Keep Bouncin' (Street) - Lyrics - Blow The Whistle - Too $Hort

Title: Keep Bouncin' (Street)
Album: Blow The Whistle
Artist: Too $Hort
Composer(s): A. Adams, Calvin Broadas, K. Fareed, R. James, A Shaheed Jones-Muhammad, Todd Shaw, M. Taylor, Ricardo Thomas

Lyric:
Keep, keep, keep, keep, keep bouncin'
Keep, keep bouncin'
Keep, keep, keep, keep, keep bouncin'
Keep, keep, keep, keep, keep bouncin'

My nigga, Short Dawg in the house
My nigga, Will.I.Am in the house
Snoop Dogg's in the house
West coast, make 'em bounce

I'ma bounce wit'cha though, yo
We gon' bounce everywhere we go
Make a nigga wanna bounce
Make a nigga burn a ounce

Get loose, get 'round, now get set
Yeah, it's the anthem, nigga, it's the shit
You can get crunk, get hyphy, get fit
You can bounce like you're hoppin' over a muh'fuckin' fence

If you in the whip, ghost ride the bitch
Slip into the liquor sto', sippin' on a fifth
Yeah, nigga, bring in the bag
Gangbang on you motherfuckers claimin' the flag

West Coast, nigga, I'm a real go-getter
40 ounce sipper, the blackjack tripper
20 Cripper, 10 to 1, I flip her
Got the hook-up on the birds an' the motherfuckin' zippers

Go to the club with my thugs, sell drugs
An' I might get a girl but I ain't gon' tip her
Get malt liquor, spit, mo' slicker
Put y'all hands in the air, muh'fucker, it's a stick up

Naw, nigga, eat a dick up
You say you a pimp but you in love with a stripper
Just bounce to the beat an' don't pay me no attention
Just bounce to the beat, bounce, bounce to the beat

It, it makes me want to bounce to the beat
It makes me want to bounce to the beat
It makes me want to bounce, bounce, bounce to the beat
I'm all up in the club
E'rybody in this muh'fucker wanna mean mug

Make a nigga wanna bounce, bounce
Make a nigga burn an ounce, bounce
Doggy Dogg, turn it out, bounce
My nigga, Short Dawg in the house

Yeah, make a nigga wanna bounce, bounce
Make a nigga burn an ounce, bounce
Doggy Dogg turn it out, bounce
Nigga, Short Dawg in the house

I told the DJ, play her song
Watch her choose up, put a player on
Put her in the wifey zone
She could be my girlfriend all night long

Keep bouncin', the floor is sweatin'
I'm all on her booty, I know I'm gettin' it
We from the West Coast, we live fun lives
Freak these hoes 'til the sunrise

What time is it? Late night
Send her back home when it's daylight
Her nigga at the house with a cake like
Captain Save-a-Hoe but she ain't right

She like to play hard to get
She don't wanna dance, she wants some hard dick
Well, give her what she wants
Stick it in the hoe an' watch her go dumb

Make a bitch wanna bounce, bounce
Short Dawg, turn 'em out, bounce
Bitch, don't you wanna bounce? Bounce
My nigga, Snoop Dogg in the house

Make a bitch wanna bounce, bounce
Short Dawg, turn 'em out, bounce
Bitch, don't you wanna bounce? Bounce
My nigga, Will.I.Am in the house

I'm in the house an' I ain't movin' out
The girls keep more of my name in they mouth
I like breasts best when they poppin' out
So girl, bring 'em out, bring 'em out, I make 'em bounce

Keep, keep bouncin', yeah, just keep them bouncin'
Open up your mind an' accept what I'm announcin'
If we have a President's Day an' a Veteran's Day
Let's have a Titty Holiday

An' lick on nipple everyday through the weekend
I like tit like fish like sippin'
Watchin' boobies bounce is my favorite tradition
When I'm up in the club just sittin' an' wishin'

Them boobies was bouncin' on my head, my head
Them boobies was bouncin' on my head, my head
Bouncin', bouncin' on my head, my head
I want them boobies bouncin' on my head, my head

Okay, now let me change the subject
I usually don't be gettin' mannish up in public
But that's aight 'cause I'm chillin' with my folks
From the West Coast, Short Dawg's in the house

Snoop Dogg's in the house, in the house
The nigga, Too Short's in the house, in the house
Will.I.Am's in the house, in the house
West Coast make 'em bounce

It, it makes me want to bounce to the beat
It makes me want to bounce to the beat
It makes me want to bounce to the beat
It makes me want to

It, it makes me want to bounce to the beat
It makes me want to bounce
It makes me want to bounce
We gon' bounce everywhere we go
Keep, keep bouncin'

Bounce, bounce, bounce to the beat
Keep bouncin', bounce, bounce, bounce to the beat
Keep bouncin', bounce, bounce, bounce to the beat
Keep bouncin', keep, keep bouncin'

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Make Noise - Lyrics - Anarchy - Busta Rhymes

Title: Make Noise
Album: Anarchy
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Busta (Trevor Smi Rhymes, Lenny Kravitz, Dana Stinson

Lyric:
Hoo, hah, hoo, hah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Rock star shit niggas
From the street, to the stadium
From the street, to the stadium
From the street, to the stadium niggas
Now c'mon

Bouncing, everytime I be hittin' y'all niggas with shit
That be makin y'all niggas really wanna black up in the fucking spot
We keepin' hot for my niggas fresh up off the block
Now all my people bust a shot blow, blow, blow
Bus a bus is back all in your face and I'm back to replace
And lace y'all niggas with shit that'll totally erase
These other corny niggas up outta your head
As far as I'm concerned none of them niggas can fuck with the dreds
What, what, what

Yeah, yeah, I be keepin' it movin', and be keepin' it groovin'
Rep for my niggas by showin' and provin'
That we the illest when it comes to this here
Now go get the drinks, go get the blunts, and get the fire
What you say? Yeah, yeah, yeah
What the fuck is bounce up in your truck when you start to conduct
Yourself in a way that be makin' you wanna fuck
Wild out in the spot, and get to actin' like savages
Tell the one who manages the spot, I got the damages, ho, ho

I know y'all niggas want it
What
I know y'all really need it
Ho
The shit to keep you bouncin'
What
To keep the party heated
Make noise, make noise, make noise, make noise, c'mon

I know y'all bitches want it
What
I know y'all really need it
Ho
The shit to keep you bouncin'
What
To keep the party heated
Make noise, make noise, make noise, make noise, c'mon

Busta rhymes givin' it to y'all niggas so check me out
While I pick up my crew and pick up Rah Digga
I'm talkin 'bout how we be puttin' it down wit my Flipmode familia
That's a fact we comin' through, so step back
Move, move, move, move, move
Get the fuck up off of me and please release me from my shackle
Watch me and my crew and how we tacklin' corner the market
Y'all niggas know exactly how we about to spark it
Makin' all of you the target, blau, blau, blau

See how we be keepin' it comin' regardless whatever the reason
It never matters whatever the season
Now peep how we wildin', and breezin' on through
When you know that we will keep it together whatever, get the cheddar
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah now, lemme continue to talk to my people and continue
To blow the roof off the building and right before we get to
Wreckin' the spot everybody climb up on something and tear the lights
Up off of the ceiling, bo, bo, bo, bo

I know y'all niggas want it
What
I know y'all really need it
Ho
The shit to keep you bouncin'
What
To keep the party heated
Make noise, make noise, make noise, make noise, c'mon

I know y'all bitches want it
What
I know y'all really need it
Ho
The shit to keep you bouncin'
What
To keep the party heated
Make noise, make noise, make noise, make noise, c'mon

Hoo, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Ha, Busta Rhymes, Lenny Kravitz, make noise now, c'mon
From the streets, to the stadium, Busta Rhymes, Lenny Kravitz
Here we go now, make noise now, everybody now, c'mon, ha

How's about to keep it kinda raw and just give it to motherfuckers
And how we smash it and cash it we rip it from motherfuckers
You know we got it, you niggas know we rockin'
And get all up in your pocket, yo, yo, yo
Yeah, yeah me and brother named Lenny Kravitz
We tearin' it down and blowin' the spot in the Jacob Javitz
However you wanna do it grab the gas and the matches and start the fire
Take it up a little higher, yeah, yeah, yeah

I know y'all niggas want it
What
I know y'all really need it
Ho
The shit to keep you bouncin'
What
To keep the party heated
Make noise, make noise, make noise, make noise, c'mon

I know y'all bitches want it
What
I know y'all really need it
Ho
The shit to keep you bouncin'
What
To keep the party heated
Make noise, make noise, make noise, make noise, c'mon

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2d83bb357de71554aaf2af00188d9122

Up In Here - Lyrics - Dmx

Title: Up In Here
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Kaseem Dean

Lyric:
Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool up in here, up in here

If I gotsta bring it to you cowards then it's gonna be quick, aight
All your mens up in the jail before, suck my dick
And all them other cats you run with, get done with, dumb quick
How the fuck you gonna cross the dog with some bum shit? Aight

There go the gun click, nine one one shit
All over some dumb shit, ain't that some shit
Y'all niggaz remind me of a strip club, 'cause everytime
You come around, it's like what I just gotta get my dick sucked

And I don't know who the fuck you think you talkin' to
But I'm not him, aight slim? So watch what you do
Or you gon' find yourself, buried next to someone else
And we all thought you loved yourself

But that couldn't have been the issue or maybe
They just sayin' that, now 'cause they miss you
Shit a nigga tried to diss you that's why you layin'
On your back, lookin' at the roof of the church
Preacher tellin' the truth and it hurts

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool up in here, up in here

Off the chain I leave niggaz soft in the brain
'Cause niggaz still want the fame, off the name
First of all, you ain't rapped long enough
To be fuckin' with me and you, you ain't strong enough

So whatever it is you puffin' on that got you think that you Superman
I got the kryptonite, should I smack him with my dick and the mic?
Y'all niggaz is characters, not even good actors
What's gon' be the outcome? Hmm, let's add up all the factors

You wack, you're twisted, your girl's a hoe
You're broke, the kid ain't yours and everybody know
Your old man say you stupid, you be like so?
I love my baby mother, I never let her go

I'm tired of weak ass niggaz whinin' over puss
That don't belong to them, fuck is wrong with them?
They fuck it up for real niggaz like my mans and them
Who get it on on the strength of the hands with them, man

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool up in here, up in here

I bring down rains so heavy it curse the head
No more talkin' put him in the dirt instead
You keep walin' lest you tryin' to end up red
'Cause if I end up fed, y'all end up dead

'Cause youse a soft type nigga
Fake up north type nigga
Puss like a soft white nigga
Dog is a dog, blood's thicker than water

We done been through the mud and we quicker to slaughter
The bigger the order, the more guns we brought out
We run up in there, everybody come out, don't nobody run out
Sun in to sun out, I'ma keep the gun out

Nigga runnin his mouth? I'ma blow his lung out
Listen, yo' ass is about to be missin'
You know who gon' find you? Who? Some old man fishin'
Grandma wishin' your soul's at rest
But it's hard to digest with the size of the hole in your chest

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool up in here, up in here

Hold up, err
One, two, meet me outside
Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my Ruff Ry-Ders gon' meet me outside

Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my big ball-ers gon' meet me outside
Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my fly lad-ies gon' meet me outside

Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my street street peoples meet me outside
Meet me outside, outside motherfucker

X is got y'all bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce bouncin' again
Dark Man X got ya bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce bouncin' again

Swizz Beatz got y'all bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce bouncin' again
Ruff Ryders got y'all bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce bouncin' again

Dark Man keep you bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce bouncin' again
Dark Man keep you bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce bouncin' again

All my streets they bouncin' again bouncin'
Again, we're bouncin' again
Swizz, Swizz Beatz we bouncin again
Bouncin' again and we bouncin' again
Double R keep it comin', ain't nuttin' y'all, ain't nuttin' y'all can do, now

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19e4e315fbd2386db55ed6574b52fa9f

Party Up - Lyrics - And Then There Was X - Dmx

Title: Party Up
Album: And Then There Was X
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Kaseem Dean

Lyric:
Y'all gon' make me lose my mind
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool
Up in here, up in here

If I gotsta bring it to you cowards then it's gonna be quick, aight
All your mens up in the jail before suck my dick
And all them other cats you run with, get done with, dumb quick
How the fuck you gonna cross the dog with some bum shit? Aight

There go the gun click, nine one one shit
All over some dumb shit, ain't that some shit
Y'all niggaz remind me of a strip club, 'cause every time
You come around, it's like what, I just gotta get my dick sucked

And I don't know who the fuck you think you talkin' to
But I'm not him, aight Slim? So watch what you do
Or you gon' find yourself, buried next to someone else
And we all thought you loved yourself

But that couldn't have been the issue, or maybe they just sayin' that
Now 'cause they miss you, shit a nigga tried to diss you
That's why you layin' on your back, lookin' at the roof of the church
Preacher tellin' the truth and it hurts

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool
Up in here, up in here

Off the chain I leave niggaz soft in the brain
'Cause niggaz still want the fame, off the name
First of all, you ain't rapped long enough
To be fuckin' with me and you, you ain't strong enough

So whatever it is you puffin' on that got you thinkin' that you Superman
I got the kryptonite, should I smack him with my dick and the mic?
Y'all niggaz is characters, not even good actors
What's gon' be the outcome? Hmm, let's add up all the factors

You wack, you're twisted, your girl's a hoe
You're broke, the kid ain't yours, and everybody know
Your old man say, "You're stupid", you be like, "So?
I love my baby mother, I never let her go"

I'm tired of weak ass niggaz, whinin' over puss
That don't belong to them, fuck is wrong with them?
They fuck it up for real niggaz like my mans and them
Who get it on on the strength of the hands with them, man

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool
Up in here, up in here

I bring down rains so heavy it curse the head
No more talkin', put him in the dirt instead
You keep walin' lest you tryin' to end up red
'Cause if I end up fed, y'all end up dead

'Cause youse a soft type nigga, fake up north type nigga
Puss like a soft white nigga
Dog is a dog, blood's thicker than water
We done been through the mud and we quicker to slaughter

The bigger the order, the more guns we brought out
We run up in there, everybody come out, don't nobody run out
Sun in to sun out, I'ma keep the gun out
Nigga runnin' his mouth? I'ma blow his lung out

Listen, your ass is about to be missin'
You know who gon' find you? Who? Some old man fishin'
Grandma wishin' your soul's at rest
But it's hard to digest with the size of the hole in your chest

Y'all gon' make me lose my mind
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me go all out
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me act a fool
Up in here, up in here
Y'all gon' make me lose my cool
Up in here, up in here

Hold up! Err
One, two, meet me outside
Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my Ruff Ryders gon' meet me outside
Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my big ballers, gon' meet me outside
Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my fly ladies, gon' meet me outside
Meet me outside, meet me outside
All my street, street peoples meet me outside
Meet me outside, outside motherfucker

X is got y'all bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce, bouncin' again
Dark Man X got ya bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce, bouncin' again
Swizz Beatz got y'all bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce, bouncin' again
Ruff Ryders got y'all bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce, bouncin' again
Dark Man keep you bouncin' again

Bouncin' again, bounce, bouncin' again
Dark Man keep you bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, bounce, bouncin' again
All my streets they bouncin' again
Bouncin' again, we're bouncin' again
Swizz Swizz Beatz we bouncin' again
Bouncin' again and we bouncin' again
Double R keep it comin', ain't nothin' y'all
Ain't nothing y'all can do, now

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f2c6ffe5961aad2e32e44b6fb846621c

Break Ya Neck - Lyrics - Genesis - Busta Rhymes

Title: Break Ya Neck
Album: Genesis
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Mike Elizondo, John Frusciante, Michael Balzary, Chad Smith, Trevor Smith, Scott Storch, Andre Young, Anthony Kiedis

Lyric:
Yea, check it out, see
The only thing you need to do right here is
Is nod your fuckin' head, yeah, yeah
Break ya fuckin' neck, bitches
Yeah, yeah, here we go now

Where we goin' now? Where we goin' now?
Give it away, give it away, give it away, now
Give it away, give it away, give it away, now
Just give it away, nigga, yeah, here we go, now

Tell me wat'chu really wanna do?
(Come here, ma)
Talk to a nigga, talk with me
You look like you could really give it to a nigga
From the way you talk and the way ya try to walk for me

The way you really try to put it on a God
Doin' it like ya never did before for me
The way you break yo' back and I break yo' neck
And the way you try to put it on the floor for me
(Come on)
Come on
(Come on)
Oh yeah

Tell me where my niggas is at?
(Okay)
Lemme address y'all niggas one time
While I lock that down and I hit'cha wit that
(Wit what?)
That bomb shit, y'all niggas gone all day
Be the nigga in the drop

Y'all niggas know every time I come through
This motherfucker, where we always takin' the ride
(So, let me blow this bitch)
Y'all niggas know when we come, we be makin' it flop
The way we makin' it hot'll make a nigga wanna stop

Get money then cash that check for me
All my niggas just bust yo' tech for me
Everybody from every hood bang yo' head
'Til you break your motherfuckin' head for me

Just let me give you real street shit
To ride in yo' shit with recline yo' seat
Rewind this heat, keep bouncin' up
And down these streets

So nod yo' head and
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga

Bang yo' head until you start to
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck

Come along, now
(Let's put it down, nigga)
When I bounce back and you know I done caught my breath
Y'all niggas all know how we do
When the way we bang niggas in the head
And we do it to death

(Reach for dem back woods)
That fire boy, you know we bakin' an ounce
I know you love the way we be givin' you the music
Makin' you bounce
Now, fuck it up just a little for my niggas

Every time we come through
Niggas know that we did it for y'all
And the way we do it for the people
Niggas know we always give it to y'all

I said bounce
(Come on)
In the day time or the night, when ya creepin' along
Well, just bang this shit up in the truck
While you break yo' neck
Now, motherfucker try to figure my flow

See the way we come right through
(When we come right through!)
We be always blowin' the spot, again and again
And make a nigga really wanna stop

Better tell yo' crew, yo' peeps
All my niggas better put they troops on
And gather up your soldiers, nigga
You know you better keep yo' boots on

All my niggas in the place
Wave your hands high now and the way we put it down
Make a nigga wonder what he really gonna try now
What'cha really wanna do?

Just place your bet and put'cha money
Where ya mouth is
All my niggas in the street
Just break yo' neck and keep on bouncin'

Just let me give you real street shit
To ride in yo' shit with recline yo' seat
Rewind this heat, keep bouncin' up
And down these streets

So nod yo' head and
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga

Bang yo' head until you start to
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck

Here we go and you know every time
Busta-Bus be holdin' the fort
My nigga, watch how we shuttin' it down
The way we put it on, comin' through like a steamroller

Me and Dre, nigga, ain't no fuckin' around
My nigga, yeah whattup?
(What?)
Me and my team got a link
'Cuz you know we stay choppin' it up
And when get up in the club

Or how my niggas at the bar how we lockin' it up
And we get a little and we get a little
(High, drunk)
And we get a little
(Crunk, come on)

Lemme give y'all niggas some shit
That'll make you wanna bang this out yo' trunk
(Come on)
Get money then cash that check for me
All my niggas just bust yo' tech for me
Everybody from every hood, bang yo' head
'Til you break yo' motherfuckin' neck for me

Just let me give you real street shit
To ride in yo' shit with recline yo' seat
Rewind this heat, keep bouncin' up
And down these streets

So nod yo' head and
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga

Bang yo' head until you start to
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck, nigga
Break yo' neck

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ddee4a1de02299d8e62f3012ee99bf36

My 64 - Lyrics - Mike Jones

Title: My 64
Artist: Mike Jones
Composer(s): Andre Romell Young, Jermany V James, Michael A Jones, Bernard James Freeman, Salih Williams, O'Shea Jackson, Cordozar Calvin Broadus, Eric E Wright

Lyric:
Cruisin? down the street in my 64
(Mike Jones!)
Jockin? a bitch, slappin? a hoe
Went to the park to get the scoop
Knuckleheads out there, cold, shootin? some hoops

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my
(Mike Jones Jones Jones)
Jockin? a bitch, here we g-g-go

Well I'm cruisin? down the street in my candy painted low
Bouncin? like a [incomprehensible] in my 64's
I pull up wood grippin?, doors tippin?, sittin? low
I'm hittin? sixteen switches, watch it stop and hit the floor

I'm leanin? on the curb, sippin? syrup, blowin? dro
The girls show me love when they panties hit the floor
I said I'm leanin? on the curb, sippin? syrup, blowin? dro
I got the 64 hoppin?, watch it stop and do a show

First I lean wit it, then I rock wit it
I got a candy apple drop wit a glock in it
First I lean wit it, then I rock wit it
I got a candy apple drop wit a glock in it

First I lean, then I rock
(Mike Jones!)
First I lean, then I rock
I said, first I lean wit it, then I rock wit it
I got a candy apple drop wit a glock in it

Because I'm cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my
(Bun B)
Jockin? a bitch, here we g-g-go

It's Bun B, I'm known for slammin? Cadillac doors
Comin? down on that candy with them swangers and them 4's
But I got love for the West Coast, all day
So I suppose I'ma head out to Cali, the land of the low-lows

Touch down in LAX and I don't need no car
Robbie Chino pick me up with the bud and the bar
In the hood I'm a star so to the hood I'ma go
With Mike Jones and Snoop Dogg and they already know

That I get love from the B's, love from the C's
Mexican, Asian and Samoa OG's
Throw it up when they see me and holla, ?Hey Bun!?
When I'm comin? out in Soul Assassin Grey One

You might see me at Long Beach or maybe Pasadena
Inglewood, I.E. or West Covina
I?m Southside ridin? with the homie big Kun
Car hoppin?, top droppin? so give that kid room

When I'm cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my
(Snoop Dogg)
Jockin? a bitch, here we g-g-go

An? big Snoop Dogg in a yellow Parisini
With two girlies in the back in they Crip blue bikinis
Shakin? and they jumpin? ?cause the deuce keep bouncin?
Tippin?, whippin?, the ass steady dippin?

Candy paint drippin? and these axel's what I?m sippin?
As I shake like a dice game, cold as the ice age
Mike Jones rockin? like a Rollin? Stone
An' Snoop Dogg boy I'm b-b-bad to the bone

Yeah them Cali boys, we love them low-lows
An? real car club members bang they low doors
And take photos, see everything is fine
I'm in the 64, a sixty-trey, a 59

I love my car like I love my wife
See low ridin? ain?t a sport it?s a way of life
On the real dough I'll tell you how it feel though
If you see me in the fo? creepin? slow yo

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my
Jockin? a bitch, jockin' a bitch

Yeah man, let me explain somethin' to you one time, man
Low ridin' is not a sport, it's a way of life
It?s like buildin' a car from scratch, you understand me

You gotta put the fresh paint on it
You gotta put the mustard and mayonnaise
That?s the tires, you understand me
You gotta put the chrome on it
A little gold on it, you understand me
It?s gotta be a hundred spokes or better, ya dig?

An' you gotta drop the top
You gotta put the switches on the motherfucker
You definitely got to have a beat
And when you hit the streets you gotta have a freak
You know what I'm sayin'
One of the side, two on the b-sack
That's how it's gotta go down man
That?s real lowridin?, you understand me

From a West Coast motherfuckin' G man
We bouncin', we schlippin', we tippin', we dippin'
We dodgin' motherfuckin' pigs all the while
While we doin' this motherfuckin' gangsta style
You understand what I'm sayin', yeah I'm just cruisin'

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch

Cruisin? down the street in my 64
Jockin? a bitch, jockin? a bitch
Cruisin? down the street in my
Jockin? a bitch, here we g-g-go

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82dbbe0f0b71629b7acec52229288e03

There'S Only One - Lyrics - Genesis - Busta Rhymes

Title: There'S Only One
Album: Genesis
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Michael Angel Saulsberry, Mary J Blige, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Roll wit a nigga, put on some roller skates
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah come on
Hot shit, more, more, more, more, more, more
We gon' continue to give it to you muhfuckas like this
Put ya fuckin' roller skates on, yeah, Hennessey niggas
Yeah, more weed niggas, I know it feel good come on talk to ya beat

Huh thug niggas, yo we here to straight recruit y'all
New millini niggas yo we here to straight salute y'all
Shoot y'all, wack niggas we here to mute y'all
And drop shit to make all you niggas just get the boot y'all

Baby wiggle ya shit one time, come on
Fuck you and your whole entire click combined come on
Whatever the cost now, floss now
Show you niggas who be the boss now

All across the board wild they be bouncin' my obstacle course now
Sparkle with a gloss pushin' a force now
Now I get my wine and dine on, slide on
A dick of a nigga who bust in you to get his shine on

See some real live chicks sippin' them mistics
They buggin' on how they let a nigga up in 'em this quick
Don't get it twisted or we'll bring the most reliable, what?
We bringin' that shit that be so undeniable

Y'all wanna know who we with
Busta Rhymes and there's only one
You know my man is always rockin' shit
We keep it street 'cause that's where we're from

You comin' out to do your thing
Underground heat to the club we bring
And you know that we got this
And you know that we got this

Hugh brand new, all the way down the line
From the new bounce the new money down to the newest shine
Wit the new blue nine though I had to bust it a few times
Watch these funny niggas and analyze all the true signs

In due time we will accumulate, illuminate
My click will fuck up the money you allowin' your crew to make
Yeah and while we step up in the hot spot
And fuck with these bitches until somebody start to bust shots

Niggas duck for a second make sure they ain't the ones got
To start the party against me and yell blood clot
Everything be goin' on from chicks blowin' kisses
Straight wildin' out while these niggas surround these freak bitches

Once somebody else started bustin' they heat vicious
I started holdin' my toast, defendin' all my street riches
Up in the club champagne up in the ice bucket
Now these niggas is wildin' and throwin' they drinks, fuck it!

Y'all wanna know who we with
Busta Rhymes and there's only one
You know my man is always rockin' shit
We keep it street 'cause that's where we're from

You comin' out to do your thing
Underground heat to the club we bring
And you know that we got this
And you know that we got this

Now don't get mad 'cause what you had
Too bad it didn't last
And now we're back on this Busta track
And now the game's on smash

Yeah all my live niggas get yours
Floss heavy all my bitches bounce on the floor
Check it, squads deep with niggas everybody on
Make the livest motherfuckers wanna bounce to my song

Check it, my niggas organize, analyze the teamwork
And how a bad shorty rockin' that rah digga T-shirt
And keep it goin' while you tag along, swing along
And see my niggas that be reppin' while you sing along

Y'all wanna know who we with
Busta Rhymes and there's only one
You know my man is always rockin' shit
We keep it street 'cause that's where we're from

You comin' out to do your thing
Underground heat to the club we bring
And you know that we got this
And you know that we got this

Y'all wanna know who we with
Busta Rhymes and there's only one
You know my man is always rockin' shit
We keep it street 'cause that's where we're from

You comin' out to do your thing
Underground heat to the club we bring
And you know that we got this
And you know that we got this

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a514f7c6180f3d1108f8d1f5285002d3

Trina Moe - Lyrics - The Great Depression - Dmx

Title: Trina Moe
Album: The Great Depression
Artist: Dmx
Composer(s): Earl Simmons, Damon Blackman

Lyric:
What?
Uhh
What?
C'mon

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Bloodline, scratch all day, match all weight
Only dogs eatin' is us we snatch all plates
Err, err, err, get him boy
Click, click, pop the leash, hit him boy
Niggas brag about waggin', we stop the tails
X-drop an album, niggas droppin' sales
Niggas can't fuck with the dog, forget about it
Money went up against the dog, read about it

Man listen, you cats better walk easy
I'm on some positive shit but I still walk greasy
Ain't nothin' changed, still ain't sweet
Stand on one block, but I own the whole street
And on the whole street is dirty niggas wit funny moves
Leavin' your house with bloody boots, we cruddy dudes
Rest of them ass kissers, is sensitive ass niggas
Fourth album, and I still get in that ass nigga

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

It's dark and Hell is hot, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood
And then there was X
Got niggas like what's next and then
Hit 'em again, you cats ain't never gon' win
I was here before most of y'all careers were born
I'll be here when y'all careers are gone, still strong
Difference between right and wrong is me
Niggas talk shit, but you can't MC

We already know how much your watch is worth
Talk about, helpin' the hurt, savin' the church
Won't you brag about helpin' out where you come from
And give brothers a job that really want one
Gotta think about that shit you said, you don't mean it
I done listened to that shit you said, but I done seen it
Most of you cats is type funny
But when it comes time to feed the hungry, gon' get type ugly

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Man I'm already knowin', like y'all niggas is knowin'
You can't fuck with dog, bust a cap, scrap or flowin', what?
Seein' is believin' and well, let's just see
I ain't even gon' speak, one million the first week
Aight, let's ask the streets, how many sold?
What? Three niggas, three months to go gold
C'mon esse, keep it real holmes
You fuckin' with the dog, you already know

This ain't nothin' new, fuck is you mad at
15 million, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah
Rest assured, I'm best abroad
You can test Billboard, 'cuz the, rest are frauds
I got 18 years under my belt, rappin'
Let me see, you was three, I was makin' it happen
Next time we bump heads don't be hard headed
Show some motherfuckin' respect bitch, or you'll all get it

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Aea yo
Bounce to that Trina Moe
Niggas about to blow
Bouncin' straight out the door
Here we go, here we go

Aea yo

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637c4aae0963225483861e341770d7bd

Ra - All That - Lyrics - Afu

Title: Ra - All That
Artist: Afu
Composer(s): Ginnbs Lerone Idlett, Afura Philip, Stephen Johnson

Lyric:
You know I'm like a hop, skip and jump from slappin' you senseless
Perverted monk on this mic, you feel the sentence
Hot vernacular scorch just like incense
I'm intense, shit vibin' like a sixth sense

Lyrics mutilated like X-men
Shower ya, devour ya, technique algebra
Smoothness, movements, halloed in the matrix
Fist held high, I raise it up to the ancients

Insightfully clear to you, how a master do
Roll with the high and mighty flow tai chi
Quench ya thirst, but first my journal high seas
Lyrical, mathematical, razzle and dazzle you

East New York, street talk, step with a better game
Hydrate rhymes like I was Gatorade
Rockin' a name, tappin' your brain
With the sugar Shane Mosley doin' it like it's supposed to be

They think they all that, steppin' on them like they were doormats
We bounce back and slap you with the raw tracks
Heatin' it up steadily, so heavenly
Straight up and down, streets bouncin' off the melody

They think they all that, steppin' on them like they were doormats
We bounce back and slap you with the raw tracks
Heatin' it up steadily, so heavenly
Straight up and down, streets bouncin' off the melody

Avoid the devil's army, they want to harm me
Salute to the Gulliani, crack babies, and zombies
Parkin' lots and drug spots, in the pots are coke rocks
A million in the building, buildings protected by more blocks

Young childs, ghost smiles, money clips colored vials
Stash fifty, in the world of bird city the warranters
Send the foreigners the coroners
A mess no vest multiplied wounds on chest

Invest in free markets, cream cheese and pockets
Three keys to a promise, stash keys in compartments
Desert eagle my targets, hit ya lease I spark ti
We get the drop on ya spot, make it hot and unlock it

Firearms make fireworks, I wonder where lies lurk
We bloodied up your shirt, all you saw was the fire spark
I'm one of too many, who get amped off Henny
Puttin' cowards in cemeteries, kill willies for pennies

They think they all that, steppin' on them like they were doormats
We bounce back and slap you with the raw tracks
Heatin' it up steadily, so heavenly
Straight up and down, streets bouncin' off the melody

They think they all that, steppin' on them like they were doormats
We bounce back and slap you with the raw tracks
Heatin' it up steadily, so heavenly
Straight up and down, streets bouncin' off the melody

Sex, butchery meat rack material, superior
Crank that shit amplify the whole scenario
Off the level live or in stereo
Young hustle to stay ahead of step

From where your best bet is to rep yours, repetitiously
'Cuz this veteran will thrash to wreck yours, repetitiously
If ever you get at me on some bullshit, flash quick
Exactly who the fuck I got pull with

Autographed it for big number one with a bullet
Expressin' black glove love hood it down, how I put it down
This style ain't never been shit to me, why would it now?
I come forth with gun smoke, no petty read ya bound by honor

That I mark you in the hunt for a dollar
Alive on the strength of power you
Divine karma, Allah's armor see you keep fraudulatin'
I'll sick my wolves in your basement, with loaded shell casings

They think they all that, steppin' on them like they were doormats
We bounce back and slap you with the raw tracks
Heatin' it up steadily, so heavenly
Straight up and down, streets bouncin' off the melody

They think they all that, steppin' on them like they were doormats
We bounce back and slap you with the raw tracks
Heatin' it up steadily, so heavenly
Straight up and down, streets bouncin' off the melody

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a37ea4f0afb2c6790ef5616c06162458

No Good - Lyrics - Wooden Leather - Nappy Roots

Title: No Good
Album: Wooden Leather
Artist: Nappy Roots
Composer(s): Vito Tisdale, Brian K Scott, Kenneth Ryan Anthony, William Rahsaan Hughes, Ron Wilson, Melvin Adams, Brian J Kidd

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

Lyric:
Yooooo
I said yooooo
For all them industry haters that said we couldn't do it
This for my country thug street yeagas
You know we gon'

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

My yeaga lookin' like one of them days
I got a Franklin in my pocket, with this lint like a slave
And 20 cent to my name, tryna make this crime pay
Money spent, Ben gone, left me with the Hamil-ton
Window tint, same ol' song
Lincoln on a sack, with the fifty-dat
Bump my song, get drunk, get it crunk
Country-fried, pack a blunt
Evr'ything tight, volume 2 off in the trunk, bump

In a slump, head-shot got me pumped like a gauge
Turn the page, flip the script
Hit the script jump, shorty with the dump
In the hatchback, ass fat
Nickel bag of funk, caught a skunk in a rat trap
Sat back, hit it once, hit it twice, pass that
Mashed-out, Fleetwood, Cadillac, headed south
Woodgrain, pure grain, hold it in and let it out
Bouncin' like a bunny hunny, tell the shorty set it out
Get in where we fit in, we gon' try our best to sell it out

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

We makes it hot for 'em, feel the flames
Who separate the real from lames
Yeaga B Stile's his name
(Where you from?)
The Ville, Lagrange, to mills and fane
Look how far Louisville's done came
Now break it down

I like my pockets fat
And my weed green
And my liquor brown
And my hens clean
With they panties down
And a beat that keep
My yeagas bouncin', bouncin', bouncin', bouncin'

Check, check
My mic vocals, is like choke-holds
Fetch the billfold that my cheese is in
And purchase a nickel to help me breathe again
I'm from a place where blood spills and stains
Filled with drug deals and gangs
Yeagas with gold grills and thangs
Drink up, fill ya tanks, spill ya drinks
It's Nappy, dawg, untamed
Southern slang, unchanged
We sendin' slugs through ya brain
(Fuck what you know, good)
And all my thugs, for the sane

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

A cool cat, with a pimp hat
Cup fulla gin-jack
Dreaded out, throwin' up deuces
When I'm headed out
Slice it up and bet it out, 5-0-4
Throw the prices up and set it out
Real niggaz never doubt
Swerve to the calico, give me a deuce of that
Make it 2 of that, pack a tip, flush a optimo
Keep the change, got to go

Flirt, tryna talk dirty
Georgia-bred, you can tell by my Hawk jersey
Hit me up if you get off early
Then I dap out, so clean
Yo honey actin' mo' mean
Napped-out, momma asking me "What's all that 'bout?
I say I got big plans, look slim but mapped-out
Country boy with country game
Never spittin' nothin' lame
Get paid to rap, still a dap like ain't nothin' changed
My shit stay Nappy, split ends stay happy
Bad threads must've came from his pappy

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

Smoke good, drink good, eat good, Fleetwood
Nickel bag of funk'll make a country yeaga sleep good
Come on, yo' hood, my hood, tote heat, sho' should
Folk round here be up to no good

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05e44bc8a806a1736130f7b07195fc90

What It Is - Lyrics - Genesis - Busta Rhymes

Title: What It Is
Album: Genesis
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): Chad Hugo, Pharrell Williams, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Yeah, Flipmode, Violator, Neptunes, nigga
What you want nigga? Yeah, what you want bitches?
Keep it goinl, c'mon keep it goin', c'mon
Keep it goin, c'mon, c'mon, yeah yeah

C'mon, who be the father to this?
Bounce right here, niggas be followin' this
Modelin' bitches be frontin' and be swallowin' this
Carry on and yellin', screamin', be hollerin' this

Flipmode co-signed to be the sponsor for this
What? To conquer this you need to march on for this
What? Bitches just shake it and wiggle
And start to bake and just giggle

And then get naked a little and shit
Sweat drippin' off they face and they nipple and shit
Niggas wildin' 'til they be all tired and crippled and shit
Yeah, you buggin' on how we be doin' it to ya

Hit y'all niggas with shit just like bullets was travelin' through ya
Now, from right to left with a capital F, so we gon' keep this shit
Hot to death and we stoppin' your breath, drinkin'
And buggin' and fuckin' with them hoes again but it's nothin'
'Cuz y'all niggas know we 'bout to blow again

Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah)
Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah, what you want?)

Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah yeah, whatchu)
Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(What you want now? Flipmode, c'mon, c'mon)

Let me show you what it is right now
Let me step up and handle my biz right now
Niggas don't even know what it is right now
Got 'em mad as if I was bonin' they wiz right now

So let me dig right now all in your ass way
She bouncin' got my bubbly startin' to fizz right now
Aiyyo, fuck it shit is feeling kinda big right now
Got 'em ready to split a couple of wigs doin' tricks wit her ass

Shoulda seen what shorty did right now
Got me stuck on just takin' her back to my crib right now
C'mon, the way shorty throwin' that ass all over the place
Why shorty, dizzy tryin' to throw it all up in my face

So what you got right now
'Cuz we comin' to blow the whole entire spot right now
Nigga we hot right now, all you other niggas move your shit over
Because we comin' take your slot right now

Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah)
Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah, what you want?)

Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah yeah, whatchu)
Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(What you want now? Flipmode, c'mon, c'mon)

This be the beat to rock for the street
More hot shit we givin' you more heat
Feelin' that bounce, bangin' the concrete
Bangin' in the club and bangin' it in your jeep

Flipmode Squad, two thousand and one
Wave your hands and rep where you from
We keepin' it street 'cuz that's how we live
It's what it is baby, it's what it is baby

C'mon, see what it is is that we smokin' got you open my nigga
Rippin' 'til the very last word is spoken my nigga
Think we jokin we be makin niggas soakin' they clothes
While niggas is runnin' and wildin', busy scopin' these hoes

Bitches is runnin' and wildin', scopin' niggas wit dough
While we keepin' niggas chokin' like we smokin' the 'dro
See what it is is that we create a ruckus
'Cuz that's what we love to do muh'fuckas, c'mon

Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah)
Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah, what you want?)

Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(Yeah yeah, whatchu)
Busta, what it is right now, Busta, what it is right now
(What you want now? Flipmode, c'mon, c'mon)

Flipmode nigga, c'mon, Violator muh'fucka, c'mon
We got Kelis muh'fucka, c'mon, Neptunes muh'fucka
C'mon, yeah, Bus-A-Bus muh'fucka, c'mon
Yeah, everybody in the spot, c'mon, yeah

What it is right now, c'mon
Bus'll tell ya what it is right now, c'mon
Bus'll tell ya what it is right now, c'mon
2001 hot shit, c'mon, hot shit, hot shit, hot shit, c'mon

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55421121e24107a5ff470fdb1c4ced30

In The Trunk - Lyrics - The Sound of Revenge - Chamillionaire

Title: In The Trunk
Album: The Sound of Revenge
Artist: Chamillionaire
Composer(s): A. Middleton, Hakeem Seriki

Lyric:
This is the sound of revenge
This is the sound of revenge

You in the presence of the finest
Chamillitary mayne, this for the streets
Let's give 'em somethin' they can bump in the trunk

At this point you should be turnin' your speakers up
Turn your speakers up Chamillionaire man
Let it bump, it's a southern thing
Ha ha, Chamillitary mayne

I heard somebody say that the South ain't got no lyricists
Well, bang, bang at the game like everyone down here is pissed
You lookin' for the truth then look no further, here it is
Turn it up a notch so they can not say they not hearin' this

They say Chamill is sick, click click, here's a clip
Bang bang at the rap game to make your spirits lift
And it seems to me the industry is all on Jigga's dick
Who? You, you, you, and you nigga, pick a click

Universal sent me to bring some realness to the industry
Got here then I realized that ain't nobody real but me
Okay, a couple niggaz but none of 'em real as me
Tell your favorite rapper he should diss me if he disagree

I bet I'm actin' like your favorite rapper isn't me
Tell your second favorite whose the best and show 'em a picture of me
He'd have to take me out to prove that he's as sick as me
So me verse me, the only battle that y'all gonna get to see

I'm plainly sayin' what I'm sayin' to make these haters mad
Perpetration hatin' ass, see me ridin' candy slab
Disbelieve his ass, how many vehicles can he have?
I be losin' count myself and I ain't even that bad at math

That's how we do it in Texas, poppin' trunk and grippin' wood
We reply to threats, nigga, I wish you would
You can keep on talkin' but that's only if you could
Gotta turn my speakers up, can you hear 'em now? No good

Ain't runnin' from a thang, 'cause I ain't never been a punk
Drama ain't a thang, 'cause I can bring it if they want
I'ma let it bang so they can feel it in the, in the trunk
You 'bout it wit'cha game, decide your rep and throw it up
What you tryin' to drank, 'cause I'ma 'bout to get you drunk
Keep it pimpin' mayne, so they can feel it in the, in the trunk

This for the street niggaz knowin' they gotta pee in a cup
Know your peace officer tossin' ya when he see the results
This for the G's, hate is what you see in the scope
Gauge gonna get sprayed like it's Raid when you see him approach

Tell you ahead of time, solo I can handle mine
You ain't too smart but play the part like you a pantomime
But you don't have a nine, I'll show you I hammer mine
Time to make you do the Running Man like it's Hammer Time

Shout out to the west and all my gangstas pack heat up
Actin' up and pack enough heat to make you back it up
The hoes back it up, soon as they hear the back of the trunk
Now I'ma stock like New York slang what you mean? that's what's up

Money stack it up when they feel they have enough
Get the chips and add 'em up, then she givin' that to us
Don't put all that in cuffs, treat your money like a slut
Niggaz better share, hell yeah, 'cause I just wanna cut

A hater gettin' cut, someone gon' get hurt
Especially if you met me and was disrespect turf
Houston, Texas I'm the worst, ice looking like sherbet
Bouncin' off my chest, you're starin' at it like a pervert

Mixtape God, don't hate me, go to church first
Might as well since all the rappers wearin' church shirts
Better think ahead of time, call yourself a nurse
Diss me in your second and you won't get to finish your third verse

Ain't runnin' from a thang, 'cause I ain't never been a punk
Drama ain't a thang, 'cause I can bring it if they want
I'ma let it bang so they can feel it in the, in the trunk
You 'bout it wit'cha game, decide your rep and throw it up
What you tryin' to drank, 'cause I'ma 'bout to get you drunk
Keep it pimpin' mayne, so they can feel it in the

You in the presence of the finest
The game is full of fakes, all these rappin' niggaz front
Controversy Sells, the industry givin 'em what they want
See he ain't gangsta as he say, that's why they dress 'em up
Get a vest, a plastic gun and go pull a publicity stunt

Hoe act like she slow, don't know that I'm rich
And ignore the handles missing from the do's of my whip
But then she saw me on TV and told me pause for a flick
What you tell her? You can "106 and park on my dick"

Can't speak about Texas and not mention me
'Cause the world gon' have to see the truth come out eventually
I'll rip any gimmick rapper out from A to Z
934-829 to the 2 if you still disagree

We never marry a hoe, what I'ma marry you fo'
I'm too busy tearin' my shows up and gettin' married to dough
Grave dig a nigga, Whatchu mean? I bury a flow
Run, go get your city, come back and then I'ma bury your area code

Ain't runnin' from a thang, 'cause I ain't never been a punk
Drama ain't a thang, 'cause I can bring it if they want
I'ma let it bang so they can feel it in the, in the trunk
You 'bout it wit'cha game, decide your rep and throw it up
What you tryin' to drank, 'cause I'ma 'bout to get you drunk
Keep it pimpin' mayne, so they can feel it in the, in the trunk

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a0a3435e5bc68cb1cef8b89714f0da3d

To My People - Lyrics - Flipmode Squad

Title: To My People
Artist: Flipmode Squad
Composer(s): R Lewis, R Mcnair, R Fisher, Leroy Jones, G Spivey, Trevor Smith, R Evens, J Webb

Lyric:
Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

Uh, straight off the bat
My squad is known across the map
When y'all niggas show love
Then we show you love back

Y'all niggas want beef
Fuck it take it to the streets
Y'all niggas gon' chill
Then we sit down and we build

My squad finally here
Unit of the year
We settin' up shop
And we ain't going nowhere

We want it all
Even if we gotta brawl for it
We want it all
Even if you gotta fall for it

We stage wreckers, fifty two car deckers
Reppin' to the world till the law come and get us
You jealous fellas
I'm puttin' holes in vendettas

Twist your body
With two shells from a shottie pow
Niggas wanna get me touched
(Naw, they cant touch you)
Shinin' and flossin' too much
(Naw, they can't cross you)

Light on my toes
Left him ten feet
Part from his heat
Play it softly

The truth speaks through this poetry
For me to call shot
Cock block my life
Add a little spice

Devil eyes snake rise on dice
Have your fam call Christ
Flipmode battle for mics
All my shit be high priced

I'm slashing dikes, feel me
Liftin' thugs out they crease it's quickly
Shift two keys in two weeks
And gross forty g's

Report me and live shortly
Slouch cat livin' off calibil breeze
You wanna get involved
Better grip on tight, take the next flight
We got it locked on the next bike

Check it out
I got the eye of a tiger
That's plan to go higher
My squad is on fire

And till death do us
If the label wanna sue us
Yo I'm taking the reels
I'm the man with the gat that be ready to peel

I'm the one next to Spliff when it's time to ill
I'm a show by astro red cross and blue shields
Watch us make a move
Catch us on smokin' groove

Rules house of blues, MTV news
On the bus with my Flipmode loco
(Loco)
Takin' flicks, hittin' chicks by the dozen
(Dozen)

Keep a shot runnin'
Now I'm on a journey
It take you twenty light years to burn me
(Burn me)
If you want beef call my attorney
All that other wack shit don't concern me

I'm being felt
I got a title under my belt
I'm out to get the wealth
I'm 'bout my squad and myself

Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

Uhh, comin' correct for all my Flipmode brothers
Stats ratin' higher then that of single mothers
Peace to my Outz clique
Bitches that I bounce with

Everybody else get the gas like Auschwitz
Like, flows for real like a rap bitch should
Type takin' niggas out like they packaged goods
Rappers wanna contest

They buggin', straight up and down
We run the underground like H. Tubman
What, I'm the bomb bitch
Nigga Rah, D I G got Rah

God be my witness
Long as I walk this globe
I be spittin' more verses
Than the 'Book of Job'

Why are you ignoring us
Running into hiding and avoiding us?
Niggas on the low be recording us
My rhyme flow remain poisonous

Thus
Yo your shit sound wack still annoying us
We alive nigga ain't no destroying us
You better off if you come join with us

Perpendicular
Or analyzing my whole molecular
In particular
Roll with my squad or go singular

I ain't into bitches who fuck animals like caligula
More hot shit so get your water sprinkler
Fire extinguisher, rhyme, prime minister
C'mon

Never mistake me for nobody else
Another blast make you shit on yourself
I hope all y'all know that I always master the art
Rip you apart

Put your hand on my heart
Flipmode number one on the charts
Solo or collective
My perspective the objective
Is to win

All praises due to my squad one in the same
Cherish every blessing
I have to make y'all witness my name
Burn another calorie

Come inside my galaxy
Put your money where your mouth is double your salary
Hey dude you know we stay rude high on a aquelude
Bust your shit bouncin' in a Honda Prelude

Let's G off
Nigga ease off
I make you breeze off
Brickfull make you rip your jeans off

Ya don't stop to my people in the front
Ya don't stop to my people in the rear
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people on the left

Ya don't stop to my people on the right
Ya don't stop to my people everywhere
Say what, throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop to my people in New York

Ya don't stop to my people down south
Ya don't stop to my people out west
Say what, throw your hands in the air
To my hip hop niggas, ya don't stop

To my niggas in the street, ya don't stop
To my niggas gettin' money, say what
Throw your hands in the air
Ya don't stop

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997308a83afd0c54f283a4ddec5a5fee

Long Gone Missin - Lyrics - Trey Day - Trey Songz

Title: Long Gone Missin
Album: Trey Day
Artist: Trey Songz
Composer(s): Troy Taylor, Brandon Green, Tremaine Neverson

Lyric:
The Prince is back
May day, Trey Day
Mister Thanksgivin'
Street anthem, DJ drama
Talk to 'em Trey

So here we go with this again
Runnin' at them lips again
Yellin' in my ear
Shit, all I hear is whisperin'

No matter what it is
She always start to bitchin' and trippin' and
I almost started to call
That girl a bitch again

So I blaze out the house
In a rage out the house
Shorty got a sharp tongue
She spit blades out her mouth

I throw my stunners on
I chop blades out the house
She get to growlin' and I'm out
It's like a cage in the house

Phone on silent and I'm wildin'
'Cuz I'm out, five shots of Henny in
Man, I'm makin' plenty friends
Black, white, Dominicans
Back right, I break it in

Crystals to hurt Burt
I need to take it in

I been drinkin' tryna get my mind up off
All this yellin' and all this screamin'
But all that it is doin'
Is takin' me far from your lovin'

Got this girl in my ear
Tellin' me what I don't need to hear, no
Sippin' what I'm sippin'
And she 'bout to catch me slippin'

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home

Now she's grindin'
And the way she poppin' dat thang
Droppin' dat thang, reminds me
It ain't a girl in this world like mines

Wish you come find me, it's gettin' heated up
If she keep it up, we gone be leavin' here
Sippin' what I'm sippin'
An' she 'bout to catch me slippin'

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home

Now I look around
An' all I see is cuties
Booties bouncin' all around
Tryna keep myself from goin' down

With all the luv I give
An' all you eva do is frown
And I'm 'bout ta get caught out there
Sippin' wat I'm sippin'
An' she 'bout to catch me slippin'

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home

I'm long gone missin', long gone missin'
An' I'm up in this club with all of these women
This one she said, she wanna get me alone
You better serve but girl I gotta go home
Gotta go home and I'm out

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42d12afe445fd48416db4c6c7285cea3