Don'T Put Your Hands On Me - Lyrics - Boyz N da Hood - Boyz N Da Hood

Title: Don'T Put Your Hands On Me
Album: Boyz N da Hood
Artist: Boyz N Da Hood
Composer(s): Larry Smith, Jay Jenkins, Jacoby White, Darren Robinson, Sal Abbatiello, Kurtis Walker, David Reeve, Miguel T. Scott, Damon Yul Wimbley, Aldrin Davis, Lee Dixon, Mark Morales

Lyric:
You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

Well, it's a lot of y'all thinking, y'all got great big balls
'Bout to get everybody wit ya hit 'cause you ain't heard 'bout us
We on the curb trying to get it like everybody
And we some thugs so we ain't even worried 'bout ya

Who gives a fuck 'bout where you hang and who you hung wit?
I could care less which one of you punks the punk bitch
If it's my word best believe I'ma stand on it
Try me like I'm playing my man, I'ma put my hands on ya

Fuck security they a bunch of hoes
'Bout to get they damn thongs exposed, yeah
And I got that feeling
Say the wrong thing nigga have ya dancing on the ceiling

I ain't lotto but I'm rich nigga
And I'ma still smoke 'cause you'd a bitch nigga
Jeezy a grown ass man homie
Say what you want but don't put your hands on me

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

Niggaz looking like they want some action
Shake something let's see what's happening
Act a donkey start the yapping we gon' get it cracking
We make your whole click stop, drop and then bitch

Purchase Moet bottles just to bust you cross the head wit
'Cause the shit's gon' get gritty as a sewer pit
Boyz N Da Hood bitch, guess we gotta a truer click
And we gon' show them lames exactly what they fooling wit
Watch them dumb fucks cuddle up when the tool clicks

My poultry died, my car got towed today
My lights ain't on, my folks stole all the yay
My piss dirty, P.O. gon' told the state
Rent late trying to find me a home to stay

Bench warrants in 'bout 4 south eastern states
Last night I shot a nigga all in the face
I just got another call full of bad news
Touch me, I'ma kill ya got problems and an attitude

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

Now, I'm off up in the club drunk, twisted and booted
You don't wanna test the gangsta was the grams get tooted
Pack a plastic pistol partner, please believe I'll shoot it
It's the perfect time and place if you want me to prove it

You can huff and puff like the big bad wolf
I'll bar ya face up tight and sport the kick ass look
You can flabber jack, chow jack, talk back
Cuss me, tongue wrestle 'til ya tongue tied but don't touch me

I'm such a gangsta I don't tout glocks
Pop the trunk pump ya ass like some Reeboks
And I'm strapped I ain't slipping
Red jersey on Jeezy still cropping

At any time I'm willing to pop the clip in
Cock back one up in ya hip and let's see if you limp then
I done said just about what the fuck I'ma say
So I'ma leave saying nigga stay the fuck out my face
'Cause I ain't playing

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
Betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

You can talk all the fuck you want
(Don't put your hands on me)
I betcha ass gon' get stomped
(Don't put your hands on me)

You better get the fuck up out my face
(Don't put your hands on me)
Bitch nigga, you better stay in your place
(Don't put your hands on me)

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a7dd8aec2d1ca09910170d84950ea8bc

Hands On The Pump - Lyrics - Cypress Hill

Title: Hands On The Pump
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Brett Bouldin, Eugene Dixon, Louis Freese, Lawrence Muggerud, Bernice Williams, Earl Edwards

Lyric:
Well I'm an alley cat, some say a dirty rat
On my side you see my gat, see I'm all of that
Sendin' off buck shots for I'm gonna wetcha
Runnin' hard, but I'm still comin' to getcha

Thinking like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide
You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride
I'm not a bad guy, but I'm the funky feel one
Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel

Lettin' out a bullet, this is goin' boo-yaa
You're stuck in my so hood
So whatcha gonna do now?
Being the hunted one is no fun

Here I come son, yo I think you better run
Better run more, and move a little faster
Second of thought and I'm comin' to blast ya
With my

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' onna blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggaz didn't jump
La la la la la la la la

Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program
Ain't takin' shit from you, him or no man
Master mind maniac and a menace so
How they want to pass sentence

All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger
He missed, so now the nigga's pissed
Rude and crude like a pitbull, get to the point
Your fuckin' car to get pulled, now

I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And I'm handin' out beatdowns
I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And I'm handin' out beatdowns, get your face down!

Put me in chains, try to beat my brains
I can get out, but the grudge remains
When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna getcha
Fuckin' do ya, shotgun go boo-yaa

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' onna blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggaz didn't jump
La la la la la la la la

Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit
Take a lot of mental for the blunted to chill with
'Cuz I'm the chill one, known to get ill one
They stepped to the Hill, "What's up?", I had to kill one

Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And they got me on lock down
Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And they got me on lock down

Hit me like a nigga who done lost his mind
'Cuz I ain't goin' out like a spineless jellyfish
Some say life is a bitch
Ask that punk who dug his own ditch

Out for the Hill fuckin' up at a party
Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body
La la la la la la la la
Look at all of those funeral cars 'cause I'ma

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' onna blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggaz didn't jump
La la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la

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e57516390280b216c5f69e9395ed10f6

52 - Rock On - Lyrics - It's Pronounced Five Two - Kj

Title: 52 - Rock On
Album: It's Pronounced Five Two
Artist: Kj
Composer(s): Robert Benjamin Beckley, Todd V Collins, Michael Ripoll, Johan Sorrentino

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

Lyric:
Are y'all ready
Are y'all ready
Are y'all ready
Are y'all re, are y'all
Are y'all ready for this

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

It goes 1 2 3 and to the 4
Well, this is what happens when hip-hop meets the hardcore
From the stands all the way to the dance floor
Get ya hands up pump it till ya arm sore

Ya, better understand now who we rock for
The son of man just nothing else nothing more
So make your plans any time that we on tour
It's guaranteed we can and will give ya what ya came for

What's the deal what in the world ya standing there for
C'mon for real I came in here to declare war
I ain't ashamed of the name of who I stand for
Jesus reigns supreme I'll say it till my tongue sore

Party people you want to get down
Are ya ready to rock and get down
Show me what ya got then get down
So everybody in the spot get down now

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

It goes 1 2 3 and to the 4
We ain't down get ready 'cuz there's plenty more
Ya better come get this life that we living for
So my man gives these people what they waiting for

Rock, rock, ready to roll
It's also no celebrating out of control
C'mon party people and hit the dance floor
Keep the party rocking till your hands get sore

It sounds too much to ignore
So throw your hands up yo give me some more
We're party on poor let the crowd roar
'Cuz me and Bob are here to settle the score, c'mon

Party people you want to get down
Are ya ready to rock and get down
Show me what ya got then get down
So everybody in the spot get down now

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on, now

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

Are y'all ready for this
Rock on
Pump ya fist to this
Rock on
Never miss with this
Rock on
So come and get with this
Rock on

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ab650f8b37fb0b9f2a3dc89f415cb603

Boom! Shake The Room - Lyrics - Dj Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince

Title: Boom! Shake The Room
Artist: Dj Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince
Composer(s): Jacobs K Mayberry, M Pierce,W Smith, W Williams, George Jr Clinton, Bootsy Collins, L Haggard, M Jones, Leroy Bonner, Morrison Walter Morrison, Andrew Noland, Norman B Napier, Gregory Webster, Ralph Middlebrooks

Lyric:
Yo, back up now an' give a brother room
The fuse is lit an' I'm about to go boom
Mercy, mercy, mercy me
My life is a cage but on stage I'm free

Hyped up, psyched up, ready for wil'in'
Standin' in a crowd of girls like an island
I see the one I wanna sit, come here, cutie
I flip 'em around an' then I work that booty

Work the body, work, work the body
Slow down, girl, you're 'bout to hurt somebody
Oh an' yo, let's get just one thing clear
There's only one reason why I came here

Ya really don't want me to tig a tig a tig a
Tell ya wassup, go
Ya really don't want me to tig a tig a tig a
Tell ya wassup, go
Ya really don't want me to tig a tig a tig a
Tell ya wassup, go
I came here tonight to hear the crowd go

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom

Well, yo, are y'all ready for me yet?
Pump it up, Prince
Well, yo, are y'all ready for me yet?
Pump it up, Prince
Well, yo, are y'all ready for me yet?
Pump it up, Prince
Well, here I go, here I go, here I, here I go

Yo, dance in the aisles when the Prince steps to it
The rhyme is a football, y'all an' I went an' threw it
Out in the crowd an' yo, it was a good throw
How do I know? Because the crowd went, ?Hoo?

In response to the way that I was kickin' it
Smooth an' individual, rhymes always original
Like the Dr. Jekyll man an' this is my Hyde side
I am the driver an' you're on a rap ride

So fellas? Yeah? Are y'all wit me? Yeah
I said fellas? Yeah? Are y'all wit me? Yeah
Why don't you tell the girls what y'all wanna do
Ya wanna ooh ahh ahh ahh ahh ooh

That's right, yo an' I'm in the flow
So pump up the volume along with the tempo
I want everybody in the house to know
I came here tonight to hear the crowd go

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom

Pump it up, pump it up, come on now
Pump it up, pump it up, come on now
Pump it up, pump it up, come on now
Pump it up, pump it up, come on now

Pump it up, pump it up, come on now
Pump it up, pump it up, come on now
Pump it up, pump it up, come on now
Pump it up, pump it up, come on now

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom

The the F-f-fresh P-p-prince is who I am
So tell my mother that I never make a whack jam
But some times I get n-n-nervous an' start to stutter
An' I f-f-fumble every word for word I utter

So I just try to ch-ch-chill
But it gets worse a but worse a but, but, but worse still
I need the c-c-crowd to k-k-kick into it
They help me calm down an' I can get through it

So higher, higher, get ya hands to the ceilin'
Let it go, y'all, don't fight the feelin'
Mic in a strangle hold, sweat pourin'
An' like Jordan, yo' I'm scorin'

Yeah, that's right, y'all an' I am in the flow
So pump up the volume along with the tempo
Many have died tryin' to stop my show
I came here tonight to here the crowd go

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom

Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room
Tic, tic, tic, tic, boom
Boom, shake, shake, shake the room

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eabd6df444295564a7cbc292ea62baba

Get It On The Floor - Lyrics - Grand Champ - Dmx

Title: Get It On The Floor
Album: Grand Champ
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
Let's get it on
We don't give a what, what
We don't give a what, what

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
Now you can ride to this motherfucker
Bounce to this motherfucker
Freak to this motherfucker
Let's get it on

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

Once again it's the darker nigga, hit or spark a nigga
Break apart a nigga but the dog is bigger, under stress
So unless you're wanting to bless to the chest
These slugs from his liver rest, rest
Or the pump'll put a hurt on a nigga
Dumd sex, motherfucker feeding dirt on a nigga
My hands stay dirty, 'cause I play dirty the mob way
You don't know? Fuck it find out the hard way

A nigga's job is never done, I handle my business how it come
And there's never been a one on one
Nor has there been a problem, I dissolve them
I'm like salt, lock it up, hate to fall but never wreck his car
And it's my fault, keep niggaz on point ducking down
Niggaz like you need to get bust you fucking clown
I extort to support my peeps
And hold down the fort, never get caught 'cause I creeps, nigga

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
Now you can ride to this motherfucker
Bounce to this motherfucker
Freak to this motherfucker
Let's get it on

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

I'm at the crossroads, look but I'm not really sure which way to go
Should I play that low for what I did the other day
They on their way to float, got me striking this random
I can't stand 'em, fake ass niggaz want to be the Phantom
Looking over my shoulder, 'cause it's colder than it was
And start shorty, because I'm a little older than 'cause
And the buzz from the saw, with the chain to your brain
Will turn that BIG NIGGA to a fucking stain

That pain from the dirt makes the hurt go away for a minute
But I'm gon' die by it 'cause I'm like knee deep in it
And you motherfuckers wonder why I start shit
'Cause when you look in my face you see that hard shit
'Cause I done been to hell and back I ain't wit selling crack
I'd rather rob a nigga leave him wit' a shell up in his back
On the real just to show proof, hit the G.W.B.
And blow the whole roof off the toll booth bitch ass nigga

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
Now you can ride to this motherfucker
Bounce to this motherfucker
Freak to this motherfucker
Let's get it on

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

When I crawl, leave a nigga sprawled out after I spoke 'em
I'll slit his throat, dick in the mud and let his blood choke 'em
Up north niggaz get the pick stuck up in 'em
And in the streets bitches get the dick stuck up in 'em
My M.O. is man-slaughter kid
'Cause on the reals I done wet up more motherfuckers than water did
Slid, 'cause I got to slide when the dirt is done
A homicide but they want me on the Murder 1

But as long as I got my gun, I'm aight
Stay outta sight while it's light, and then come out at night
To make moves again, stomp and bruise again
I know I'm going to hell 'cause I choose to sin
All my motherfucking life I been the devil's advocate
Now niggaz never even knew the devil had a kid
But he does and when you hear the buzz of the chainsaw
You'll know what I'll split your motherfucking brains for

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
You don't wanna party then your ass gotta go
Now you can ride to this motherfucker
Bounce to this motherfucker
Freak to this motherfucker
Let's get it on

Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor
Get it on the floor
Get it, get it on the floor

Don't start nothin', it won't be nothin'
Don't start nothin', it won't be nothin'
You wanna start somethin' it's gon' be somethin'
You wanna start somethin', it's gon be somethin'
Don't start nothin', it won't be nothin'
Don't start nothin', it won't be nothin'
You wanna start somethin', it's gon be somethin'
You wanna start somethin', it's gon be somethin'
Yo yo, c'mon

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2d811085abe5194828c87e056d5cdf92

Hand On The Pump (Muggs' Blunted Mix) - Lyrics - Unreleased & Revamped - Cypress Hill

Title: Hand On The Pump (Muggs' Blunted Mix)
Album: Unreleased & Revamped
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Brett Bouldin, Eugene Dixon, Louis Freese, Lawrence Muggerud, Bernice Williams, Earl Edwards

Lyric:
Well, I'm an alley cat
Some say a dirty rat
On my side is my gat
See I'm all of that

Spittin' out buck shots, for I'm gonna wetcha
Runnin' hard, but I'm still comin' to getcha
Thinkin' like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide
You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride

I'm not a bad guy
But I'm the funky feel one
Finer on the trigger with my hands upon the steel
Lettin' out a bullet, this is goin' boo-ya
You're stuck in my hood, so what ya gonna do now?

Bein' the hunted one is no fun
Here I come son, yo I think you better run
Better run more, and move a little faster
Second of thought and I'm comin' to blast ya

With my, sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump
Lala la la lala la laa

Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program
Ain't takin' shit from you him or no man
Master mind maniac and a menace
Oh, how they want to pass a sentence

All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger
He missed, so now the nigga's hist'
Rude and crude like a pitbull
Get to the point, your fuckin' goin' to get pulled

Now, I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And I'm handin' out beatdowns
I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And I'm handin' out beatdowns, get your face down

Put me in chains, try to beat my brains
I can get out, but the grudge remains
When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna get ya
Gatt ya, fuckin' do ya, shotgun goes boo-ya!

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump
Lala la la lala la laa

Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit
Think I'll light another for the blunted to chill with
'Cause I'm the chill one, known to get ill when
They stepped to the Hill, what's up?', I had to kill one

Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And they got me on lock down
Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And they got me on lock down

Livin' like a nigga who done lost his mind
'Cause I ain't goin out like a spineless jellyfish
Some say life is a bitch
Ask that punk who dug his own ditch

Up on the Hill fuckin' up at a party
Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body
Lala la la lala la laa
Look at all of those funeral cars

'Cause I'm a, sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
left hand on a forty, puffin' on a blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggas didn't jump
Lala la la lala la laa

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67b19e06a29ccc62dbba6c5971a0d10e

Definition Of A Don - Lyrics - Jealous Ones Still Envy - Fat Joe

Title: Definition Of A Don
Album: Jealous Ones Still Envy
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Joseph Cartagena, A Maman

Lyric:
Yeah, definition of a don
It's like I gotta keep remindin' you and remindin' you
Who's that nigga, you heard the kid
Fly was on the casket of all those who oppose the squad us
It's the motherfuckin' don Cartagena ya heard
What?

They wanna know why ya name is Joey Crack
You a hustler, how they think you got the stacks?
You stuck being in jacks on the blocks with your paps
And the squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back
Damn papi, you're shit is icey now
In the bronx witcha Benz rims pokin' out
You got the niggaz in the pen straight lockin' out
But when the don is on nigga close your mouth

Yeah, yo, you wouldn't understand my story of life I live
Most niggaz that really know me got life as bids
The trife as kids, this ain't no scarface shit
These niggaz really will kill you, your wife and kids
I walked through many blocks niggaz couldn't stand on
Had shit locked before I had a glock to even put my hands on
Before I had the doe to put my fams on
Before I had rocks sealed in pink tops, tryin' to get a gram off
A wild adolescent, raised by the street

Mesmerized by the dealers and the places they eat
And when they blazed the heat, I was the shorty to take the hand off
Run upstairs, tryin' to sneak the gat past grand moms
This is how it should be done, my life
Is identical to none, son tried to duplicate but I knew he was fake
'Cuz every time I walked by he turned blue in the face
I'm like heavy on the leg when I pop
All my change is like heavy on the weight when I cop
It's just the way it's done
Niggaz tell me they respect the way I blaze them guns
On hold it down for the bronx in the name of pun

They wanna know why ya name is Joey Crack
You a hustler, how they think you got the stacks?
You stuck being in jacks on the blocks with your paps
And the squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back
Damn papi, you're shit is icey now
In the bronx witcha Benz rims pokin' out
You got the niggaz in the pen straight lockin' out
But when the don is on nigga close your mouth

Yeah, my name ring bells like a P O
Put the pressure on a nigga like I'm right at the doe
With the muzzle out, nigga can't shoke with my dough
I'm at his mothers house
Beat up his pops, put the pistol in his brother's mouth
Wave bricks, whips, jerked a few coke and next play the strip
With chrome knowin' that they won't forget
And on the weekends we shut down clubs
You know them crazy Peurto ricans always fuckin' it up
If I can't afford it, I'm a extort it

If I can't cut it, I'm a bake it
Strip you niggaz butt-naked, I'm a thorough bred
Carry guns and pump heroin
Never went O.T. I'm too light for Maryland
I'd rather play the streets of New York
Where the friends are guaranteed
To keep the meat on my fork
I'm just a hustler, feds put the tap
On our phones in hopes of cuffin' us
Then wonder why we livin' life so illustrious

They wanna know why ya name is Joey Crack
You a hustler, how they think you got the stacks?
You stuck being in jacks on the blocks with your paps
And the squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back
Damn papi, you're shit is icey now
In the bronx witcha Benz rims pokin' out
You got the niggaz in the pen straight lockin' out
But when the don is on nigga close your mouth

They wanna know why ya name is Joey Crack
You a hustler, how they think you got the stacks?
You stuck being in jacks on the blocks with your paps
And the squad to hard niggaz gotta fall back
Damn papi, you're shit is icey now
In the bronx witcha Benz rims pokin' out
You got the niggaz in the pen straight lockin' out
But when the don is on nigga close your mouth

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425c473b4ab0fc597ef07eda9bd39b7c

Hands Up - Lyrics - Rotten Apple - Lloyd Banks

Title: Hands Up
Album: Rotten Apple
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): T Crawford, Curtis Jackson, Marshall Mathers, Christopher Charle Lloyd, P Pits

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

Lyric:
Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up
Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up

Hands up, shorty when you party with me
We goin' way past quarter to three
I said hands up, I'm good in the V.I.P.
I got my h***** right here with me

I said hands up, you know when you party with crooks
You gotta learn to respect the jooks
I said hands up, everything ain't cruise to fame
This s*** ain't sweet as it looks, I said hands up

You know I'm puttin' something on me
Right before I leave outta the car, we came to party
You go tough talkin' at me you
Gon' leave outta the club with a scar, we came to party

We pop bottles like it's all free
Fo' I leave I'ma buy out the bar, we came to party
You can order what you want it's on me
I'm a G take a look at star, we came to party

It feels so good to live sucker free
I'm soakin' it all up while your girl s***in' me
It mean the world to her, it's nothing but a n** to me
Look miss, get a grip and let a motherf***er be

I'm a rap star who wants to be ridin' around in that car
Two in the front and the back got the plasma
This ain't a free ride you gotta have the g** ma
I wouldn't buy a chick a pump that got asthma

And I'm busy so I move a bit faster
You can't tell me yes if I don't ask ya
I'm a b******
Damn near showin' his hand over the plastic

'Cause they wanna see your man go in the casket
Rule number one, keep your g** and get your a** hit, that's it
Lights off and your body's stiff
By the same n****s you used to party with

Hands up, shorty when you party with me
We goin' way past quarter to three
I said hands up, I'm good in the V.I.P.
I got my h***** right here with me

I said hands up, you know when you party with crooks
You gotta learn to respect the jooks
I said hands up, everything ain't cruise to fame
This s*** ain't sweet as it looks, I said hands up

You know I'm puttin' something on me
Right before I leave outta the car, we came to party
You go tough talkin' at me you
Gon' leave outta the club with a scar, we came to party

We pop bottles like it's all free
Fo' I leave I'ma buy out the bar, we came to party
You can order what you want it's on me
I'm a G take a look at star, we came to party

I cruise through the strip, 22's on the whip
New r*** gonna hit thousand dollar outfit
Never snooze never slip, follow rules or get whip
N**** move or get hit, I don't care who's on the strip

It ain't only the Ferrari now the jewels got him sick
Now it's 2006 I need a new bottom miss
It's aight they can talk I'm amused by them p*****
I'm the news out the bricks n**** who's hot as this

I bet the mansion and the swimming pool got 'em pissed
I ain't a cuddler I f*** the drool outta chick
My n****z ice grill, but it ain't the same
They don't see the faces, they just see the chains like

Ooh, when ya get 'em, they don't know you with me
They probably think the bouncers at the front door frisk me
This regular s***, the everyday mentality
They charged up, don't make me put in the battery

I said hands up, you know when you party with crooks
You gotta learn to respect the jooks
I said hands up, everything ain't cruise to fame
This s*** ain't sweet as it looks, I said hands up

You know I'm puttin' something on me
Right before I leave outta the car, we came to party
You go tough talkin' at me you
Gon' leave outta the club with a scar, we came to party

We pop bottles like it's all free
Fo' I leave I'ma buy out the bar, we came to party
You can order what you want it's on me
I'm a G take a look at star, we came to party

Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up
Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up
Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up
Put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up, put 'em up

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b4c798c3e100910810f5f41c72e83f4a

Hand On The Pump - Lyrics - Live At The Fillmore (Live) - Cypress Hill

Title: Hand On The Pump
Album: Live At The Fillmore (Live)
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Brett Bouldin, Eugene Dixon, Louis Freese, Lawrence Muggerud, Bernice Williams, Earl Edwards

Lyric:
Well I'm an alley cat, some say a dirty rat
On my side you see my gat, see I'm all of that
Sendin' off buck shots for I'm gonna wetcha
Runnin' hard, but I'm still comin' to getcha

Thinking like a peace smoke, comin' on a homicide
You talkin' shit, try to take me for a ride
I'm not a bad guy, but I'm the funky feel one
Finger on the trigger with my hands upon the steel

Lettin' out a bullet, this is goin' boo-yaa
You're stuck in my so hood
So whatcha gonna do now?
Being the hunted one is no fun

Here I come son, yo I think you better run
Better run more, and move a little faster
Second of thought and I'm comin' to blast ya
With my

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' onna blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggaz didn't jump
La la la la la la la la

Comin' at you like a stiff blow, fuckin' up your program
Ain't takin' shit from you, him or no man
Master mind maniac and a menace so
How they want to pass sentence

All because a nigga tried to play me on the trigger
He missed, so now the nigga's pissed
Rude and crude like a pitbull, get to the point
Your fuckin' car to get pulled, now

I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And I'm handin' out beatdowns
I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And I'm handin' out beatdowns, get your face down!

Put me in chains, try to beat my brains
I can get out, but the grudge remains
When I see ya punk ass, I'm gonna getcha
Fuckin' do ya, shotgun go boo-yaa

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' onna blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggaz didn't jump
La la la la la la la la

Kickin' that funky Cypress Hill shit
Take a lot of mental for the blunted to chill with
'Cuz I'm the chill one, known to get ill one
They stepped to the Hill, "What's up?", I had to kill one

Now I'm headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And they got me on lock down
Headed up the river with a boat and no paddle
And they got me on lock down

Hit me like a nigga who done lost his mind
'Cuz I ain't goin' out like a spineless jellyfish
Some say life is a bitch
Ask that punk who dug his own ditch

Out for the Hill fuckin' up at a party
Tried to get funny, put a hole in his body
La la la la la la la la
Look at all of those funeral cars 'cause I'ma

Sawed off shotgun, hand on the pump
Left hand on a forty, puffin' onna blunt
Pumped my shotgun, niggaz didn't jump
La la la la la la la la

La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la
La la la la la la la la

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b07a0281048ab0cc85bcd9559bc4a261

Hands In Da Air - Lyrics - Da Brat

Title: Hands In Da Air
Artist: Da Brat
Composer(s): Michael Tyler, Deric Angelettie, Shawntae Harris

Lyric:
Niggas always watchin' me
(Funky)
But I want 'em to keep on watchin' me
I'ma keep give 'em sumthin' to see
(Smokin')

I always feel like
Somebody's watchin' me, watchin' me
Could it be the way I'm still tight?
Niggas that didn't use to feel me jockin' me, jockin' me

The, whole world got too much money for me
To not get no dough, dough, can't no hoe
Rock harder than the one from so-so
I never go broke, broke

I keep comin with the vocals that make most know
Why the fuck I boast, boast and brag
Why should I look sad that I got some loot now?
In fact, I knew how

Watch when I back the Coupe out
Can niggas just troop out?
The same way they do when I show you Brat
With a little bit of boobs out

And her big ass protrude out
Get the news out
Some of you bitches lose out
When the sexiness ooze out

Like orgasms, I'm the best at this
Throwin' tantrums when I move into makin' shit
If you thinkin' of becomin' one of my favorites
You gotta pay a bitch 'cause I be stayin' rich
I ain't quittin', quittin'
Way before, "Funkdafied" I was spittin', spittin'

Throw yo' hands in the air like you don't care
This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
Get cash on 'em

And make 'em say, say
Hands in the air, from side to side
Forever I'm high, high
Together we ride, ride
I'm never too tired to get that paper, baby

If y'all wanna see me, see me
I'm give y'all somethin' to look look at
Make a nigga neck turn turn for Brat
Burn burn these hoes 'cause I'm back and my pants still sag

It's automatic, they wanna jump on my wagon, wagon
I ain't lackin', lackin' on shit
Open ya eyes when my body when I try on clothes that fit fit
I'm articulate and particulate on who I let hit hit

And get up in the middle of the center of my tootsie roll
Roll me something to smoke smoke and burn slow slow
Don't keep it a secret, tell all ya folks
See you when I shine, I glow, glow
From the C H I C A G O, 60644

And I trust no, nigga that make a mistake for me
Guns ready to blaze and to leave with you
Some of the ones run
I can't control my trigger finger when it pump, pump

Stay out the way when I come come
It's guaranteed to bump, bump the trunk, uh
And put a hump in ya back
If niggas is askin' who's thumpin', it's Brat Brat

Throw yo' hands in the air like you don't care
This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
Get cash on 'em

And make 'em say, say
Hands in the air, from side to side
Forever I'm high, high
Together we ride, ride
I'm never too tired to get that paper, baby

I keep my bad braids back when puttin' the dick on the track
You can turn it down playa, we don't listen to that
The bass don't thump, we spit on crap
That beat ain't tight nigga, that shit ain't fat

Every time that shit come out, I toss it back and I slap
I be breakin' ya back to the rhythm of rap
[Unverified] test it loud for the low frequency, where it's at?
Niggas say, "I love that fuckin' shit ya did wit Da Brat!"

Actin' bad with the pad, with the pen, with the paper
Still smoke a nigga under the table
Put the lines in the words and the hooks and the phrases
Instead of puttin' out sumthin' that's blazin'

Get ya hand out my pocket, get ya foot out ya mouth
And ya head out ya ass
And keep ya nose out my business
And I mean it, goddammit, 'cause I'm fiddinta get mad

I put 'em in the trash bag
Twist tie, put 'em out Monday and Wednesday
I kick 'em in they raggely ass
Take money from 'em and you know I better get some

I know it ain't fair
But I smoke with alligators and I wrestle with bears
Throw ya hands in the air
As high as you can and leave them bitches there

Throw yo' hands in the air like you don't care
This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
Get cash on 'em

And make 'em say, say
Hands in the air, from side to side
Forever I'm high, high
Together we ride, ride
I'm never too tired to get that paper, baby

Throw yo' hands in the air like you don't care
This fo' niggas and bitches everywhere
Forever you playas playas flash on 'em
Get cash on 'em

And make 'em say, say
Hands in the air, from side to side
Forever I'm high, high
Together we ride, ride
I'm never too tired to get that paper, baby

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dff00cc968c647b864fecf524ef4f249

Hey Hey - Lyrics - Athena Cage

Title: Hey Hey
Artist: Athena Cage
Composer(s): Athena Cage, Stephen M Clarke, Reynada C Hill, Jeff Lorenz

Lyric:
All the ladies in the club
Not ready to give the party up
Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey

A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey
All the fellas show some love
Come on then give it up

Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey
A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey

Oh, no, it's 3 a.m.
And the party is still jumpin'
And the club it is about to close down
DJ tellin' everyone to get out

But the girls and I ain't ready to go
The night is young and we ain't tryna go home
So we gotta find another spot
'Cause you know the party ain't gon' stop, no

Let's roll and not stop, it's on to the next block
The party is hot and won't stop 'til 6 o'clock
Everyone come on along
We're gonna have some fun, oh, yeah

All the ladies in the club
Not ready to give the party up
Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey

A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey
All the fellas show some love
Come on then give it up

Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey
A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey

Oh, no, it's time to go
Everyone's finished but don't wanna go home
We gotta find another place to be
Let's get somewhere 'cause it's still early

Everybody meet outside
Pump some music in your ride
Don't worry about the time
'Cause we're gonna kick it tonight

Forget about the clock
Take everything we got
And make our own hot spot
Right in the parking lot

Play the hot songs
Get your drink on
Find a partner
And get your grove on

All the ladies in the club
Not ready to give the party up
Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey

A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey
All the fellas show some love
Come on then give it up

Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey
A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey

Had to leave the club
Tore the party up
Now it's up to us
To make our own fun

So stick around
We just might do it all night
Can't go home with you
Hangin' with my crew

Doing what we do
So if you're really down
Then gather round
And sing it out, hey

Ladies, fellas
Get your hands up

All the ladies in the club
All the fellas show some love
All the ladies, all the ladies
All the fellas, all the fellas

All the ladies in the club
All the fellas show some love
All the ladies, all the ladies
All the fellas, all the fellas

All the ladies in the club
Not ready to give the party up
Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey

A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey
All the fellas show some love
Come on then give it up

Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey
A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey

The party ain't gon' stop
'Cause we know how to keep it hot
Fellas show some love
Ladies lift your hands up

I like it with your crew
Turn this party out with you
Ladies, fellas get together
Let me hear you say, hey, hey

All the ladies in the club
Not ready to give the party up
Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey

A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey
All the fellas show some love
Come on then give it up

Lift your hands up
Let me hear you say, hey
A little louder, hey, hey
Sing it louder, hey

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4286cf089647051745bea5197c99bd5b

My Song - Lyrics - Five

Title: My Song
Artist: Five
Composer(s): Pop Denniz Richard Breen, Neville Richard Dobson, Scott James Robinson, Sean Kieran Conlon, Jason Paul Brown, Jacob Ivar Schulze, Herbert Crichlow

Lyric:
So here's how it started, it started with a beat
A beat in my head, and it wouldn't go away
So I added a bass, the bass was fat
I played it to my boys on a 24 track

They like that ah, the hand clap followed by the mic
Check, no time for dinner, five's out on the night shift
Shady eyes in the middle of the night
Into the dawn till the lyrics lock tight
On to the mix tell the DJ, quick five boom

He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long
He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long

Rip it up everybody, rip it up one time
Let me bring your riggidy rugged flow for your mind
I Got what you need now, let me break it down
Five on the low, with the funk for your town

Down on the floor now, let me see you move
This time tonight, now it's time to groove
Who got the champion, sound understand
Rhyme for rhyme, five on the low down

Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Check it

He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long
He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long

Like I said before, I got the funk for your trunk
From the junk yard, to the Boulevard
Here we come ladies, lock tight
Woo with that straight five, dead right
Party's over here we got the five boom all night

We made a hit, yet another home runner
And sweet sugar J has got you hot like the summer
So I'm a stepping back and let the DJ
Bust the mix five boom

Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Get down, get down
Check it

He kept playing my song
All night long
He kept playing my song
All night long

Baby bounce, let me see you bounce to this
I got the mic technique, to help you use your ears
So you it by the radio, hands on the dial
Soon Five on the jam, time to pump up the volume

Another fly track to get down, let me see you move
Time for you to get down and prove it!
Ain't no doubt that we're fly
So don't deny

He kept playing my song
On and on all night long
He kept playing my song
On and on all night long

He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long
He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long

He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long
He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long

He kept playing my song
On and on, all night long

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a0afa16be7b381e7fceb1b32df7892ca

Soul Clap (Short Version) - Lyrics - Showbiz & A.G.

Title: Soul Clap (Short Version)
Artist: Showbiz & A.G.
Composer(s): Andre Barnes, Joseph L Kirkland, Rodney Lemay

Lyric:
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box

The Giant is greater so step back
I know you were told black about the Soul Clap
And I'ma keep climbin' G with beats that's fat
'Cause that's Showbiz and Diamond D

Don't believe all the hearsay
'Cause I'ma get the airplay
While the fans say, "Yeah, Dre?
And I'm on the lyrical tip

For you to whip the Giant
That'll be a miracle whip
So everybody crowd around
And let's all get down, to the Soul Clap sound

So pump your fist, here we go
Showbiz & A.G. so act like you know
A combination of the new and the old rap
Me Showbiz and Diamond D, yeah we got the Soul Clap

Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box

Aiyyo, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, I said, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, c'mon

I love hip-hop, not rock 'n' roll
Yeah, I'm a Giant, and I got lots of soul
I've been a Giant since I was a kid
They always thought I was big from the damage that I did

I roll up rappers like a DT and don't worry yo
Because the brothers can't see me
Light-skinned curly hair, I keep dwellin'
I don't care about my hair, my records are sellin'

A.G., my right hand man is Kay-Gee
Kenny Dope you know, Marley Marl is my little bro
Infinite he's in effect, Big Ty is snappin' necks
Better yet he's packin' tecs

Yeah, they sleep, they can't quite tell
They know that I'm short
But do they know that I fight well?
Those who diss me, that's okay

Because my jam is gonna slam
And I don't care what you say
A Giant in the mental, yeah you know that
And I'm hangin' with this new one
And it's called the Soul Clap

Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box

Aiyyo, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, I said, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, c'mon

I do work at any goddamn concert
And if you said that I didn't, then I got jerked
You musta asked the wrong people
'Cause when I make my stand
Every man knows that I'm lethal

Never back down, my crew's in the background
I get hyped when Showbiz lays the tracks down
When I'm finished, you'll say he's the mack
'Cause I'm raw and my goddamn beats are fat

Yeah, I'm a Giant, that's what you better say
You don't believe me then go check my resume
I done killed more suckers than a World War
And even more, after a world tour

From state to state, sea to sea
On every continent, I'm a G I A N T
I'm A.G. yeah the one you can't hold back
You want your party to pump?
Then throw on the Soul Clap

C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, I said can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, c'mon

Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box
Just clap your hands to the beat box

Can, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon I said can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?

C'mon, can I, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?

C'mon, can I, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I, can I, can I get a Soul Clap?

C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, I said, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, can I get a Soul Clap?
C'mon, c'mon

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015795dc5cc9d6d1ea8eb4e03d672208

Pump It Up - Lyrics - Danzel

Title: Pump It Up
Artist: Danzel
Composer(s): Michael Hall Buchanan, Dario Djaimin Mancini

Lyric:
Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

It?s not so long ago, that the sound hit the nation
Every Saturday night on your favorite radio
And the party?s jumpin? yeah, and the vibe feels so strong
Throw your hands in the air, lift your head up high
You know you?ve got to sing along

Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

It?s not so long ago, that the sound hit the nation
Every Saturday night, on your favorite radio
And the party?s jumpin? yeah, and the vibe feels so strong
Throw your hands in the air, lift your head up high
You know you?ve got to sing along

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Got to feel it, what?s the name of the jam?
Say, ?I can feel it?, you know you can
I?ve got my groove on and I?m ready to go
Check out my ride, girl, but don?t touch my radio

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

Don?t you know, pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up
Don?t you know pump it up
You?ve got to pump it up

And make me feel good, feel so good
And make me feel good, feel so good
Feel so good

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Hands In The Air - Lyrics - Da Brat

Title: Hands In The Air
Artist: Da Brat
Composer(s): Michael Tyler, Deric Angelettie, Shawntae Harris

Lyric:
Niggas always watchin me (funky!)
But I want em to keep on watchin me
I'ma keep give em sumthin to see (smokin!)

I always feel like
Somebody's watchin me, watchin me
Could it be the way I'm still tight?
Niggas that didn't use to feel me jockin me, jockin me
The, whole world got too much money for me
To not get no dough, dough, can't no hoe
Rock harder than the one from So-So
I never go broke broke
I keep comin with the vocals that make most know
Why the fuck I boast, boast and brag
Why should I look sad that I got some loot now?
In fact, I knew how
Watch when I back the Coupe out
Can niggas just troop out
The same way they do when I show you Brat
With a little bit of boobs out
And her big ass protrude out
Get the news out
Some of you bitches lose out
When the sexiness ooze out
Like orgasms, I'm the best at this
Throwin tantrums when I move into makin shit
If you thinkin of becomin one of my favorites
You gotta pay a bitch
Cause I be stayin rich
I ain't quittin, quittin
Wave a 4 45, spittin, spittin

Throw yo hands in the air like you dont care
This fo niggas and bitches everywhere
Forever you playas playas flash on em, get cash on em
And make em say, say
Hands in the air, from side to side
Forever im high, high
Together we ride, ride
I'm never too tired
To get that paper, baby

If y'all wanna see me, see me
Im give y'all somethin to look look at
Make a nigga neck turn turn for Brat
Burn burn these hoes 'cause I'm back and my pants still sag
It's automatic, they wanna jump on my wagon, wagon
I ain't lackin lackin on shit
Open ya eyes when my body when I try on clothes that fit fit
I'm articulate and particulate on who I let hit hit
And get up in the middle of the center of my tootsie roll
Roll me something to smoke smoke and burn slow slow
Don't keep it a secret, tell all ya folks
See you when I shine, I glow, glow
From the C-H-I-C-A-GO, 6-0-6-4-4
And I trust no, nigga that make a mistake for me
Guns ready to blaze and to leave with you
Some of the ones run
I can't control my trigger finger when it pump pump
Stay out the way when I come come
It's guaranteed to bump bump the trunk, uh
And put a hump in ya back
If niggas is askin who's thumpin, it's Brat Brat

Throw yo hands in the air like you dont care
This fo niggas and bitches everywhere
Forever you playas playas flash on em, get cash on em
And make em say, say
Hands in the air, from side to side
Forever im high, high
Together we ride, ride
I'm never too tired
To get that paper, baby

I keep my bad braids back when puttin the dick on the track
You can turn it down playa, we don't listen to that
The bass dont thump, the snare don't clap
That beat ain't tight nigga, that shit ain't fat
Everytime I touch the mic, another record ya slap
I be breakin ya back to the rhythm of rap
Test it loud for the low kickin', slow and fast
Niggas say, "I love that fuckin shit ya did wit Da Brat!"
Actin bad with the pad, with the pen, with the paper
Still smoke a nigga under the table
Put the lines in the words and the hooks and the phrases
Instead of puttin out sumthin thats blazin
Get ya hand out my pocket, get ya foot out ya mouth
And ya head out ya ass
And keep ya nose out my buisness
And I mean it, goddammit, 'cause I'm fiddinta get MAD
I put em in the trash bag
Twist, tie, put em out Monday and Wednesday
I kick em in they raggely ass
Take money from em everytime I bet against 'em
I know it ain't fair
But I swim with alligators and I wrestle with bears
Throw ya hands in the air
As high as you can, and leave them bitches there

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The Jump Off - Lyrics - Mos Def

Title: The Jump Off
Artist: Mos Def
Composer(s): Mark Adams, Steven R Arrington, Cordozar C Broadus, Harry Wayne Casey, Richard Finch, Gary Miller, Mark Richardson, Dante Smith, Raymond Guy Turner, Steve Washington, Daniel Webster, Douglas Arthur Wimbish, Andre Romell Young

Lyric:
Black
(Black)
Jack Johnson ain't scared of you motherfuckers, ha, ha

(It's the jump off)
Yeah, y'all now, c'mon
(It's the jump off)
Push it up now, ha
(It's the jump off)
What you want now?
(It's the jump off)
Keep cool, now
(Put your hands up, it's the jump-off)

Yeah, it's that Freak Daddy shit
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands)

With so much drama in the NYC
It's kinda hard bein' MOS Def-initely
But I, some how, some way
Keep comin' up with funky ass shit with the Black Jack Jay

May, I, spit a lyric for my ghetto people?
Show me 'nough respect when I breeze, through
Riders beep they horn
'Cause I keep the party jumpin' like yo' momma ain't home

I'm just a freak individual singin' my song
Shinin' bright on the mic like it's six in the morn'
(Six in the morn')

So, peep out my manuscript
Reach up, sleeves up, for a second now bounce
This is the one that make the party wile' out
Nigga, I said wile' out, nigga, I said wile' out
Lemme show you what we're talkin' about
(C'mon)

Huh, ha, yes, hah, uh, hah, rock wit' me now
Uh, ha, yes, ah, uh, rock wit' me now
(You are now rockin' with the best)
Uh, hah, yes, unh, ha, uh, come check me now
(Black Jack)
Uh, hah, uh, yes, hah, uh, uh, back to the beat like

(It's the jump off)
Get it up now
(It's the jump off)
C'mon, push it up now
(It's the jump off)
Get it up now
(It's the jump off)
And make it jump now

(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off)
Uh, push it up now
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off)
Nigga, jump now
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off)
Push it up now
(Raise your hands up, it's the jump off
Raise your hands)

Tables fulla hi-hat, a dash of drums
Sprinkle in a little keyboard, a pint of rum
With just a pinch of purple haze and a gallon of bass
Mix snares with rock 'n' roll and throw it all in ya face

Pre-heat the studio to about a hundred degrees
Ludacris, Mos Def and your best emcees
You'll get burnt just for thinkin' you can step to me
And that's the end of my little ghetto recipe

My destinies are rhythm, hit 'em with the rhythm
Hit 'em, click 'em, then ha, ha, ha, strip 'em
Jump the fuck
(Back)
No gun can pump
(That)

I punch the engi
(Neer)
And slap the whole
(Track)

Then pop all the speakers and strip the wires
Blow smoke from the MPs and amplifiers
Here to spit truth for the liar, liars
I'm the hottest emcee, y'all a fire fired

Huh, yes, uh, ah, yes, uh, yes, hah, c'mon
(You are now rockin' wit' the best)
Woo, Brooklyn, New York City
Hah, take 'em there, Doc
Hah, uh, yeah, Black Jack, c'mon
So incredible, fantastic
(Ohh)
Freak Daddy shit, fire

C'mon
(Woo)
Nigga, rock to it, uh
(Uh)
Hah
(Hah)
Yeah
(Yeah)

(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Ridin' high
(High)
Ridin' low
(Low)

(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Ridin' clean
(Clean)
Ridin' dirty
(Dirty)

Nobody high as we are, Black Jack Johnson
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Told you my hot was incredible, y'all
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Woo
(Woo)

(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Tell 'em again
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Hey, I don't think y'all heard me
(Clap your hands now, people, clap your hands)
Black, Jack, Johnson ain't scared of you motherfuckers

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