Da Magnolia - Lyrics - Tha G-Code - Juvenile

Title: Da Magnolia
Album: Tha G-Code
Artist: Juvenile
Composer(s): Teruis Gray, Byron O Thomas

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Lyric:
Ten, nine, eight, seven, six
Five, four, three, two, one

Welcome to tha section where it's hotter than a bitch
Niggas breakin' up bricks, niggas tryin' ta be rich
Dope ounce get hit, armed 'rilla insists
Somebody wig get split, for ten G's of chips
It's where the Feds'll dip through, enemies get you
Catch you at tha second line, niggas'll flip you
Kids get outta school, they swingin' they fists, too
Jump one of them children and they bringin' they clique, too
L.D. buckin' 'cuz T.C. killin' ain't nothin'

Tha blues try ta hit ya and you had to keep druggin'
On New Year's, tha lights get shut out at six o'clock
Four or five o'clock in tha mornin' you gon' be gettin' shot
Niggas gettin' chopped, gettin' shot in tha crowd, bruh
Drug deal gone bad, one of them cats was sour
Motherfuckers gettin' chopped up, and they have a
Carbine aimed at your dome for some powder
I'ma do like your boy and hop in tha Eddie Bauer
Get off seventeen, and, nigga, I'ma holla

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six
Five, four, three, two, one

Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers
Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers

Now where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?

Is ya ready for it? Better be over-prepared
When ya enter ya see a sign, say, "Soldiers bewarre"
And they be ragged up, twenty-five dollar bagged up
Whole nickel tucked in tha back of his 'Baud cuffs
Well, aware on the route that he's gonna duck
If somebody thinkin' 'bout jammin' him up
If a bitch with him, she better be smart, or tough luck
'Cuz he gon' break and bust, she gon' be fucked up

Mind your business is a code, too, I never told
Ever since a nigga was a million years old
Bein' a ballin? shot caller is tha goal
I'll hospitalize anybody in the roll
To make it there, you talk crazy, we take it there
You'll feel like a steak, nigga, you medium-rare
All these niggas wan' be tip-rats or tha man in charge
With tha AK-47, it'll change you boys

Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers
Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers

Now where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?

Clique up, load up pistols, mask
Ride through, slow down, jump out, blast
Put ?bout fifty in your ass
Second linin' family scared
Go score, rock it, chop it, serve it
Got a deal for fifty, twurk it
Mission, riches, hittin' switches
Twenty inches, plenty bitches
All day, hustle beaucoup, scuffle

Niggas huddle, AK muffled
Blood in puddles, people scatter
Flying pieces of human matter
Police don't know probly won't know
Unless it?s they shit, they don't know
Keep it quiet, tell nobody
Start no shit and stay in silence
Maintain focus, stay off porches
Watch for roaches, carry toasters

Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers
Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers

Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers
Da Magnolia
Home of tha soldiers

Now where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?

Where you goin', motherfucker, where you goin'?
Where you from, motherfucker, where you from?
I know where I'm goin' to tha fuckin' Magnolia
Believe that there, yeah, yeah, yeah
Layin' it down, mm, hmm
Layin' it down, mm, hmm, mm, hmm
To 3000

Ten, nine, eight, seven, six
Five, four, three, two
one

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5733cd9c810029e657b51d9b0d4e7baa

Lady Marmelade - Lyrics - All Saints

Title: Lady Marmelade
Artist: All Saints
Composer(s): Bob Crewe, Kenny Nolan

Lyric:
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister

He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin' her stuff on the street
She said, "Hello, hey Joe
You wanna give it a go?"

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

He stayed in her boudoir
While she freshened up
That boy drank all that Magnolia wine
On her black satin sheets
Where he started to freak

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Hey, hey, hey
Seeing her skin, feeling silky smooth
Color of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roaring until it cried, "More, more, more!"

Now he's at home doing 9 to 5
Living his brave life of lies
But when he turns off to sleep
All memories keep more, more, more

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here

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4f272c0b506be5290a5b059f7cc7455e

Lady Marmelade - Lyrics - Pink

Title: Lady Marmelade
Artist: Pink
Composer(s): Bob Crewe, Kenny Nolan

Lyric:
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister

He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin' her stuff on the street
She said, "Hello, hey Joe
You wanna give it a go?"

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

He stayed in her boudoir
While she freshened up
That boy drank all that Magnolia wine
On her black satin sheets
Where he started to freak

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Hey, hey, hey
Seeing her skin, feeling silky smooth
Color of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roaring until it cried, "More, more, more!"

Now he's at home doing 9 to 5
Living his brave life of lies
But when he turns off to sleep
All memories keep more, more, more

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here

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Lady Marmalade - Lyrics - Christina Aguilera

Title: Lady Marmalade
Artist: Christina Aguilera
Composer(s): Bob Crewe, Kenny Nolan

Lyric:
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister
Hey sister, go sister, soul sister, go sister

He met Marmalade down in Old New Orleans
Struttin' her stuff on the street
She said, "Hello, hey Joe
You wanna give it a go?"

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

He stayed in her boudoir
While she freshened up
That boy drank all that Magnolia wine
On her black satin sheets
Where he started to freak

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Hey, hey, hey
Seeing her skin, feeling silky smooth
Color of cafe au lait
Made the savage beast inside
Roaring until it cried, "More, more, more!"

Now he's at home doing 9 to 5
Living his brave life of lies
But when he turns off to sleep
All memories keep more, more, more

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Creole Lady Marmalade

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous couchez avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?

Gitchi gitchi ya ya da da
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here
Mocha chocolata, ya ya
Gitchi gitchi ya ya here

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Run For It - Lyrics - 400 Degreez - Juvenile

Title: Run For It
Album: 400 Degreez
Artist: Juvenile
Composer(s): Terius Gray, Byron Thomas

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

Lyric:
I be comin' up wit da glock toy
You can stop, boy
You ain't heard I'm off tha block, boy
Chipp-pedy chop, boy

Off in ya cut is where I'm layin'
Ready fo' sprayin'
Soon as I see yo face and hand
I ain't wit dat playin'

My daddy showed me how to play it in a situation
My daddy tol' me I ain't shit wit outta occupation
So, I played the game, bust yo' head if you said my name
I had some of deez niggaz scared I came

I kno' some niggaaz out tha Nolia that'll ride fo' me
I kno' some niggaz hollin' solja dat a die fo' me
T.C., L.T., Magnolia and six
Oh, you want some of dat fire dope you can score in da bricks

You disrespectin' my mind 'cuz you keep comin' short
I might hitcha wit dat iron 'cuz you need to be taught
You keep showing yo teeth 'cuz you thank it's a joke
You mus thank deez bullets ain't real and you ain't gon' git smoke

Now, if ya at dat second line and dem boyz gotta gun
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if ya too deep in some beef and dem boyz 'bout ta come
You betta run for it, run for it, run

If ya ain't gotta strap but yo' enemy got one
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if you got into it wit a cash money brotha
You betta run for it, run for it, run
(Who me?)

I be in all black sometimes
Sometimes, I be jumpin' out trees in camouflage
Me and Juvenile got two keys we 'bout ta ride
Dem boyz playin' wit da upt, well, dey gots to die
Man, it's that deep

It's a tragedy when you can test me
Heard I run in houses, don't put it past me
Hell, look boy, you betta tell deez niggaz
Fo' I mask up and try ta kill deez niggaz

You don't want my stress troubles
I be back in 2 hummers and 5 lex-bubbles
Wa, my big brother Juvy
Tol' me not to eva letta nigga screw me

Tol' me if I eva did he would do me
Gave me two guns and sent me round dey shootin'
And then they start runnin'
Hardest niggaz on tha block started actin' like a woman
Tha 4-foot stranger in ya area bustin'

Load it up, slide it in
Cock it back, pop it out, we ridin'
[Incomprehensible] I'll run in a busta spot
I'll sit on a busta porch, I'll sleep on a busta block
Apply five and then let go

Bang, Lil' cowards keep playin', get hurt
Motha-flirk see I dont curse but'll wet up yo shirt
Look all my enemy's see me comin'
All my enemy's peugh be runnin'

Now, if ya at dat second line and dem boyz gotta gun
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if ya too deep in some beef and dem boyz 'bout ta come
You betta run for it, run for it, run

Now, if ya ain't gotta strap but yo' enemy got one
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if you got into it wit a cash money brotha
You betta run for it, run for it, run

You thank I'm playin'-a somthin', Lil Woo dey', I ain't trippin'
Tha beef started last week and dem niggaz still be hittin'
Two children got killed and a ol' lady got hit
Look, I'm 'bout ta git tha fuck 'cuz I ain' got no time fo' dis shit

Now, you could be comin' through and runnin' to a gun if you feel
That they ain't gon' do you shit 'cuz ya real
I won't wanna be witcha when it's happening either
I probably be some where ducked off takin' a nap wit my people

I'd rather see it on T.V. Than I see it in person
And having my fucking' head hurtin' when dem 30's be burstin'
I bet if yo' beef see ya, he ain't gon' wait fo' ya dog
Our all gon' try to rearrange ja face fo' ya dog

A 2nd line and round dem clubs, ain't no place fo' ya dog
Dem same niggaz you come up wit playa-hatin' ya dog
I see 'em comin' wit choppers and I know they gon' bust
Lil' Wayne hol' up, we kiting out sho' nuff'

Now, if ya at dat second line and dem boyz gotta gun
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if ya too deep in some beef and dem boyz 'bout ta come
You betta run for it, run for it, run

Now, if ya ain't gotta strap but yo' enemy got one
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if you got into it wit a cash money brotha
You betta run for it, run for it, run

Now, if ya at dat second line and dem boyz gotta gun
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if ya too deep in some beef and dem boyz 'bout ta come
You betta run for it, run for it, run

Now, if ya ain't gotta strap but yo' enemy got one
You betta run for it, run for it, run
And if you got into it wit a cash money brotha
You betta run for it, run for it, run

Ya betta run for it, run for it
Ya betta run for it, run for it
Ya betta run for it, run for it
Go git cha gun for it, gun for it

Ya betta run for it, run for it, run
Run for it, run for it, run
Run for it, run for it, run
Run for it, run for it, run
Get cha gun for it , gun for it, gun
Get cha gun for it, gun for it

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f1e1ef65ded3793d1706b8b6075a3232

Hold Me Down - Lyrics - Bad Boy'S Da Band

Title: Hold Me Down
Artist: Bad Boy'S Da Band
Composer(s): Dylan John, Lynese Wiley, Tony Dofat, Lloyd Mathis, Rodney Hill, Fredderick Watson

Lyric:
Yeah, Brooklyn, New York, stay focused
It's ya girl, Babs Bunny, the streets first lady
Diddy, I see you, baby

Y'all niggaz done met ya match
I'm somethin' like a pimp you bust I bust back
I game dudes got 'em callin me wifey
My stomach stay flat baby, mothers don't like me, huh

Chicks this heated then I give 'em my ice see
I'm the knockout queen y'all hoes don't wanna fight me
Sexy, brown skin complexion
Concealed in my purse it's a deadly weapon, yeah

I don't pay for nothin' at all
I even get free dutches at the corner store
Shot caller dudes stop as soon as I speak
Babs Bunny the black jet queen of the week, huh

I'm fire just what the thugs desire
Got a high pitched flow MC Mariah
When I walk down the streets niggaz squeak their tires
Got every club promoter passin' me flyers

I'm in there V.I.P. a sure night
With a bottle of haze, my weave is so tight
I'm ready for some action, hands in the air
Crystal over here in the club no beer

Stuntin' bad girl, I do it for nothin'
Tight dickies shirt with a pop top button
Babs repeat it I'm something that the rap game needed
Thorough bread plus I stay weeded

All I need from you is your word that when I come to the stai
You gon hold me down 'cause when you come to M.I.
I'm gon hold you down, you know it's Freddy P
Te hit man of the band, y'all know how I'm doing it now, shit

I'm in and out them magazines back to the TV shows
Attendin' business meetings with a 40's and my dirty flows
Everyday's an episode all because them episodes
Just like rats they wanna know where my cheddar flows

Everyday like valentine, how I keep it rollin'?
Never made a dime from rap yet
I thank them people no my people don't believe it though
Someone has been leavin' those words sayin' cold

You think I don't know you serving Coke
'Cause you ain't a dude alive that couldn't carry their Coke
So it must be them freakin' po po's I hope they better pray
They don't run up wrong or your momma gonna be singin that song

What you say Freddy P ya heard me, it's Lord Chopper City
Ya heard me, your little brother ya heard me
I representin' the band ya dig to the death
New Orleans the third ward Magnolia

Let me catch a nigga bootin' up I'ma be like what's hap nigga
I crush bones and ain't a mothafuckin' fat nigga
You know what type of shit I'm on I let the Mack hit ya
You cant box my squad, our left jabs quicka

Then any bitch nigga that tries to come against us
All my sistas, I promise to make it part of my agenda to get ya
You know what I'm sayin', we see them ninjas
Hoppin' off of them Ducatis choppin' you down like timber

You can try to stop me, I will injure
Shit my killer instincts like cinder
I'm a bad boy guerrilla making millionaire figures
Chopper City 'bout to dis ya, I can paint you a picture

Hey yo, Chopper man I dig you like the fuckin' shovel man
Its E Ness the enforcer from the band man
We the hottest thing since microwave popcorn dog
It's real, it's about to go down like this ay yo

Puffin' on sour deezy's you know it ain't illegal
And I never been to Iraq but packin' desert eagles I mean
Call me a liar but the fires back
Bad Boy empire is where the fires at

I got the Sean John truck with the tires to match
The whole hood on fire the wires tapped
Okay this part of the deal, bounty huntas all on my heels
Lookin' for me huh somewhere in the Ville

I takes planes trains, automobiles, boats
Overseas passport to Brazil
Survival of the fittest, nigga I talk it I live it
Gotta crawl before you walk any nigga can get it

All dance for the family ya know Elliott ness, me
I hold it down til dead before dishonor trust, what me
Tell ya Dylan Dillinger, join the family all West Indian
I for, lemme see some lighters now, call you

Ya me, me in a band which is poor in need
Ya must see, man a don, nah me no blood clot be
She see me, shot ya eye out, you no see, see, see, see
Little more me have to wild out with set she see, see

She check all of me guns, she plottin' theify theify
Me have a half a pint fa your an Eagle eye if she need it
Check the people like some mortars are
Rule the people with me gun like Moses rule 'em rod

Bumba clot enough ta move ya and them Ouija
Man I righteous hearted, [Incomprehensible]
Pull the burn out me trunky, pistol pack the fassey
Shots every area, foes will no like me why

Them new Jordan and new Nike
My glocks come out when it's time fa ya bashee
Ask dem ya gonna see da band is me family
If ya disrespect ya fi never feel mornin'

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4f065d7290fc2c3898134a08be58457e

These Streets Keep Me Rollin' - Lyrics - Master P

Title: These Streets Keep Me Rollin'
Artist: Master P
Composer(s): Fiend R Jones, Percy Miller, O'Dell Vickers

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

Lyric:
These streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'
I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'

I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'
I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'

You see I'm a killer by heart
A G by nature
You see these ho's love you
And these niggaz hate you

When you young and ballin'
I mean broke and fallin'
I said sleeping and crawlin'
That's when the Devil be callin'

They want to take all your change
T-shirts and khakis
These ho's love me
Or send some niggaz to jack me

The game done change
It's not the same
Da Last Don be my name
'Cause I'm tru to da game

I mean a bird in the bush
Can't touch one in the hand
Out in the streets be lying in a can

I done change and they watch me
The feds can't stop me
It'll take millions to box me
But the ghetto you got me

I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'
I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'

I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'
I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'

What's the purpose of being the baddest
When some haters kill for your status
For a taste of lavish
Or follow you home for the cabbage

But look here we savages
Survivors and soldiers
Fuck with one of us we get in ya veins like embolia
On his casket lies a magnolia, flower for peace

Son lying in the faces of his nephew and niece
I'm the beast
You know me fiend, the glock carrier
Fuck with anything of mind I'll have ya pops bury ya
Guns with the sound barrier

Livin' for no tomorrow
Show me the dirty cargo
And fuck your family morrows
Boy souls I'm quick to borrow

Gettin' sisters and brothers to
I got something to kill you
And a thought of another you
Just another number to

The murder rate in my city
One week all kids born with no pity
Shitty ain't it, how it's painted
Realness thru my eyes
Just shit we deal with livin' these tru lies

These streets keep us rollin'
We won't stop 'cause these presidents we holdin'
I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'

I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'
I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'

I said, these streets keep me rollin'
I won't stop 'cause these presidents I'm holdin'
I said, these streets keep us rollin'
No, let me, won't stop 'cause these presidents we holdin'

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