Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Johnny Can'T Read. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Johnny Can'T Read. Sort by date Show all posts

Friday, August 13, 2010

Johnny Can'T Read - Lyrics - Don Henley

Title: Johnny Can'T Read
Artist: Don Henley
Composer(s): Don Henley, Danny Kortchmar

Lyric:
Football, baseball, basketball games
Drinkin? bear, kickin? ass and takin? down names
With the top down, get-a-round, shootin? the line
Summer is here and Johnny?s feelin? fine

But Johnny can?t read
Summer is over and he?s gone to seed
Johnny can?t read
He never learned nothin? that he?ll ever need

Well, Johnny can dance and Johnny can love
Johnny can push and Johnny can shove
Johnny can hang out, Johnny can talk tough
Johnny can get down and Johnny can throw up

But Johnny can?t read
Summer is over and he?s gone to seed
You know that Johnny can?t read
He never learned nothin? that he?ll ever need

Well, is it teacher?s fault? Oh, no
Is it mommy?s fault? Oh, no
Is it society?s fault? Oh, no
Well is it Johnny?s fault? Oh, no

Couple years later, Johnny?s on the run
Johnny got confused and he bought himself a gun
Well, he went and did something that he shouldn?t oughta done
FBI on his tail, use a gun, go to jail

But Johnny can?t read
Summer is over and he?s gone to seed
You know that Johnny can?t read
He never learned nothin? that he?ll ever need

Well is it teacher?s fault? Oh, no
Is it mommy's?s fault? Oh, no
Is it the president?s fault? Oh, no
Well is it Johnny?s fault? Oh, no

Johnny can dance and Johnny can love
Johnny can push and Johnny can shove
Johnny can pinball, Johnny can talk tough
Johnny can get down and Johnny can throw up

Johnny can?t read
Johnny can?t read

Well, recess is over
Recess is over

Sitcoms, T&A
Johnny?s mind is blown away
Cop shows, horror flicks
Johnny?s brain is full of bricks

Rock show, video
Boob tube, Rubik?s cube
Game fools, Sunday school
Gain fans, gobble gangs
Wonka, wonka, wonka

There?s a new kid in town

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44e77d4f8c3bf29359192b15a8daab25

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Blah Blah Blah - Lyrics - Blah-Blah-Blah - Iggy Pop

Title: Blah Blah Blah
Album: Blah-Blah-Blah
Artist: Iggy Pop
Composer(s): James Osterberg, David Jones

Lyric:
Pop before the war, lunch before the score
Steady as she goes, following my nose
I'm a bull mongrel, that's me
Baby, that's me

Shimon Peres, whatcha gonna do
I'm from Detroit, blow the reveille
Deatho knocko
That's me, little old me, glamorous me

Johnny can't read
Blah-blah-blah
I' can't see
Blah-blah-blah
Tuna on white, guns all night
Blah-blah-blah

Cat taboo girl, raped by an ape
Cat taboo girl jam the sucker in
You dig the mongrels
Guardian of the state who says you gotta go bombin' low

Senator Rambo merrily you go
Monkey butcher knows a cab to find abank
A bank to find a loan 'cause you can't be alone
You dig the mongrels, that's you
Heaven, it's you [Incomprehensible] you

Violent peace
Blah-blah-blah
Buy it right now
Blah-blah-blah
We are the world, we are so huge
Blah-blah-blah

Johnny can't read
Blah-blah-blah
I can't see
Blah-blah-blah
Tuna on white, guns all night
Blah-blah-blah

Blue jeans coolies, everything huge
Petrified food, pizza killers from napalm to nice guy
Hit 'em where they live, nifty fifty
[Incomprehensible]
The most spoiled brats on God's green earth
Pop before the war

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7db32981f087b3a9b1ef343192e31509

Sunday, August 8, 2010

This Ain'T Livin - Lyrics - Until The End Of Time - 2pac

Title: This Ain'T Livin
Album: Until The End Of Time
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Johnny Lee Jackson, Tupac Amaru Shakur

Lyric:
This ain't livin'

Nigga, I hear even the smaller G's be dippin' Chevy Impalas
While flossin' they gold D's, O.G.'s, is who they follow
We swallow tomorrow see, what we leave is hollow
We feed violence and greed, let 'em bleed tomorrow
In time, they grip a nine, sippin' wine, hit grass
'Til I be starin' watch the parents sacrifice they child
The love's gone, a thug's home, with no love
Feelin' so strong, make young boys into drug lords

Now one for adolescents, now dos for dose
Keep yo' friends by your side, even close your foes
Now three for Johnny Law tryin' to make my chips
I never pulled the trigger, didn't touch that bitch
Throw yo' hands in the air, it's a robbery
Thinkin' 'Pac, would you ride with me
Let's go see what our enemies talkin' 'bout
When G's enter the house nobody's walkin' out

This ain't livin', it's similar to prison, we trapped
My homies jealous plus they tell us that the phones is tapped
I watch my back twenty-fo' seven
And never let a busta send a G to ghetto heaven, you know!
This is how it goes when we floss with foes
Before I toss yo' hoe, it'll cost you mo'
I do shows, make a lot of dough, murder my foes
But I'd give it all up, if it would help you grow
This ain't livin'

Takes a life to make a life
(Takes a life)
Livin' in the world of crime tonight
(Takes a life)
Can't find a better way to break you
This ain't livin', I gotta do what I gotta do

Takes a life to make a life
(Takes a life)
Livin' in the world of crime tonight
(Takes a life)
Can't find a better way to break you
This ain't livin', I gotta do what I gotta do

Peep it, gunfire is produced at alarmin' rates
Today's youth, grip the shit, get in the car and break
"It takes a nation of millions" if we intend to stop the killin'
Just search your feelings, participate in some [Incomprehensible]
They our seeds and when they bleed, we bleed
That's what becomes of lonely children, they turn to G's
Heavenly father can you rescue, my young nation
Rest the Lord will protect you, respect due

Not a threat as I step in blue
And check those that oppose when I froze them fools
And who are you to watch me fall farther
I disappeared, reappeared as the, follow me now
Skippin' class, and livin fast, will get yo' ass
Stuck in the pen, doin' life plus ten
Young brother pump yo' brakes for me, before you choke
Won't ya soak up some game from yo' big homies

This ain't livin', we givin' you jewels, use 'em as tools
Explode on they industry and fade them fools
You know the rules, gotta be a rider
You can run the red lights but read the street signs, hey
This for all of y'all that keep on raisin' hell
Put a pistol in your hand and let you fade yourself
It ain't right, what you put your momma through, young G
Gotta change your life, take the game from me
This ain't livin'

Takes a life to make a life
(Takes a life)
Livin' in the world of crime tonight
(Takes a life)
Can't find a better way to break you
This ain't livin', I gotta do what I gotta do

Takes a life to make a life
(Takes a life)
Livin' in the world of crime tonight
(Takes a life)
Can't find a better way to break you
This ain't livin', I gotta do what I gotta do

Takes a life to make a life
(Takes a life)
Livin' in the world of crime tonight
(Takes a life)
Can't find a better way to break you
This ain't livin', I gotta do what I gotta do

Takes a life to make a life
(Takes a life)
Livin' in the world of crime tonight
(Takes a life)
Can't find a better way to break you
This ain't livin', I gotta do what I gotta do

Play the MP3 online for free!
d34aca36777fcbfbc2979fe2f21f1960

Sunday, August 22, 2010

If You Could Read My Mind - Lyrics - American V: A Hundred Highways - Johnny Cash

Title: If You Could Read My Mind
Album: American V: A Hundred Highways
Artist: Johnny Cash
Composer(s): Gordon Lightfoot

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

Lyric:
If you could read my mind, love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
'Bout a ghost from a wishing well

In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains around my feet
You know that ghost is me and I will never be
Set free as long as I'm a ghost that you can't see

If I could read your mind, love
What a tale your thoughts would tell
Just like a paperback novel
The kind the drugstores sell

When you reached the part where the heartaches come
The hero would be me but heroes often fail
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take

I'd walk away like a movie star
Who gets burned in a three way script
Enter number two, a movie queen to play the scene
Of bringing all the good things out in me
But for now, love, let's be real

I never thought I could act this way
And I've got to say that I just don't get it
I don't know where we went wrong
But the feeling's gone and I just can't get it back

If you could read my mind, love
What a tale my thoughts could tell
Just like an old time movie
'Bout a ghost from a wishing well

In a castle dark or a fortress strong
With chains upon my feet but stories always end
If you read between the lines, you'll know
That I'm just tryin' to understand the feelin's that you lack

I never thought, I could feel this way
And I've got to say that I just don't get it
I don't know where we went wrong
But the feelin's gone and I just can't get it back

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b09b094c27af384edda6115c7220a9d1

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Degenerated - Lyrics - Reagan Youth

Title: Degenerated
Artist: Reagan Youth
Composer(s): Dave Rubenstein, Paul Bakija

Lyric:
Johnny doin' out on a Tuesday night?
Johnny can't read, Johnny can't write
Johnny just don't understand

Johnny don't care about this world
As long as he can fuck his girl
And prove that he's a man

Johnny wastes his days eatin' ludes
He's a teenage vegetable
Gettin' high proves that he's cool

Johnny hates to think, he's ignorant
He's a mindless brainwashed pig
Ring a bell, he starts to drool

Degenerated, degenerated
And your minds have vegetated
Degenerated, degenerated
And your thoughts are constipated

He's got P.C.P. in his veins
He's got a void in his brain
He's addicted to the TV

And when he's old, he's gonna have a son
[Incomprehensible]
What's to become of young Johnny?

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2968c49f5ce952230322261a77cc2961

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Money Man - Lyrics - Lynyrd Skynyrd 1991 - Lynyrd Skynyrd

Title: Money Man
Album: Lynyrd Skynyrd 1991
Artist: Lynyrd Skynyrd
Composer(s): Johnny Van Zant, Ed King

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

Lyric:
This song goes out to all the money men

He drives around in a fancy car
Smokes those long, Cuban cigars
He don't know how to play guitar
And he can't sing but still the pretty girls think he's a star

We play music, got families to feed
Ain't good with numbers and he knows we can't read
If we get a dollar you know he gets three
It ain't hard to figure out, it's as simple as can be

Don't ask me, ask the money man

These boys are livin' in a fantasy land
I just keep 'em on the road so they can pay the money man
I'll be long gone before they understand
My promises are strong like a road made out of sand

I wanna be your money man
My mortgage is picked up by the band
I wanna be your money man
The boys, oh they're sleepin' out in the van

Don't ask me, ask the money man

You boys are livin' in fantasy land
You signed the dotted line, I'm takin' all I can
Your money's lookin' good in my retirement plan
That's just the way it is when you're playin' in a band

That's my money man, down on his knees
He ain't prayin' but he damn sure ought to be
He's at a place where money doesn't grow on trees
And all his prison buddies doin' more than shoot the breeze

How does it feel no money man, not too good
What did you do with my money man
Well I a, well a you know a
How does it feel to be a honey man
Are you sure that you're still a man

Aw you're dressed up like a little girl
Just shootin' the breeze, down on your knees
Money man, oh money man

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8de004b67ec849fffb8a4b923777d4b5

Wild Guess - Lyrics - Believe In Angels Believe In Me - Angel

Title: Wild Guess
Album: Believe In Angels Believe In Me
Artist: Angel
Composer(s): Jeanette Margaret Olsson, Johnny Mosegaar Pedersen, Storm Lee Gardner

Lyric:
I want to confess
All these thoughts that I've been thinking
Get it off my chest
After just one kiss I'm sinking

I know that you want me
You know I do
Don't try to read my mind
Pay attention to my body language

It's a wild guess what we'll do next
Gonna rock, gonna roll, oh we won't rest
It's no wild guess what we'll do next
Yes, you can play, I can tease, have you begging on your knees
Yes I will, on your knees

I can feel your breath
Down my neck my heart is racing
It ain't no dream
It's your touch that I've been chasing

I know that you want me
You know I do
Don't try to read my mind
Pay attention to my body language

It's a wild guess what we'll do next
Gonna rock, gonna roll, oh we won't rest
It's no wild guess what we'll do next
Yes, you can play, I can tease, have you begging on your knees

Wild guess what we'll do next
Gonna rock, gonna roll, oh we won't rest
It's no wild guess what we'll do next
Yes, you can play, I can tease, have you begging on your knees
Yes I will, on your knees

Oh, did you ever think that everything would change
Just by walking in the room?
Did you ever think the one you wanted
Really wants you too?

Did you? Let's get out of here
I've got to get out of this stress

It's a wild guess what we'll do next
Gonna rock, gonna roll, oh we won't rest
It's no wild guess what we'll do next
Yes, you can play, I can tease, have you begging on your knees

Wild guess what we'll do next
Gonna rock, gonna roll, oh we won't rest
It's no wild guess what we'll do next
Yes, you can play, I can tease, have you begging on your knees
On your knees

Play the MP3 online for free!
5d28f593876868277edcfbebbbec499f

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

How High (Remix) - Lyrics - Method Man

Title: How High (Remix)
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): E Sermon, C Smith, R Noble

Lyric:
Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?
How high?
The Ultimate high

'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?
Stalk the dead body like a vulture

Tical get, blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, 'Apocalypse Now', the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down diggy down down

While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
Fuckin' with us is a straight suicide

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1, lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin' all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours

Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rapture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all night store

For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existence, M-E-T
Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D

I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough

Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed

The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to play me, now they can't forget me now

Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin' off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your Billboard spot?

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the funk doctor spock smokin' Buddha on a train
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick

Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick

'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin' O

Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin' for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast

Hailin' from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block)
(You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run around with a racist

My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day habit

I get it on like Smif'n'Wes
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon

I'm bombin' you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with

Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, twistin' wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga

Boo, scared you, blew you to smithereens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental

Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em up proppa

Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle

For the nine nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red)
Punk ass pussy ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
Word up Tical, we out
(It's over)

Play the MP3 online for free!
88a6d40359925e162f397f0b1472593c

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

How High (Part 2) - Lyrics - Method Man

Title: How High (Part 2)
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): E Sermon, C Smith, R Noble

Lyric:
Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?
How high?
The Ultimate high

'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?
Stalk the dead body like a vulture

Tical get, blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, 'Apocalypse Now', the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down diggy down down

While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
Fuckin' with us is a straight suicide

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1, lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin' all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours

Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rapture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all night store

For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existence, M-E-T
Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D

I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough

Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed

The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to play me, now they can't forget me now

Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin' off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your Billboard spot?

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the funk doctor spock smokin' Buddha on a train
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick

Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick

'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin' O

Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin' for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast

Hailin' from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block)
(You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run around with a racist

My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day habit

I get it on like Smif'n'Wes
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon

I'm bombin' you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with

Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, twistin' wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga

Boo, scared you, blew you to smithereens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental

Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em up proppa

Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle

For the nine nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red)
Punk ass pussy ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
Word up Tical, we out
(It's over)

Play the MP3 online for free!
e03e7bed6d695371a30d03ada453952b

Friday, August 13, 2010

How High - Lyrics - Tical 2000 Judgementday - Method Man

Title: How High
Album: Tical 2000 Judgementday
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): E Sermon, C Smith, R Noble

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

Lyric:
Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?
How high?
The Ultimate high

'Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the fuck wanna die for their culture?
Stalk the dead body like a vulture

Tical get, blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house'n projects, I represent the Shaolin my nigga
Hell yes, 'Apocalypse Now', the gun blow
It be goin' down, diggy diggy down diggy down down

While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse
When I raise my trigga finga all y'all niggaz hit the decks
'Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores
Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs

The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it
With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch
Plus, the Bombazee got me wild
Fuckin' with us is a straight suicide

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1, lyric at your door
Tical bring it to that ass raw
Breakin' all the rules like glass jaws
Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours

Fucka, we don't need no rap tour
I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rapture
More than you bargained for
Tical, that stays open like an all night store

For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel
Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill
And end your existence, M-E-T
Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D

I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust
The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts
I shift like a clutch with the Ruck
Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough

Your shit broke down, light your flare
Since the dark side tears you into Hollywood squares
6 million ways to die, so I chose
Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed

The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap
And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass
And yo my man, hit me now
(Tical)
Bitches use to play me, now they can't forget me now

Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock
Empty off a lickin' off a hip hop
Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block
How you dope when you payed for your Billboard spot?

Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane
It's the funk doctor spock smokin' Buddha on a train
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick

Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane
Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed
How high? So high that I can kiss the sky
How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick

'Til my man Raider Ruckus come home
It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home
Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone
We don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin' O

Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic
Bring the Pain lyrics screamin' for the antiseptic
Movin' on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin' dome piece
Plus I got no love for the beast

Hailin' from the big East Coast
Where niggaz pack toast
Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats
(Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block)
(You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped)
As I run around with a racist

My style was born in the 50 stair cases
Dig it, eff a rap critic
He talk about it while I live it
If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it

Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya
Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet
Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic
Rollin' blunts an all day habit

I get it on like Smif'n'Wes
Punks take a sip and test
Who split your vest
The funk phenomenon

I'm bombin' you like Lebanon
Blow canals of Panama
Just off stamina
Styles not to be fucked with, or played with

Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those, Section A Bitches
Hittin' switches, twistin' wigs with
Fat radical mathematical type scriptures
I dig up in your planets like Diga

Boo, scared you, blew you to smithereens
Fuck the marines, I got machines
To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine
I fly more heads than Continental

Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental
Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks
But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks
I breaks 'em up proppa

Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya'
Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg
Look, I got the tools like Rickle
To make your mind tickle

For the nine nickle
(Yo Red, yo Red)
Punk ass pussy ass
(You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it)
Word up Tical, we out
(It's over)

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40216e9571f683b80ef99617964030b9

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Rap Games Hijacked - Lyrics - VI: Return Of The Real - Ice T

Title: Rap Games Hijacked
Album: VI: Return Of The Real
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): George Brown, Donald Boyce, Stephan Johns, Claydes Smith, Robert Bell, Ronald Bell, Robert Mickens, Dennis Thomas, Tracy Lauren Marrow, Richard Westfield

Lyric:
Yeah, too many hardcore muthafuckas out here in this business
Ain't gettin' their proper loot
You know what I'm sayin'?
Check the technique

Everybody talkin' 'bout the way hip-hop ain't the same
Suckers kidnapped the game
I know the biggest in the business and no joke
Half of 'em broke and none of 'em smoke

I got into this hip-hop game
Just to try to get a girl and get some light-weight fame
There'd never been no cash made in it
So who thought you could get paid with it?

Just crash the club with my crew and then I'm outta there
Hit some skins, act bugged, that was a rap career
Then Run-D.M.C. jumped the fuck off
Got mad paid, word, kicked the bucks off

There wasn't many rappers out there rockin' the streets
When hip-hop was just cuts and beats
I seen Wildstyle dug the scene
I wanna be an MC, rock, rock on, know what I mean?

I started crashin' rap contests
Shootin' hardcore rhymes through wack MC's chests
I signed on the lines of a wack contract
Didn't even read it, fuck that

They gonna put my record out
I'm gonna be large, know what I'm talkin' about?
In the first two years I made about three hundred bucks
Yo, this business sucks

But I got another chance and I came correct
Got a lawyer and accountant, now my shit's legit
But many won't get no second chance
And get fucked in this biz without a kiss or a dance

The game is to exploit young ghetto kids
A straight pimp game and there ain't no shame
And the shit's gone too far
Hundred hip-hop labels with all white A&R's
The game's hijacked, the rap game's hijacked

Let me tell you how it happened

Now while every MC in the game
Was worryin' about a white boy gettin' the fame
They dug out the foundation
Now let me give a demonstration

Say, you got a dope group from the hood
Talkin' mad shit, like they're up to no good
You take 'em to a label
Now who sits behind the table?

Some Jewish muthafucka that don't know shit
Tryin' to tell y'all, what's a fuckin' street hit
The shit's way off course
It's like me tellin' Johnny Cash how to sing about his horse

You go on tour, the white agency says you're wild
Tone down your style
The radio jocks are all pop
So how the fuck this nigga know what shit to rock?

The shit that make your face turn green
Is when you get dissed by a kidnap magazine
I give a fuck about these muthafuckas
I'm doin' this jam to save my hip-hop brothers

Get your paperwork straight, kid
Get a lawyer and accountant just like I did
Don't blow your dough, 'cause you will see gs
But this game has no guarantees

Learn about publishin' points, so you won't be blind
Learn to read everything you sign
Then you might have a chance
If not, bend over, pull down your pants
The game's hijacked

Yo, the rap game's hijacked
I'm talkin' 'bout a hijack
The rap game's hijacked
Check it

You can go gold and still owe the record label cash
Yo, kid, check the math
Learn about the word 'recoup', troop
And stop walkin' 'round, all hyped and souped

You ain't nothin' but somethin' to be used and worked
You ain't nothin' but a sucker to be duped and jerked
'Cause the fuckin' record label don't love ya, pal
They didn't love ya on the street and don't love ya now

They're out to make an end, friend
'Cause every dollar you make, they damn near make ten
They'll take you for everything you got
Or else they'll sign you and they put on the shelf to rot

I'm tryin' to tell you what's up
You best to listen to this record even if you hate my fuckin' guts
'Cause I just can't stand around and watch rap get done
And my brothers ain't gettin' none

A nigga like me has gotta spit game
Nigga, get that cash flow, fuck that muthafuckin' fame
'Cause the white man's rippin' us off once again

Fool, the rap game's hijacked
You need to listen, nigga
The rap game's hijacked
Need to play this record about ten times

The rap game's hijacked
Black people don't own shit
The rap game's hijacked
Check it

R&B's hijacked
Black acting is hijacked
Just being black is hijacked

Nigga, stupid muthafuckas, they rippin' us off
You better get a end while the money's there, boy
Silly ass bitch, runnin' around with a gold chain
All niggas gotta get some real estate

Muthafucka, come up, fuck a bitch
Better get somethin' you can own, asshole
White man ain't givin' up shit
Word o' life

Although I got a white engineer
But he's gettin' minimum wage
So it's cool, yeah
Shit's been hijacked

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fe91f3f4f9082bdb6eb72f9b0910d587

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Thug 4 Life - Lyrics - Loyal to the Game - 2pac

Title: Thug 4 Life
Album: Loyal to the Game
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Johnny Jackson, Luis Resto, Marshall Mathers, Tupac Shakur

Lyric:
Thug for life nigga
Can't you read the signs?
Fuck it man

Whatchu doin'? Mobbin' like a motherfucker stuck
Can you put your middle finger
Out the window gettin' fucked off, liquor?
Get loaded can't control it
Nigga pass me the blunt and let me roll it
You get the bones act to the whole stack, that's fo sho black

To be a mack and keep your dough fat
And tell me what does it take to be a G?
I started with a quarter ounce and bounced to a key
You gotta watch your back stay strapped, be alert
Started as a young muthafucka doin' dirt
And now I'm in the rap game like the crack game, I got enemies

Can't pretend to see my friends are not my enemies
And even thug muthafuckas wanna have fun
Stuck it, buckin' my muthafuckin' Magnum, what does it take to be a G?
Silence is a must, violence is a plus, plus, shots at my adversaries
Dem niggaz scary best it's time to be buried
'Cause I'll be buckin' in a fuckin' hurry

Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why
Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why
Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why, tell 'em

Game, thicker than most of these tricks
I got my mind on makin' money
But you stuck on these fake bitches
And jealous muthafuckas can't see
That it's the fame that caught
These stupid bitches, pass the pussy free

So tell me why you sweatin' a muthafucka like me?
A young nigga tryin' to a hustle up some G's
You pussy ass playa hatin' hoes speakin' down on niggas
Jumpin' around at the shows
And your the first muthafucka to jump
To the trunk when it's time for fun

Little trick ass punk
Thug muthafuckas don't die we get high and we multiply
Muthafucka
Give a holla to my niggas in the bay
I'm livin' in L.A. still clutchin' on my AK

Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why
Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why
Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why, tell 'em

Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why
Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why
Tell 'em thug for life, high till I die
When 'em stupid ass bitches ask why, tell 'em

Thug for life, bitch
Yeah nigga, thug life, from now till the muthafuckin' ever
Have notz in this muthafucka
Yeah, no doubt

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e752d4071f94392270cf88f08f2a4985

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Drive On - Lyrics - American Recordings - Johnny Cash

Title: Drive On
Album: American Recordings
Artist: Johnny Cash
Composer(s): Johnny Cash

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

Lyric:
Well I got a friend named Whiskey Sam
He was my boonierat buddy for a year in Nam
He said "I think my country just a little off track
Took 'em twenty-five years to welcome me back"

But, it's better than not coming back at all
Many a good man I saw fall
And even now every time I dream
I hear the men and the monkeys in the jungle scream

Drive on, it don't mean nothin'
My children love me, but they don't understand
And I got a woman who knows her man
Drive on, it don't mean nothin', it don't mean nothin' drive on

Well I remember one night Tex and me rappelled in on a hot L.Z.
We had our 16's on rock and roll and with all that fire I was scared and cold
I was crazy, and I was wild and I have seen the tiger smile
I spit in a bamboo viper's face and I'd be dead, but by God's grace

Drive on, it don't mean nothin'
My children love me, but they don't understand
And I got a woman who knows her man
Drive on, it don't mean nothin', it don't mean nothin', drive on

It was a slow walk in a sad rain and nobody tried to be John Wayne
I came home, but Tex did not and I can't talk about the hit he got
But I got a little limp now when I walk
And I got a little tremolo when I talk
But my letter read from Whiskey Sam
You're a walkin' talkin' miracle from Vietnam

Drive on, it don't mean nothin'
My children love me, but they don't understand
And I got a woman who knows her man
Drive on, it don't mean nothin', it don't mean nothin', drive on

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dc22adc18c41fda46fe122092e547014

Friday, July 30, 2010

Fly Trapped In A Jar - Lyrics - We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank - Modest Mouse

Title: Fly Trapped In A Jar
Album: We Were Dead Before the Ship Even Sank
Artist: Modest Mouse
Composer(s): Eric Judy, Tom Peloso, Joe Plummer, Isaac Brock, Jeremiah Green, Johnny Marr

Lyric:
Of part and parcel
Well, we're already dead
Well, it's probably been said
That it's always been said that

One wing isn't even enough
It isn't even enough
It isn't even enough to leave

One wing isn't even enough
It isn't even enough
It isn't even enough to leave

I'm gonna shake myself right out the door
I'm gonna take myself when it's finally over
I'm gonna let my own bad self take over
I'm gonna move my arm out with my shoulder

And one wing wasn't even enough
It wasn't even enough
It wasn't even enough to leave

One wing wasn't even enough
It wasn't even enough
It wasn't even enough to leave

One wing wasn't even enough
It wasn't even enough
It wasn't even enough to leave

First off Gary was on trial and drunk before we left bed
As things got better was it hard to say that he had no idea
Well, I hadn't noticed but the people really noticed
That they really didn't want us around

So we all just opened up our mouths and walked to this town
Well, I was walking just a little bit sideways
And you were walking sideways too
Well, I hadn't learned when a front door can be used, here we go sir

We had darkened doors so we didn't read what the sign read
Though simple enough it was to me really tough
The ground needs to be fed
Well, I hadn't noticed but the people really noticed
That they didn't really want us around
So not a single one of us will ever leave town, here we go sir

Our bodies were laid out they were laid for fifteen yards
Well, two feet above each of our heads was a fly trapped in a jar
Well, I hadn't noticed but the people really noticed
That they really didn't want us around
So every single one of us hit the ground, here we go now

One wing wasn't even
One wing wasn't even enough

Oh, pardon, pardon
So, well it's probably been said
That it's always been said, we were already dead

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dc0e2a9084e231c3de9bc9540a22c9f9

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Beautiful Day - Lyrics - You Can't Stop The Bum Rush - Len

Title: Beautiful Day
Album: You Can't Stop The Bum Rush
Artist: Len
Composer(s): Brian Higgins, Edward Jr Brigati, Marc Costanzo, Felix Cavaliere, Derek Mackenzie

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

Lyric:
Beautiful day
Yes indeed, ya mumble c
You know the voice, you know I'm the choice
But right now I'd like to bring you a funky funky group
That go by the name of LEN
L-e-n
And we gonna go a lil something like this
Check it out
D-rock

I got mumbles on the beats and me and biz is rappin
And when we get together we makes it happen
And if you find my ryhme book well please don't bend
Cause I can kill the man with the jab of my pen
I'm not a violent man
Don't hang with violent men
Sometimes I like to chill and try to read zen
I gotta give props to a writer named wren
Cause he's been around since god knows when
I think it's time for an introduction
My name is d-rock from a crew called len
Been into hip-hop since the age of 10
And I leave them in shock when I begin
Thats why I dont front on my first impressions
And I only write rhymes for my circle of friends
It's like that, and that's the way it ends
Me and biz markie constantly set trends

Oh, what a beautiful day
What a beautiful day
What a beautiful day

Party people in the place I'd like to tell you a tale
About a high powered girl
Her name is gale
She's a funky fresh girly, she ain't stale
Everytime I see her she makes me hard as a nail
I was chillin at my house drinkin ginger-ale
Watchin monty python and the holy grail
When I got a phone call it never failed
It came all the way from a college named yale
I said hello pretty momma, what's up female?
Lets go on a cruise, or go on a sail
But first let me call my man named dale
I call him, but he was in jail
We both went down and paid his bail
It came back three weeks in the mail
One thing I forgot this last detail
That the biz markie will always prevail

Oh, what a beautiful day
What a beautiful day
What a beautiful day

Yo, I wanna say peace to all our crews
East and west that rock the best
Say wuzzup to g-force, my man without a porsche
A shout out to sean and mikah
For throwin those parties
And how ya doin johnny walker in vancouver?
How ya doin johnny?
And a special big beautiful day
To a special big beautiful label
For givin us all that
Special special special beautiful cash

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5d716ae74d40b3a638fda2d34aaed115

Monday, August 2, 2010

Vivid - Lyrics - Electronic

Title: Vivid
Artist: Electronic
Composer(s): Johnny Marr, Bernard Sumner

Lyric:
My imagination wants to see
The vivid colors of reality
There's a place out there beyond my grasp
A revolution in a looking glass

I've got to get this problem off my chest
I'm sick and tired of bein' second best
I rearranged my credibility
A fund raiser for a restless sea

Don't ever doubt me
What's come over you?
Won't you forgive me?
What are you gonna do?

Don't ever doubt me
What's come over you?
Won't you forgive me?
What are you gonna do?
What will you do?

I can't contain what's in my head
I'm losing words that I must have read
Do you remember the time we spent?
It seems that we were the main event

Have you a reason to behave like this?
Maybe you need a psychoanalyst
If you keep pushing me out of the door
For sure, you'll never see me again

No one to talk to
What am I gonna do ?
You're never there
Right when I need you

Give me a cause
Give me a reason
For your applause
I'll commit treason

And in my mind I know I'm right
It's the same thing every night
You're not to blame so don't you cry
You don't need me so hurt my pride

In all that time, I know we tried
Line by line and side by side
And still I pray that we'll get by
But it don't seem real and I don't know why?

And in my mind I know I'm right
It's the same thing every night
You're not to blame so don't you cry
You don't need me so hurt my pride

And in my mind I know I'm right
It's the same thing every night
Why do you cry, you're not to blame?
When will you change this sad refrain?

Sad refrain
Oh, when will you change
This sad refrain
When will you change
This sad refrain

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f4ee22a3a930c1c576edf1434afe6c78

Monday, August 9, 2010

Flipmode Squad Meets Def Squad - Lyrics - The Coming - Busta Rhymes

Title: Flipmode Squad Meets Def Squad
Album: The Coming
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Wayne A. Notise, Jamal Phillips, Marlon King, Roger Mcnair, Keith Murray, George Spivey, Reggie Noble, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Taking you to the other terrain, we mash strictly for the cream
Here to kill your whole scene and your motherfuckin' team
Little 'Mal, the raw dawg, I know you heard of me
You probably know some bitch niggaz who wanna murder me
Busta Reggie Murray Ramp and Mercy's all we need for disaster
For me the microphone master
Look, I crash ya, bash ya skull
Fucky with Mally G if you're trying to take a fall

Niggaz talk about killin' and never get to it
Fuck the yappin', be true to it, do it
Steady scream about your East and your West side
But you ain't in it when it comes to the homicide
Niggaz better get up off that bullshit quick
Caught up in the limelight, gettin' way too slick
See 'em at the shows 'bout to rock they shit off
Gettin' they peeps fucked up 'cause they block is soft

As for terror, I sever the best of MC's
Look, little Mally G trippin' off these indo trees
About to murder label's jerkin' but mercy us
Def Squad niggaz prophesize like the Perseus
Droppin' degrees to zero with flatlines
Kill your whole entourage off with just one rhyme
One rhyme, one rhyme, one rhyme, just one rhyme
I, I don't give a fuck, I kill 'em with just one rhyme

Woo, yeah, you wish that you could get with this
Terrorist, lyricist, for your era it's
My time to shine and I'm still payin' dues
And I'ma be famous on either rap or the news, motherfucker
I only tell you nothin' but the real it's
Tight up in the struggle tryin' to get this fuckin' meal, why?
Niggaz act shifty so I shift a long
Three tri three chrome, it's the same ol' song

I seen the shades and the suedes from afar Pah
But hold up, do you know who I are?
The M-A-Double, you want trouble you got it the spot is on
You blot it I got it then shot it it's hot up in your dome
Peace with the chrome, piece that I pack
Remember fuck around and catch a Mack to your back

Who the fuck I be I, you cannot see I
Flabbergasted, blasted, my Magnum P.I.
Oops, I lie, I got a cannon bout the size of Grand Canyon
I'm prime time, giving MC's Knots Landing
Duck, heavens to fuckin' Merkatroid
I drop noise that employs the unbelievable
Recline like receding hairline, crime speaks fine
With a nine pull line blind keep mines up my sleeve until

You start to quiver, metabolism splits rivers
I rock so many broads I leave your entourage tender
Like bartenders mix liquor
I serve you over the rocks, I feed you to my flock
Now time to click triggers
Manslaughter in alphabetical order for four quarters
Raw water turn sons to grandaughters

I bring trouble where, you sleep
So I double dare to bust you in your bubble bear, coat
Antidotes cause gunsmoke in Tokyo
MC's dosey do your mics up in this rodeo
My star roast 'em up by the thousands, millions, quadrillions
Shuttin' down national state buildings with high ceilings
Funk Doc to the spot freeze
Creepin' on MC's like Vietnamese in army fatigues
Def Squad representer
Hit yo' ass up from the bottom when you enter

Hey yo, once a crack head, always a tack head
You have no craftibility all that shit you talk is dead
As sex, drugs and violence, balance the scales of reality
Y'all don't want no parts of Keith Murray
I'm nicety and sheisty, I get that ass iced deliciously
Niggaz ain't shit to me, word up
You stupid niggaz always got somethin' smart to say
And probably can't even spell TWA

My crew is like police pull up and park anywhere
Yeah yeah
Jump out and get it on right then and there
Whassup? Whassup?
Niggaz is pussy and ways and actions show it
Most of y'all niggaz dead, and don't even know it
And Def Squad L.O.D. for life
Word up, yeah, fuck your life
Act trife I'll let my dog cold fuck your wife
Fuck your life

Aiyyo, you just heard the sounds of Mally G
Redman, Keith Murray, bringin' the ruckus, the Def Squad
Next up is the Flipmode Squad, this is Howard Cossell
First up to the ring Rampage the Last Boy Scout
Lord Have Mercy For, and the In-fer-mous
Busta Rhymes

Two one two, I'm living life as a rugged MC
When I step up in your jam, yo, I'm V.I.P.
Niggaz and bitches be eyein' me
I'm spontaneous, I'm wreckin' brothers out the frame
Because I'm dangerous
I'm well known like Keith Murray and my boy Reggie Noble
Chickenheads get gassed, so they call me on my mobile
I'm great distance like AT&T
I stroke like a butterfly, sting like a bee

Yo, I Fades Them All like my man Mally G
Whip a nigga ass for free
And makin' sure he see visions of me
Rampage the talk of the town
The stalker of New York that fucks up the underground
I'm comin' thorough like a pack of Life Savers
Ask Marley Marl who's the real Future Flavors

My technique I freak seven days a week
I'm undefeated, you can see my Quantum Leap
I'm hittin brothers where it hurt, lyrical expert
Those who got no publishing they need to get jerked
A hundred percent, I gets down what I invent
Rap artists be dying to a certain extent
Sometimes they use the underground to make a comeback
That shit is wack, fade away and never come back

For now and forever, it's the evil that men do
Mental, my inner center Winter
Frosted froze crews inventor, inventor
Invader, evacuate I collapse your major
Straights and lose minds
You're splits two times, for intruders, for these losers
My maneuvers, drop like lugers
Illegal, maybe Lethal, like Gibson's
Splittin' blessings, with three Weapons
Lay in the cut like C-Sections, infestin' the nine-six
For you mindless, niggaz I smack spineless

Or lay back like recliners, as inject jewels
As flesh, moves, when in vaginas, ooh, ooh ooh ooh
Corrupt your minors like New York City's finest lineups
On LSD fine fust in your sinus
Crush like China's, opiuMC grinders
My dust, these rhymers I hijack like airliners
The infiltrator, creator, I'm sinful
Papers stay viscous like religious cults
Leaders that drop scriptures, and rock clips or assault heaters
My Flipmode niggaz, we're like Afghanistan guerillas

If you want more information look listen and read
While I sit back and I roll another fat bag of weed
We about to take control of your set like cruise control speed
Satisfy my lyrical semen, plants my Johnny Apple-seed
Mental slave grip on your brain like white people
My music will dominate the population like black people
Utilize my efforts to exercise my inner thoughts
I capitalize on my many and various styles of all sorts
Hold down the forts smokin', drinkin' mad quarts
For sports talk to chickenheads in botty lik shorts

Let's get the cream so that we can move up in this fortress
Bounce to art galleries and purchase exotic portraits
Here we go again, another phenomenon when I get on
Busta Rhymes and my nigga named Stretch Armstrong
We represent the ultimate unit for the nine-season
Flipmode Squad will bust your shit for even the wrong reasons
Chaotic sample make a nigga wanna get down
Till they come through like the ATF and shut your shit down
Alcohol, tobacco and firearms is how we movin'
Raw rapid fire flows while the music keeps you niggaz groovin'

I don't know who the fuck you really think you foolin'
You're so far from up to par and your shit needs improvin'
From your conversation the way you come across your shit is off
Malfunctionin' my nigga you about to feel the real force
Lay you on your face while I beat you up your head with the holy cross
Exotic niggaz blastin' off to the Land of the Lost
If you can't see this, I recommend some
School for the blind by Helen Keller

Big ups to Lord Have Mercy, Rampage and the Cella Dwellas
Redman and the Rockafellas
Big ups to Mally G, Keith Murray sunny days and bad weathers
But still we travel the world like National Lampoon
It's Busta Rhymes for the whole entire ninety-six
So saty tuned

Flipmode, completely getting inside that ass
Def Squad, respek

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f580c2e1a095ffacf4da16591bc8a880

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Cupid'S Dead - Lyrics - III Sides To Every Story - Extreme

Title: Cupid'S Dead
Album: III Sides To Every Story
Artist: Extreme
Composer(s): Gary Cherone, Nuno Bettencourt

Lyric:
You read the papers today?

I read the news today oh boy
About a tragic comedy
Newspaper hinted suicide
The letterhead read dear Johnny

The tainted truth was all it said
Sleep tight now that you've made your bed
An arrow that once pierced my heart
Points to the apple on your head

Three sides to
Every story
Yours, mine and Monday morning's

Cupid's dead, headlines read
Cupid's dead, oh no no
Cupid's dead, headlines read
Cupid's dead, oh no no

Oh, Romeo, oh, Romeo
Where did our love go, Romeo?
If you read between the headlines
You wouldn't be the last to know

No mystery yet to unfold
A paperboy left in the cold
A love was said to never die
Withered away and just got old

Three sides to
Every story
Yours, mine and Monday morning's

Cupid's dead, headlines read
Cupid's dead, oh no no
Cupid's dead, headlines read
Cupid's dead, oh no no no no

Our top story tonight, is a crime of passion
The victim, an unidentified man
Is found in bed, wearing only a diaper
Holding a bow an arrow in one hand
And clutching a letter in the other
The letter simply read, Cupid's dead

Extra, extra
Extra
Read all about it
Extra

{Cupid is dead, deceased, I got peace of mind
Still it's hard to forget, what it leaves behind
A lot of love lost, your feelings are wasted
Tasted the sweetness, but now you're faced with}

{The thought, of being alone, no more companionship
You can handle it, just abandon it
Leave it behind, and look for the brighter day
Give it some time, 'cause it won't come right away}

{You gotta be standing strong, hold on to your dignity
Don't sit around, saying look what ya did to me
It's time to move on, you gotta continue}

{To look for a love, of a life that's within you
Cupid is dead now, it's time to rely on, yourself to cope
You got no shoulder to cry on dead}

Cupid's dead

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