Dress Code - Lyrics - W.C.

Title: Dress Code
Artist: W.C.
Composer(s): William Jr. Calhoun, A Wheaton, Wayne Lamar Jackson, Andrew Love

Lyric:
You know what's makin' me mad?
Day after day I'm catchin' all of this slack
Seems you gotta wear a suit, unless you wanna jacked
'Cause in the '90s, y'all, these fools got a set of them thangs

Where if you ain't wearin' a three-piece suit, you gotta gang bang
I walked in a rest', 'bout to order
And people starin' like I had manure on my pants
Grabbin' they purse, checkin' they wallets in the back

And thinkin' I'ma rob em, 'cause I'm in all black
Yo, my Corduroys are cuffed with a crease down the middle
Snake skin around my waist, so my pants hang a little
But I don't deal the package of crack

So what's the reason for the dirty looks?
Yo, check my name in your books
Seem like every time I slap on my Starter cap
And step for a breath of fresh air
I end up fillin' up a questionnaire

"What's your name?" "Where you're goin?"
"Yo, what gang are you from?"
They tell me "Don't get smart" and so I play dumb
'Cause when I tell em where I stay, it doesn't get better

Live in South Central, they assume you got a jail record
A stereotypical attitude
That if you look like me, you gotta run with a crew
'Cause when I step upon the scene everybody's gettin' petrol

No matter what the color
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
(Wear a shirt and tie and run with the creeps)

(That's why they dress just like suckers)
(Ha?)
(Suckers)
(What?)
(Suckers)

What is this, a prison? I'm buggin' off the way that I'm livin'
Seems everywhere I turn I'm assumin' the position
At school I'm gettin' tired of hearin' the same old thing
Here come the rickety security, sweatin me for my earring

I don't carry a gun, though they consider me a threat
I guess I got em scared by the way that I dress
Unlike you I couldn't afford to shop at Macy's or Penny's
So it's off to the swap meet for a fresh pair of Dickey's

So what you're tellin' me, is now I'm a crook
Who wrote the book on how a kid in my position's supposed to look?
Get me a fade and a pair of tight pants
I get a chance with the girls who wouldn't give me a glance

A big funny lookin' hat just to cover my naps
A pair of patten leather shoes might keep me out of scraps
If I made that turn, it might save me some trouble
But I gotta watch my back, on the alert for a squabble

Don't go here, don't go there, brothers comin' up missin'
Got a pocket full of money, and I'm still getttin' dissed
'Cause it's a scam or a phase of my life that I'm goin' through
If you dress like me, you gotta run with a crew

I'm tickin' like a time bomb, ready to explode
Even in my front yard
(What's up?)
I'm gettin' sweated for my dress code
(Alright, fellas, no tennis shoes, no hats, no khakis, alright?)

Let's take a trip to the club scene
(Somebody tell me what's goin' on)
You gotta wear a silk shirt just to dance to a funky song
Bouncers makin' enemies for minimum wage
But they're the first ones to run when the club gets sprayed

Don't wanna let me in, because I'm wearin' my beeper
And if you're sportin' gold, then you gotta be a dope dealer
(I paid 17.50 to hear a funky rhyme flow
And they're sweatin' at the do' like I just entered a fashion show)

Yo, they put a curfew on Westwood, to keep me in my neighborhood
My hat's to the back, so I must be up to no good
(I got a jacket on my back for the fact that I rap
And they heard I was from Compton, so they ran they pennies back)

Scared of me for what, no, I don't wear tux
And if I ever got a Grammy, man, I'd bail in some Chuck
Tailors to show the whole world it's alright to be yourself
Should I change the way I dress, so I can look like the rest?

Wearin' red, black and green, but they don't know what it means
Put on a African medallion, now they're down with the team
Penetratin' for a click, first they wouldn't, now they switched
But they ain't gettin' rich
(Ain't that a bitch?)

Go strike a GQ pose, I got soul in my stroll
So they ban my video
(For what?)
'Cause they didn't like my dress code

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0f08dfe6b28dc13b91d3ee5a1864c6fc

Tuck Your Shirt In - Lyrics - Footprints - Holly Valance

Title: Tuck Your Shirt In
Album: Footprints
Artist: Holly Valance
Composer(s): Joakim Jan Bjorklund, Savan Kotecha

Lyric:
My name is Holly
And I like

I'm so glad that you asked me out tonight
Our conversation over dinner was really nice
But don't forget you still owe me dessert

It's twelve and we missed the late show
So let's head over to this joint that I know
Every time I take someone it's always such a ride

But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in

If you want T M A
You better need to be
Quit breakin'
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in

No way you'll get rid of
The other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in

La la la la la, la
La la la la la, la
La la la la la, la, la

We're probably gonna need to call a cab
Ten minute walk over there and back
But I think it's best
We save our energy

Tonight, I'm really on the grind
Otherwise I'd normally wait a while
Before I'd ask
Somebody to my party

But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in

If you want T M A
You better need to be
Quit breakin'
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in

No way you'll get rid of
The other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in

Ah
Uh
La la la la la, la
La la la la la, la
La la la la la, la, la

But there's a dress code
You've got to follow
There's no exceptions
And once you're in

(No)
If you want T M A
You better need to be
Quit breakin'
But before you enter
Tuck your shirt in
(Whoa, oh)

No way you'll get rid of
The other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in

T M A
You better need to be
(You better)
Quit breakin'
(Ya)
But before you enter
(Ya)
Tuck your shirt in
(Oh)

No way you'll get rid of
The other clothes
If you don't follow this
One moment
Tuck your shirt in

La la la la la, la
La la la la la, la
La la la la la, la, la

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764cf322b505ed049b5cb78561c7f3c1

Feel So Good - Lyrics - Harlem World - Mase

Title: Feel So Good
Album: Harlem World
Artist: Mase
Composer(s): Lawrence Paul Dermer, George Brown, Robert Spike Mickens, Claydes Smith, Robert Bell, Ronald Bell, Dennis Thomas, Rafael Vigil, Sean Puffy Combs, Joe Galdo, Richard Allen Westfield, Deric Angelettie, Mason Betha

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

Lyric:
You ready, Mase?

Party people
In the place to be
It's about that time
For us to

Yo, what you know about goin' out?
Head west, red Lex, TV's all up in the headrest
Try and live it up, ride true, a bigger truck
Peeps all glittered up, stick up can, they go what?

Jig wit it 'cuz ship crisp, split it all
Ho's ride, get your nut 'till I can't get it up
I'm a big man, give this man room
I'd a hit everything from Cancun to Grant's tomb

Why you standin' on the wall? Hand on your balls
Lighting up drugs, always fightin' in the club
I'm the reason they made the dress code
They figure I wouldn't wild when I'm in my French clothes

Dress as I suppose, from my neck to my toes
Neck full of gold, baguettes in my Rolls
Wreck shows, collect those, extra O's
Buy the E, get a key to the Lex to hold

East, West, every state, come on, bury the hate
Millions, the only thing we in a hurry to make
Are the friend that act's friend in a Lex or a Benz
Let's begin, bring this BS to an end

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
You make me feel so good
(You know you make me feel so good)
(You know you make me feel so good)

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
I wouldn't change you if I could
(I wouldn't change you if I could)
(I wouldn't change you if I could)

You can't understand we be Waikiki
Sippin' DP to the TV, look greedy
Little kids see me, way out in DC
With a Z3, chrome VB's, they wanna be me

Nigga's talkin' shit, they ought to quit
I'm fortunate they don't see a fourth what I get
And those be the same ones walkin' while I whip
Just stylishing cars 'cuz they all true Nig'

So, while you daydream my Mercedes gleam
And I deal with ho's that pose in Maybeline
One time you had it all, I ain't mad at ya'll
Now give me the catalog, I'll show you how daddy bought

Six cars and power to fire big stars
Sit up, CEO style, smokin' on cigars, nigga
It's like y'all be talkin' funny
I don't understand language of people with short money

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
You make me feel so good
(You know you make me feel so good)
(You know you make me feel so good)

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
I wouldn't change you if I could
(I wouldn't change you if I could)
(I wouldn't change you if I could)

Do Mase got the ladies? Yeah, yeah
Do Puff drive Mercedes? Yeah, yeah
Take hits from the 80's? Yeah, yeah
But do it sound so crazy? Yeah, yeah

Well, me personally, it's nothin' personal
I do what work for me, you do what work for you
And I dress with what I was blessed with
Never been arrested for nothin' domestic

And I chill the way you met me
With a jet ski attached to a SE
Smoke my Nestle, no mad rap-ass cat, where my check be?
Problem with y'all I say it directly

Went from hard to sweet, starved to eat
From no hoes at shows to menage in suites
Now, I be the cat that be hard to meet
Gettin' head from girls that used to hardly speak

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
You make me feel so good
(You know you make me feel so good)
(You know you make me feel so good)

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
I wouldn't change you if I could
(I wouldn't change you if I could)
(I wouldn't change you if I could)

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
You make me feel so good
(You know you make me feel so good)
(You know you make me feel so good)

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy
I wouldn't change you if I could
(I wouldn't change you if I could)
(I wouldn't change you if I could)

Bad, bad, bad, bad boy

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0e6f80fa804889b6bef9713006e73d28

High Rollers - Lyrics - Greatest Hits: The Evidence - Ice T

Title: High Rollers
Album: Greatest Hits: The Evidence
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): Charles Glenn, Tracy Marrow

Lyric:
Speed of life,fast,it's like walkin' barefoot over broken glass
It's like,jumpin' rope on a razor blade
All lightning quick decisions are made
Lifestyle plush,females rush
This high profile personality,who earns his pay illegally
Professional liar,schoolboys admire
Young girls desire,very few live to retire
Cash flow extreme,dress code supreme,vocabulary obscene
Definition-street player,you know what I mean

The high rollers

People of the city,stop foolin' yourself
Crime rules the streets,who the hell else
All the police have gone out to play
Because for enough cold cash they'll look the other way
Just look at the cars as they go by
Benz,Ferraris,trucks up high
Beepers connecting players to big-time deals
With all of this technology who needs to steal
Just live a life of leisure every night and day
And you're livin' proof that crime does pay
Your life is dangerous and reckless
You eat fly guys and girls for breakfast
You're a titan of the nuclear age
Your muscles flex with a Uzi or 12 gauge
And you love the game,that's why you boast
Because you're high priced,high speed.high post

You're a high roller

The high rollers

When I say high rollers,I mean the best
Forget the half-steppers,eject the rest
Because these high ranked officials of our city streets
Make millions all triggered by electric beeps
They dress in diamonds and rope chains
They got the blood of SCARFACE runnin' through their veins
Silk shirts,leather suits,hair always fresh
Eelskin boots,large hearts,though their sizes vary
Bankrolls that take 2 pockets to carry
Cruisin' in their 500 Benz Sedan
With their systems peaked out rockin' PUSHER MAM
Yes,their fashion's high and hard to beat
They buy their GUCCI from GUCCI'S not the swapmeet
Eat very weel,much clientele
And whatever you need,they probably sell

The high rollers

Oh yes,I'm here to tell you females also roll
Drive the same cars,somethimes wear more gold
Cold as an igloo,or hot as a flame
They'll shake ya,break ya and you won't know their name
Gangsters to the max,all marks will be taxed
These girls drive FERRARIS not CADILLACS
Respect is demanded,most men don't understand it
Till they peep the huge bank that these girls have landed
They're junkies for fun,love life on the run
And if things get hot,they will pull a gun
Prey on the lame,no shame to the game
And they all seek POWER,fuck the fame

The high rollers

Now radio stations probably won't play
This record because of the things I say
They'll say I'm glamorizing the hustlin' hood
And a record like this can do no good
But I'm not here to tell ya right or wrong
I don't know which side of the law you belong
Yes,the game has flash,but sometimes hurts
Behind any mistake,hard times lurks
And jail's not your only problem,though it may seem
You just may die by a barrage from an M-16
But to each his own,choose the mobile phone
The tailored suit,the luxury home
You'll never get caught,'cause you got nerves of ice
And you're much smarter than those crooks on Miami Vice
Right
You wanta be a high roller

The high rollers

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502109d74c76acae1509fbdbd8a6a865

Hottest Of The Hot - Lyrics - B.G.

Title: Hottest Of The Hot
Artist: B.G.
Composer(s): Michael Crooms, Christopher Noel Dorsey

Lyric:
Uh huh, look, this for my dog, Gigitty-Gangsta
Ya heard me, original hot boy, a sterling, mosquito, duran
Rest in peace

Now if ya know me then you know I'm 'bout that shoot 'em up and
Bang bang, got ya white tee full of red stains
From the blood, that's leakin' from your forehead
When I'm at war, raw is the only way I play it
You think you was on NBA jam, you hear that choppa
Go blakka-ga-blakka, boom-shakka-laka-laka
It get know, hotter than Geezy, I swear to that
Trust me, I bust ya up wherever I catch ya at

It could be night, it could be daylight
I'ma show ya what the, AK like
Them bullets burn, they don't come straight
They flip, they twist, they turn
Now is ya ready for it
Then I'ma bring it to ya, if you insist playa
I'ma discharge all fifty out the clip playa
That's how I roll dog, better get ready
That's how I roll dog, ya better

Man, I'm the hottest of the hot, I be burnin' up
And I'm ready to set it off, so turn it up
Let's get crunk dog, let's get buck dog
Where ya sets at, put 'em up dog
I'm the hottest of the hot, I be burnin' up
And I'm ready to set it off, so turn it up
Let's get crunk dog, let's get buck dog
Where ya sets at, put 'em up dog

If ya down wit me, come on and let's get loose
Anything goes, hair down, do whatcha do
I ain't seen a girl shake like a hot girl shake
From Detroit, Texas, to Orleans, to M. I. A.
Alabama, Cash-Ville or Atlanta, G.A.
They damn the do, I mean they do the damn thang
Down south raw, can't forget rough and rugged
We be clubbin', thuggin', hustlin', and head bustin'

Teeth platinum or gold, everyday dress code
T-shirt, Reeboks, bandanas, and girbauds
It'll be uncivilized, don't stick to the G-code
Under twenty, ya ride natural, I'm on twenty-fours
2003 black hummer, H2O
450's, DVD, Xbox TV's
Mouths drop, I come through, heads turn, eyes buck
Like whoa, who that is, he burnin' up

And, I'm the hottest of the hot, I be burnin' up
And I'm ready to set it off, so turn it up
Let's get crunk dog, let's get buck dog
Where ya sets at, put 'em up dog
I'm the hottest of the hot, I be burnin' up
And I'm ready to set it off, so turn it up
Let's get crunk dog, let's get buck dog
Where ya sets at, put 'em up dog

Ashanti, hot, too too hot
Beyonce', hot, too too hot
Alicia Keys, hot, ooh that girl hot
Foxy, Cameron E., man them girl's hot
Man that girl from the sunshine state, she hot
I wanna see Trina just drop it like it's hot
Charlie Baltimore, hot, that girl so hot
And hottie yellow thing with Roc-A-Fella, ooh she hot

Give props when it's due, man Abrea, she hot
God bless the dead, Aaliyah, and left-eye hot
Kelly that sweet, Petite thing, she so hot
Chilli and T-Boz, man them girls hot
That girl vita, thugged out, straight off the block
I like 'em like that, man that girl she hot
That girl on 106th and park, ooh she hot
Cita girl, it's yo world, you're just too hot

And I'm the hottest of the hot, I be burnin' up
And I'm ready to set it off, so turn it up
Let's get crunk dog, let's get buck dog
Where ya sets at, put 'em up dog
And I'm the hottest of the hot, I be burnin' up
And I'm ready to set it off, so turn it up
Let's get crunk dog, let's get buck dog
Where ya sets at, put 'em up dog

Man I'm a hot boy, original, original
Man I'm a hot boy, original hot boy
Is you a hot boy, 'cause I'm a hot boy?
Kizzle's a hot boy, is you a hot boy?
Gar a hot boy, is you a hot boy?
Snipe a hot boy, is you a hot boy?
Kid a hot boy, is you a hot boy?
Red a hot boy, is you a hot boy?

Chopper city hot boys, we some hot boys
Wide open hot boys, we some hot boys
Is you a hot boy, I wanna hot girl
'Cause I'ma hot boy, I need a hot girl
Is you a hot girl, 'cause I'm a hot boy?
Hot hot boy, number 1 hot boy
Gizzle, ha, ha, ha hot boy
Uh, hot boy, it's the return of the hot boy

It's the return of the original hot boy
Hot boy, hot boy
H O T B O Y, uh

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140c81a1311fe2ed627b605e1b008c2f

Ante Up (Robbing-Hoodz Theory) - Lyrics - M.O.P.

Title: Ante Up (Robbing-Hoodz Theory)
Artist: M.O.P.
Composer(s): Jamal Grinnage, Darryl Pittman, Eric Murry

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

Lyric:
Take minks off, take things off
Take chains off, take rings off
Braclets is yapped, fame came off
Ante up, everything off

Fool what you want, we stiflin' fools
Fool what you want? Your life or your jewels?
The rules, back 'em down next thing clap 'em down
Respect mine we Brooklyn bound, bound now, now

Brownsville, home of the brave
Put in work in the street like a slave
Keep a rugged dress code, always in this stress mode
That shit will send you to your grave, so?

You think I don't know that? Blow
Nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that
From the street cousin, you know the drill
I'm nine hundred and ninety nine thou short of a mil

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them god damn diamonds' huh

Ante up, oh, yap that fool oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, get him, hit him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

Them thugs you know, ain't friendly
Them jewels you rock, make 'em envy
You thinkin' it's all good, you creep through a small hood
Goons comin' up outta a cut for your goods and they all should

Ante up yap that fool
You want big money, kidnap that fool
If you up in the club, back out your pis tal money
Catch them fools at the bar for that cristal money

The '87 stick up kids what you niggas sayin'?
Get the fuck up out that 740 shorty I ain't playin'
It's flash that thang time bang, bang time
Ante up, nigga, it's game time

Hand over the ring, take over the chain
Gimme the fuckin' watch before I pop one in your brain
Stop playin' these childish games with me
Representin' 1 7 1 8, dangerously, nigga

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up, off them god damn diamonds' huh

Ante up, oh, yap that fool oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, get him, hit him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

I'ma, street regulator, true playa hater
Get back down, make your ass a mack spraya hater
Things that we need, money, clothes, weed indeed
Hats, food, booze, essentials, credentials

Code of the streets, owners who creep
Slow when you sleep, holdin' the heat
Put holes in your jeep, respect the streets
It's the L I L F A M, M E, E

Yeah nigga Danze, gave you a chance
'Cuz I blazed your man, I'm in the wrong
He said he was strong
I had reason to believe he had some shit up his sleeve all along

So? Fuck you, your honor check my persona
I'm strong enough for old gold and marijuana
I'ma do what I wanna, quiet as kept
Raise hell till I was tired of stress, yes Lord

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them god damn diamonds' huh

Ante up, oh yap that fool oh
Ante up, oh kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, get him, hit him, hit him, hit him
Yap him zap him, yap him, zap him

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
The fuck, the fuck, the fuck
Nigga what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck
Ha, what first family, first family

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a7ccb4e0021378088b817b4e138fd4d2

Ante Up (Remix) - Lyrics - M.O.P.

Title: Ante Up (Remix)
Artist: M.O.P.
Composer(s): Jamal Grinnage, Darryl Pittman, Eric Murry

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

Lyric:
Take minks off, take things off
Take chains off, take rings off
Braclets is yapped, fame came off
Ante up, everything off

Fool what you want, we stiflin' fools
Fool what you want? Your life or your jewels?
The rules, back 'em down next thing clap 'em down
Respect mine we Brooklyn bound, bound now, now

Brownsville, home of the brave
Put in work in the street like a slave
Keep a rugged dress code, always in this stress mode
That shit will send you to your grave, so?

You think I don't know that? Blow
Nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that
From the street cousin, you know the drill
I'm nine hundred and ninety nine thou short of a mil

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them god damn diamonds' huh

Ante up, oh, yap that fool oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, get him, hit him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

Them thugs you know, ain't friendly
Them jewels you rock, make 'em envy
You thinkin' it's all good, you creep through a small hood
Goons comin' up outta a cut for your goods and they all should

Ante up yap that fool
You want big money, kidnap that fool
If you up in the club, back out your pis tal money
Catch them fools at the bar for that cristal money

The '87 stick up kids what you niggas sayin'?
Get the fuck up out that 740 shorty I ain't playin'
It's flash that thang time bang, bang time
Ante up, nigga, it's game time

Hand over the ring, take over the chain
Gimme the fuckin' watch before I pop one in your brain
Stop playin' these childish games with me
Representin' 1 7 1 8, dangerously, nigga

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up, off them god damn diamonds' huh

Ante up, oh, yap that fool oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, get him, hit him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

I'ma, street regulator, true playa hater
Get back down, make your ass a mack spraya hater
Things that we need, money, clothes, weed indeed
Hats, food, booze, essentials, credentials

Code of the streets, owners who creep
Slow when you sleep, holdin' the heat
Put holes in your jeep, respect the streets
It's the L I L F A M, M E, E

Yeah nigga Danze, gave you a chance
'Cuz I blazed your man, I'm in the wrong
He said he was strong
I had reason to believe he had some shit up his sleeve all along

So? Fuck you, your honor check my persona
I'm strong enough for old gold and marijuana
I'ma do what I wanna, quiet as kept
Raise hell till I was tired of stress, yes Lord

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them god damn diamonds' huh

Ante up, oh yap that fool oh
Ante up, oh kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, get him, hit him, hit him, hit him
Yap him zap him, yap him, zap him

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha
The fuck, the fuck, the fuck
Nigga what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck
Ha, what first family, first family

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fadb99b5d8eeb41ec4bb39135579ea32

Ante Up (Robbin Hoodz Theory) - Lyrics - B2k

Title: Ante Up (Robbin Hoodz Theory)
Artist: B2k
Composer(s): Jamal Grinnage, Darryl Pittman, Eric Murry

Lyric:
Take minks off, take things off
Take chains off, take rings off
Bracelets is yapped, Fame came off
Ante up, everything off

Fool, what you want? We stiflin' fools
Fool, what you want? Your life or your jewels?
The rules, back 'em down, next thing, clap 'em down
Respect mine, we Brooklyn bound now

Brownsville, home of the brave
Put in work in the street like a slave
Keep a rugged dress code, always in this stress mode
That shit will send you to your grave, so?

You think, I don't know that? Blow
Nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that, blow, nigga hold that
From the street cousin, you know the drill
I'm nine hundred and ninety nine thou short of a mil

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them God damn diamonds

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

Them thugs you know, ain't friendly
Them jewels you rock, make 'em envy
You thinkin' it's all good, you creep through a small hood
Goons comin' up outta a cut for your goods and they all should

Ante up, yap that fool
You want big money, kidnap that fool
If you up in the club, back out your pistol money
Catch them fools at the bar for that Crystal money

The '87 stick up kids, what you niggas sayin'?
Get the fuck up, out that 740 shorty, I ain't playin'
It's flash that thang time, bang, bang time
Ante up, nigga, it's game time

Hand over the ring, take over the chain
Gimme the fuckin' watch before I pop one in your brain
Stop playin' these childish games with me
Representin' 1-7-1-8, dangerously, nigga

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them God damn diamonds

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

I'ma, street regulator, true playa hater
Get back down, make your ass a mack spraya hater
Things that we need, money, clothes, weed indeed
Hats, food, booze, essentials, credentials

Code of the streets, owners who creep
Slow when you sleep, holdin' the heat
Put holes in your jeep, respect the streets
It's the Lil' Fame

Yeah, nigga Danze, gave you a chance
'Cuz I blazed your man, I'm in the wrong
He said he was strong
I had reason to believe he had some shit up his sleeve all along

So? Fuck you, your honor, check my persona
I'm strong enough for old gold and marijuana
I'ma do what I wanna, quiet as kept
Raise hell, til I was tired of stress, yes Lord

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them God damn diamonds

Ante up, oh, yap that fool, oh
Ante up, oh, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
Yap him, zap him, yap him, zap him

The fuck, the fuck, the fuck
Nigga, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck?
What? First family, first family, Brooklyn, yeah

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3b93824603f3063bba4ca7aefc085120

Dr. Dooom'S In The Room - Lyrics - Dr. Dooom

Title: Dr. Dooom'S In The Room
Artist: Dr. Dooom
Composer(s): Keith Thornton

Lyric:
Yeah, for the motherfuckin' 2000
In this mother
Straight from Houston, Tex
The motherfuckin' Dr. Dooom

I'm shuttin' rappers down like guiliani shut down strip clubs
Turnin' your fake gangster hardcore stories
Into some Mickey Mouse, Teletubbies shit
Y'all niggaz need to quit, stop pullin' your silicone tits

And this city is my town
Don't even fuckin' tryin' to say a fly rhyme
I'm holdin' possessions you don't own
And your cellular phone don't even fuckin' roam

Y'all got the nerve to be standin' in the hot rap zone
Against somethin' you can't afford
Rappers be soundin' bored at the show
I need to start pullin' your bitch-ass fuckin' extension cord

Suckers be fakers, ATM pullin' frauds
I'm sendin' two men, out to boo men
Quick to get to y'all niggaz like Western Union
I'm comin' like the fax machine

I pour it on your whole team
Y'all niggaz ain't got time to scheme
I'm out to shatter your fuckin' rap dreams
Top to bottom, any angle, whatever your bullshit mind think

Your words gon' tangle
Sound like shit on a tascan mix
A bunch of y'all tracks need to be fixed
Professionally, you sound like the dog toto

When I see Flex, I'ma ask him
Why he playin' a lot of records from a bunch of homos
With feminine vocals
I catch niggaz when clubs are packed, rubbin' elbows

Tryin' to whisper shit in ugly bitches earlobes
Dr. Dooom callin' wack niggaz houses from the Radisson hotel room
Penthouse suites, bitch niggaz get 911 beeps
I'm always hearin' more softest MC's talk shit about the streets

Fuck your seedy impression of pain
Ninety-nine percent of your shit was normal
One percent sound strange
A&R's be suckin' a lot of dick
And spreadin' they ass cheeks to get the hits

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin up

You couldn't rap with me if we was twins stuck together
You be the deformed one, catchin' the warm one
I pay a crack head five dollars
To fuck up your million dollar marketing plan

With a brand new sub-machine gun
And a hot dog, on a Yankee stadium bun
First class rates, hire wall street messengers
To move your antique rap styles in milk crates

Special delivery for all you motherfuckers
Sportin' hard boots with ashey faces tryin' to get with me
Y'all suckers is amateurs, gettin' fucked up the assholes
By the top worst managers

On the publishin' deal, wipe my condoms off your Ampex reels
No games to be played, you lookin' fuckin' jiggy
MC's with collared shirts and shoes tryin' to duplicate biggie
No matter where, you only got one pair

Alligators don't match with them fuckin' flares
Who's doin' your dress code, some old stank bitch
With mascara touchin' up your face on the road
You feelin' healthier, your rap audience

Is only New Pork to Philadelphia
Baltimore never even heard your fuckin' metaphor
Shut the fuck up, put your buck up, look at the dicks you suck up
Maximum ass thoughts, you fuckin' get crushed

Like the five o'clock train rush, sweaty as a motherfucker
The best rapper can lick my ass
I make your girl pick me up lick my sperm in your E-class
Leave my diapers moist in the back seat of your rolls Royce
Stop your whole organization on park avenue and start laughin' at you

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

You ain't the top rap in the country
New jacks, you shoulda knew that
From experience, you couldn't write from the beginnin'
Bookin' studio time, with some scramblin' concert shit on your mind

Who's crowd, the blues feel my news
Accurately in New York City
There's a thousand motherfuckers tryin' to rap and look pretty
Save it for David

Take that motherfuckin' rented ride back to Avis
When it come to rap I'm the big motherfucker on the pay list
Ridin' the Amtrak, lookin' at Billboard
You need to be hung on a steel cord

Sittin' next to a Doberman, shit in Harlem
Any poodles on the mic, we gon' stop 'em
I'm in the dressin' room with the average bitch
Lookin' like halle berry, rubbin' my nuts

My fingers all up in her guts
Watchin' Monday night football with my dick all up in her butt
MC's stand away when I pull out my mitt put your hand away
Most of these fake hard rappers never seen the projects

Live in fuckin' pesquateway
Scared, palm that away
Why don't you bastards move back in the metro area
The Marriott is the spot

Where the prostitutes lick your Rolex watch
Left you naked out with your stomach out
Hangin' out with cocaine on the dresser
With a Puerto Rican girl with HIV from park chester

You sniffin' that shit again
Souped up from the neck up from the butt crack up
You need a fuckin' checkup

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

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f2eb84e64e8902650e1dcbb1ac74b199

Show Me Love - Lyrics - Rakim

Title: Show Me Love
Artist: Rakim
Composer(s): Hubert Eaves, Nick Loizides, J Knight, William Griffin

Lyric:
Yeah, check it out, show me love

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
Makin' love till dawn

Yo, it's time to bring the day in, fresh out the crib sauteein'
Around the way-in, swerve on, surveyin'
That's when I saw her, the kind you wanna see more of
The sexy aura, it made it hard to ignore her

Expression her possession of property skyrocket
I'm investin' in her presence and in time it profits
I take a acre for you, fertilize the soil
And make it boil, till it produce black oil

The Shorty sweet as the flavor of forty divas
Photos and features worth more than Mona Lisa's
It's lady luscious, tender touches my blood rushes
Smiles and blushes on billboards and buses

And me, I'm just a bronze skinned calm gentleman
Slim fit and open arms mellow with a Don's grin
Ghetto disciplined could be your confidant beyond friend
It's one of Allah's men, Rakim, show me love

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
Makin' love till dawn

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
So we can get it on

I'm in effect mode, I keep the EP sewed
When you express your finesse to your dress code
Every step's a pose, you've been blessed and it shows
My interest grows, the effervesce explodes

Because this chick's characteristic's mystic
Hips are thick, just a little bit of lipstick
Can't resist it, description Egyptian smile
Queen of the Nile, that means she dipped in style

She re-mind of Nefertiti, yes indeed-y
But it's hard to get it like hieroglyphic graffiti
Studied her exhibits and checked her colorful curves
Intellect with swerves I coulda wrecked my nerves that's my word

Diggin' her enigma that exist in a sister
Carefully wrapped in her figure, we connect like a collision
And hug just to knowledge her wisdom
Speed up my metabolism, show me love

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
Makin' love till dawn

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
So we can get it on

Your M.O. is hard not to notice, so my motives is to stay focused
Body moves like aerobics attractions
Vibes I caught came from your ways and actions
But mind frame hard to explain, no actin' or mind games

But thinkin' of what can happen is migraines
The X-rated though remains we relaxin'
And you naggin' me for the agony to your anatomy
By the fractions your measurements

The pleasure's in every inch of your temple
I travel twenty-three million miles of your mental
Chemistry, between you and me, in harmony
Causin' angles to meet like trigonometry or pyramids

That's where your deepest, treasures are hid
Then it gets, odiferous, 'cause I know where it is
I mastered that, 'cause it's easy when you react
The all-natural aphrodisiac, show me love

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
Makin' love till' dawn

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
So we can get it on

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
Makin' love till dawn

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long
So we can get it on

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
promise you'll stay all night long
Makin' love till dawn

Promise you won't do me wrong
If I turn you on
Promise you'll stay all night long

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f26604e4c6ca509a7de438ac151a6c45

Beg For It - Lyrics - Omarion

Title: Beg For It
Artist: Omarion
Composer(s): King Solomon Logan, Johnkenum Dean Spivery, Timothy Mosley, Sean Garrett

Lyric:
Can you say Omarion?
There's just somethin' I wanna do to you
I been watchin' you all night long
I been watchin' you all night long

Beg for it, don't panic
When you see it, you betta hold on
You said you need it, well dammit come on
I'ma lay right here while they play my song

And watch you beg for it, take that off
When you go in there, you betta get it all
Don't play wit it, baby, go 'head get it all
I'ma beg for you, baby, as soon as you get all

Ain't neva had body make your hood friends
Ask you how long does he give it
Baby, get ready to know
They ain't ready for the play
I'm a game when it's up, I'll make you

Beg for it, don't panic
When you see it, you betta hold on
You said you need it, well dammit come on
I'ma lay right here while they play my song

And watch you beg for it, take that off
When you go in there, you betta get it all
Don't play wit it, baby, go 'head get it all
I'ma beg for you, baby, as soon as you get all

Ain't no me lovin' you, ain't no you lovin' me
This is strictly because when we came in free
Know we were chosen for
Understand what's the dress code
Don't be mad if I ain't playin' for keys

Damn, I'ma do all those things in my dream
On my hood in the cold while it's raining on us
When I get it I know you gon' let all ya girls know
There gon' be no second guessin' 'bout me

Beg for it, don't panic
When you see it, you betta hold on
You said you need it, well dammit come on
I'ma lay right here while they play my song

And watch you beg for it, take that off
When you go in there, you betta get it all
Don't play wit it, baby, go 'head get it all
I'ma beg for you, baby, as soon as you get all

Can I get a hit on the dance floor?
(You can get it)
Can I get a hit on the dance floor?
(Tell me, can you feel it?)

Can I get a hit on the dance floor, can I get it?
Can I get a hit on the dance floor, can I get it?
Can I get a hit on the dance floor, can I get it?
Can I get a hit on the dance floor, can I get it?

Beg for it, don't panic
When you see it, you betta hold on
You said you need it, well dammit come on
I'ma lay right here while they play my song

And watch you beg for it, take that off
When you go in there, you betta get it all
Don't play wit it, baby, go 'head get it all
I'ma beg for you, baby, as soon as you get all

You see, I been watchin' you, I'm sorry

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fa52983b4563329f3c52d8880f259ef3

Don'T Forget About Me - Lyrics - Hustler's P.O.M.E. - Jim Jones

Title: Don'T Forget About Me
Album: Hustler's P.O.M.E.
Artist: Jim Jones
Composer(s): J Wharton, K Griffin, Jim Jones, C Wingate, A Parker

Lyric:
Byrd gang we get money
We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

Now due to me, me and my truancy
Running through the streets since early puberty
What influenced me? It was the jewelry
Tryna get cash so I can do it like the older G's

The 80's, big thick rope chains
Life was all crazy getting rich off cocaine
So I been caught up dog, nothing like Usher
More like a hustler

All night with customers, tryna get my paper up
Jealousy, envy gotta watch, they'll spray you up
But it was something bout the gun play
Rolling dice on blocks, double parked up on a one way

And breaking law was the norm'
The club break about 4 in the morn'd
So we parking lot pimp, hit the diner for some grub
The squad type thick you know I'm rolling with the thugs

Byrd gang we get money
We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

Now as I roll up my window, blaze up the indo
Get tore down for my homies in the pen
I'm ma take you the Cali with me
Know ya dress code, heavy sag on ya Dickies

If we're in Houston, the music we can slow it up
And get screwed, get a deuce and we can blow it up
ATL sharp, if you balling and you make it rain
In love with a stripper, alcohol on ya brain

Fast track life, the shit is uncanny
When it come to birds fly south to Miami
Weather like 80, drop-top Mercedes
"Sai Pa Say", on the block in Little Haiti

Chicago is the wolves, the bears and the gangster's
2 12'N with the OG's, tryna get the answers
And all these O. T trips got me tired, drive the wheels
'Til they fall off and I just bought some new tires

Byrd gang we get money
We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

Byrd gang we get money
We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

We won't stop, we destined to blow
I'ma take my niggaz and bitches wherever I go
So don't forget about me, don't forget about me
I know, I know

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8a3b4ab168e24e4af7507720d0c2891c

To Live &Amp; Die In La - Lyrics - Makaveli

Title: To Live &Amp; Die In La
Artist: Makaveli
Composer(s): Tupac Amaru Shakur, Quincy D Iii Jones, Valaria Young

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

Lyric:
Street Science, you're on the air
What do you feel when you hear a record like 2Pac's new one?
I love 2Pac's new record
Right, but don't you feel like that creates a tension
Between East and West? He's talking about killing people
I had sex with your wife and not in those words
But he's talking about I wanna see you deceased

No doubt to live & die in L.A., California
What you say about Los Angeles
Still the only place for me that never rains in the sun

To live & die in L.A., where everyday we try to fatten our pockets
Us niggaz hustle for the cash so it's hard to knock it
Everybody got they own thang, currency chasin'
Worldwide through the hard times, warrior faces

Shed tears as we bury niggaz close to heart
What was a friend now a ghost in the dark
Cold hearted bout it nigga got smoked by a fiend
Tryin' to floss on him blind to a broken man's dream
A hard lesson court cases keep me guessin'

Plea bargain' ain't an option now, so I'm stressin'
Cost me more to be free than a life in the pen
Makin' money off of cuss words, writin' again

Learn how to think ahead, so I fight with my pen
Late night down Sunset likin' the scene
What's the worst they could do to a nigga got me lost in hell
To live & die in L.A. on bail, my angel sing

To live & die in L.A., it's the place to be
You've got to be there to know it
What everybody wanna see

To live & die in L.A.
To live & die in L.A., it's the place to be
You've got to be there to know it
What everybody wanna see

It's the, City of Angels and constant danger
South Central L.A., can't get no stranger
Full of drama like a soap opera, on the curb
Watchin' the ghetto bird helicopters, I observe

So many niggaz gettin' three strikes tossed in jail
I swear the pen the right across from hell, I can't cry
'Cause it's on now, I'm just a nigga on his own now
Livin' life thug style, so I can't smile

Writin' to my peoples when they ask for pictures
Thinkin' Cali just fun and bitches
Better learn about the dress code, B's and C's
All them other niggaz copycats, these is G's

I love Cali like I love woman
'Cause every nigga in L.A. got a little bit of thug in him
We might fight with each other but I promise you this
We'll burn this bitch down, get us pissed
To live & die in L.A.

To live & die in L.A., it's the place to be
You've got to be there to know it
What everybody wanna see

To live & die in L.A., it's the place to be
You've got to be there to know it
What everybody wanna see

'Cause would it be L.A. without Mexicans?
Black love brown pride and the sets again
Pete Wilson tryin' to see us all broke, I'm on some bullshit
Out for everything they owe, remember K-day

Weekends, Crenshaw, MLK
Automatics rang free, niggaz lost they way
Gang signs being showed, nigga love your hood
But recognize and it's all good, where the weed at?

Niggaz gettin' screamed out
Snoop Dogg in this muhfucka perved out, M.O.B.
Big Suge in the Low-Low, bounce and turn
Dogg Pound in the Lex, wit' a ounce to burn

Got them Watts niggaz with me, OFTB
They got some hash took the stash left the rest for me
Neckbone, Tre, Head Ron, Punchy too
Big Rock got knocked but this one's for you
I hit the studio and drop a jewel, hopin' it pay
Gettin' high watchin' time fly, to live & die in L.A.

To live & die in L.A., it's the place to be
You've got to be there to know it
What everybody wanna see

To live & die in L.A., it's the place to be
You've got to be there to know it
What everybody wanna see

This go out for 92.3 and 106
All the radio stations that be bumpin' my shit
Makin' my shit sells katruple quitraple platinum
This go out to all the magazines that supported to make it
All the real motherfuckers, all the stores, the mom and pop spots
A and R people, all y'all motherfuckers
L.A., California Love part motherfuckin' Two without gay ass Dre

To live & die in L.A.
To live & die in L.A.

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08959897a91de3f6c6f9fe6c6fa1f43f

No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems - Lyrics - No Shoes No Shirts No Problems - Kenny Chesney

Title: No Shoes, No Shirt, No Problems
Album: No Shoes No Shirts No Problems
Artist: Kenny Chesney
Composer(s): Casey Beathard

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

Lyric:
I've been up to my neck workin' six days a week
Wearin' holes in the soles of the shoes on my feet
Been dreamin' of gettin' away since I don't know
Ain't no better time than now for Mexico

And no shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shoes, no shirt, and no problems, no problems

Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
Want to look thru my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while in laid back mode
No boss, no clocks, no stress, no dress code

And no shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shoes, no shirt, and no problems

Babe lets get packed tank tops and flip flops if you got them
No shoes, no shirt and no problems, no problems

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71bf5bb5b9f79f438e997014f33fa4b0

My Mic - Lyrics - Nick Cannon

Title: My Mic
Artist: Nick Cannon
Composer(s): Nick Scott Cannon

Lyric:
(Ok, ok, ok)
Nick Cannon
(You know, you know, you know)
Nick Cannon
(Be funky)
Nick Cannon
(Nick Cannon around)

Biz Markie
(You know, you know, you know)
(You know, you know, you know)
Nick Cannon
(Biz Markie)

Get down for a minute and get all up in my mix
Let me tell you how I been tight with Mic since kid
We go back like corn rows perform shows
We do it like vederans for sho 'cuz were born froze

The beat dropa, only thing between me and Mic is the P popa
Live for Mic, die for Mic, like the chief Rocka
We did it independent but then we went in bend it
Capin' tho, what happen tho were rappen yo

Cannon got so raw, if it wasn't for Mic I wouldn't have this far
How you thing I got watch and drive this car
My best friend Mic, my man be lookin' out
Yo ask biz Mark what the hook about, come on

What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
How could I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)

Who would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
How could I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)

My man Mic, he like my translator
If I was Darth Vader he's like my light saber
If was Mike Jorden he'd be my ball
And like Mike Jackson we off the wall

And like Mic, man we make heat
And like Mike Tyson we cant be beat
We eat M C's take CD's
Or M P 3's0 ya cant hear me with out Mic

Keep out of beef and plenty of fights
When ever brother got a grudge I call Mic
When ever crowd wont budge I call Mic
Said don't the club alright call Mic

What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
How could I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)

Who would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
How could I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)

Microphone check 1-2
(My Mic, my Mic)
Microphone check 1-2
(My Mic, my Mic)
Its a hot track you cannot do [Incomprehensible]and ride to
(My Mic, my Mic)

So now that y'all know that Mic is my man
In fact we so tight I keep it throw in my hand
For real we responsible for all these grands
All these thank you letters from all these fans

Yo me and Mic, we spent 5 together
Dress code black, gray fitted cap
Mic, been around since they invented rap
Effie Microphone check 1-2 spin it back

That's they we suppose to do
Mic, the Cat that hang out in the vocal booth
He have my back and I have his
They could call him uncle Mic if I have kids for real

What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
How could I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)

Who would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
What would I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)
How could I be without my
(My Mic, my Mic, my Mic)

My Mic, my Mic, my Mic
My Mic, my Mic, my Mic
My Mic, my Mic, my Mic
My Mic, my Mic, my Mic

My Mic, my Mic, my Mic
My Mic, my Mic, my Mic
My Mic, my Mic, my Mic
My Mic, my Mic, my Mic

Play the MP3 online for free!

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No Shoes, No Shirts, No Problems - Lyrics - Kenny Chesney

Title: No Shoes, No Shirts, No Problems
Artist: Kenny Chesney
Composer(s): Casey Beathard

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Lyric:
I've been up to my neck workin' six days a week
Wearin' holes in the soles of the shoes on my feet
Been dreamin' of gettin' away since I don't know
Ain't no better time than now for Mexico

And no shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shoes, no shirt, and no problems, no problems

Want a towel on a chair in the sand by the sea
Want to look thru my shades and see you there with me
Want to soak up life for a while in laid back mode
No boss, no clocks, no stress, no dress code

And no shoes, no shirt, no problems
Blues what blues hey I forgot them
The sun and the sand and a drink in my hand with no bottom
And no shoes, no shirt, and no problems

Babe lets get packed tank tops and flip flops if you got them
No shoes, no shirt and no problems, no problems

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Arc Of Time (Time Code) - Lyrics - Digital Ash in a Digital Urn - Bright Eyes

Title: Arc Of Time (Time Code)
Album: Digital Ash in a Digital Urn
Artist: Bright Eyes
Composer(s): Mike Mogis, Conor Oberst

Lyric:
You can make a plan
Carve it into stone
Like a feather falling
It is still unknown

Until the clock speaks up
Says it's time to go
You could choose the high
Or the lower road

You might clinch your fist
You might fork your tongue
As you curse or praise
All the things you've done

And the faders move
And the music dies
As we pass over
On the arc of time

So you nurse your love
Like a wounded dove
In the covered cage of night

Every star is crossed
By frenetic thoughts
That separate and then collide

And they twist like sheets
Till you fall asleep
And they finally unwind

It's a black balloon
It's a dream you'll soon deny

I hear if you make friends
With Jesus Christ
You will get right up
From that chalk outline

And then you'll get dolled up
And you'll dress in white
All to take your place
In his chorus line

And then in you'll come
With those marching drums
In a saintly compromise

No more whiskey slurs
No more blonde haired girls
For your whole eternal life

And you'll do the dance
That was choreographed
At the very dawn of time

Singing, I told you son
The day would come
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die

You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die, you'd die
You would die, you'd die, you'd die

To the deepest part
Of the human heart
The fear of death expands

Till we crack the code
We have always known
But could never understand

On a circuit board
We will soon be born
Again, again, again, again

And again, again, again, again
And again, again, again, again
And again, again, again

Play the MP3 online for free!

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