Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Don'T Spit On My Mind. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Don'T Spit On My Mind. Sort by date Show all posts

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Don'T Spit On My Mind - Lyrics - Better Than Raw - Helloween

Title: Don'T Spit On My Mind
Album: Better Than Raw
Artist: Helloween
Composer(s): Markus Peter Grosskopf, Andreas Deris

Lyric:
Every lie will win a prize, love sold by a whore
Calculated sacrifice, death without a war
Aftermath and alibis
Straw-doll-chess to please the poor

Don't tell me of any wonders shitting gold
Don't tell me of a hard way we have to go through
Still we pay your warmth out of the cold
Do you really think we're that blind? Don't spit on my mind

Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit

Any form of government has a black sheep part
But the brave will never know what the black sheep start
In the name of country-love they enrich themselves apart

Don't tell me of any wonders shitting gold
Don't tell me of a hard way we have to go through
Still we pay your warmth out of the cold
Do you really think we're that blind? Don't spit on my mind

Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind, no

We are the people, we are the masses you are for
We give the power and our desire must be your law
Don't think I'm standing here all alone, one of a kind
Don't think because you're still there means that we are all blind

Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit, don't spit on my mind

Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit on my mind
Don't spit

Play the MP3 online for free!
890b4b3fba08ff89ce9c73eac27dc5b9

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Mind On Our Money - Lyrics - BTNHResurrection - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: Mind On Our Money
Album: BTNHResurrection
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Steven Howse, Charles Scruggs, Tim Middleton, Stanley Howse, Anthony Henderson, Byron Mc Cane

Lyric:
People ask me how do you maintain
You got to keep your mind on money
(T H U G)
Don't let the snakes ever short you for ya change
Nigga, let 'em know how much you want it

People ask me how do you maintain
You got to keep your mind on money
(T H U G)
Don't let the snakes ever short you for ya change
Nigga, let 'em know how much you want it

Nigga 1993, hooked up with Eazy E
1994, rushin' through the door with the bone flow
Nigga was creepin' on a come up, doin' it for the love of money
1995 we really let 'em know, Cleveland is the city where we come from

Brought styles muthafuckas never heard before
But we never got our props
Till we dropped that said song, see you at the crossroad
But the man know, Eazy runnin' with the lost souls, rest in peace

That was 1996, we back in the mix
I guess they thought that we'd gon' quit but we got love for this shit
But everything started changin', business rearrangin'
Then the time when bone and ruthless wasn't vibin'

Tried to keep my mind together through that industry shit
Somehow I'm feelin' like what I deserve I didn't get
But I'ma stick it out, believe I'ma keep my head up
And show my loyalty for Eazy E, even though I'm fed up

1997 hey, everybody grab ya weapon, it's the art of war
It don't stop, it won't stop until we drop, body rott
Not to mention when we venture through the family scriptures
1999 nigga, still strugglin'

Tryna get some money with this mastermind I'm jugglin'
Sharpen up ya thug mentality
And by the year 2000 I'll be thuggin' but so I'm [unverified]
I gotta get some money, blast if I get hungry
So if you read that i done flipped, then you know the story, about me

People ask me how do you maintain
You got to keep your mind on money
(T H U G)
Don't let the snakes ever short you for ya change
Nigga, let 'em know how much you want it

Take a good look into my eyes and all over my face your bloody death
With a bloody bloody, mess, I'm servin' you none the less
[Unverified] that crazy muthafucka
From the world's most dangerous group

Mo thugs nation, [unverified] on your life
That's absolutely what I'm gon' do
Blast at them niggas who thought they knew me
Now I'm that muthafucka that be [unverified], the nigga that bust all y'all

My mission in life to be the coldest nigga that ever spit shit on the mic
I'm comin' in smooth, rockin' this Hip-Hop music just the way you like
Tellin' all biters to please stop tryin'
Let it go fry fool, when I make my move, all y'all gonna die

Split up and fry, open his eyes [unverified] pop
Shot one through his head
Oh my, oh my, now look what you made me do, this nigga dead
It ain't my fault, you niggas too soft, ain't got no skill

Now look through the [unverified] stop steel
Y'all some fake-thug livin' tryna get notice by hangin' with stars
No need to say no names, niggas know who the fuck you are
We all true sound, nigga united gatherin' souls, how we roll

And that's love for the paper, foldin', I saw these hoes
But I had my [unverified] nah, nigga that's my nuts [unverified]
Don't touch that
And then he won't hesitate to buck for the love

You can't dust on these bustas, so they die
They only got love for those who love me
In the meanwhile I main to keepin' my mind on my money
And no, this shit that we spit ain't funny
Especially when you hungry, nigga
With no hustle, nigga, to get them funds

People ask me how do you maintain
You got to keep your mind on money
(T H U G)
Don't let the snakes ever short you for ya change
Nigga, let 'em know how much you want it

In '91 I'm runnin' from the fuckin' cops, don't ya know it
That bitch was tryna' find a hidin' spot, he show it
Know niggas that'd had no pussy
Said that would never read or get to L.A.

And niggas went cannibal on 'em, either
Smokin' that reefer, niggas know how I'm livin'
'Cause I was havin' children when y'all was lookin' for women
But mine aside, so why you tellin' your same [unverified]

When niggas ain't have shit, tell me who's the one that ride
We gon' ride ride though, you can call me Mr. Murda-Mo
Get [unverified], burn the whole store down all by myself
[unverified] for fuckin' with the bone flow

Heaven and Earth, God and my loved one and ya gotta roll
And what you want my people to hear, that I'm a fuckin' sell-out?
But who's the one on solo shit and who want me the hell out?
I'll bail out with a [unverified], that pussy makes me change

Or expansion on the mansion or acres in the shooting range
Shootin' thangs, it don't make you a villain
(Shootin' thangs)
The villain is chillin' with his children
Bitch, I keeps it real

People ask me how do you maintain
You got to keep your mind on money
(T H U G)
Don't let the snakes ever short you for ya change
Nigga, let 'em know how much you want it

I keep my mind on my money, my money on my mind
A straight up soldier in the field out here pushin' my line
Nigga designed a gold crime as I'm racin' through this obstacle
007, Layzie Bone, knew it was possible

Got shot, got out the hospital, started on my mission
Listen, nigga pay attention
Oh, and did I mention, had a tape before I crept on a come up,
Faces of death

Blessin' 40 O-Z's, lay and leatherface and double Z's [unverified]
Niggas often wonder why my mind on my money
Nigga these bitches all up on me and half the industry phony
It's like this nigga, i don't even fuck around

If a nigga ain't got no money for lay, I'll come around
Ain't it funny how niggas turn funny-style
When they think they fall in trinkets, ain't even ran a mile
See my niggas doin' a damn thing, flesh

Trues humbly united gatherin' souls, just to let you know
Heaven's movie, yours truly, Mr. Gambini
it's the mentality and next to the baddest, Little Stevie
And when you ask me how i maintain

I watch my niggas rule, act a fool and ace the game
Mo thug one, witness the family scriptures
Mo thug two, family reunion comin' to get ya
Mo thug three, presentation of the mothership
Niggas on some other shit, by smoke and maintain

People ask me how do you maintain
You got to keep your mind on money
(T H U G)
Don't let the snakes ever short you for ya change
Nigga, let 'em know how much you want it

Play the MP3 online for free!
f3708f9a3537aa3da50f4a364737f72c

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Don'T Stop Rappin' - Lyrics - Can't Stay Away - Too $Hort

Title: Don'T Stop Rappin'
Album: Can't Stay Away
Artist: Too $Hort
Composer(s): Marlon Goodwin, Tristan Jones, Todd Shaw, Premro Smith

Lyric:
Don't stop, don't stop that rap
Too Short, and I don't stop rappin'

Just don't stop
Too Short, I don't stop rappin'
Don't stop that rap

Well I'm Sir Too Short, the true MC
Fresh again with the brand new beat
The big bank roller, I know what's happening
I get on the mic and I don't stop rappin'

Don't stop, don't stop that rap
Too Short, I don't stop rappin'

My rap don't stop, you know it can't
I get on the mic and I make big bank
Unlike some rappers that I know
Trying to get no, but that don't go

I'm that rapper, Sir Too Short
I know you've heard my name before
And if you haven't, now you have
Sir Too Short, don't stop that rap

Don't stop, I don't stop rappin
Too Short, don't stop that rap

I'm so rough so tough, when I talk my stuff
I don't stop rappin' 'cause, I'm too tough
Telling you rappers what it's all about
Most MC's are played out

But not Too Short, I'm the best
You know Too Short is so so fresh
If that's not short, your mind is snapping
The best is fresh 'cause, I don't stop rappin'

Don't stop, don't stop rappin'
Too Short, I don't stop rappin'

I'm Sir Too Short, the rapping man
I'm a cold MC and I know I am
I'm the big time rapper from East Oakland
Into music and making fans

I love young ladies who love my rhymes
'Cause what they say is right on time
The only MC with fresh hits
It's Sir Too Short, he never quits

That's so so true, what they say
I hear those words every day
'Cause I'm an MC rapper, who gives you more
The big time rapper, Sir Too Short

Don't stop, don't stop rappin'
Too Short, I don't stop rappin

Why do rappers rap like me?
Because I rap originally
I never ever will, sing your rap
I'll leave it to you and it's just like that

I sing my rap and I know you like
The way Sir Too Short rocks the mic
The sucker MC's don't even front
Even though Too Short is what they want

'Cause what I say is well prepared
I look at a rapper and I make him scared
Scared to battle, the cold cold capper
I'll even be part on a female rapper

Don't stop, don't stop rappin'
Too Short, I don't stop rappin'

California and a superstar
That what it is, that's what I see
California life was made for me

Born and raised in the golden state
MC rapper and you know I'm great
Just cooling out, acting shy
I got my mic and my rap won't stop

Don't stop, don't stop rappin'
Too Short, don't stop that rap

I met a freak named Jiggle G
Took her on a date and spent one penny
She bought me dinner, I bought her gum
Took her to my house to have some fun

I said, "Jiggle G, you're so fresh
You look so fine with your big big breasts"
I spit my game to her so tough
Sir Too Short was coming up

I did just what I wanted to
But when I finished, what did I do?
I took her home, real real fast
I charged her up for wasted gas

I knew just what she had to say
Let's get together on our next pay day
'Cause like I said, I know what's happening
And you know too, 'cause I don't stop rappin'

Don't stop, don't stop rappin'
Sir Too Short, spit that rap

Oh yes baby, I'm the most
Sir Too Short from the West Coast
My rap don't stop, it never could
I'm known all in your neighborhood

As an MC rapper, right on time
Sucker MC's don't sing my rhymes
'Cause if they do, I'll be slapping
Sucker MC's, 'cause I'm all about rappin'

Don't stop, I don't stop rappin'
Too Short, don't stop that rap

MC rappers, from the O
You talk about Short, but you don't know
If you rap original
I might kick back and watch your show

But if I did, what would I see?
A so fake and imitating sucka MC
In my face trying to rap like me
But none of you suckas can rock that beat

'Cause you stand there looking like a sap
And in your rap, I hear my rap
The sucka MC must want my fame
'Cause he didn't stop rappin' till he heard my name

Don't stop, I don't stop rappin'
Too Short, don't stop that rap

I'm Sir Too Short on the mic
Gonna tell ya what kind of girls Too Short likes
I like those girls that are real real fine
Thick young tenders, yours and mine

It's not all about getting that steak
'Cause what is a girl without a lot of bank?
A bump and a grind and she's on her knees
The way it is now, you might catch a disease

Don't stop, don't stop that rap
Sir Too Short, don't stop that rap

I don't stop rappin', just don't stop
Don't stop rappin', don't stop, don't stop
Too Short, so fresh
I'll show you how the game comes from the west

'Cause you never ever knew that it was going on
Till a brother like me put it in a song
And I'm always fresh, never the same
Just don't stop that fishes game

Don't stop, don't stop that rap
Too Short, don't stop that rap

I'm Sir Too Short, I'm that MC
Fresh again, with the beat
I'm the big bank roller, I know what's happening
I get on the mic and I don't stop rapping

Don't stop, I don't stop rapping
Too Short, don't stop that rap
Don't stop rapping, don't stop that rap

Play the MP3 online for free!
c9a3fcb49fad3a38ac6d5136649f3c21

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Infatuated - Lyrics - 534 - Memphis Bleek

Title: Infatuated
Album: 534
Artist: Memphis Bleek
Composer(s): M Cox, I Lorenzo, D Mcghee, J Atkins

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

Lyric:
Yo [Incomprehensible]
I love, love that thing you do
And I can't get my eyes, my mind off you, I'm infatuated
And you're my baby, and you complete me
Your number, I'll call you and maybe we can hook up later
And keep it gangster

My design one of a kind, yeah, I'm on my grind
Got a shorty that still trip but I ain't lost my mind
I just party and bullshit, my attitude, I'm good ma
They say I'm hood rich 'cause I drive big cars
Gettin' Guac, middle finger to cops
They say, "When you meet the one, all the thug should stop"
I met this shorty the other morning, on my way in ya all
She was bad, I didn't call, I'm a day in ya all

But, that's the rules, we don't make 'em, we don't break 'em
I don't sweat 'em, I forget 'em and find a way to shake 'em
But, I put a holla to her, I spit lava at her
She from the burbs, I'm from the jecks, trust that don't matter
She into books too, I'm off the books with the things I do
But that's between me and you
And I don't really phone tag it a lot, I'm in the wagon a lot
With different dimes on the passenger side, I'm like

I love, love that thing you do
And I can't get my eyes, my mind off you, I'm infatuated
And you're my baby, and you complete me
Your number, I'll call you and maybe we can hook up later
And keep it gangster

Everyday I'm on the grind, but my mind's on you all the time
And I scoop you like a soldier would
I'm in the woods, top down like I don't got a hood
They say 'opposites attract' and it's true
'Cause girl, I'm from the gutter, where the bundles will move
And you, is from where it's cool and quiet at night
It ain't no young'ns who supplyin' the white, right

But that's a different story, let's get back to the night
You've got a body, I can handle it right, right?
And I know you heard about me, beyond the rumors about me
I'm the flyest a little youngin could be, be
And you'll see with us together, it's money, diamonds, whatever
Little momma is you ridin' with me, me?
And I love the thing you do, so baby girl never change
And forever we can do that thing 'cause

I love, love that thing you do
And I can't get my eyes, my mind off you, I'm infatuated
And you're my baby, and you complete me
Your number, I'll call you and maybe we can hook up later
And keep it gangster

Now you know my stees'
'Cause I ain't gotta smooth that to do that thing
And it only took a night to get it right, grip it tight, hit it right
Figure out that you a rider for life
Down for whatever we go through it together
You know the boys style, way beyond all the regular
I need a switch, like a fiend need fix
Every G, need a down ass chick, to click, that's sick

I love, love that thing you do
And I can't get my eyes, my mind off you, I'm infatuated
And you're my baby, and you complete me
Your number, I'll call you, and maybe we can hook up later
And keep it gangster

I love, love that thing you do
And I can't get my eyes, my mind off you, I'm infatuated
And you're my baby, and you complete me
Your number, I'll call you and maybe we can hook up later
And keep it gangster

Play the MP3 online for free!
ea97c50de1221ccc1d47055fba68f214

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Get Yours - Lyrics - The Naked Truth - Lil' Kim

Title: Get Yours
Album: The Naked Truth
Artist: Lil' Kim
Composer(s): K Cates, K Jones, Estate Of Christopher ., V Carraway, C Harris

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

Lyric:
Hey, throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If the rims on his ride ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my niggaz for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If that other bitch's ass ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my bitches for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Boss lady pull up in the back of the Maybach
Chauffeur behind the wheel, feet up, leaned back
Readin' the newspaper, honeygirl put a hurtin' on 'em
Haters like a bad act, I just close the curtain on 'em

Play all day on the Siruis, radio
Satellite TV, who do it like me?
In designer outfits, while sellin' the tag
Yves Saint Laurent boots, Yves Saint Laurent bag

Keep the Pokeman in case a big bitch think I'm ass
Eatin' through her stomach like a gastric, bypass
Bitch, you better buy a pass and you better have the cash
When you in my town you got to see me to buy a pass

Number one rule, think B.I.G.
Fifty grand for the girl to sit in V.I.P.
The spotlight is on me, I'm the one they wanna see
They give they money to Kim like I'm H.S.B.C.

Hey, throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If the rims on his ride ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my niggaz for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If that other bitch's ass ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my bitches for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Yeah, well, it's young Dash to all those who don't know
The boy who stay hot when his jewels is so cold
Killer screwface and he cockin' that fo'-fo'
Wanna ice grill? Better holla at Paul Wall

Is all that called for? Whole crew do it up
Champagne, threw it up, till niggaz threw it up
Cruisin' up, tinted up, gotta be some star
Don't know what to call it, they say it's a truck car

You been with a chump pah like Ashton
Was the first one to "Punk" y'all
Have yo' ass holy and resemblin' Spongebob
Like an old album, you happen to come for us
You guys get dust off

It's the young boss, show you what the imp us for
Family and friends be the only ones missin' boy
Sayin' that you rich and all, tell me what'chu bitchin' for
Maybe 'cause I'm gettin mine, well, is you gettin' yours?

Hey, throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If the rims on his ride ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my niggaz for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If that other bitch's ass ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my bitches for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

You don't really want it with the nigga right in front of Tip
Have you duckin' on the shit, wanna let the thunder spit
Get bucked, bitch, give a fuck who you run and get
King of the South, Pimp Squad Clique runnin' shit

Bricks in the pipeline, sold in the nighttime
Take a lifetime to find a flow that's quite like mine
Fourty cal's and 45 glocks, I don't like nine
Mac-9 and automatic flatten niggaz lifeline

I'm already rich, use the rappin' as a pastime
Grand Hustle bitch and I done said it for the last time
Other niggaz settle down 'cause I don't bag mine
You see me pull it I'ma blast, I don't flash mine

You niggaz livin' check to check but I don't cash mine
Deposit it and let it sit 'cause all the cash mine
Been goin' easy on you rappers I'ma mash now
Niggaz throw your bottles in the air and put the glass down

Hey, throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If the rims on his ride ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my niggaz for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Throw your bottles in the sky if you're gettin' yours
If that other bitch's ass ain't as big as yours
You gettin' money what'chu hatin' on my bitches for?
Hey, get your mind off of mine and get to gettin' yours

Play the MP3 online for free!
d5b7f5eb592015454f1b4361b8f54154

Friday, July 30, 2010

Don'T Get Mad - Lyrics - souljaboytellem.Com - Soulja Boy

Title: Don'T Get Mad
Album: souljaboytellem.Com
Artist: Soulja Boy
Composer(s): Deandre Way

Lyric:
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

Everybody know I get the kids yellin?
Don?t get mad 'cause the kids like Soulja Boy tell ?em
And they parents they can?t see it, they blind
They wonder why they kids talkin? 'bout Soulja Boy all the time

They can?t understand they ways
They wonder why they son and they daughter
Got they name on they shades
Or why they only wear bathin? apes
Or why they sit at their computers watchin? Soulja Boy all day

If you don?t get it, it?s a movement
I ain?t sayin? that you stupid, you just need improvement
They said the records ain?t sellin? no more
Just 'cause everybody on the internet hittin' download

Now it?s my turn to hit it
If you don?t get it by the end of this song you won?t get it
Real talk I spit it
I got the kids on lock and it?s just the beginnin', let?s go

Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

What you mad for, what you hatin? for?
Soulja Boy tell 'em what the street's been waitin? for
Now I?m signed and it?s goin' down
Takin? over radio, TV, everything?s mine

Ain?t gonna bite my tongue for nobody
If you book me for a show, I?mma crank up the whole party
While you?re listenin' to this song, ease your mind
If you don?t get what I?m sayin? press rewind

Now, right now I?m 16
But when you hear this song I?mma be 17 and runnin' things
Superman, I started that
But the biggest form of flattery is just a lot of copycats

It?s all good 'cause I?m on deck
It?s amazing what I did with a mic in the internet
New rappers everyday worldwide
No deal just the fans, and the fans stayed on my side

D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

I?m the kids favorite rapper, do that dance snapper
If anyone else can do it, I can do it better
Got the grown folk scratchin' they head, they say, ?What?s goin' on?
What?s so special about Soulja Boy, man, what?s goin? on??

This all I gotta say in my rap
When it spreads to the grown folks, man, it?s a wrap
If you hatin? better pump your brakes
Don?t get mad 'cause the kids fans and they watchin? my face

We love you, Soulja Boy
We love you, Soulja Boy
We love you, Soulja Boy
We love you, Soulja Boy

Soulja Boy my favorite rapper
No, he my favorite rapper
No, my favorite rapper

Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
Don't get mad 'cause the kids like me
D-d-don't get mad 'cause the kids like me

Play the MP3 online for free!
82b643759f3c2cd88ad2b6e233d21615

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Goodie Bag - Lyrics - Dirty South Classics - Goodie Mob

Title: Goodie Bag
Album: Dirty South Classics
Artist: Goodie Mob
Composer(s): Willie Knighton, Raymon Murray, Robert Barnett, Patrick Brown, Thomas Burton, Cameron Gipp, Rico Wade

Lyric:
Put some fire on that ass end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed
Put some fire on that ass end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed

Cuz' you know me givin' me left hand dap
P funk be ridin' shot gun escort your window broke out son
A cool breeze got my lips chap mornin' slap some
Soul in my bread basket gap contain X marks the spot
Twain O.C. the cut layin'

A stew of empty gas in my tank
A buck thirty lookin' ugly think but it ain't gonna stop no show
Ol' burd puttin' a buzz in you ear
It's gonna snow or maybe perhaps sleet

Rap up the beat outside barely made it to your wake
Lookin' like Mr. Fisher, dickie down no suit, no tie
Niggaz ain't gonna be able to just get by no mo'
You leavin' the hotel 254

Today was good to me
I went to the Goodwill with the ten dollar bill
Got that London Fog out tha back paid tha man
Me and Khujo and T-Boo, three jack lumbers on tha loose

Cut your ass Lo like Cee, be under tha water
Half these figures around me be hollering New
Now what the fuck has this politician did for you
Complain, complain but Mr. Clampett ain't gon' change
Just ribb your ass up just to gut your pockets out

I heard Bill put two G's up for some folks
That they found in they house beat up
And I don't discuss that color scheme that they fall on
'Cuz tha scheme that they fall on don't match wit my tone

See, I wonder will I walk tha streets in 1995
And not have to make bond from 254
Uh, will somebody please turn the lights on 166
I can't see where tha fuck I'm going
I can't do shit but get mad
I can't keep get Billie and his uncle out my fuckin' Goodie Bag

Without your shank you can't thank
Without your niggas you up the creek
Stank with a ass fool of ore
Takin' what I say for what it's worth

It don't matter 'cuz how I feel might be triggered
From thoughts I had in the past
Now I struggle to reach the sky, why try so hard
If all I'ma get is spit on
'Cause life at the bottom ain't hittin' on shit

But some of these folks is gettin' rich
I know about mines, unwind, can't take at times going through
The same drama that got me here in this state of mind
Red-hot in the summer time

First of all, I stand a little more than five feet tall
But we can still brawl nigga, I ain't scared at all
I guess you niggas don't know or can't see
That it ain't even wise steppin' to me incorrectly

But yet still when nigga's feel they can deal
I will split yo' ass up for real
'Cause we the maniacs with the chunky Goodie sac's
So I don't carry an ax, but I still swing low with the lumber jax trax

Are being made by Organo-i-z-e
Why we coolin' in the shade ain't gettin' paid
For chillin', illin' willin' to do what I got to do
To come through your speaker

Cee-Lo, he will never come weaker
Uniquer than a lot of emcees out today
Because I'm more than careful about what I say
When I pick up a microphone it's on

Them better leave me alone, I'm in my zone
Prone to snap if you offer me a chance
Like it when them chunky hoes can dance
I'll enhance the microphone when it's in my grip, I do not slip

I can't forget my nigga's Jo, T-Mo and Gipp
Ha, ha, ha, well, Great Scott, is he a thief?
It seems like he has a mouth fulla gold teeth
I smile because your eyes can't take the glare

But Cee-Lo, him don't care, I cut off all my hair
And everybody stop and stare when we come in the place
And I can get on the mic wit' no time to waste
Get right up in yo' face, kick the flavor you taste

And when I'm on the microphone it's a damn disgrace
How you don't comprehend what I'm saying to you
And I'm the C, the double E from the Goodie Mo Crew
I'm coming through, I'm comin' true, ooh I can't even stop

It's Cee-Lo B, I'm down wit that nigga pop, pop, pop
And my nigga Mike L and Bert P and my nigga Pretty Ken
You know he down wit' me
We from Atlanta, G-A, that is where we stay
I'm diggin' all in the Goodie Bag each 'n ever day
Ooh, shit

Put some fire on that ass, end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed
Put some fire on that ass, end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed

Put some fire on that ass, end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed
Put some fire on that ass, end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed

Put some fire on that ass end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed
Put some fire on that ass end of dat weed
'Cause in da swat's red hots don't drip or bleed

Play the MP3 online for free!
760beaa03f2e684470791000b05a50eb

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

40 - Automatic - Lyrics - E

Title: 40 - Automatic
Artist: E
Composer(s): Ricardo Thomas, Donald Fletcher, Kenneth Gamble, Leon A Huff, A Jackson, John Jackson, Earl Stevens, Hal Davis, Weldon Parks

Lyric:
Automatic, systematic, do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mind
In the traffic, Baller status, do what you do playa
Just keep on hustlin' on the grind

Do the portable scale, stackin' my mil
Avoidin' the law, stayin' out of jail
Possession of sales, pocket all sales
Conspiracy charges, hate betrayals

Payin' the rent
'Cause I don't write nothin' down
I keep it all in my head, intelligent
About my business, memory like an elephant

Chasin' the dream, suit up for cream
Special represented tactics team
They out for teams and infrared beams
Pointed at domes, and backs, and spleens

Fire hydrants, ambulance sirens
Suspended license, police indictments
Righteously what it all boils down to
Is basically who's the wisest

Ooh, my heart made of granite
Slow down my spit so you squares can understand it
I didn't come in here empty handed
I came in here on business and y'all gone retrospect it dammit

Been out the game, did that mane
Vallejeo I claim, made the name
Feel my pain, ghetto fame
Magazine street hustla mane

Messin' around in the fast lane
Chevy, Cougars and Mustangs
Novas, Granadas, and Falcons
Project livin' and public housin'

Automatic, systematic, do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mind
(I got my mind on my money and my money on my mind, uh)
In the traffic, baller status, do what you do playa
Just keep on hustlin' on the grind

Ladies and gentlemen, it's ghetto F A Beezy, F A Sheezy
Bustas hate me 'cause I f'ed they breezies
Playboy, these techs spray easy
Like you don't know the hoodrat Hugh Hef play greasy

I get money on the grind
So if you got ya mind on my money, I put some money on ya mind
Ya honey gone be mine
'Cause ya diamond forecast is partly cloudly
The kids look sunny on the shine

I'm gettin' ticked off again
Y'all must like ridin' in long black caddy's that they stick coffins in
The click often been, blowin' sticky
That come in the same jars that they stick coffee in

And I got chicks offerin'
But I play hard to get, unless they suck me 'til my dick soft again
You lookin' at the way the coast to coast G do it
From the Brooklyn to the Bay, bring the hook in by the way, oh

Automatic, systematic, do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mind
In the traffic, baller status, do what you do playa
Just keep on hustlin' on the grind

To all you playas out there hustlin'
And all my thugs that be thuggin'
To all you playas out there hustlin'
And all my thugs that be thuggin'

It don't matter if you locin' or bleedin'
Whether it's backwards or zig zags ya smokin' ya weed in
You slow pokin' or speedin'
All that counts to these motherfuckers is if you broke or succeedin'

I'm gettin' used to strokin' and sweetin', pokin' and skeetin'
Stayin' focused while feedin', so I don't choke what I'm eatin'
I'm lookin' for towns to put the coke and the weed in
To sit with white folks in a meetin', please believe it

I used to sell tapes up out my truck and slang Cain
Respected on the streets before the fame
Ain't nothin' lame or game goofy about my game

Paid my dues, obeyed the rules
Stuck to the script, me and the click
All a my fellows and all a my dawgs
Ridin' the mustard and mayonnaise on vogues

Feelin' em up, sittin' 'em down
Bossin' and flossin' all over the town
Hardest state Benzes ya ever heard
In ya life man, write that down

Automatic, systematic, do what you do playa
Just keep that money on ya mind
In the traffic, baller status, do what you do playa
Just keep on hustlin' on the grind

To all you playas out there hustlin'
And all my thugs that be thuggin'
To all you playas out there hustlin'
And all my thugs that be thuggin'

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5b762449896679c2147f4d64111b1edd

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

A Thugga' Level - Lyrics - Thug On Da Line - Krayzie Bone

Title: A Thugga' Level
Album: Thug On Da Line
Artist: Krayzie Bone
Composer(s): Lichelle Laws, Jeffrey Fortson, Anthony Henderson

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Lyric:
Big ballin' bitch like Boss come thru like it ain't no thang
Paper chase, hustlin' nothin' changed
Ask me again I'll tell you the same
Don't hustle the fame nigga, muscle the game

Put it down in the street for mine
24/7, stayin' on the grind
For days and days I shell at the cops
Enough grenades to get at the block

I'm a drug smuggler
Part bitch, part thug, part hustla
You lift my crib and I'm touchin' ya
No love for ya, draw blood from ya

'Cause a nigga like you dreamin' to Boss
And you fiendin' to floss and who pounds is flown
We're bustin' motherfuckas with the black game
Holdin' them fiends

And lovin' my crack
In the front got bud in the back
Who can get more thugga than that?
From hookers and jacks
Put the house up, bitch, I'm bustin' the gat

Y'all niggaz always testing
Gonna make me pull this Wesson
If money ain't the answer rephrase the question, dawg
Big Boss and Krayzie Bone is runnin' up in your town
With an uncountable amount of numbers of mongols
Y'all mad, we the real number oners
Rollin' like big, Thugline nothin' but runners

Trouble Boss, a double cross
A nigga named Krray they good as dead
From the B-O-double, doin' double time
And these tricks comin' up to bread

We on some thugga shit
We on some other shit
That you ain't fuckin' with
The thuggin' don't stop

And you can't touch the clique
You know you love this shit
Take it to what we spit
The thuggin' don't stop

We on some thugga shit
We on some other shit
That you ain't fuckin' with
The thuggin' don't stop

And you can't touch the clique
You know you love this shit
Take it to what we spit
The thuggin' don't stop

I heard a silent motherfucka creepin' up from behind ya
Bet ya didn't think that I'd find ya, huh?
With a nine or pump your shit'll be fucked
And I ain't even popped the goddamn trunk

I bet they never saw a nigga bring the heat and be so cool
Freeze everything, nigga don't move
You can choose to be a fool and try to get away
But never make it out the room when the pump go, boom

Fuckin 'em up, scream "Fuck the world" while I cuff my nuts
Real niggaz don't lie, hit 'em in the mind
Every time goddamn we live
Send 'em to the graveyard, who gonna save y'all?
Matter of fact motherfucka, who paid y'all?

You runnin' up on them niggaz, you know gonna bust back?
Take no more shorts fuck that
Pistol control, we roll streets so they all know
If they run up I'll pop get your hand out my pocket
For the glock, glock shot 'em all on the floor

You dealin' with some motherfuckin' real niggaz
Thrill niggaz, we'll kill niggaz if they wanna kill me
Still runnin' with the AK-47 ain't shit changed
Still got the same artillery

Bust at them bastards
Me and Boss steady breakin' it off in they asses
Wanna see me get glasses
'Cause I be all in your face but you walk right past us
But that let a niggaz know they don't really wanna swang them thangs
Fuckin' wit them thugs, the thugs, the thugs, nigga the thugs, what?

We on some thugga shit
We on some other shit
That you ain't fuckin' with
The thuggin' don't stop

And you can't touch the clique
You know you love this shit
Take it to what we spit
The thuggin' don't stop

We on some thugga shit
We on some other shit
That you ain't fuckin' with
The thuggin' don't stop

And you can't touch the clique
You know you love this shit
Take it to what we spit
The thuggin' don't stop

Bare witness to Mrs. Gangsta
We're gun-toters, blunt smokers
Big bank folders and high rollers
Quick to burn off into toaster
For fun this bitch judges wanna pose as gorilla

Pimps, killers and soldiers roll
You don't slip and we thought that we told ya
Know what Thug Luv nigga to bone ya
They can run your shit and bend a corner

Scatter and spread like mustard
Jam them buzzards up and leave 'em smothered
Quick friends gats find ya like bookie
And they down with me like fo' flat

Y'all niggaz got nuts, our niggaz got nuts
So we can go nut for nut, see who first to crack and split
Like ya down like wipers
'Fore the motherfuckin' piper pay the bitch

You motherfuckas fin' to feel it?
Thugline put it down keepin' it the real it
And I ain't really trippin' off these niggaz
They say they gonna get me yet they miss me

'Cause I've been here niggaz thuggin'
Waitin' for you motherfuckas to come bring it to me
Fuck waitin' I'ma mingle with it
The nine millimeter and plenty more haters

If any more niggaz roll up put the cut I'm fuckin 'em up
When I hit 'em with the pump don't duck you gonna die
Fuck you, die, buck you, die
Reload, unload one more time

Hit him with the pump make sure he dead
He bled blood, we bail
Ask me if a nigga prepared for war, hell yeah

We on some thugga shit
We on some other shit
That you ain't fuckin' with
The thuggin' don't stop

And you can't touch the clique
You know you love this shit
Take it to what we spit
The thuggin' don't stop

We on some thugga shit
We on some other shit
That you ain't fuckin' with
The thuggin' don't stop

And you can't touch the clique
You know you love this shit
Take it to what we spit
The thuggin' don't stop

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dac7e2782c45ec4fd86025cc5474c9a7

Monday, August 2, 2010

Wouldn'T You Like To Ride - Lyrics - Kanye West

Title: Wouldn'T You Like To Ride
Artist: Kanye West
Composer(s): Lonnie Rashid Lynne, Malik Jones, Kayne Omari West, Charles Hemphill

Lyric:
You like to ride, uh
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?
Would you like to ride?
I don't know what happened, it's just like
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?

I had that little ass Nissan at your crib showin' up
Liquor store out of Arbor Mist, we Irish rosed it up
Then we rolled to the movies, you rocked your fake Chloes
You had Gap and Gucci, that's still two Gs

But that's that last year purse like it's still too cheap
Ooh, you so boozy, boo, you could've fooled me
'Cuz five years ago, you was so Fugees
Now you don't want nothin' unless it cost a few Gs

You like the light-skinned Ania, the dark-skinned Aaliyah
The black Jennifer Lopez, a ghetto senorita
You remind me of my Jeep but not no Kia
We can talk on your cell but not Nokia

It be goin' in and out, that's why I barely hear ya
It be goin' in and out like a robbery, ah
I'm tryin' to take this money like Robin Geeda
Then I'ma take you to the house like Trick and Trina

Would you like to ride shotgun in the Escalade?
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?
Like a cloud in our sky, grab your things, let's fly away
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?

Malik Yusef, bet your baby, momma know the name
The most critically acclaimed wordsmith in the game
I give you words, spit with flames
Stay to myself and let nerves mix with lames

Connoisseur of Kama Sutra, do somethin' absurd with your dame
I used to love this girl who loved shoppin' and smokin' herb
But my job was to hustle dro
Now an artist of the spoken word, I just hustle flow
Never a pretty boy, always a beautiful mind like Russell Crowe
Now you in places no cabs'll take you, only the bus'll go

I would love for you and your friends to get with me and my friends
But the problemo is your attitude be on the stank side
And I no longer like you, fuck it
Now you can't ride but ooh, wouldn't you like to?

Would you like to ride shotgun in the Escalade?
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?
Like a cloud in our sky, grab your things, let's fly away
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?

Deep as the ocean is the motion of life
Thought you would have been the sister I chose for my wife
Not knowin' you was trife, stiflin' a nigga's growth
All you wanna do is shop at River Oaks

Watch soaps on the couch, take shit and smoke
I'm workin' hard like a fiend tryin' to get some dope
Thought my real nigga quotes would make you truer
You ain't gon' let me school ya, at least let me tutor

The sex is good but you ain't a shooter
There's a war goin' on inside, you ain't a trooper
I look through the mirror and see my reflection
It ain't in your direction, so I passed her like a reverend
Returned to my Bishop Juan ways
Goin' wild like West and Kanye

Wherever I lay my [unverified] is my home
Goddamnit, I'm grown
Broke broad, I'ma leave your ass alone
You still wanna ride though

Would you like to ride shotgun in the Escalade
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?
Like a cloud in our sky, grab your things, let's fly away
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends

Would you like to ride shotgun in the Escalade
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?
Like a cloud in our sky, grab your things, let's fly away
So why don't you and your friends get with me and my friends
My friends, my friends, my friends, my friends?

Play the MP3 online for free!
a510094a72cb239c0be2e5f3ed1d31ef

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

You Could Be Blind - Lyrics - The Great Depression - Dmx

Title: You Could Be Blind
Album: The Great Depression
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Kaseem Dean

Lyric:
You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life
You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life

Now if you start with dirt, then you start with hurt
You start with "Oh, you ain't got?", Well here, take my shirt
Start with work, blood and tears over the years
Goin' through whatever we go through, we stickin' it out here
Pups turn into dogs, tadpoles into frogs
I'm just eatin' what's in front of me, ain't thinking about yours
But I'ma keep my paws on what's mine
Beg 'til I find, strapped 'til I'm blind

And I'm a nigga that whatever I do, still gon' be able to spit this
I'm wit' this, 'cause this is mine, you scared shitless
Rap niggas can't fuck with the dog, never
Could be twenty below outside, I'm built for the weather
It could be hotter than lava, I wouldn't bother to sweat
Some of you niggas, form a following, but you startin' to forget
I paid my dues, not only did you not wear, but you would really love it
If you could meet that cat that made my shoes, c'mon

You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life
You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life

Now see, what I do is peep shit, keep shit low key
Pay attention to what you trying to show me, listen
But you never know me, listen, don't give me and you don't owe me
Don't tell me that you love me, don't talk shit, don't kill me slowly
'Cause a dog like me, is an only
Meaning, hit another like me, the truth hurts, but I can't be phony
You always looking for bad, look at you mad
But you won't be satisfied 'til it look what you had

I'm a thorough nigga, I keep my word
And anybody that's ever met me, got love for me, so I keep a herd
And that shit y'all niggas told me got me fucked up in the head
Went from, "Yo, that's my dog" to, "Yeah, that nigga dead"
What the fuck is all this? News to me
Dog, it's like that, ain't what it used to be
See some niggas choose to be on the other side of the fence
Keep riding with this, get fried in the mix, c'mon

You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life
You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life

Now if it ain't that, then don't say that 'cause I don't play that
Y'all play that but the okay, Black, damn, why you say that?
I thought that, what? Nevermind, I just thought it
We supposed to keep it real and destroy what I was taught
Misery loves company
Now you niggas talikin' 'bout jumpin' me, pumpin' me
Full of slugs, blood, stud with the love
Damn, I just gave, what a real nigga does

Don't listen to the buzz, don't get caught up in the hype
You'll lose everything that you worked for trying to take a nigga's stripes
Live life through life so on and so on
That's when the grow on, man, get the flow on
You niggas gettin' too old for this kid shit
On the real, we all done did shit to get shit
Snake shit, right is right, wrong is wrong
Motherfucker, listen to this song, you see what shit I'm on, c'mon!

You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life
You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life

You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life
You could be blind but you gon' see it when you need to see it
You gon' be fine 'cause you gon' be it when you need to be it
One of a kind, frustrate your mind and then you'll free your spirit
Go where I go, dog in my life

Play the MP3 online for free!
9e1f70fde3b587896c2f5dbd2ee22027

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Ackrite - Lyrics - Dr. Dre 2001 - Dr. Dre

Title: Ackrite
Album: Dr. Dre 2001
Artist: Dr. Dre
Composer(s): Andre Romell Young, Brian Anthony Bailey, Melvin Bradford

Lyric:
It's fuckin' ackrite
Question is, can I get some? Knahmsayin'?
Ackrite bitch
When I see you in the spot, you just ackrite, you knahmsayin'?
When I yank you by the fuckin' perm
Don't be lookin' at a nigga crazy
Just get with the digits and be the fuck out, you knahmsayin?
Let me break it down for y'all

It was just one of those days when I wanted to catch sunrays
Fun to get blunted on a Sunday, afternoon
Nigga babe got room, grab the gat for misbehaviors
And the chocolate faded boom, flossin' hip-hop tunes
Zoom-zoom like the Commodores
Wonder will we have drama or, end up clownin' whores
Around the full good-to-go girls

Like them Barbicose girls, ridin' shotgun, baby
I be postin' all-world in the ride
Sippin' 151 that gave me too much pride to back down
Soon as we get to the beach I'ma put my fuckin' Mack down
I'm playin' lead, not the background
It's time to put Bronson on the map now
Walk with my hand on my Johnson, crack a smile
Cuties peep my style, if I don't get some ackrite I'ma have to ack-wild

Blunt in my left hand, drink in my right
Strap by my waistline, 'cause niggaz don't fight
Sucker free for life, so you better think twice
(Aight? And a give a nig' some ackrite)
I'm the type of nigga playa haters don't like
Snatchin' up your honey for some late night hype
And snobby-ass bitches get slapped out of spite
(Aight? So give a nig' some ackrite, right)

Drink kickin' in, I'm stimulated
For those that don't know big words, I'm fuckin' faded
Eighty-three degrees, ease to a shaded spot
Our first spot was cool 'til some gangsters made it hot
Now we plot and pose
Plus we watchin' hoes with lots of flesh exposed
Gettin' swarmed by those type of niggaz with no game but brown-nose
So I impose only like pros can

"Yo, is this your man?" "No" Grab the bitch's hand
"I'm Hittman", bling, gold chain gleam
"You're very eligible for my summer league team"
Maybe too extreme 'cause the sister got steamed
Then Miss Thing tried to scream on my brethern
I got mad, spit flame on the name Stefan, tattooed on her arm
Hoe you ain't the bomb, must be a dyke
Witcho' lips swoll, and give a nig' some ackrite

Blunt in my left hand, drink in my right
Strap by my waistline, 'cause niggaz don't fight
Sucker free for life, so you better think twice
(And a give a nig' some ackrite)
I'm the type of nigga playa haters don't like
Snatchin' up your honey for some late night hype
And snobby-ass bitches get slapped out of spite
(So give a nig' some ackrite)

Frontin' on the ack-rite, causin' me to act up
Good Samaritan save that hoe from gettin' slapped up
My homies crack up at the scene I made
Yo, my actions ain't serene when a nigga's on fade
If it wasn't for the one-time brigade
I woulda sprayed at the hooker tramp
As cops parade I'm afraid it's time to break camp, make tracks
Where else can we go to take hoes from fake Macks

Aiyyo, chase them girls in that black Maxima
The passenger, almost fractured her, neckbone, lookin' back at us
Plus, they on the dick cause the Caddy's plush
They blush, I bumrush the hush, with the largest crush
Try to swing an EP tonight so I don't have to keep in touch
Keep it on hush without the tip-in
Mackin' interrupted by some niggaz set-trippin'
Clip in the strap, I showed these niggaz how to act

Blunt in my left hand, drink in my right
Strap by my waistline, 'cause niggaz don't fight
Sucker free for life, so you better think twice
(Aight? And a give a nig' some ackrite)
I'm the type of nigga playa haters don't like
Snatchin' up your honey for some late night hype
And snobby-ass bitches get slapped out of spite
(Aight? So give a nig' some ackrite, right)

Biatch

{I just wanna put my dick on your shoulder
So you can put it on your mind later on
Take that dick off your shoulder
And put it in your mouth
Drink the evidence
And hide the dick behind your head
The police is comin
It's called ten
Put this dick behind your head}

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502fb3389563bf6ceb4b0366fffd8ec4

Friday, August 20, 2010

Pump It Up (Remix) - Lyrics - Joe Budden

Title: Pump It Up (Remix)
Artist: Joe Budden
Composer(s): George Brown, Joseph Anthony Budden, Robert Spike Mickens, Claydes Smith, Robert Bell, Ronald D. Bell, Dennis Ronald Thomas, Richard Westfield, Justin Smith

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

Lyric:
Pump p-pump pump p-pump
Pump p-pump pump it up
Pump p-pump pump p-pump p-pump
Pump p-pump pump it up
(Just blaze)
Pump p-pump pump it up
We gon' do it like
(Uuh, uuh, uuh)

Look, pump it up if you came to get it krunk
With a dame and shit that's drunk
You came to get it on, more than 5 O's in your bank
Then get it on, roll up like that stank
And get it on, slank that fitted on
Came to get it on
Hold up she want work that twork that
Then again let me hurt that murk that
'Til you gotta hurt back

Can't spit it out, boo you gotta slurp that
Can't cuddle after we done, it wasn't worth that
Joey I'm responsible for bringin' Jerse back, yeah we bad huh
She at the bar stylin' she throwing it up
She drink a little hypno, throwing it up
But I'm only dealing with freaks that wanna cut
Ma, if you agree I want nut
Camcorder, get it played late night on BET Uncut uhh

Fellas, do your thing let me do my thang
I mean, do your thing let me do my thang
Shorties, move that thing, mami move that thing
C'mon, move that thing, mami move that thing
Hustlers, do your thing let me do my thang
Please tell the D J, pump p-pump pump it up

I see some haters grilling
I see some ladies chilling
I see dat girlie I been plottin' to get
You can hop in the whip
And we go
Pump p-pump pump it up

O K, we was leaving, we was done
Then she said,"Can my people's come?"
Here we go I see it don't stop
They wanna ride in something were the rims don't stop
Look baby you fine, but your girlfriends not
And then she wanna hold out getting cute on the phone
I ain't gotta be bothered, be cute on your own

My jump off doesn't run off at the mouth so much
My jump off never ask why I go out so much
My jump off never has me going out of my way
And she don't want nothing on Valentines Day
My jump off don't argue or get rebellious
And she don't mind hanging out wit da fellas
My jump off's not insecure or jealous
Uuh, uuh, uuh

Fellas, do your thing let me do my thang
I mean, do your thing let me do my thang
Shorties, move that thing, mami move that thing
C'mon, move that thing, mami move that thing
Hustlers, do your thing, let me do my thang
Please tell the D J, pump p-pump pump it up

Y'all dudes keep talking 'bout your ice and all the shine to it
That's alright go cross world find cubic
Ma, I wanna fall in love like I'm Cupid
Telling me she don't give brain, like I'm stupid
You can do anything if you put your mind to it
Get it, don't think about it
The game is bad playa, ain't it bad playa?
Don't worry, Joey'll change it back playa
Might of heard me spittin' wit Cain and Fab playa
I got the set boards to bring it back playa

Bang and clap playa
Front man no longer playin' the back playa
Plain as that playa
808's pumpin' bang the track playa
Want my 2nd wind change the rap playa
Jump off 1man gang I'm back playa
Look, want you want bump double click pump
Ride, ride swamp dump off homie jump off
All these haters on my, huh, won't jump off
When all the streets need is j-jump off
J-jump j-jump off

Fellas, do your thing let me do my thang
I mean, do your thing let me do my thang
Shorties, move that thing, mami move that thing
C'mon, move that thing, mami move that thing
Hustlers, do your thing, let me do my thang
Please tell the D J, pump p-pump pump it up

Fellas, do your thing let me do my thang
I mean, do your thing let me do my thang
Shorties, move that thing, mami move that thing
C'mon, move that thing, mami move that thing
Hustlers, do your thing, let me do my thang
Please tell the D J, pump p-pump pump it up, nigga

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5124893572f63d570404f317a4191160

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

Irresistable Delicious - Lyrics - Missy Elliott

Title: Irresistable Delicious
Artist: Missy Elliott
Composer(s): Ricky M L Walters, Eric T Sadler, Craig Brockman, Hank Shocklee, James Henry Boxley Iii, Melissa A Elliott

Lyric:
It's entertainment time
Got Missy Elliott in the house
Got Slick Rick in the house
We doing big things here kids

Hip-Hop's finest, slick, slick, Slick Rick an' M
Slick Rick an' M
Go Missy, go Missy, go Missy, go Missy
(Slick Rick an' M)

Excuse me Mr. Lawrence, you look nice
Simply delicious, Missy want some kisses
Let's go to the crib, get cozy in the nude
And 'Treat me like a prostitute'

Now pardon me sir, I'm such a real lady
Ride in Mercedes to make the bitches hate me
Cruise up and down one-two-fifth
Looking for a guy like you to get with

I seen this cutie pie, so I pulled beside him
Seen the size of his feet, so I couldn't deny him
Might as well try him, the freak that I am
M dot S E always grinding

Please don't think I'm crazy
But boy you are supa fine
Do it to me, do it to me
(Thank you Missy)

Irresistible delicious, holla
Enough to make me lose my mind
Now I really want it
(Slick, slick, Slick Rick an' M)

Now I want it, don't make me wait so long
No don't make me wait so long
Missy, no longer will I pretend
(Slick Rick in the house)
Let's get it on 'cause we both grown
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Intelligent, delicate, watch how the fella get
Bump into my home girl in Miami, Missy Elliott
Green blush on her eyelid, hi Miss
Gave honey a hug, I feel her touching my privates

Aw shuck I guess, main course is in I said
"You know I'm married?"
Yeah and what's that supposed to mean?
Proposition for you Ruler

Proceed on
Well, I got a track I need you spit a mean 16 on
You with it?
Down to bless one and I left one

The Hit Factory, later on around eleven
With my notebook and pencil, I slides on in
I see her looking mighty sexy and the lights all dim
Have a drink

The booze and the karmy go oddly
After having a drink I start to feel unusually horny
Swelling stone or well writ poems
Busy pounding like I'm trying to break off pelvis bones

Please don't think I'm crazy
Slick Rick's in the house
But boy you are supa fine
Do it to me, do it to me
(Thank you Missy)

Irresistible delicious, holla
(Slick Rick's in the house)
Enough to make me lose my mind, lose my mind
Now I really want it and now I want it
Don't make me wait so long
No don't make me wait so long

No longer will I pretend
(Boss of the females)
Let's get it on 'cause we both grown
(Recognize, recognize)

Excuse me sir, oh gosh you look young
But old enough to get it to get yo' head sprung
Sit down relax, it's soft here on my couch
Or give me hands strictly you might get turned out

Cutie pie, 'til I sit beside him
Nice shoe size, how could I deny him?
Big bankroll to help me retire
Me and him together smell like big empire

Don't 'Treat me like a prostitute'
Unless you're giving me some money
Making sure I look cute, what?
But don't 'Treat me like a prostitute'
Unless you're giving me some money
Making sure I look cute

Please don't think I'm crazy
Please don't think I'm crazy
But boy you are supa fine
Do it to me, do it to me, fine

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efdf673d506b7c4e763ded2ff37cb88b