De Automatic - Lyrics - Krs One

Title: De Automatic
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): Lawrence Parker, Joseph Cartagena

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Lyric:
Some fear de automatic
Check it out

Some fear de automatic, yes de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

Crazy MC's waste they time chasin' millions
While KRS-One, holds the minds of the children
I'm buildin' a followin' of a hundred and forty-four thousand
Chosen few heads up in project housin'

A true rapper, street rapper, rappin' to the center
I enter any cipher, with tales of adventure
If rappers are ridin' beats like cars, I'm bendin' mad fenders
Put down your mic and surrender

Youse a pretender, Blastmaster KRS rules the pavement
Kickin' Edutainment while you wait for your arraignment
Save it friend before your chest I cave it in
I got my way again, I'm classical like a fuckin' Harley Davidson

How do you think I kick a lyrical style no and you figure
It's simple, I'm a rap God, and youse a nigga
Don't mean I'm bigger, it simply means I'm smarter
For starters, I come at you poetically harder

De automatic, get de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

Ha hah, fake ass rapper, how you think you got juice?
When you rock a pair of panties underneath your bubblegoose
KRS-One will fuck up parties dramatically
My reflex'll slap a wack rapper automatically

When you was home witcha mother, afraid of the dark
I was sleepin' out in Prospect Park
Eatin' one meal every 48 hours
Writin' dope rhyme styles that you now devour

Don't you realize, that I'm all about survival
I got only friends 'cause I killed all my rivals
Show up at the rhyme recitals, took they titles
From eighty-six to ninety-six completes my first cycle

De automatic, get de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

I spent 40 days and 40 nights in the wilderness
I'm hard, from head to toe yo there ain't no killin' this
I wrote over 100 rap hooks
And sociological books, while you worried about your looks

Now you wanna enter the dragon in sound
But I've got the live club show locked down
Platinum and gold don't hold in my arena
You gots to keep it real on the mic, when they see ya

I manifest, in the West the East and overseas
The vision in rap is wack and I don't know of these
I represent New York to be specific
The South Bronx, but in Japan I'm still gifted

I grab a jet and land on your set, what the fuck?
Twenty bucks for a rap show is still, twenty bucks
I start from eighty-six and bring you into ninety-six
No gimmicks, tricks or lip-sync lyrics

De automatic, get de automatic
Disrespect, from MC's, me nah go have it
De automatic, get de automatic
Tonight a rapper gwan die

Yeah yeah, it's the God Fat Joe
Representin' the motherfuckin' South Bronx
With my nigga Kris, knockin' off frauds
Motherfuckers wanna do what?
Big shout out to my nigga Kenny Parker
Ill Will, BDP crew for life nigga
Naughty Gotto, the Big French productions
Of course the TAT crew, my nigga Brim
The T.S. crew, and the whole Godsville
South Bronx represent nigga, uhh
The South Bronx, the South South Bronx
South Bronx, the South South Bronx
Yeah, uhh

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Revolution - Lyrics - The Notorious K.I.M. - Lil' Kim

Title: Revolution
Album: The Notorious K.I.M.
Artist: Lil' Kim
Composer(s): G Jones, M Winans, Sean Combs, Kimberly Jones

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Lyric:
S W nine millimeter, check
Long-nose double barreled rifle, check
Semi-automatic infrared laser beam shot, check
Alright Puff, I'm ready to go

Threw the clips around the shoulders, toasters in the holster
Kim let's go! Slow down bab' bro
You with the rap Rambo, Tony Montana
Here's a hammer, a camera and a 'Life After Death' bandanna

Here take it, in case I don't make it
'Cause if my life don't end, I'm damn sure gon' fake it
The way I see it, mmm, sexual
In the gunfight, two on three, you on me

Dawg, I got shit to make the world shake
One mistake, blaow, start a earthquake
Fuck them niggaz, them niggaz dust to me
And if I knock Cyrus off that's a plus for me

And the funny thing about it, I'm a bitch
And got niggaz runnin' from me, like the Olympics
And I told my man Gutter I'ma get him
And every shell I spit, is guaranteed to hit him, blaka

Pressure down below, fire in de hole
Lose control, got nowhere to go

I heard Cease and Puff callin' like the Holy Tabernacle
I'll be down in a minute, I'm drinkin' a Snapple

A Snapple? Bitch I got bombs and shit
Grenades and razor blades and alarms and shit
You better come on, girl, throw a hat on that weave
I'm tryin' to catch this nigga Cyrus, 'fore him an' his boys leave

They at this restaurant that serve African food
Where you allowed to smoke weed and the waiters is type rude
You see, I used to date this bitch from Botswana
Half-African but she looked like Madonna

Aiyyo check it, she had a tiger for a pet
I'll never forget, the restaurant is where we met
And her girlfriend Lizette, that bitch is a freak
I used to fuck her in the ass while my girl was asleep

And she the one who told me where these cats is at
I can't wait to get the gat and holla back, Kim c'mon

Pressure down below, fire in de hole
Lose control, got nowhere to go

We came to a red light, gave right-of-way to pedestrians
Two black and white lesbians
The nigga Puff ready to holla at these bitches
I'm like, "Yo Dawg, them bitches down with them niggaz"

And never would the drugs make the bitch slack up
I got hit men, spreaded through the restaurant for backup
And we communicate through headsets and walkie-talkies
Them niggaz just bitches like my Yorkie

Pigs like to forfeit, we on point like snipers
Cyrus and his Doolies, is Clueless like the movies
All I can think about, is how he killed my man Smiles
Cut his head off, masochist style

Yeah, Cyrus did it, Cyrus the Virus they call him
When I finish with him please, his name is Swiss Cheese
My main focus, is his right hand man Mouse
An' Sheisty and two-sided, profession dick rider

And his boys, they seem to be all on his dick
I mean the whole situation is really makin' me sick
And when Cyrus got up, and dipped off to the bathroom
We started suckin' niggaz up like a vacuum

Bullets flyin' nonstop, and bodies droppin'
Puff yelled, "Away", that's the cops then
My trigger finger started itchin'
Then Cyrus came spittin' from the kitchen
And next second, you missed it

Listen, it's soundin' like the 4th of July
Like the solar eclipse is lit right in the sky
I can't believe this guy, he won't fall over
Holes is in his body the size of cup holders

One more shot, he's over, shit Puff, I'm empty
But I'ma hold my breath, til he fall to his death
But he was helpless
This little kid squeezed off in his pelvis

Pressure down below, fire in de hole
Lose control, got nowhere to go

Pressure down below, fire in de hole
Lose control, got nowhere to go

Pressure down below, fire in de hole
Lose control, got nowhere to go

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Ride On/Caught Up - Lyrics - Snoop Dogg

Title: Ride On/Caught Up
Artist: Snoop Dogg
Composer(s): David Blake, Calvin Broadus, Ricardo Brown

Lyric:
Back by popular demand
Dope pound gangsta feel
Want a real DJ, with a OGA

A bitch is a bitch, whether she poor or rich
She still gettin' a gang of dicks
It don't matter what you do or say
'Cause bitch you can't change my feelin's no way

I've been across the whole U.S.A.
Same ol' hoes on different days
Just ask my big homeboy Snoop de Snoop
Bitch you ain't cute with all that, woop de woop

I might just rock ya, I ain't afraid to blast
I might rock a fella like Dame and dash
Grip the heater and slap your ass
Cock it back, automatic clap your ass

Now this is how a gangster mash out
The homies in the Coupe, me and Snoop in the glass house
Bouncin', bouncin', bouncin', swervin'
Blaze up a whole ounce and get the ramen with the cotton candy

Yeah, and all my niggaz say, ride on, ride on
Yeah, and all the homies say, ride on
Yeah, and all the bitches say, ride on
Yeah, and all the robbers say, ride on, can't get caught up

Yeah, and all my niggaz say, ride on, ride on
Yeah, and all the homies say, ride on
Yeah, and all the bitches say, ride on

I'm out to paper count the paper bump some bitches and move
I take a trip with my click on a three day cruise
Spank the corner in the fo', sittin' low gettin' low
Now we headed to the sto' in the fo', hoes holler

Top dollar with the gold flea collar dippin' in my blue Impala
They say Snoop Dogg is a fool 'cause he got the bitches
And the little homey sellin' weed up outta high school

I never ever break the law, I just bend it
Keep everythin' splendid, that's how I intend it
Class is in session, you might get suspended, shh
If you don't shut the fuck up and listen for a minute

I've been in it for life with two kids and a wife
With no tattooes just stress and stripes, so
I'ma do what I feel and do what I like
But I won't go to sleep without my heater at night, ride on

Yeah, and all my niggaz say, ride on, ride on
Yeah, and all the homies say, ride on
Yeah, and all the bitches say, ride on
Yeah, and all the robbers say, ride on, can't get caught up

Yeah, and all my niggaz say, ride on, ride on
Yeah, and all the homies say, ride on
Yeah, and all the bitches say, ride on

Nigga gimme evrything you got, from your hat
To your contacts, T-shirt to your socks
Dogg Pound affiliate, Hell naw nigga
Certified branded Cedar Paul nigga

Mashin', grey and blue all day
All night all heated with heaters, Mac-11's
Nine millimeters, whattup Big Nate
I got a bitch that gobble up dicks like steak

She lives upstate and I don't think
Near a one of those bitches is proper, stash the chopper
DPology, D P G but first call Snoop
Whattup big homey niggaz with the swoop

The homey jumps in whips out the four pound
When we get there, we shakin' all motherfucker down
It's what I had in mind, let's get paid hit the spot
Just like a raid one of the homies got a gauge, come on

Yeah, and all my niggaz say, ride on, ride on
Yeah, and all the homies say, ride on
Yeah, and all the bitches say, ride on
Yeah, and all the robbers say, ride on, can't get caught up

Yeah, and all my niggaz say, ride on, ride on
Yeah, and all the homies say, ride on
Yeah, and all the bitches say, ride on
Yeah, and all the robbers say, ride on

Let me holler at y'all for a minute man
I mean this game is gettin' real deep
We got niggaz that be misrepresentin'
I mean, motherfuckers you know thinkin' that DPG

Is a motherfuckin' football game or a football team or somethin'
Niggaz walkin' on and shit like they free agents
And just leavin' when they want to nigga this ain't no game
This is a motherfuckin' way of life

DPGC, Dogg Pound Gangsta, nigga
The fuck wrong with these niggaz man?
Niggaz be straight tryin' to put they little twist down, holla at 'em
But you know we tryin' to stay two steps
Ahead of the game baby, y'know?
Let me holler at y'all for a minute, especially you

You done stepped in some Dogg Shit, check your shoes
Nigga this ain't Hollywood, the House of Blues
It's the Dogg House so regroup your troops
And tell 'em it's Kurupt and Snoop

Fuck your crew it's on I take your Brome
It's Don Corleone in the Chronic zone
I turn your dubs into nickels while I'm chillin'
I melt your rhymes into icicles while I'm killin'

Sell 'em, I tell 'em, Kurupt, what's up?
I know you feel like givin' it up
We can't stop, won't stop, what for
'Cause every other day another nigga tryin' to pull a dulo

You know when I was fuckin' with the hood
It was all bad, thought it was all good
A nigga had to take a breather now I'm Living Single
Like Khadijah 'cause they'll squeeze ya

Fuck a feedin' fish, I put my dick in your bitch
And make a wish, ha hah
Nigga that's gangsta shit with the gangsta twist
Yeah, Dogg Pound gangsta

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Sexy - Lyrics - Elephunk - Black Eyed Peas

Title: Sexy
Album: Elephunk
Artist: Black Eyed Peas
Composer(s): Will Adams, Vinicius De Moraes, Antonio Carlos Jobin

Lyric:
I took your picture, with one particular reason
And it's ta capture your character
I like to sit and stare at cha
Ain't nothin' wrong with starin' at cha

Girl, don't get scared at the fact
That I envision us gettin' married and uh, ha
I ain't tryin' to rush nuttin' 'cause I ain't rushin'
It'll take a time like, "What's them things that move slow
You know them"

Damn! I can't think 'cause you on my mind
And when you on my mind I can't find
Anything that rhymes with the word rhyme
I gotta' rhyme rhyme with mixture

And speakin' of mixture, with you I wanna' be mixed up
I'm a record and your like a record, so let's let the DJ mix us
You're like an elixir, that got me tipsy
This is just like Ripley's, Believe It Or Not but I love ya

Girl, you really got me goin', outta control
(Outta control)
I don't know what I'm doin', let's let it go
And do what we do best, take off our clothes
(Take off our clothes)
We look better undressed, yeah

Let's get sexy, let's get sexy
Bounce some more, bounce some more
Fightin' is rightin', fightin' is rightin'
Let's get sexy, it's so much more excitin'

Let's get sexy, let's get sexy
Bounce some more, bounce some more
Fightin' is rightin', fightin' is rightin'
Let's get sexy, it's so much more excitin'

For you I'm a fanatic, I'm a addict
Your sexy antics turn me on like automatic
No need to get dramatic, but I gotta' have it
(Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme)

Gimme some of them sexual acrobatics
Kamasutra girl, anything that suits you girl
Stuff that you ain't used to girl
Come over here and let me show you just how Willy do it

I'm a freak and you knew it
You're a freak and I knew it
Baby, let's get to it 'cause

Girl, you really got me goin', outta control
(Outta control)
I don't know what I'm doin', let's let it go
And do what we do best, take off our clothes
(Take off our clothes)
We look better undressed, yeah

Let's start the S, S, E, X, X, X, X, X, X
(Okay, yeah, yes, yes, yes)

You take me to extasy, without takin' extasy
It's exactly like extasy, when you layin' right next to me
I'm sexin' you sexin' you, you sexin' me sexin' me
It feels so damn natural, what we doin' so naturally

I'm likin' you rubbin' me, and you likin' me rubbin' you
Da passions emaculate, while you lovin' me lovin' you
I put L O V in you, I love puttin' me in you
Make love to you, just like Sergio Mendes plays the piano

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3b0160391cb717c4a5bd26d4c5c12d08

Kong - Lyrics - Night Ranger

Title: Kong
Artist: Night Ranger
Composer(s): Mark Hudson, Jack Martin Blades, Tommy Shaw

Lyric:
Oh, no, I got that funky feeling
I just slipped out of a Coupe de Ville
Scrape me off the ceiling

Oh yeah, too good to believe in
Rubber lover tugging on a daisy chain
Going coming, here I go again

In the middle of the evening
So damn sweeter
I got a penny in my pocket
To release that child within you

I don't want no one night stand
Jump into the fire from the frying pan
King Kong had a perfect plan
Got to get a woman

I've had a Barbie doll, I've done it all
Short ones tall ones big and small
But King Kong, baby, he had a ball
That's my kind of living

Oh yeah, why am I complaining?
I got money and I'm funny
And I'm semi-good looking
Keeps me good and lucky

Sometimes
I feel like Sodom and Gomorrah
But I tell you pretty mama
I could use a little more of you, you, you, you

About two in the morning
I get so damn easy
Let your fingers do the walking
And it won't take much to please me

I don't want no one night stand
Jump into the fire from the frying pan
King Kong, baby, he had a plan
Got to get a woman

I had a Barbie doll, I've done it all
Short ones, tall ones, big and small
But King Kong, baby, he had a ball
That's my kind of living

Why can't I have it all?
I just wanna have some kinda fun
Why can't I have it all?
Can it be over when it's just begun?
I need it, I want it, I'm frantic, I gotta have it
Automatic, manic, addict, democratic

About two in the morning
It gets so damn easy
Let my fingers do the walking
And the others do the talking
About the way and how to please me

I don't want no one night stand
Jump into the fire from the frying pan
King Kong, baby, he had a plan
Got to get a woman

I had a Barbie doll, I've done it all
Short ones, tall ones, big and small
But King Kong, baby, he had a ball
That's my kind of living
Yeah, that's my kind of living
Yeah, that's my kind of living

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Play My Cards - Lyrics - Kuruption! - Kurupt

Title: Play My Cards
Album: Kuruption!
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Ricardo Emmanuel Brown, Donald Earle De Grate, Andrea Piskunov, Christopher Sheppard, Sean Darnell Singleton

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Lyric:
To, to, to, to the tic, to the, to the tic-tic, Slick Rick
Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah, Kurupt Young Gotti, hell yeah
Raw Dawg, you know, you know me, Raw Dawg Assassin
Comin at cha, baby, cat, kick it in, kick it in, pull up

Soon as I park, shit sparks, spit fire, gang bang affiliation
Retaliation, spit sparks, till shit's dark forever
What's up, homie, why you walkin' up on me?
Postin' up in the shade, we can draw or get paid

You ain't movin' not a thing, homeboy
Click 'em with automatics and automatic toys
Bounce, rock, rollerskatin'
Dippin' down the streets in platinum day tons

I'm just a gee, oh yeah, that's me
Don't forget it act like you knew it before I set it
I put the needle on top of the wax
Before, I turn around and burn everything to the ground
I seen it comin' a fool over to the right gunnin'
The homies whistled, we all draw pistols

Gotta stay in charge, gotta play my cards, oh
On the grind all day, babe, oh, gots to get paid

You got a stash to hid, you got some hash to hit
Cash to get, glocks to pop and shit
Everybody's got questions and shit
Muthafuckas questionin' shit

Worryin' 'bout me and my wife
All I wanna do is live my life
Raise up off me, homie
Ease back softly, homie

I'm a gee from the D.P.G.
And no matter what you say you can't fuck with me
Hey loco, I see you wanna loc out
Coastin, movin' in locomotion

In the cut dippin, the homeboys trippin'
Spittin, waiting for a shot to get called
The homie spit a plot to us
Then passed the 16-shots to us

I got scams for hundreds of grammes
Me and my man, me and my pistol a plan
For about a whole ki load of some powder
Stashin', dippin', dashin', smashin', tryin' to cash-in

From the front to the back and packin'
Pull the strap and start clappin'
I'm about to move a little somethin' a little sumptin'-sumpin'
For the homie, pack the pump and get to dumpin

Hit the liquor store I wanna get paid
A fifth of Hen then back to the shade
What you got, smoke, loc, let's blaze up
Let me get a toke, loc and let's raise up

Punks stop and get popped when funk pop
I'm worldwide while you thinking either he is or he's not
International like [Incomprehensible]
You can feel me in the real way

Gotta stay in charge, gotta play my cards, oh
On the grind all day, babe, oh, gots to get paid
Gotta stay in charge, gotta play my cards, oh
On the grind all day, babe, oh, gots to get paid

Gotta stay in charge, gotta play my cards, oh
On the grind all day, babe, oh, gots to get paid
Gotta stay in charge, gotta play my cards, oh
On the grind all day, babe, oh, gots to get paid

Bitch

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