Fool For The City - Lyrics - The Best of Foghat - Foghat

Title: Fool For The City
Album: The Best of Foghat
Artist: Foghat
Composer(s): David Peverett

Lyric:
Goin' to the city, got you on my mind
Country sure is pretty, I'll leave it all behind
This is my decision
I'm comin' home to stay this time

'Cause I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
Fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city

Breathin' all the clean air, sittin' in the sun
When I get my train fare, I'll get up and run
I'm ready for the city
Air pollution, here I come

'Cause I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city

I ain't no country boy
I'm just a homesick man
I'm gonna hit the grit
Just as fast as I can

I'll get off on Main Street, step into the crowd
Sidewalk under my feet, traffic's good and loud
When I see my inner city, child
I'll be walkin' on a cloud

'Cause I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city

I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
I'm a fool for the city
...

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Growin' Up In The Hood - Lyrics - Compton'S Most Wanted

Title: Growin' Up In The Hood
Artist: Compton'S Most Wanted
Composer(s): Terry Keith Allen, Andre P Manuel, Joe Simon, Aaron Bernard Tyler

Lyric:
Wake your punk ass up
The M.C Eiht's back in the motherfuckin' house
Kickin' the straight gangster shit, for the 9,1
You know what I'm sayin', gia

Growing up in the hood, yea boy
1984, was the year my peers didn't know, what was in store
A little hard head kid came abade
Time to pay my dues, learn the tricks of the trade

And at home it's the same ass story
Mom's treatin' me like she don't even know me
But my younger brother's got much clout
I can't take this shit, so, I bones the hell out

And roll with the pack of wicked motherfuckers
No shorts are taken, we're down black brothers
A little nigga with no problems at all
Fucked up and killed my first 8-ball

Quick up the stairs, so, little sucker stop lookin'
Stagger to the house, so, I can collect my whoopin'
But watch out 'cause a little nigga's up to no good
Growin' up in the hood

Life ain't nothin but bitches and money
'Cause in the city you live and let die
Nutting but bitches and money

I got hard times and will I escape, sometimes I wonder
But, it just seems that the hood, that took me under
Police sweat my tip and keep harassin'
Trying to lock me up 'cause I keep on blastin'

Community tryin' to shut me out
But the money keeps flowin' and I got much clout
With the cluckers, the brother back street punk suckers
Try to break me out fool, you be a short motherfucker

Always strappin', eager to peal a cap
I set up a trap, put your foot to a nap
'Cause I grew up fast on the wrong side of the law
So watch me take two to your jaw

Don't enter my hood, homeboy
Not a Robocop, a robogansta, ready to destroy
I take chances 'cause life to be ain't no good
Growin' up in the hood

Life ain't nothin' but bitches and money
Where I'm at, if you're soft, you're lost
Nothin' but bitches and money

1987, I'm back on the scene, out of jail, I'm legit
And I'm fuckin' up shit
I'm ready to peal a sucker's cap
And I heard that my hood was makin' snaps

As I precede to make my riches
Just like the neighborhood kingpin, pimp, and all these bitches
Task force tryin' to roll deep
But, I'm playin' these punk fools cheap

Niggas rolled by and try to blast, it didn't work
I seen the bullets flying and fool, I hit the dirt
Bullets fly through the window
Hits my brother, down goes my mother

As I'm rolling, I'm hitting my switches
Looking for the punk ass, sons of bitches
I found them, before I kill 'em, I said you fucked up good
Gotta handle that, growin' up in the hood

Life ain't nuttin but bitches and money
'Cause in the city you live and let die
Nothin' but bitches and money, yeah

A brother's on the run, I've got a hand in my stash box
Wanted 'cause I'm serving them the potent fat rocks
And my face is like a household name
Everybody warns their kids about the dope game

But I'm still makin' my profit
And the one time just can't stop it
So, I keep hidin' my face
No time to waste, they got me on the chase

Now, the neighborhood's on my line
'Cause some punk ass fool had drop the dime
5, O at my door, at 8 o'clock
Rush to the toilet, so, I could flush the rock

Out the backdoor, freeze, I heard a shout
Am I sure, yo, I guess I got no clout
But it's murder one, I'm the victim, damn
That ain't good, growin' up in the hood

Where I'm at, if you're soft, you're lost
Compton is the city that I claim
City that I fucked, take no shit from it, sure
Compton is the city that I claim

Where I'm at, if you're soft, you're lost
Compton is the city that I claim
City that I fucked, take no shit from it, sure
Compton is the city that I claim
City that I fucked, take no shit from it, sure

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496afc622036689be63e5c51186fd0da

Who The Illest - Lyrics - Untold Story - Game

Title: Who The Illest
Album: Untold Story
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Joseph Tom, Larry Mayfield, Taylor Jayceo

Lyric:
Who the illest hub dawg you know?
Peelin' slugs at your mug
Dealin' drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more scatter, more street
[Incomprehensible]

Who the illest hub dawg you know?
Peelin' slugs at your mug
Dealin' drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more, more scatter, more street
Untold stories, shootout, remix

Who the illest hub dawg you know?
Peelin' slugs at your mug
Dealin' drugs in front of the projects
My projects, more, more scatter, more street

Makin' room for more drama, more hustle, more heat
I can show you how to get, American money easy
It's the gangster, all motherfuckers envy

Leave all semi I tote, clips empty
Foes tempt me, I'm seein' no penitentiary
Crime scene clean, shells, no prints
Flee the shootout, X-5, no bitch

It's meant for me to survive this gangster shit
Meant for you not to be livin', food for the pigeons
It's rules I'm givin', new lessons for the street

This jungle I'm from B, don't breed no weak
Lames that don't know the game please don't speak
You get killed, want me peeled, I'm showin' hungry nigga

Every nigga out there claimin' to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know
Let a nigga know, I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin', everybody waitin' for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin'?

Mic graspin', freestyle flow flashin'
Rippin' up tracks and, doin' the thang
What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and The Game?
Who's the illest? Who's the illest?

I'm off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big
I ain't fuckin' with kids, I'm after six digit things
Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin'
This criminal lifestyle, keeps me animatin'
Let's turf talk before you niggaz thuggin' it up

It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin' on sight
But he hoppin' on haters like BM

It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin' on sight
But he hoppin' on haters like BM

It don't matter if you Crip'n, or Blood'n it up
Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin' on sight
But he hoppin' on haters like BMX bike

Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights
We takin' gangster shit to the maximum height
But I'm mainly into bubblin', fat grip doublin'
Big, big heads I'm lovin' 'em, you feelin' me y'all

Leavin' the envious in awe 'cause I tremendously ball
I'm supported by The Game so you know I won't fall
I'ma execute my options, keep wettin' my paws
And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws
Who's the illest?

Every nigga out there claimin' to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know
Let a nigga know, I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin', everybody waitin' for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin'?

Mic graspin', freestyle flow flashin'
Rippin' up tracks and doin' the thang
What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and The Game?
Who's the illest? Who's the illest?

They say "Game, you rappin' like you from the East coast,"
Meet toast gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke
Game got the streets woke young'n, same nigga got the Coke runnin'
Introduce the new fiends to smack

Pops told me when I was younger, you can't live like that
So I don't listen to pops nigga, I listen to Kool G. Rap
Went from hustlin' sacks to heavy weight, shufflin' crack
Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O.G.

Ask the reverend kept the church from fallin', young'uns from starvin'
I'm the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens
Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood
Kick back, blowin', listen to Marvin

Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest, who come closer?
Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest

Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment
AK in the sofa, I'm the illest, who come closer?
To the late ones or great ones fightin' over a crown
Get shot off that throne, who the illest now?

Every nigga out there claimin' to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know
Let a nigga know, I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin', everybody waitin' for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin'?

Mic graspin', freestyle flow flashin'
Rippin' up tracks and, doin' the thang
What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and The Game?
Who's the illest? Who's the illest?

Some say the gangster mentality is dead
Imagine that, when fools pullin' straps out with infrared
We're livin' in a time of plagues and corrupt life
When homies in the circle end up all trife

Tryin' to shine bright, but lookin' all dim
Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen
I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh
'Cause I'm gettin' lucrative loot, endless math

If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn't hate
But niggaz just pig and talk shit behind Jake
Man you can't knock the hustle, I ain't fin' to be greedy
I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti

I'm tryin' to slang CD's in cruise control
Instead of sellin' illegal pharmaceuticals
Should I ask for your advice? Like you would know
Fuck it, I'm out to get it, I'm a fool for dough

Every nigga out there claimin' to be the illest
I don't know if y'all know
Let a nigga know, I'm lost in the stipulations
Niggaz hatin', everybody waitin' for the outcome
Whatever happened to just to rappin'?

Mic graspin', freestyle flow flashin'
Rippin' up tracks and, doin' the thang
What'chu niggaz know about Sean T and The Game?
Who's the illest? Who's the illest?

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47e2964e13623befaba984befc5e425e

Compton 4 Life - Lyrics - Compton'S Most Wanted

Title: Compton 4 Life
Artist: Compton'S Most Wanted
Composer(s): Mc Eihl A Simon

Lyric:
Life, life, life

It's the city of jackers, swindlers, pimps and hoes
And niggas that bang and slang in kilo's
Where the rule is 'Fool, we don't play that'
Bomb to your motherfuckin' lip, watch it get fat

4 deep in a car on a mission
Load up the glock and watch it start spittin'
Nobody understands the gang mentality
I don't give a fuck, just want to see some casualties

And we'll beat your ass down with the quickness
Busters know that they can't get with this
Put the sweat down on a fool at the bus stop
Wrong set, wrong move, get smoothed popped

Gots to make our money on the corner
Try to squeeze, nigga please, a straight goner
Survival of the fittest with a gun or a knife
Geah 'cause it's Compton 4 life

Hey man, what's up, nigga? This [Incomprehensible]
Compton, Compton
Hey man, what's up, nigga? This [Incomprehensible]
Compton
(Life, life, life, life)

One more 'Drive-by Miss Daisy'
It's for the hood and nigga, we straight crazy
Fools can't cope when we belling
Throw up your hood 'cause it's Compton we yellin'

Still sellin' that yayo, oh no
Watch out for the tape that's made by 5-0
Look into the eyes of the 12 gauge barrel
My t-shirt and khaki's with house shoes is the apparel

Just call me a nigga with a problem
Better yet a troubleshooter 'cause I'ma shoot the enemy
When I see the white of his eyes
You'll have a funeral every night
'Cause one of your homies dies

Geah, it don't mean nothin' to us, ready to buss
A thousand motherfuckers and we kick up much dust
Another dead, chalk up one for the hood tonight
Geah, right, nigga 'cause it's Compton 4 life
(Life, life, life)

It's the city where everybodies in prison
Niggas keep takin' shit 'cause ain't nobody givin'
So another punk fool I must beat
Learned the tricks of the trade from the street

Anxious to put the jack down, ready and willin'
One more Compton drive-by killin'
One more nigga that got jacked 'cause he's a dummy
One more fool that got smoked for the money

And we got evil ass bitches just like witches
Got to keep the hoes because they set up snitches
Niggas run off at the mouth, here goes the nine
Peel your cap if you wanna drop the dime

Go to jail, hell, might as well be off with the head
So I bail from the police officer
'Cause if I surrender to the white
It won't be no more Compton 4 life, geah

Hey man, what's up, nigga? This [Incomprehensible]
Compton, Compton
Hey man, what's up, nigga? This [Incomprehensible]
Compton
(Life, life, life, life)

Hey man, what's up, nigga? This [Incomprehensible]
Compton, Compton
Hey man, what's up, nigga? This [Incomprehensible]
Compton's in da house
(Life, life, life, life)

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f02ea23ef282a00804e1355aea73561d

40 - L.I.Q. - Lyrics - E

Title: 40 - L.I.Q.
Artist: E
Composer(s): Deshawn Baltrip, Kevin Davis, Bosco A. Kante, Dulon Stevens, Earl Thomas Stevens, Marcus Taplon

Lyric:
Mobb that shit out nigga
Bosko, Mobb that shit, beotch
Mobb shit
(Mobb shit)
We invented this shit
(What'd we do?)
Boy I helped pioneer this
Boy I helped pioneer this
Hoe beotch

I'm irkin', head spinnin' dome swervin'
Emergin' to the right to the left, see three, hallucinatin'
Stoned ain't got a lick but a bra protection on my phone
Therefore that'll make it this that much easier
For anybody with a computer that got the right data information

Software to clone, clone it off the streets how much?
Bass head dis down playa price boy a hundred piece
(Hundred piece)
Shit I don't figure dat dere ain't no mo' worse than clonin' sheep
Just understand, I dub this for my weepies

More hair on my face than my daddy do
(Daddy do)
I guess it's them steroids that they been puttin' in our food
(In our food)
Shit the man behind the counter at the liquor store asked him for ID
Before he get to askin' me and if he ask me for ID

Then I'ma get [Incomprehensible] bitch
To use some of that swindlin' ass fast-fast talkin'
Con man [Incomprehensible] in the ghetto urban reverse psychology
Niggaz got it tough out here, tough out here, it's rough
Niggaz got it rough out here, nigga out here, it's tough

Let's hit the weed spot, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the liquor sto', let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the house party, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Pull up sideways, doin' about a buck-fifty

Let's hit the weed spot, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the liquor sto', let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the house party, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Pull up sideways, doin' about a buck-fifty

Hello my friend, whassuper dude?
Give me a pack of sunflower seeds
And a box of larger size Magnum rubbers
A generic lemon squeeze lime juice and a bottle of Goldschlager

A pack of licorice, lick 'em and lock 'em zig-zags
A hard boiled egg and them pickled pig feet
(Pickled pigs feet)
Shit I gotta do as much fuckin' and partyin' as I can
I gotta go turn myself in next week
(Beotch)

I'm up all night, playa what chagonna be doin'
Up in somebody's [Incomprehensible] layin' pipe
Bitch be talkin' about suin' and try to accuse yo' ass of rape
'Cause you rap sa' hoe, I ain't even tryin' to entertain that

See I dip in mo' holes than a golf ball
Pussy fallin' all out of my Granada
Squabs in Kansas City, squabs in Colorado
Learned how to pop my collar in the city where they shot The Mack
Dem were some of the players that helped tie my shoes and lace me
Name was Curtis and B.O.

Well whaddya know? Doo doo dirt clucks [Incomprehensible]
Messy and tap that ass fool we in hella mo'
(Beotch)
Bitch-ass niggaz like B-Legit and [Incomprehensible]
And Mac-Shon, mack D-Shot and Lil' Bruce, beotch

Let's hit the weed spot, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the liquor sto', let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the house party, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Pull up sideways, doin' about a buck-fifty

Let's hit the weed spot, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the liquor sto', let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the house party, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Pull up sideways, doin' about a buck-fifty

On the dope track where the bass heads be comin' through
I see more killings and more hop than the kangaroo
My baby's momma she sick, she on that glass dick
Be crawlin' all on the rug lookin' for that shit

Hogan High School prom queen right?
On her hands and knees pickin' up lint and anything that's white
That's how you can tell that a dope fiend's gone psycho
When they get to hah lookin' all out the curtains with they high beams

On the corner, be that dice game unfoldin'
(What happened?)
One of my dudes, seriously, he rollin'
Then a couple of fools pull up and went for theirs a-course
With intentions of splittin' my wig but it wound up gettin' reversed

I left they kite flyin', down for the grind, witnesses dissolve
(Dissolve)
A prime example of bad karma, Murphy's Law
(Murphy's Law)
If you gon' be a fool then be a fool, shit
But just know when to act a fool and who to act a fool with

Let's hit the weed spot, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the liquor sto', let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the house party, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Pull up sideways, doin' about a buck-fifty

Let's hit the weed spot, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the liquor sto', let's hit the L.I.Q.
Let's hit the house party, let's hit the L.I.Q.
Pull up sideways, doin' about a buck-fifty

Hoe shit
I don't care, call the cops
Mob shit
I don't care, call the cops

Mob shit'll never fall
Mob shit gon' always sell through, smell that?
What mob shit do?
I don't care, call the cops

All mob shit do is quadruple
I'm in this bitch, irkin' like a motherfucker
I don't care, call the cops
Fuckin' shit, beotch

I don't care, call the cops
Yeah that's that shit
I don't care, call the cops

See that's that shit that get a nigga krunk, right there
That's that shit that'll get a nigga buck, on they hoe ass
Mobb that shit out nigga
Bosko, Mobb that shit they ain't knowin'

See I spit that shit too look here
Make the shit go like this here

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ed901170db2be5ebba4f46170460595f

Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy - Lyrics - Captain Fantastic - Elton John

Title: Captain Fantastic And The Brown Dirt Cowboy
Album: Captain Fantastic
Artist: Elton John
Composer(s): Elton John, Bernie Taupin

Lyric:
Captain fantastic raised and regimented, hardly a hero
Just someone his mother might know
Very clearly a case for corn flakes and classics
"Two teas both with sugar please"
In the back of an alley

While little dirt cowboys turned brown in their saddles
Sweet chocolate biscuits and red rosy apples in summer
For it's hay make and "Hey mom, do the papers say anything good
Are there chances in life for little dirt cowboys
Should I make my way out of my home in the woods"

Brown dirt cowboy, still green and growing
City slick captain
Fantastic the feedback
The honey the hive could be holding
For there's weak winged young sparrows that starve in the winter
Broken young children on the wheels of the winners
And the sixty-eight summer festival wallflowers are thinning

For cheap easy meals and hardly a home on the range
Too hot for the band with a desperate desire for change
We've thrown in the towel too many times
Out for the count and when we're down
Captain fantastic and the brown dirt cowboy
From the end of the world to your town

And all this talk of Jesus, coming back to see us
Couldn't fool us
For we were spinning out our lines, walking on the wire
Hand in hand went music and the rhyme
The captain and the kid stepping in the ring
From here on sonny sonny sonny, it's a long and lonely climb

The cheap easy meals and hardly a home on the range
Too hot for the band with a desperate desire for change
We've thrown in the towel too many times
Out for the count and when we're down
Captain fantastic and the brown dirt cowboy
From the end of the world to your town

We've thrown in the towel too many times
Out for the count and when we're down
Captain fantastic and the brown dirt cowboy
From the end of the world to your town

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fbf8683147e5cd3b4ffb7a8533dc9702

Hood Took Me Under - Lyrics - Compton'S Most Wanted

Title: Hood Took Me Under
Artist: Compton'S Most Wanted
Composer(s): Michael Bryant, Mc Eih

Lyric:
I got another gang story to tell
Peep about how a black nigga was born in hell
And right then and there it's no hope
'Cause a nigga can't escape the gangs and the dope
Damn! And when its black on black that makes it shitty
Can't survive in the Compton city, and fool thats bet
'Cause when you grow up in the hood you got to claim a set

Ge ah its not that you want to but you have to
Don't be a mark, 'cause niggas might laugh you
Straight off the motherfuckin' block
Can't deal with bust as so they asses get clocked
Ge ah, who gives a fuck about another
Only got love for my fuckin' gang brothers
Ge ah but I'm young so nobody would wonder
That the hood would take me under

Always strapped and eager to peel a cap
The hood done took me under
Always strapped and eager to peel a cap
The hood done took me under

Now I'm a few ages older
Got hair on my nuts and I'm a little bit bolder
And puttin' in work, I has to do my fuckin' part
I'm down for the hood and it's planted in the heart
Fool, at school slappin' on the girls asses
Fuck the white education so I skip a lot of classes
'Cause ain't no teaching a nigga white reality
Teach me the motherfuckin' gang mentality

Pop pop pop, drops the sucker
If he's from another hood I got to shoot the motherfucker
Ge ah I'm in it to win it and can't quit
Fool, and ready die for this shit
One times can't fade the gang tough
Puttin' my foot in your ass to make times rough
I'm the neighborhood terror but I never wondered
That the hood would take me under

Always strapped and eager to peel a cap
The hood done took me under
Always strapped and eager to peel a cap
The hood done took me under

Police is hot, so I'm watching my back
The hood done took me under
Police is hot, so I'm watching my back
The hood done took me under

I guess I'll watch my back 'cause niggas jivin'
Times heard this brother pulled a 187
Who I thought was my homie dropped the dime
So I gotta peel his cap with the nine
Fool, if it's on then it's on, fuck ya G
Because how the odds are looking, it's either him or me
So I loads up the strap and I step
'Cause my brain cells are dead and all I think is death

Revenge, that's what its all about
See the sucker, take the motherfucker out
Stare the fool down with the eye contact
He try to swing so I draw on him with the gatt
Blast was the sound that one times heard
Nigga 25 to live for the murder
Was it worth it I've always wondered
Maybe if the hood didn't take me under

Ge ah, this going out to all the niggas
It's going out to my niggas
It's going out to all the niggas
My nigga Mike T
Ge ah

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cf953b39ad1c701335fbdf34c04c039a

Hit The Floor - Lyrics - Compton'S Most Wanted

Title: Hit The Floor
Artist: Compton'S Most Wanted
Composer(s): Terry Allen, Aaron Tyler

Lyric:
I got another gang story to tell
Peep about how a black nigga was born in hell
And right then and there it's no hope
Cause a nigga can't escape the gangs and the dope
Damn! And when its black on black that makes it shitty
Can't survive in the Compton city
And fool thats bet
Cause when you grow up in the hood you gots ta claim a set
Geah Its not that you want to but you have to
Don't be a mark, cause niggas might laugh you
Straight off the mutherfuckin block
Can't deal with bustas so they asses get clocked
Geah, who gives a fuck about another
Only got love for my fuckin gang brothers
Geah but I'm young so nobody would wonder
That the hood would take me under

Always strapped and eager to peel a cap
The hood done took me under

Now I'm a few ages older
Got hair on my nuts and I'm a little bit bolder
And puttin in work, I has to do my fuckin part
I'm down for the hood and its planted in the heart
Fool. At school slappin on the girls asses
Fuck the white education so I skip a lot of classes
Cause ain't no teaching a nigga white reality
Teach me the mutherfuckin gang mentality
Pop pop pop, drops the sucker
If he's from another hood I gots ta shoot the mutherfucker
Geah I'm in it to win it and can't quit
Fool, and ready die for this shit
One times can't fade the gang tuff
Puttin my foot in your ass to make times rough
I'm the neighbourhood terror but I never wondered
That the hood would take me under

Police is hot, so I'm watching my back

I guess I'll watch my back cause niggas jivin'
Times heard this brother pulled a 187
Who I thought was my homie dropped the dime
So I gotta peel his cap with the nine
Fool, so if its on then its on, fuck ya G
Because how the odds are looking, its either him or me
So I loads up the strap and I step
Cause my brain cells are dead and all I think is death
Revenge. That's what its all about
See the sucker, take the mutherfucker out
Stare the fool down with the eye contact
He try to swing so I draw on him with the gatt
Blast was the sound that one times heard uh
Nigga 25 to live for the murder
Was it worth it I've always wondered
Maybe if the hood didn't take me under

Geah, this going out to all the niggas
It's going out to my niggas
Its going out to all the niggas
My nigga Mike T

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dcb37478d53c1df3e6d5424ce03509fc

Streetz Of Compton - Lyrics - West Coast Resurrection - Game

Title: Streetz Of Compton
Album: West Coast Resurrection
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Jayceon Taylor, Joseph Tom

Lyric:
G-Man Stan, yeah, mayne
I see you done put together one of them tracks mayne
Let me get on down here to the C P T
Better known as Compton mayne
Get my young homey The Game, y'knahmean?
Young nigga up outta Compton mayne, y'knahmsayin'?
This 2002, we gon' see what it do mayne
Y'knahmean? Yarra

Now everybody wanna know the truth about a nigga named Game
I come from the hub and every ghetto ain't the same
A lot of people already know exactly where it's at
'Cuz it's the home of the jackers and the crack
(Compton)
Yeah, that's the name of my hometown
I'm goin' down in the town where my name is all around
A nigga just be hatin' and shit, that's a pity
But I ain't doin' nuttin' but claimin' my city

Where they actin' a fool and they carry the tool
Them sick dudes in the streets of Compton
Where I found The Game, he was stackin' his change
To maintain in the streets of Compton

Took a trip to the Sco, got low for the dough
In Fillmoe from the streets of Compton
Now we stackin' the bread, never run from the feds
They shed treads in the streets of Compton

See my lyrics are double or nothin' provin' to suckers
I can throw 'em
Pass the natural 10 to 4 and six-eight before I go
Not really into freestylin' or tryin' to promote violence
But they gotta know about the five-five-fo', so
That's how I'm livin', I do as I please B
A young gangsta put in work on these Cali streets
And everybody know, that you gotta be stompin'
If you're born and raised in Compton

Where they actin' a fool and they carry the tool
Them sick dudes in the streets of Compton
Where I found The Game, he was stackin' his change
To maintain in the streets of Compton

Took a trip to the Sco, got low for the dough
In Fillmoe from the streets of Compton
Now we stackin' the bread, never run from the feds
They shed treads in the streets of Compton

Now Compton is a place, where all my niggaz chill dog
'Til I found out, the streets get real dog
'Bout a year ago, somebody musta wanted me to die
'Cuz they kicked in the door, and gave the young kid five
They musta thought that I was gon' play the bitch role
'Cuz I lived through fo' five six holes
But I ain't goin' out like no faggot-ass clown
They found, they couldn't keep a gangsta nigga down

So here's the burner in your face motherfucker silly sucker
Ass clucker now you're duckin' 'cuz you can't stop a Y.G.
Gangsta, 'cuz I'm true to my game
You're lame, and thangs ain't gon' never be the same
'Cuz a nigga like the Game is takin' over
I really don't think I should have to explain
Oh yeah, I'm a dog but my name ain't Rover
And I'm the kinda nigga that's feelin' no pain

Sometimes I have to wear a bulletproof vest
Because I got the C-P-T style written across my chest
A gangsta motherfucker never ceasin' to impress
My name is young Game so you can fuck, the rest
I'm comin' like this and I'm comin' directly
'Cuz niggaz gettin' all stirred up, I'm doin' damage quite effectively
Rhymin' is a battlezone and niggaz can't win
'Cuz I'm a gangsta from the C O M P T O N

Where they actin' a fool, and they carry the tool
Them sick dudes in the streets of Compton
Where I found The Game, he was stackin' his change
To maintain in the streets of Compton

Took a trip to the Sco, got low for the dough
In Fillmoe from the streets of Compton
Now we stackin' the bread, never run from the feds
They shed treads in the streets of Compton

[Unverified]

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749a8d0411f0237b2dc9c510d32fdb81

Everybody On The Line Outside - Lyrics - Flipmode Squad

Title: Everybody On The Line Outside
Artist: Flipmode Squad
Composer(s): H Baumann, R Mcnair, C Franke, W Notise, G Spivey, E Froese, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Flipmode word bond
Flipmode coming word bond
Flipmode here word bond
Feel no fear word bond
Uh-uh-uh uh-uh
Uh-uh-uh uh-uh
1998 Hot shit

Hitting you off baby you do it like this yo
Crazy maybe a nigga look shadey
Admire the nigga and let me shine baby
Shine my nickel 380 yo it's all gravy
Never play me, follow orders you better obey me
Sisco and dance all in the discos
Crib show with alot of bitches from here to frisco
Yah-yay my nigga or yippe yai yo
Met a spanish chick I think her name is santiago
The way she blow I never been blowed before
Beyond a level where I could'nt take it no more
Put it on shorty then I bounce through the backdoor
She said hold on baby come here blaze it on the floor
Now I finish with that
Nigga give me my trap
Staking whole lot of money get me before I finish my rap
Think your shit don't stink
Drunk crossed eyed nigga
Walk crooked still spilling your drink
Jam on

Everybody's on the line outside
Make you feel good make you come for the ride
Going do it to my people till your're satisfied
Can't do it like this no matter how much you try
I know you want to wild out come inside
From the left to the right lets coincide
All night flipmode coming open wide
Wave your hand up in the air until your hands get tired

Now I'm on charge
The party's going down at the club mirage
Rampage I'm still large
Coming in the door with my flipmode squad
Vip pass flex on the blast
Honey's in the corner yo I got to think fast
Play my game right if I want some ass
If I want to spend some cash, moet all night
Dont look at me wrong man your pokets ain't tight
I got a rolly that'll shine all night
This is that jam that make you ballers want to fight
And all you pretty ladies just wild for the night
Put your bottles in the air from your left to your right
It's rampage you can call me legendary
I drink alize with a little cranberry
I clear my throat
Got the flyest mink coat
I told you before yo I'm going for broke
Gebose

Everybody's on the line outside
Make you feel good make you come for the ride
Going do it to my people till your're satisfied
Can't do it like this no matter how much you try
I know you want to wild out come inside
From the left to the right lets coincide
All night flipmode coming open wide
Wave your hand up in the air until your hands get tired

Rotate the club
Locate the love
Pulsate with the squeeze ass
Double g cans fatigue shafts
Out your league math
Jeeps crash dent like bean bags
New york city rub squishy touch and theme tags
Not a dollar to loose
Man let me hollar at you
Never head wobble with fool
Tomorrow was cruel to flock on the moon
La la bye messaging your crew
Travel at high speeds
No ID
God on the move
Pardon me duke
Nationwide thick base collide
The gritty groove, smash fifty-two
And levitate your side
Who want it?
Your back weak running like athletes
Get on it
Huh blaze the streets with no warning
Andale andale my people move for the montary
Jack cheese collapse streets now put the john away
Put the john away, put the john away

Everybody's on the line outside
Make you feel good make you come for the ride
Going do it to my people till your're satisfied
Can't do it like this no matter how much you try
I know you want to wild out come inside
From the left to the right lets coincide
All night flipmode coming open wide
Wave your hand up in the air until your hands get tired

Everybody's on the line outside
Make you feel good make you come for the ride
Going do it to my people till your're satisfied
Can't do it like this no matter how much you try
I know you want to wild out come inside
From the left to the right lets coincide
All night flipmode coming open wide
Wave your hand up in the air until your hands get tired

Yeah flipmode raw deluxe hot shit
1998 1999 Year 2000
Say what lord have mercy
Say what rampage the last nigga
Say what busta rhymes the lyrical
Say what say what say what

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ed9cfbc977c8bb389f8a31ca59909965

Ante Up [Remix] - Busta Rhymes - Lyrics - The Mix Tape, Vol. 4: 60 Minutes Of Funk - Funkmaster Flex

Title: Ante Up [Remix] - Busta Rhymes
Album: The Mix Tape, Vol. 4: 60 Minutes Of Funk
Artist: Funkmaster Flex
Composer(s): J Grinnage, D Pihnan, L Starling, E Murray, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Attention please, attention please
This shit here feels like a whole entire world collapsed
Motherfucker, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck
(Buck, buck, buck, buck)
Busta Rhymes now, M.O.P. now

What you want now?
(What you want now?)
What you want now?
(What you want now?)

What you want now?
(What you want now?)
What you want now?
(What you want, want, want, want, want, want buck, buck)

Ante up, no, cut that fool
They want to act stupid gun butt that fool
When I cock that tool, nigga run your damn jewels
'Fore we fuck around and lay you up in your own blood pool, nigga

Hunt you down nigga, run your ass down
Unleash the hounds till them niggaz will gun your ass down
(Stop it)
You frontin' like this was a thing of the past
With tattoos over the scars a nigga left on your ass

My niggaz think lopsided, bust they gat cross sided
In the subways they rob trains runnin' along side it
(Buck, buck)
See motherfucker we don't play with that shit
And if you want your shit back you had to pay for that shit

You little costume niggaz, Romper-Room niggaz
Get you in the night or early in the afternoon niggaz
We takin' your whole shit while we pass through
Even the shirt off your back, nigga run that too

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I catch you backstage, give me the keys to the Escalate
You think you cute hoe? Take off them Gucci shades
I get my dogs to do you dirty, they all seven thirty

Rock a ski-mask, whether it's June or February
I take your show money, take your 'dro money
(Oh, oh)
Yo yap that fool 'cause I don't know money
For my peeps that hate slow money I put them in the industry

So they can come and take, all your money
Wish I could bring Pun back
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that

So keep actin' like you don't know where the funds at
And I'ma show y'all motherfuckers where the guns at
Ante up, yo yap that bitch
She try to spaz out then smack that bitch

Hoe you don't be rhymin', you still memorizin'
Remy want them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
(Get him, hit him)
Yap him, yap him
(Zap him, zap him)

Ante up, yap that fool
Fuck hip hop, rip pockets
Snatch jewels
Ante up

What? My whole family suck
Run up yo' stash house, tie granny up
Make you strip butt-naked
Young buck got struck with the gun butt
(For what?)

For tryin' to tuck the necklace
I'm young hungry armed and reckless
On the streets with a death wish
Don't hide when you see me, I'm on the guest list
Ante up

Show no mercy B.K., nigga, thirsty thirsty
We bang hollows, you misrepresentin'
the game motherfucker you lame and your chain hollow
Hit him, hit him, flash the tech
(Hit him)

Yap your chain, smash the lens in your specs
Listen it's, Lil' Fame right?
With that Brownsville mentality to Shanghai

Hey yo I'm firin' out a copper top city, with a whole empire
A clip full of blue-tips and a hand full of Fiyahh
Eat deep dirt nigga
(Yep)
It's Berk' I put in work until it hurt nigga
(Step)

Easy out the truck punk, 'fore I leave your ass leakin'
I'ma bang till the springs in this thang start squeakin'
Die cocksucker, boom BAP boom BAP
Aight motherfucker, what's wrong with you?

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
(Get him, hit him)
Yap him, yap him
(Zap him, zap him)

Ante up, yap that fool
Fuck hip hop, rip pockets
Snatch jewels
Ante up

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7cc89bac3399dfee8da900c4286d9160

The Game - Lyrics - Quality Control - Jurassic 5

Title: The Game
Album: Quality Control
Artist: Jurassic 5
Composer(s): D Givens, L Macfadden, C Henderson, I Hayes, D Porter, M Potsic, C Stewart, M Stuart

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

Lyric:
All right, everybody shut up
I said, "Shut up"
Now are you ready to play the game?
No!
Are you ready to play the game?
Yeah!

The game
Playing to survive
Aiming to win anyway they can

Yo, yo
Pass the ball, final casting call
First of all, verbal basketball
Off the glass, smash your jaw
Too fast for y'all

You might take a nasty fall
Trying to stick with the prehistoric passenger
(Foul Ball)
All breath, no physical contact
Bounce back, demonstrate invincible bomb raps
Not no hustler no player or speakin' no crime crap
I'm vocally trying to score before my time lapse

Uh! Full court press, hands in your chest
Runnin' 'cause I'm a rebel with the ghetto finesse
No fouls just checks, make the brother sweat
Word for y'all to earn my reject

Get it out of here, attack from the rear
Ya'll niggas ain't nothin' but some bitch ass queers
I'll be in your ear, increase the fear
Rippin' with the shears as the crowd just cheers

Bring on the opposition
'Cause my position is to shut you down
As the basketball pounds on the concrete floor
Envisioning moves to freak brothers every which way
Dominating like Doc J.

Pass me the rock, I know just what to do with it
It's real vivid, I pivot through the lane
Three hundred and sixty behind my back
I take your monkey ass to the rack like Jerry Stack

I'm saw by most recruiters and heavily recommended
Stickin' your best shooters they lower verbal percentage
It's takin' its toll, 24-second clock control
Stoppin' this obstacle, impossible

I was the number one block project in the city prospect
Now that's something that you can believe
So be it whether pro or collegiate, the hit but don't miss
Prime time the offense switch

Y'all can't ball, y'all can't ball
Yo ref, where's the tech? Man make the call
The game is gettin' tight, verbal victories in sight
What counts is what you write not concerned about the hype

My rhymes go baseline so why you tryin' to take mine?
Last man tried just died inside the paint line
I bank rhymes, got a call so I flex
I'm on the foul line with a few verses left
When my flow hits the net, the next brother flex

I put my foot in the pavement
With the brothers I'm raised with
Play with and breakdance back in the days with
And still in the game with 12 points, 4 assists

Get up in the game, in your face like swish
Crash the boards with metaphors in the air like a Concord
Aiyyo what you out for? Yo I'm out for the whole score
22 flat seconds for me to win, I can't win for losin' with this cheatin' ass ref

My squad's supreme
So I don't need Clyde or the dream
Next time you play the game boy pick a better team
Your choice is short when you on a concrete court

But my mental cohorts is 'bout to change the whole sport
Give me the pill boy, crossover with the skills
Wrap around pass, fly right past your grill
Take off from half court in some J5 shorts

The rap band with the man when my words play sports
Comin' through your lane with pure skills so stand clear
Vocal charge is a mirage, I still stand here
Damn near, make your shit look soft like Pam Grier
Fans cheer for the paragraph Bill Lambier

Show me the rock so I can show these fool what I got
(He's heating up)
Fuck that, I'm flaming hot
Verbally take you to the blacktop and wreck shop
Turn my game up a notch, pass me the rock

1 on 1, 3 on 3, 5 on 5, horse, 21
It really don't matter 'cause son you'll still get done
Yo you should know better than try to barter with this globetrotter
Malicious, vicious dunks, I'm Vince Carter

And it's the high draft pick, flashin' it hair face
Still can penetrate and slightly overweight
But whatever it takes my shot can elevate
No pain, no gain for the brothers with no game

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72818d359744766af03a197d3ffacbd1

Ante Up (Remix) - M.O.P./Busta Rhymes/Remy Martin/Tephlon - Lyrics - Funkmaster Flex

Title: Ante Up (Remix) - M.O.P./Busta Rhymes/Remy Martin/Tephlon
Artist: Funkmaster Flex
Composer(s): J Grinnage, D Pihnan, L Starling, E Murray, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Attention please, attention please
This shit here feels like a whole entire world collapsed
Motherfucker, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck
(Buck, buck, buck, buck)
Busta Rhymes now, M.O.P. now

What you want now?
(What you want now?)
What you want now?
(What you want now?)

What you want now?
(What you want now?)
What you want now?
(What you want, want, want, want, want, want buck, buck)

Ante up, no, cut that fool
They want to act stupid gun butt that fool
When I cock that tool, nigga run your damn jewels
'Fore we fuck around and lay you up in your own blood pool, nigga

Hunt you down nigga, run your ass down
Unleash the hounds till them niggaz will gun your ass down
(Stop it)
You frontin' like this was a thing of the past
With tattoos over the scars a nigga left on your ass

My niggaz think lopsided, bust they gat cross sided
In the subways they rob trains runnin' along side it
(Buck, buck)
See motherfucker we don't play with that shit
And if you want your shit back you had to pay for that shit

You little costume niggaz, Romper-Room niggaz
Get you in the night or early in the afternoon niggaz
We takin' your whole shit while we pass through
Even the shirt off your back, nigga run that too

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I catch you backstage, give me the keys to the Escalate
You think you cute hoe? Take off them Gucci shades
I get my dogs to do you dirty, they all seven thirty

Rock a ski-mask, whether it's June or February
I take your show money, take your 'dro money
(Oh, oh)
Yo yap that fool 'cause I don't know money
For my peeps that hate slow money I put them in the industry

So they can come and take, all your money
Wish I could bring Pun back
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that

So keep actin' like you don't know where the funds at
And I'ma show y'all motherfuckers where the guns at
Ante up, yo yap that bitch
She try to spaz out then smack that bitch

Hoe you don't be rhymin', you still memorizin'
Remy want them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
(Get him, hit him)
Yap him, yap him
(Zap him, zap him)

Ante up, yap that fool
Fuck hip hop, rip pockets
Snatch jewels
Ante up

What? My whole family suck
Run up yo' stash house, tie granny up
Make you strip butt-naked
Young buck got struck with the gun butt
(For what?)

For tryin' to tuck the necklace
I'm young hungry armed and reckless
On the streets with a death wish
Don't hide when you see me, I'm on the guest list
Ante up

Show no mercy B.K., nigga, thirsty thirsty
We bang hollows, you misrepresentin'
the game motherfucker you lame and your chain hollow
Hit him, hit him, flash the tech
(Hit him)

Yap your chain, smash the lens in your specs
Listen it's, Lil' Fame right?
With that Brownsville mentality to Shanghai

Hey yo I'm firin' out a copper top city, with a whole empire
A clip full of blue-tips and a hand full of Fiyahh
Eat deep dirt nigga
(Yep)
It's Berk' I put in work until it hurt nigga
(Step)

Easy out the truck punk, 'fore I leave your ass leakin'
I'ma bang till the springs in this thang start squeakin'
Die cocksucker, boom BAP boom BAP
Aight motherfucker, what's wrong with you?

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
(Get him, hit him)
Yap him, yap him
(Zap him, zap him)

Ante up, yap that fool
Fuck hip hop, rip pockets
Snatch jewels
Ante up

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b18c2fd97495c0e4fe9934060e72ee09

East 1999 - Lyrics - E. 1999 Eternal - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: East 1999
Album: E. 1999 Eternal
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Steven Howse, D J U-Neek Tony Cowan, Stanley Howse, Anthony Henderson, Byron Mc Cane

Lyric:
East 1999, my niggas

Thinkin' 'bout back in the days when the year was '89
Little nigga on da grind, gotta get mine doing my crime
Wid two in here, steady stackin' my ends
Puttin' my serve down on the Claire 9-9

Hittin' up the Graveyard Shift wid real
Little Will, Big Wally and Wish Bone
Little Wally, High Rollerz and he wonda why niggas so strong
Krayzie Bone, stack right check much love

Kept ah, nigga on his toes in the game
It's an everyday thang when you let ya nuts hang
Gotta make ya grandas each daily man
Them Cleveland hustlaz neva no bustaz thug to the heart

We niggas from the land fool and the old school
Just serve out ya sentence and be cool
Fuckin' wid Trues rest in peace
My little nigga Ripster stress that Bone love

Smokin' on bud, 'cause, ah nigga Mo Thug
Callin' up my niggas when it's time to nut up
In the 9-9 niggas gon' drop to the number 1 wid ya gun, so run run
Cleveland is the city where ah nigga come from slangin' them
Dum dum dum dums

Niggas, it's going down, up in the C-Town
Get 'em up wid the thug and the nigga wid the bud, got the fifth rose
For the niggas that close hit 'em up wid the forty reasons
Nigga roll up the buddah, smoke it all up nigga

Don't stiff on the reefer, mo runnin' up outta the club wid this
Plus I got hydro and this shit is creeper creeper
Strip as you hear the double glock glock
Widda me rocks cocked sweatin' me bad

Coppers betta drop when the gunshots pop glock top
Hit the body and the bullshit stop
Wheneva them troublin' us, where the po-po niggas roll
Solo split up and swerve, Krayzie take caution

Take out my llelo and tossed it, send 'em in the road to the curb
Running, ducking, jumping up in the land my niggas is crazy
Me slangin' wid nuff 'n me bang on the block
And nigga this daily, who the nigga wid the 12-guage
(Pump)

Mr.Sawed-off Leatherface, so you betta pray
Eternally thugsta, east 1999

Gotta give peace to the S C Ts and the one big thug on the glock
Pump blast fa the cash, then I mashin' wid gas
Gotta dash away from the cops, not lettin' no pause
Steadily flippin' up rows, rippin' up flesh wid six dogs

That's that thugsta, yes I pump slugs
And I be dripping 'em off in thugstas
Fuck them po-po, all ah dem bodies we burn, burn
And I guess that hood'll neva learn

Got it dipped both in hoes and sherm
When I'm on ah mission for my setty
Pick up my niggas be peelin' out wid me
Roll up me, window me, wind blow, fuck up my indo

I'm an enemy, even up the barrels of me 12-guage
I empty, me scan-dalous niggas are pon de loose
But it's no fuckin' wid the family, now feel it nigga, understand me
Much love much bud for them St. Claire thugs

East 1999 is where ya find me
Slangin' them muthafuckin' drugs

Dun, dun, leavin' the niggas to cock it, pop widda me gun
They know that me noddin' they head off and I gots to have me fun
Leaving 'em hung, breakin' fakin', you studio gangsta bitch trick
Niggas'll get beat, I'm handlin' the shit

And I split in the midst of the darkness
Consider me heartless, oh yes, Flesh be runnin' a hoe check
Betta check ya Rolex, ya timed now fa givin' up respect
Ta them S C Ts from C L E the scandalous niggas that dwell

Hell offa the forscythe and bail, leavin' ah, trail, ah, the boody victims
The fifth dog maulin' and maulin' neva them catch me slippin'
As if and if and they find, they may give me time instead, ah, me trippin'
We flippin' the scripts on ova, see the Bone, ah, be neva sober
Niggas told ya triggas showed ya, east 9, 9, 9, 5 soldiers

Wanna run red rum try to run and get away but it's just to late
Watch out buckshots when I come buck buck
Betta guard that fuckin' face, dumpin' them slugs on you fools
Rollin' wid me Trues, drinkin' brews

Don't start no shit, we come equipped, so niggas stay cool
One eighty seven, you think that you going to heaven
Put slugs all up in that chest dunn to hell is where you be dwellin'
Popping ah clip in them bodies me dumpin' watchin' you fall to the pave
Wid me 9, milli pumpin', puttin' dem bodies all off in dem graves

Cleveland is the city where we come from, so run, run, run
Cleveland is the city where we come from, so run, run, run
Cleveland is the city where we come from, so run, run, run
Cleveland is the city where we come from, so run, run, run

East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9
East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9
East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9
East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9

East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9
East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9
East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9
East, east, 1990, 99, 9, 9, 9

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Burbans And Lacs - Lyrics - Lil' Flip

Title: Burbans And Lacs
Artist: Lil' Flip
Composer(s): Writer Unknown Wesley Weston

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Lyric:
Rest in peace, Big Mello, we gon' miss you, nigga
Man, I done lost so many homies, I need tissue nigga
Taking million dolla pictures, me and all of my niggaz
In three years, I plan to have stacks like Jigga

Aw naw, hell, naw, man, y'all done up and done it
We chiefing like everyday, smoking bluebonic, chronic
I did it, I done it, this rap beef, you know who won it
I'm five million worldwide, I got mo' money

Europe paid me eighty G's for a hour show
And any nigga would be a damn fool, not to go
You rap about Amsterdam, nigga, I really been
And over there, you could get ten blunts for ten

I smoke over and over again, God, forgive me
'Cause I'm a young thug with tattoos in my skin
Four hundred thousand dolla Benz with my name on my rims
And when I pull up, hoes be like, I know that's him

Sometime I flip in a cream Caddy, sometimes I flip in a Fleet wood
You know the one with the platinum skin
And the chrome spinning shoes, that fill the feet good
Might slide in my Dodge Intrepid
Or the limousine tint over 83's and fresh meat

Guaranteed to squeeze when enemies test me
I'ma empty the clip and reload again
Ain't got no gal, ain't got no friends
Only thing I give a damn about is my ends

I wish [unverified] was alive
So I could watch him make another Dub again
I'm mad at the world, fuck love again
'Cause my so called partnas think I'm cappin'

Bitch, I've earned the right to live the good life
Y'all know how long I've been rappin'

We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
That's the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
I'm the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
And all we do is get money
(Where I'm from)

We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
That's the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
I'm the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
And all we do is get money
(Where I'm from)

You know, I'm thinking of a master plan
I got chrome fans on my promotional van
I'm the new Liberraci, look at how this shit got me
I fuck with D-Block and the Dipset posse

My spinners don't stop, y'all rappers don't shop
'Cause your jeweler told me, you be wearing fake rocks
And if I catch you in my hood, homie, you can't leave
'Cause I do niggaz like Fabolous, man, they can't breathe

I got a trick up my sleeve, don't ever pick up my weed
And I don't tell my hoes bye, I fuck 'em, get up and leave
And when I pass by the laws, I gotta switch up my speed
'Cause my spider on the highway, doin' 153

We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
That's the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
I'm the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
And all we do is get money
(Where I'm from)

We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
That's the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
I'm the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
And all we do is get money
(Where I'm from)

Every morning I wake up and give my praises to God
Just for letting me see another sunrise
'Cause sometime, making it through the night is hard
Livin' in a place where cheering kills, cheering and police be the civilian

Lord, I've been callin' you so long, I wonder if you even hear me
Even though I can call a whole heap a burdens
I know there's a bunch of blessings as well
I remember when I had to sleep on benches
Straight rob motherfuckers and leap over fences

In a single bound, I wish my mama could see me now
Ain't no detectives tryin' to see me now
With no rival gangs trying to beat me down
It's MTV and BET now and ain't no mo' regular weed
Ain't nothing but the best herb

With a grandaddy size cup of codeine
Straight eight over ice, nigga, yes, sir
I'm leaning like I need a V8, representin' for the 3rd Coast
Look, respect the South and we gon' see straight, see straight

We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
That's the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
I'm the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
And all we do is get money
(Where I'm from)

We ride Burbans and Lacs, black yellow or blue
That's the only way we ride, chopping blades like Screw
I'm the King of the Clover, Z-Ro, the Mo City Don
And all we do is get money
(Where I'm from)

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