Help Me Rhonda - Lyrics - Beach Boys

Title: Help Me Rhonda
Artist: Beach Boys
Composer(s): Brian Wilson, Mike Love

Lyric:
Well since she put me down
I've been out doin' in my head
I come in late at night
And in the mornin' I just lay in bed

Well, Rhonda you look so fine
And I know it wouldn't take much time
For you to help me Rhonda
Help me get her out of my heart

Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda yeah, get her out of my heart

She was gonna be my wife
And I was gonna be her man
But she let another guy come between us
And it shattered our plan

Well, Rhonda you caught my eye
And I can give you lotsa reasons why
You gotta help me Rhonda
Help me get her out of my heart

Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda yeah, get her out of my heart

Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda
Help me Rhonda yeah, get her out of my heart

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Rhonda - Lyrics - Pastor Troy

Title: Rhonda
Artist: Pastor Troy
Composer(s): Big Toombs P J Wright, Gene Griffin, Micah Troy

Lyric:
KD had called and gave me the word
Said this nigga had ten birds, in Augusta for the week
From the islands, as soon as K told me this shit, I started smiling
'Cause all I could see was money piling, shit, on top of money
Now, can't you come up with the money for the week, and Chesapeake
The heat made my nigga take a break
If I could catch all 10 of them bitches, and I don't look suspicious
I'ma sell the fucking quart for the A.A., ha ha

As I told K bye bye, he shot me advice
If you gone do it nigga do it nigga, fuck thinking twice
This is ya nigga for life, go fight 'em fire for fire
Hit my hip when you finish said his calling card expired
Hung up the phone, contemplating on who help me do it
There's Kia and Jessica and then Rhonda truitt
Now Jessica to stupid and Kia lie to much
I guess I'll take Rhonda, 'cause Rhonda don't give a fuck

But first I got to pump her up, I'm give her what, 10 g's
Tell her if she really love me she would do this for me
Eternally we'll be together for better or for worse
But first we got to take these niggas to the hearse
Burst in they shit, get the bricks come back out
I'm be waiting in the Chevy, you know I'm ready to take em' out
If they front 'cha baby, come on, we make it we rich
Come on, shit, Rhonda, my down ass bitch

Help me Rhonda, help
Help, help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help, help me Rhonda, help

Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help

Well, I'm the realist bitch, I'm mo realer than reality
Fuck that dumb shit, it take nothing to a casualty
FBI be after me, quareter ki in my womanly
Coming back from St. Croix, First lady to Pastor Troy
Even I'm a Georgia Boy, 'cause boy I'm ready jack
All you got to say is where them pussy niggas hangin' at
Drop it like a maniac, set it off by myself
Fuck them pussy motherfuckers and who ever else

Okay baby, you set it off, there will be no more living single
I'll be ready to tie the knot after we lick them for them blocks
Grab the glock, and shot out the lot, and keep on bustin'
Then I'm gone bust in cusin' and leave his punk ass fa' nothing
Now what's in store for you is 10 G's
That's enough for me, I don't give a fat fuck
What's the fucking hold up? About this time I saw a truck, to a familiar
K had said them motherfuckers had a truck similiar

Passengers are him and her, playing some reggae shit
Two a.k.'s, me and my bitch, one false move we gone spit
Guess the driver thank he slick, dred head motherfucker
Guess he most be know my bitch, Rhonda watch them motherfuckers
That owe 'em money, that what, with K.D. and Chesapeake
Heard that when he spoke with me and now her folk wanna smoke me
If he had the keys all I can do now is wonder
But for now me and Rhonda filling 'em up with the thunder

Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help

Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help
Help me Rhonda, help

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Crossover - Lyrics - Out Of Business - Epmd

Title: Crossover
Album: Out Of Business
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Parrish G Smith, David Gamson, Roger Troutman

Lyric:
(Erick Sermon)
Erick Sermon's in the house

Let's get up, let's get down
Roll wit the hardcore funk, the hardcore sound
Let's get wit this, mackadocious funk material
So simple, when I rock wit the instrumental
Who am I (E-D the Green Eyed Bandit)
Control my career so I can never get stranded
But the rest are gettin Brand Nubian
Changed up they style, from jeans to suits and
Thinkin about a pop record, somethin made for the station
For a whole new relation-
Ship of a new type of scene
To go platinum and clock mad green
AKA, a sellout, the rap definition
Get off that boy, change your mission
Come back around the block
Pump Color Me Badd to the ah, tick tock
Let them know your logo, not a black thing
My background sing, my background sing for the crossover

The Crossover

The rap era's outta control, brother's sellin their soul
To go gold, going, going, gone, another rapper sold
(To who) To pop and RandB, not the MD
I'm strictly hip-hop, I'll stick to Kid Capri
Funk mode, yea, kid, that's how the Squad rolls
I know your head is bobbin 'cause the neck knows
(Not like other rappers) frontin on they fans, the ill
Trying to chill, saying "damn, it be great to sell a mill"
Thats when the mind switch to the pop tip
(Kid, you're gonna be large)
Yea right, that's what the company kicks
Forget the black crowds, you're wack now
In a zoot suit, frontin black lookin mad foul
I speak for the hardcore (ruff, rugged and raw)
I'm outta here, catch me chillin on my next tour
From the US to the white cliffs of Dover
Strictly underground funk, keep the crossover

The Crossover

So what cha sayin) You wanna go pop goes the weasel
You know you should be rocking the fans wit something diezel
But you insist to piss me off black
So I flex the biceps so I can push em back
So real hardcore hip-hop continue wreck it
And all sucker MC's duck down and get the message
So ban the crossover, yo, who's wit me
(Hit Squad) yea, P, hit me

Another megablast, funky dope style from cross yonder
(So help me Rhonda, help, help me Rhonda)
(Yo, from what) the crossover, yea crossing you over
Outta here, gone, peace, nice to know ya (see ya)
What a way to go out, no clout is what the fans will shout
'Cause you got gassed and took the wrong route
Came on the scene, chillin, freakin a funky dope line
But when they finish wit you (beep) flatline
Some say there's no business like show business
But if this the truth, please explain why is this
Rappers been around long, makin mad noise you see
Still I haven't seen one rapper livin comfortably
No time to pick and wish on a four leaf clover
I stick to underground, keep the crossover

The Crossover

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Heaven - Lyrics - The Fix - Scarface

Title: Heaven
Album: The Fix
Artist: Scarface
Composer(s): Kelly Price, Tristan G. Jones, Jr., Roy Moore, Brad Jordan

Lyric:
It's gonna be some shit you might not understand
But, you may have to rewind this shit a few times
Heaven, Heaven
Check it out

I know tomorrow ain't a promise
That's why I live one day at a time
So when it's my turn, they'll be no crying
I'm aware that when my number's called I'm punchin' the clock
No need for screamin' at me momma, I'm out

And plus I wasn't really happy here to start with, let that be told
My old homeboy was robbin' me, and that's 3 cold
I said '3', It's all intentional, 'cause 2 don't count
When your own bloods bitter and your homeboys bounce

Who the fuck is you gonna trust when your road dog is schemin'?
And every other corner, you're passin' a different demon
And now the clouds is open, I'm rememberin' this
Your families, your backbone, your friends ain't shit

Now I believe it when Rhonda was sayin', "Back in the days"
When our homeboys left, she the only ones stayed
For that very reason, I'm a try and give her the world
Found Heaven in the form of a girl, everybody's sayin'

My angel, my sunshine
Bless the day that I found Heaven in the form of a girl
My best friend, my good time
Bless the day that I found Heaven in the form of a girl

Listen to different scriptions, they teach on God
And if you ain't never met him, don't speak on God
I'm serious about religion, just ain't no song
I'm hearin' niggas makin' up scriptions, and playin' along

Probably sayin' I'm the hypocrit, for judgin' these folks
But you can tell he ain't a Christian, by the way that he spoke
I pray for everbody, hopin' that they hear that voice
The one that paralyzes you from head down, boy

When you're aware of your surroundings, yet you still can't move
Water shootin' outta your eyes you hear this dude
And the voice is much louder, than the voice that you
Thought was the voice of the Holy Spirit
Who changed your life, when you hear it?

And the next morn', you wake up and the world look lighter
The grass greener, and the sun brighter
I know the feelin' first hand, I witnessed the sights
When I allowed the Lord to come in my life

And it was like
(Heaven, Heaven)
But I'm a man, I ain't perfect

That's a poor excuse, that ain't workin'
I asked him for forgiveness, for every sin I commit
Hopefully he gonna let me stay on his list
I'm tryin' to get to Heaven

America the Beautiful, don't be so cold
How do you expectin' our seeds gonna grow?
When you trap us in the ghetto
And show love, to the other muthafuckers

While we right here starvin' at home
I'd cry, if I thought, that me sheddin' a tear might help
Then again, me sheddin' tears don't help
Wanna call up to the President, and see if he know help

Let him know you up shit creek yourself, we all sinners
Facin' the winter, with no socks, and no shoes
In a position, where we all gon' loose
Tell the penitentiaries, we gonna need more schools

Or what the fuck is we gonna do?
Sit around and let the world pass us by?
Waitin' on a message from the Revrand
And he ain't but another man, tryin' to get to
(Heaven)

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