y'all
Play tapes y'all

Check the rhime y'all
Check the rhime y'all
Check it out, check it out

Back in days on the boulevard of Linden
We used to kick routines and the presence was fittin'
It was I, the Phifer
And me, The Abstract
The rhymes were so rumpin' that the brothers rode the 'zack

Yo, Tip you recall when we used to rock
Those fly routines on your cousin's block
Um, let me see, damn I can't remember
I receive the message and you will play the sender

You on point Tip?
All the time Phife
You on point Tip?
Yeah, all the time Phife

You on point Tip?
Yo, all the time Phife
So play the resurrector
And give the dead some life

Okay, if knowledge is the key then just show me the lock
Got the scrawny legs but I move just like Lou Brock
With speed, I'm agile plus I'm worth your while
One hundred percent intelligent black child

My optic presentation sizzles the retina
How far must I go to gain respect? Um
Well, it's kind of simple, just remain your own
Or you'll be crazy sad and alone

Industry rule number four thousand and eighty
Record company people are shady
So kids watch your back 'cause I think they smoke crack
I don't doubt it, look at how they act

But off to better things like a hip hop forum
Pass me the rock and I'll storm with the crew and Proper
What you say Hammer? Proper
Rap is not pop, if you call it that then stop

NC, y'all check the rhime y'all
SC, y'all check it out y'all
Virginia, check the rhime y'all
Check it out, out
In London, check the rhime, y'all

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9b91500bcec06c8382c606b282c2c985

Who The Crunkest - Lyrics - Tear Da Club Up Thugs

Title: Who The Crunkest
Artist: Tear Da Club Up Thugs
Composer(s): Joe Cooley, Jordan Houston, Jeff Page, Paul Beauregard, Earl Patrick Houston, Rodney Oliver

Lyric:
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

You know the time is tickin' short, now I'm reachin' for the vault
Grab them clothes that match the night and them things they call they
Aunt, yes, a nigga know I'm quiet, if you don't talk they think your soft
But I be quick to pull and blast and leave your body full of chalk

Never talk 'cause when you talk, these hoes be all up in your biz
Bring the word up, where you livin'? All the shit a nigga did
Hoe I ain't dentin' a fuckin' dinner roll, your bodies in the trunk
'Cause shit some keys over seas, may the flour mix with funk

I call the police, 911, "Their's been a murder on my set"
And when they pull up on my set, we pop them things and then we jet
On the low is how I keep it, if you want your blood to spill
Run your mouth off in the street and pull your gun to shoot to kill

If you real, if you realer than a motherfuckin' gang
On the block is where you hang, throw them motherfuckin' thangs
Nigga, drivin' up the K, slangin' rocks or pushin' weight
Ghetto nigga from the south, ain't no law that we can't break

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

What you know about goin' out, headin' out, ridin' out, down south
Findin' DJ Paul with the gold and diamonds in his mouth
Ridin' in the Rover with the boys and the broads in the cars behind me
Could you tell me how'd you find me

Rolex hangin' up out the window, shiny as hell
I must have gave myself away with my diamond bezzle
Slang the Rover in the garage, crankin' up the Capris
Time to check up on my tramps in the B A Z week

Zone us hangin' on corners, slangin' that marijuana
Hoe we been known since we been gone good, since this early morn
Biggity bust 'em, dust 'em, make 'em put plugs in donuts
In my hood, I'm like wassup with somethin' that's on us

Groovin' with the Hypnotized Camp Posse boys
Took my credit card, the Lexus, bought ten of them toys
Ha, ha, I got you thinkin', wishin' you was thru with the Hypnotizers
But facin' failure, you can get the club crunk like us

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Knicky knack, patty wack, automatic ghetto bust
Some say they down but they shady, so in glock I trust
I shall bust if you in it, man, represent it, man
If it's all about that, yah, that green then I'm wit' it, man

Understand where I'm comin' from, out the ghetto slum
Project Pat, Tear Da Club Up Thugs out here slangin' drugs
Makin' lame thugs bite the dust, if they step to us
Ain't no need to cuss even fuss, let that Ruger bust

If you real, you can keep it real, never fake the deal
If you gotta kill for your meal than you handle that
In the street the gat is a tool used for regulatin'
Poppin' off lead at your hat when you violating

Incriminating eyes when you see me passin' in my Lex
Haters in diguise, don't you boot this killa, do what it takes
Laid to rest, must have been your time for you to clock out
Had a vest but you should have had your fuckin' glock out

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this mother?
Who the crunkest in this mother?
Who the crunkest in this mother?

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Play the MP3 online for free!

d3f24bf9f82e879807c8399025740e96

Let'S Ride - Lyrics - Choclair

Title: Let'S Ride
Artist: Choclair
Composer(s): Kareem A Blake, Jason Harrow

Lyric:
Yes sir, when the man wanted to ride, what did he do?
Swing down sweet chariot, he told
That sweet chariot to swing on down
And stop, you know what I'm sayin'? So he could get on

Now this is what we do
We playin', we playin' the role of that sweet chariot
And we swingin' down to pick you up
Know what I'm sayin'?

Ride, for real, now, it's like, you wanna ride with me
You don't even know what ride is, look
You wanna get clean, you wanna get dirty
You wanna go left, right, this what we do

Well, it's the Nocka, The Chiz Rocker
Party while I'm wine drinkin'
My rhymes'll bust a hole right through your thinker
Re-think your strategies when you battle

International record sales, people try but they fail
It's the Chizzo or the Choco, ran the street like a blocko
Before the shots ring out, people never seen or even heard
But we ran through your HQs

Like a pack of germs, people swerve from the gamer
Suave player, I'm all black like the Raiders
You wonder how I did it, album anticipated
Well, it's the ninth innin'

With two outs I hit a home run
To left field like Carter did to Philly
Do you understand me? Ha, really?
No MacGyver tactics can stop my theatrics

I'm makin' ladies back flip
Understand it's all about the sexual eatin'
Up your set like a tropical
Stop it, my UVs will burn your skin, singe your optics

Twenty-one years was ground work
People hear me comin', so hit up for mad work
But understand it's all about the suave, diggy-dog
Just ride

If you feelin' my vibe then we can all just
(Ride)
If you wanna get down then we can all just
(Ride)

All my people throw your hands up high and just
(Ride)
Where you from? Eastside to Westside just
(Ride)

All my people from uptown to downtown just
(Ride)
From Cali to NY, you know we gon' just
(Ride)

From the Florida Keys to Fiji just
(Ride)
All my people worldwide, how you feel, just
(Ride)

You see, I flow like an 850, the turbo
Down the lake shore with po-po chasin'
Then you be wastin' your time
(Swing down sweet chariot, stop)
(Swing down sweet chariot, stop)

If you try to check for flaws
If you bet against Chizz-nocks, count your loss
See I don't care what you people think or say
What you do, I got a crew that run up in your HQ

Dissed by who, six foot one, sleppy-eyed
Dark skinned glasses reflectin' from the sun, nigga
Check that poster, I lay your girl down like a coaster
Drop my glass, slap that ass

Don't care about a thing
See it's all about the way Chocs makes the bells ring
People talkin' shit but can't do a damn thing
So understand this, it's all about the lyricist

No one can rock a beat just like I
Borough Side representer, C H the I Z
Knows how to ride, understand?
Just ride

All my peoples on Lockdown, you know we can
(Ride)
All my peoples on the corner hustlin' just
(Ride)

All my girls in tight skirts, you know we gon' just
(Ride)
All my people pushin' fat rides with illy rims just
(Ride)

If you can feel the vibe, then we can all just
(Ride)
All my dames in sexy belly chains just
(Ride)

All my people from the T-dot O, just
(Ride)
All my peoples worldwide, how you feel? just
(Ride)

See I like the Chiquitas light and dark skinned
Me, I love Senoritas, that's where my heart's been
Now I be chillin' with my boys Paranorm'
Havin' freaks in the livin' room suckin' it hard

See I don't care what you think, nigga
Yo, I'm laughin' at your bitch-ass
So niggas mind you speech when you talk
All these people gettin' mad and vexed

Sayin' all I talk 'bout sex
Make a fuss 'cause they nuts don't bust
So understand who I is
(Who you is)

I got an SDS smile while your girl's got an ass like an E-class
I can drive it like a five-speed, stick shift
Understand the ill shit that I possess, nothin' less
If you stress, you be left blind, so read it up in braille

Hard rock's comin' but they always come frail
Collobaration produced by Kardinal
Now if you wanna ride, everybody needs to understand
Just ride

All my Paranormal people, how you feel, just
(Ride)
All my FOS people how you feel, just
(Ride)

All my Cirlce mother fuckers, are you gonna just
(Ride)
All my peoples on Kneedeep, you know we just
(Ride)

All my peoples on the hill, how you feel, just
(Ride)
All my peoples in Hilltop, you know we gon' just
(Ride)

All my peoples from Rexdale, you know we gon' just
(Ride)
All my people from the T-dot O just
(Ride)

Swing down sweet chariot, stop
Swing down sweet chariot, stop
Swing down sweet chariot, stop

Do you wanna get down with this?
You can if you like
Give me a call
For real

Play the MP3 online for free!

b84d8494a83012397869ac865a43add6