"Simon Says" The Kingpin - Lyrics - Fishbone

Title: "Simon Says" The Kingpin
Artist: Fishbone
Composer(s): Angelo Christopher Moore

Lyric:
Those lights could be shining bright for us and the rest of the boys
We?ll own the root of all evil if we don?t make any noise
If you?re good like all the rest Kingpin shows you all the best

Simon says the Kingpin
Simon says the Kingpin
Yippidy yippidy
Simon says the Kingpin

Keep your eyes, your mind shut and your mouth open wide
You?ll be singing the blues because of them
While the anger builds up inside
Shining your shoes so I can be on top but I just wanna flip you off
'Cause if you let me show expression you?ll be making a confession

You can reap the riches and be on your rocking way
But if you wanna show what?s in your heart
The big shot will put you in your grave
But if you wanna be good like all the rest Kingpin shows you all the best

Simon says the Kingpin
Simon says the Kingpin
Yippidy yippidy
Simon says the Kingpin

Yippidy yippidy
Simon says the Kingpin
Yippidy yippidy
Simon says the Kingpin

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7a994d3b68bce68cb0c1f6193d0ccaec

Still The Best - Lyrics - Sex Style - Kool Keith

Title: Still The Best
Album: Sex Style
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Kurt Matlin, Keith Thornton

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

Lyric:
Yeah
American and European, national champion
Kool Keith, you know who I am
The master man, Willie Biggs, big status
Droppi nine-six and seven, big status
Skill, lotto winners

I taught New York City, the five boroughs how to rap
You can take that back and pull them thongs our your rectum crack
I'm Poppa Large, big daddy, big penis in a Caddy
Retro petrol, I run that whole metropolitan area
Burnin' ya, the style is scarin' ya

You don't know and half of y'all brothers can't flow
I'm Texas Swift, down South, they call me Frankie Joe
Keep pushin' rigs, Mack trucks, drop off your girl's wigs
I'm strictly business, no gimmicks, a rhymin expert
No common style, or wack logo, cheap hip-hop shirt

You best to be prepared, paperclips, on your mouth
I rock Virginia, tag Atlanta, 95 South
Then hit Miami, let the girls feel my stiff jammy
I'm national kid, girls like the way I dress

I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs
I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs

Superfly get back, your whole group is Freddie's Dead
Rap style pee stain, like yellow spots on your bed
I'm Jay Gloom, on the streets, still walkin doo doo
You can't stop me, step off, now let your girl jock me
I ride a bus and tail just like a Kawasaki

Motorcycles with big gloves, I'm here to damage ya
Political style flop, your child play is amateur
Yo take that word, I rip your anus, use a herb
I get in rectum, zoom focus on your whole room
Wear green capes and walk in clubs like I'm Dr. Doom

Handblock double switch monkey style, flying horsemen
Crab leg, walk on top of rappers, then I cross men
I be the Silver Surfer, glidin' with a fly leather
Wig, gold chains, my glasses fog in the rainy weather

We do this like Brutus, I make you say, ?Who dis??
The man on the mic's right, cover your styles tonight
I do my duty destruct, take skin off your booty
Masquerade man is ill, Keith spinnin' reel to reel

Who play the number tonight? I put six on a five
Shoulda combinated, go ahead baby

I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs
I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs

I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs
I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs

Big Willie, Big Willie
Big Willie hey yeah, hey
Big Willie, Big Willie
Big Willie hey

You're not competition, no joke, I know your kinfolks
That sloppy Gotti style just a bowl of Wheat Oats
No matter how mean or point blank hard you look
I cover my eye, retarded bugged like I'm Captain Hook

Like Vincent Price, I'm nice, I bake and coke you twice
Your crew is rat turd, your parakeet flow is bird
At my night show lick my pubic hair, tell me word
I'm basic nasty, with tight moves, smart like Lassie

Classical winner bass, pumpin' while your sound is thinner
I kick back, with drawers off, invite your girl to dinner
Get sexy raw, the champagne pours even more
No forcefield, I rhyme erotic, feel myself on tour

I'm so delicate, countin' cash, too intelligent
Yeah, I bought the dream book
Gon' play what I got to play tomorrow
Do this right, yeah

I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs
I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs

I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs
I'm still the best, I'm still the best, East to West
Joe Kingpin, big stack, money Willie Biggs

Best, East to West
Best, East to West, Big Willlie, hey
Best, East to West
Best, East to West
Best, East to West
Best, East to West
Hey hey, hey hey, hey hey, hey

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622790e15d393cb9bb673df72db404f1

Kingpin - Lyrics - Wilco

Title: Kingpin
Artist: Wilco
Composer(s): Jeffrey Scott Tweedy

Lyric:
I wanna be your kingpin, living in Pekin
I wanna be your bigwig, living in Pekin
I caught the flu and away I flew

N.Y.C., pediate blue
Dime tap and spinal tap
City maps and hand claps

Statue of liberty play
It only works once
Don't throw it away

'Cause I wanna be your kingpin, living in Pekin
Living' in Pekin, livin' in
How can I, how can I give my love to you
When I don't know what to do?

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504ace14a7bec71bf00771a6b022569a

The Main Ingredient - Lyrics - Pete Rock And Cl Smooth

Title: The Main Ingredient
Artist: Pete Rock And Cl Smooth
Composer(s): Corey Penn, Peter Phillips, Les Mccann

Lyric:
One two, one two y'all
One two, check it out
Got my man CL
Can't forget my man, Cee Lo

Can't forget money earnin', Mount Vernon
Can't forget New Roch'
Can't forget Westchester
Can't forget, um, CL, hit me off

Feel the funk by the rap czars in sports cars
Comin' atcha now you listen at the feet of a master
Caution, not wheel of fortune, here's a portion
Of untamedness, approachin' famous, for miscellaneous

The track get crackin' though, unexplainable
When I ground a jewel, sound is simply uncontainable
Release my soul, but never make the mistake
And play me like a stone cold fruitcake man

'Cause you can never fathom G the dough we want so
My flows the steadiest, to never leave us penniless
Come on down to the very necessary legendary
Well, the more the merry stickin' women type of villain

The evidence relentless, I ride to see you magnetized
Mecca to begin you're locked in no doubt
The label better push this, so we can pay the rent
You can season the pot well, but here's 'The Main Ingredient'

'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient'
Yo, 'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient'

Yo, 'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
Yo, 'The Main Ingredient', kick it CL

I know you wonder what kind of way is that to think
Put all the wackiest rappers on a boat and let it sink
Don't blink, next thing you see you spot is taken
No, Jax I'm fakin' soldiers took the whole reservation

On a scale of one to ten, we move rather swiftly
Want a dime piece but we'll settle for an eight fifty
Don't blow mine, your trump card is exposed to pages
Now your beginning's already at the final stages

Pumpin' like 12 gauges from a shotgun blast
I never saw people run so fast, aight?
Stay up all night, then sleep all day
Makin' big Luci and would have it no other way

In conjunction, with the function, as stated
Orchestrated by the Soul Brother nickel plated
Tell the judge you were foolish and try to be lenient
'Cause you never had the 'The Main Ingredient'

'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'

'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
Hit the third verse off kid

This cap is peeled layin' joints like a minefield
When dynamite's my rhythm this is east coast terrorism
The Vernon Ville's Mecca Don, formin' Voltron tactics
Let off three verses and the crowd panics

Get 'em all, the kingpin of the player's ball
Now every tramp in your camp's going AWOL
My Luci situation is a daily operation
On the strip, I refine you like Tales From the Crypt

Right here's the real shit and all that other's counterfeit
Funk to let you know exactly what you're dealin' with
P R slash, C L smash, love to spend cash
For proper livin', slidin' up in wealthy women

Stick your hand in my pants and grab the mic's no crime
'Cause like sisters with voices, it's about time
For you to respect my whole foundation precisely
Be obedient, to 'The Main Ingredient'

Yo, 'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
Yo, 'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'

'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
'The Main Ingredient'
Check out the funk y'all

Mic check, one, two
CL Smooth and Pete Rock
Comin' back, for ninety four

Can't forget, drop us off
Get on, to get on
It's time to get on, peace to I n I
Yeah, can't forget Baby Pah

Can't forget the whole roster
One, two, check it
It's 'The Main Ingredient' y'all

'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all

'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all

'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient' y'all
'The Main Ingredient', bust it

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7ec6be0145964a53238903eacf2b51e1

Take You Home - Lyrics - Ghetto Fabolous - Fabolous

Title: Take You Home
Album: Ghetto Fabolous
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): Kenneth Ifill, Paul George, Gerard Charles, Lucien Jackson, Hugh Clarke, Ernesto Shaw, Lucien George, Curtis Bedeau, Brian George

Lyric:
Yeah, F A B O L O U S
C'mon, ugh, ugh, ugh, ugh, yeah, c'mon
(If I take you home, will you still be my thug baby?)

You gotta love the way this playa be minglin'
If you don't tell yo man mama, I ain't sayin' a thing and
That nigga got you used to the H N O. Kingsten
I'm fuckin limbos, lay on the wingfin'
By the way I be blingin', the pay that I bring in
Mind spendin' a day with the kingpin?
Answer your cell, all day it been ringin'
Tell that nigga, we on our way out to England

Them hips and tips, the way they be swingin'
The way the be jinglin', letz stay till the spring and
Know I thugged you out, the way that you drinkin'
And don't be scared cabby, the yay I be slingin'
Ma, I'm where you wanna be, if not
We can hop in a lid and fly where you wanna be
Yea, you A G, the type that ryde with them cameraz
Instead of the rearviews on the v, I know

I wonder if I take you home
Would you still be my thug baby?
Because I need one tonight
I wonder if I take you home
Would you still be my thug baby?
Because I need one tonight

Allright, okay
You just gotta stay patient boo
I'm a make sho to take you
Where ever you dream a vacation to
You can push the gray station through
I'm a sit in the passanger, and rock Playstation 2
How the hell you have been tweekin' out?
How you been sneekin out? Spent weekends out
She'll be tired of trainin' that month

You probably be fakin' like you came and you ain't even nut
Miss I'll pipe you till you get a pain in yo gut
The kid'll be responsible for changin' yo struck
Wherever you hurI I'm a rub it down
I be ready to smack it up, flip it in public now
I know how to get you hot, I know how to hit yo spot
If I take you home, I know how to keep you stylin'
I know how to keep you smilin' if I take you home, let's go

I wonder if I take you home
Would you still be my thug baby?
Because I need one tonight
I wonder if I take you home
Would you still be my thug baby?
Because I need one tonight

I think it's just that ladies smilley
I'm in love with my red 6, and got a crush on a navy caddy
I like 'em deepcut, bust, with crazy fatties
They be wishin' I was just, they baby daddy
I'm the one that make it real easy
For you to just drop'em like he hot, like he lil' weezy
I ain't gon never make you feel sleezy
And I'm a put the roof up on the drop if it feel breezy

I love the way you smerk and giggle, jerk and wiggle
Throw yo legz up while I work the middle
Already told me how you strictly be with 'em
Now I'ma show you so much cash, that you'll quickly forget 'em
I'm young, but know I'll have you in a bungalow
Fillin' your stomach with Cris, your lungz with Dro
I'll have you sprung fa sho
It ain't gon' be no limit where your tongue will go, ya heard me?

I wonder if I take you home
Would you still be my thug baby?
Because I need one tonight
I wonder if I take you home
Would you still be my thug baby?
Because I need one tonight

If I take you home

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ebbb5802e43a8b549b86ef2f4e68dc87

Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park) - Lyrics - Illmatic - Nas

Title: Memory Lane (Sittin' In Da Park)
Album: Illmatic
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): N Jones, P Barsella, Reuben Lincoln Wilson, Chris Martin

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

Lyric:
(Check that shit)
Aight fuck that shit, word, word
Fuck that other shit, youknowhatI'msayin'?
We gon' do a little somethin' like this, yaknahmsayin'?

(Is they up on this?)
Keep it on and on and on and on and
KnowhatI'msayin'? Big Nas, Grand Wizard, God what it is?
(What it is like?)
Hah, knowhatI'msayin'?
Yo go 'head, do that shit nigga

I rap for listeners, blunt heads, fly ladies and prisoners
Hennessey holders and old school niggaz, then I be dissin' a
Unofficial that smoke woolie thai
I dropped out of Kooley High, gassed up by a cokehead cutie pie

Jungle survivor, fuck who's the liver
My man put the battery in my back, a difference from Energizer
Sentence begins indented with formality
My duration's infinite, moneywise or physiology

Poetry, that's a part of me, retardedly bop
I drop the ancient manifested hip-hop, straight off the block
I reminisce on park jams, my man was shot for his sheep coat
Childhood lesson make me see him drop in my weed smoke

It's real, grew up in trife life, did times or white lines
The hype vice, murderous nighttimes and knife fights invite crimes
Chill on the block with Cog-nac, hold strap
With my peeps that's into drug money, market into rap

No sign of the beast in the blue Chrysler
I guess that means peace
For niggaz no sheisty vice to just snipe ya
Start off the dice-rollin mats for craps to cee-lo

With sidebets, I roll a deuce, nothin' below
(Peace God)
Peace God, now the shit is explained
I'm takin' niggaz on a trip straight through memory lane
It's like that y'all, it's like that y'all, it's like that y'all

Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge

One for the money, two for pussy and foreign cars
Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars
I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses

Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces
Your telephone blowin', black stitches or fat shoelaces

Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
And back down po-po when I'm vexed so
My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
I see dark streets, hustlin' brothers who keep the same rank

Pumpin' for somethin', some uprise, plus some fail
Judges hangin' niggaz, incorrect bails, for direct sales
My intellect prevails from a hangin' cross with nails
I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real

Word to Christ, a disciple of streets, trifle on beats
I decipher prophecies through a mic and say peace
I hung around the older crews while they sling smack to dingbats
They spoke of Fat Cat, that nigga's name made bell rings, black

Some fiends scream, about Supreme Team
A Jamaica Queens thing
Uptown was Alpo, son, heard he was kingpin, yo
Fuck 'rap is real', watch the herbs stand still

Never talkin' to snakes 'cause the words of man kill
True in the game, as long as blood is blue in my veins
I pour my Heineken brew
To my deceased crew on memory lane

Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge

Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge
Now let me take a trip down memory lane
Comin' outta Queensbridge

Comin' out a Queensbridge
The most dangerous MC is
Comin' outta Queensbridge

The most dangerous MC is
Comin' outta Queensbridge
The most dangerous MC is
Comin' outta Queensbridge

The most dangerous MC is
Me numba won and you know where me from

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9262956e1e0147783f551115ccf2a84a

Where Are They Now - Lyrics - Hip Hop Is Dead - Nas

Title: Where Are They Now
Album: Hip Hop Is Dead
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): James Brown, Ronald R Lenhoff, Bobby Howard Byrd, Nasir Jones, Salaam Remi Gibbs

Lyric:
Hit me
Two times

Redhead Kingpin, Tim Dog, have you seen 'em?
Kwame, King Tee or King Sun
Super Lover Cee, Casanova Rud
Antoinette, Rob Base never showin' up

You see Black Sheep, Group Home, Busy Bee?
Ask L'll and Al Skratch, 'Where My Homies?'
Leave it to y'all, these niggaz left for dead
Last week my man swore he saw Special Ed

Rap is like a ghost town, real mystic
Like these folks never existed
They the reason that rap became addictive
Play they CD or wax and get lifted

I recommend when your kid turn ten
Let him hear Spice 1, made plenty noise
Positive K, Father MC, the Skinny Boys
Where are they now?

Hey, where are, where are they now, hey
Where are they now?
Hey hit me, where are they now?
Hit me

See I remember them forever, the original Spinderella
Lakim Shabazz, 9 MM
Fu-Schnickens, Buckshot, Finesse, and Sequence
Who was a Rappin' Duke, da-ha, silk tie and leather was cute

Body and soul was Dee from Pump It Up's group
Oaktown 357, J.J. Fad too
Had pop hits and gold ropes
Where my man Young MC and Tone Loc?

Kris Kross, the BO$$, Divine Styler
Def Jef of course let's break it down ta
Mic Geronimo, Pharcyde and Coolio
I heard Craig Mack back in the studio

Have you seen these lost MC's?
Funky Four Plus One, Force M.D.'s
Miss Melody, I hope she packin' a bankroll
As well as educated rap for ice and Kangol

Shante, she from around my way yo
EPMD, K-Solo, where are they now?

Hey, where are, where are they now, hey
Where are they now?
Hey hit me, where are they now?
QB, hit me

First off this ain't no diss record
This for some of my homies that were misrepresented
Legends of the game, y'know?
What up to Moe Dee the legend? Rest in peace Cowboy, yeah

All the rappers, male, female, DJ's, e'rybody
Rest in peace Jam-Master Jay, the whole crew, word up
Juice Crew All-Stars, MC Shan, Tragedy, Craig G
Yeah, nigga, yeah, nigga

Shan whaddup baby?
Where are they now?

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ebbd97e65f3dbf707dfc352aca62a7a6

N-Noreaga - Bang Bang - Lyrics - Capone

Title: N-Noreaga - Bang Bang
Artist: Capone
Composer(s): Inga Marchand, Victor Santiago, Alan Maman, Kiam Holley, Geoff Leach

Lyric:
We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

And throw your sets up nigga, gang bang, bang bang
We keep long gats and big chains, I don't like havin' sex, I like brains
And smoke some spliff, fans wit five in the range
And it's, nuthin' for me, and shit on your three

I'm from Iraq, twenty minutes from Q.B.
I aim you, so you should just let us be
Or find yourself shot up, in the hospati
You be leakin' and Dole in ya face, some hot teeth

Yo it's Nore but you can call me P.O.P.
And getta dose of the dope but dope is so deep
Only white girl I'll fuck, is Pamela Lee
And I'm gangsta, so some niggas call me G

Melvin Flynt, hustlin' was born in me
So yo bitch, come and do a poor [unverified] wit' me
Or come to North Carolina and perform wit' me

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

Yo, yo, yo, I'ma take it back to when I used to pop pistils
Sling crystal, gamble on the block with pits out
Kept my work in bitch house, right in the closet
I won't front I'll bring the drama nigga, right to the projects

When it's cold, I remain the hottest
I bring the thug niggas, is you boos hi? I leave blood, all in your pro tis
Niggas life styles deserve Oscars, you so funny
Claim you kingpin' and ain't even fuckin' wit' hoe money

I'm gangsta, been in jail once, check my records
I keep the stash grip wit' arma, before I select my weapons
This young mind state, crime infested, I'ma get straight to the message
I spit records, and rep my necklace

Do the dog want beef? Right where the steps is
I walk the hood, niggas pay homage cause of my essence
It ain't nuthin', I catch any charge, get out on bail
Fuck record, this shit was platinum when it touched the reel

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

Hot damn hoe, here we go again
Pop shit like a cock, Lyte weight as your Rocks, bitch
You talk slick, fuck is all that sneak shit?
You and Diddy y'all kill me with that subliminal shit, bitch

Why is you frontin' and kickin' that street shit?
Please, impress me, go back to that freak shit
While your broke-ass was guzzlin' nuts and shit
I was choppin' the weights, Linc and Oldz's and shit

A decoy bitch, like the Feds lyin'
Is you supposed to have a little bitta Bed-Stuy in ya?
Brooklyn don't raise hoes, just slip and greys hoes
What bitch? You're soft and your pussy name hoes

So fuck ya niggas too, them niggas can get it too
Them faggots act more bitch then you
Let the nigga rest in peace, and hop off his dick, bitch do you
And y'all hoes is like fuck fox, well screw y'all too

Let's be truthful, give a fuck if your album push back
Or when it hit the streets, bitch, it's still weak
It still sound lame, my name still reign
I still pop them thing things and bang bang, bitch, rep for ya hood

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

We gon thug this shit out, we gon thug this shit out
And say bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang, bang bang

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2fb9d452b7b57d00d446175e43e870a5

Funeral Music - Lyrics - 50 Cent

Title: Funeral Music
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): Keyon Karim Harrold, Curtis James Jackson

Lyric:
The business is entertainment
And what entertain the customers is the sight of blood
Cam, I mean, I was bein' nice to him, okay, I'll get him

You *** should worship the ground I walk on
I make mills off the tracks I talk on, it's kingpin
50, don't call me, ***, I don't wanna talk it out
The *** will hit your leg, go on and walk it out

I see it clear, you tryin' to sabotage Jimmy
See what happens when you talk after sippin' the Henny?
I'll send Haitian *** at you, yeah, sak pase
Zoe pound ***, they don't play

Buck *** *** on camera and it's okay
'Cause my money make my lawyers make the *** go away
Attempted ***, get a year on probation
Cam, are you clear what you facin'?

You must ain't hear me, I done told you, I'm a boss
I'm eatin' good but I ain't chubby like Ricky Ross
Word on the street is that 50's not Jay
And Cam better stay out of his way

Everything's cooler than a fan till you rolled on
Have you in the I.C.U., tryin' to hold on
*** in the waitin' room, been waitin' so long
Till they hear the flat line, the doc say, he's gone, he's gone
That's *** up
When they say he's gone
He dead

Well, he knew that could happen, *** with the kid
This is graveyard music right here, ya dig?
This is not competition, this is ***
Career endin', mind bendin', Southside, ya finished

Now look, *** laughin' at Cam, down on Lennox
They heard what he did but they don't know why he did it
I have eighty of them boys with black flags
Come through with black ***
And have you *** zipped up in black bags

For a second he was hot, now he cold
I apply pressure on *** until they fold
But never mind me, man, that's just how I be
The game got me trained, they call me the hustle man

And like fame, my style will live forever
They thought I crossover 'cause they don't know no better
I think they think I'm laxed now 'cause I got the cheddar
Till I return back ***, trust me, it's nothin'

Everything's cooler than a fan till you rolled on
Have you in the I.C.U., tryin' to hold on
*** in the waitin' room, been waitin' so long
Till they hear the flat line, the doc say, he's gone, he's gone
When they say he's gone
It shouldn't have to be like this, man

Dipset, Cam, stay up, I'm not gonna destroy Dipset
Just gotta make changes, from now on, Jimmy's the boss of Dipset
And Juelz is the capo, he's gone
Cam's demoted to soldier, we like Jimmy better anyway

Ballin', come on, man
What's the last Cam joint you liked?
Computers computin', boogity, boobity, he's gone
Cameron, you better learn how to talk to me, oh

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04971d7563f472af86656d4546f45563

If You Want Some - Lyrics - Delinquent Habits - Delinquent Habits

Title: If You Want Some
Album: Delinquent Habits
Artist: Delinquent Habits
Composer(s): Alejandro Martinez, David Thomas, Ives Martin

Lyric:
Once again it's me, one of the three delinquents
Seems let loose from the noose, now it's time to make G's
Oooh, aah, I hear a fat beat ballin'
Lordy, Lordy, let me do some roll callin'

Kemo, O G, Victor, Gigi, Pesci, look hard and you'll see me
Trixx, big Ronnie, Sen and Sal
If you can feel me open up let me slam now
Hard than a muthafucka hush sho nuff

Lower East Side of the West Coast take a puff funky
But twice burned and I won't be forgettin'
The ones who tried to break me, fake me
I'm sweatin'

Represent me mine in the place I dwell
Big D in the air it's on ring the bell
Receive fuel for my mental, I'm low, gas me up
Big dog now but wicked even when I was a pup

I came to represent where I'm from
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some
I came to break you off and get some
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some

I came to represent where I'm from
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some
I came to break you off and get some
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some

Step back, give me room 'cause I'm takin' over
Rollin' punks over like a bulldozer
'Cause I came to represent where I'm from
It's the Lower East Side of the West Coast son

So hot diggity, damn, I'm gettin' figgity scram
I lose stability bam, there ain't no fadin' the man
Who might that be that might be me
Yo soy El Hombre

'Cause I walk these streets like the righteous man
But I take no shit when I'm freakin' the flam
The incredible edible blend, I got Latin juice
Some want to be like me but lack a few scoops

Fools 'cause I bring the flavor
Ives got my back, O G's on the fader
Damn, I can't quit when I start this shit
But it's time well spent I came to represent

I came to represent where I'm from
If you want some, get some, bad enough take some
I came to break you off and get some
If you want some, get some, bad enough take some

I came to let you know with no gun
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some
I came to represent where I'm from
From the back to the frente straight delinquente

Not the kingpin ask 'em all fool I thought I told ya
I'm just a little bolder than your average soldier
Staring at you psycho hey what's a Huero Loco?
Twisted out mental mad whacked in the coco

Never givin' up, I got wisdom persistence
Two clips loaded in a glock for resistance
A flock of delinquentes steppin' through the silence
Mellow type of fellow still poised for the violence

O G's on the left Sal's on the right
Blaxican warrior fuckin' up your blind side
Like the Hurra, I'm coming O F F
And I'm a rock a muthafucka till there ain't none left

I came to represent where I'm from
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some
I came to break you off and get some
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some

I came to let you know with no gun
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some
I bring the real rock when there's none
If you want some, get some, bad enough, take some

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6fd63c8758c7b81fe1307016c4b83ac7

What Can I Do? (Remix) - Lyrics - Ice Cube

Title: What Can I Do? (Remix)
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Victor Taylor, O'Shea Jackson, Mychael Kae Simmons, Arthur Ross, Leon Ware

Lyric:
{In any country, prison is where society sends it's failures
But in this country, society itself is failing}

Hell yeah uhh
Ta dow uhh
Ta dow uhh
Ta dow uhh

Tadow, how ya like me now I'm in the mix
It's 1986 and I got the fix
With the chicken and a quota, got the bakin' soda
Let the water boil you, workers all loyal
Dropped out the 12th 'cause my wealth is shorter
Than a midget on his knees, now I slang ki's
Infest my hood with crack, I'm the mack
It take a nation of millions to hold me back
Too big for my britches, and I got bitches
Now I'm hittin' switches, niggaz want my riches

Used to get 18, when my G was alive
Now a ki' is 13 5 89's the number, another summer
Get down police ain't gettin' no dumber
Streets dried up, used to think it would last
But being a kingpin is a thing of the past
They tried to blast me for slangin' a boulder
Now I got my ass in Minnesota
Got my own crew, it's on brand new
Damn, what can I do? ooh

Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, how ya like me now?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, how ya like me now? fool

Already done stacked me half a meal ticket
Bought a house next to prince, now I can kick it
Now I got ends, wavin' to my friends
Rollin in a Benz, goin' to see the twins
Play at the 'dome, police are tappin' my mobile phone
I'm almost home, gettin' excited, indicted

Spent a grip and a year tryin' to fight it
Lawyer got paid plea, no contest
'Cause everything I own, got repossessed
Now take a look at the dust
And I'm happy 'cause I only got 36 months
I never picked up a book
'Cause my arms are 16 inches, nigga look
Can't wait for 92 so I can get with my crew
And see, what can I do

Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, how ya like me now?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, how ya like me now?

Fucked up in the pen, now it's 94
Back in L.A., and I'm bailin' through the do'
Everybody, know I gotta start from scratch
So where the work at, and niggaz smirk at
Me sayin' ain't nuttin', poppin' from here to the L.B, what you tell me?
No it ain't crackin', everybody's jackin' for a Coupe
Since, they sent in the troops
Even though I got muscle, that ain't my hustle
Takin' nigga's shit in a tussle

No skills to pay the bills
Talkin' about education to battle inflation
No college degree, just a dumb ass G
Yeah you fool, who me?
I got a baby on the way, damn it's a mess
Have you ever been convicted of a felony? Yes
Took some advice from my Uncle Fester
All dressed up in polyester
Welcome to McDonalds, may I please help you?

Yeah you can help me punk
Give me all of the money or I'm dumpin'
That's on my momma
Ay homeboy, while you at it
Gimme large fries, a strawberry shake
A Big Mac, 'cause this Mack 10 fo' life

Can I roll wit you? what can I do?
Now I'm on the run, with a gun
And this fool I don't know, pedal to the flo'
Swervin', servin' all of the pigs
Just because they tryin' to split my wig
I'm in custody, L.A.P.D
One more felony, strike number 3
25 to life in cell block two
It's true, that's what I gotta do, ooh

Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, how ya like me now?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, what can I do?
Ta dow, how ya like me now?

Wesyde
(What can I do, what can I do?)
Ice cube
(What can I do, what can I do?)
What can I do, ooh

{In any country, prison is where society sends it's failures
But in this country, society itself is failing}

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476f5360141b544964596760cd16c6d2

M.O.B. - Lyrics - Until The End Of Time - 2pac

Title: M.O.B.
Album: Until The End Of Time
Artist: 2pac
Composer(s): Tupac Amaru Shakur, Yafeu A. Fula, Anthony Banks, Curtis Couthon, Sonny Sowles, Bruce Washington, Tyruss Gerald Himes

Lyric:
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

Thugs known to bust on sight
God bless my crazy life la vida loca homie livin' that thug life
Been raised in violence, homicide's my lullaby
Came with the homies and learned to kick it until we die

Bose players you wonder why
I live the life of a ghetto kingpin, just let me ride
Bitches and niggaz in penitentiary suits
I send 'em letters and money orders and make 'em my troops

As for you females, I got no time, I gotta get mine
You cannot blind me addicted to a life of crime
My time as a shorty was full of car chases
While runnin' with John Gottis and Scarfaces

Niggas knew, I'd be the Don in my own crew
A million niggaz with automatics who swarm through
You wonder who shot me here's a clue, stay alert
'Cause we comin' for you and keep it money over bitches

M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

I blow you up on the spot, these glocks hot till you drop
All you wannabe cops, you don't wanna see shots
I beef deep with the police peep what these streets do to me
Actin' all new to me I creep on you like puberty

You don't wanna see the bad image of this scrimmage
From here to East Greenwich
Through every state with a sentence, frozen weight in the cooter
Ten plates to soup ya, 1 2's we oughta cruise right by the state troopers

When I'm drinkin' Cristal, start thinkin' 'bout Al
Bacardi coverin' my body at the wink and a smile
Bag a hottie or two, 'cause butter shotties for you
I got more bodies than Drew, I drink Minoti Anu, fuck your crew
This type of shit I do for a petty hobby
Fuck the world it's fatal dog against everybody

M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

My shit's phenomenal, droppin' like Domino
Comin' with the real yo and fuck what you feel yo
This is not for all the freaks in short skirts
This is for my niggaz nationwide doin' work, get your feelings hurt

Lose mo' faith than a composure, money and the doja
Bitches is a cobra with deadly venom
Move as smooth as I get 'em, I'm stackin' G's
My niggas crosstown got kis'
Hoes get diseased and fleas, for these enemies money over bitches

M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

I'm hittin' sixteen switches, my money over bitches
The struggle continues I'll miss you on my road to riches
I'm contrived to strive never laggin'
Disappear in the night with my 64 dragon, rag flaggin'

As I get 'em up and leave 'em stuck
Pager blowin' up but I don't give a fuck
I'm fully stocked on the block, pockets full of rocks sellin'
Loc'ers and smokers engaged twenty fo's even

So what can you do for me and what can I do for you
But stay true and do the things that we do
Blinded evil-minded no option for my offspring
Reminded can't find it complications what the future brings

Losin' my mind why you sweatin' me all the time
I'm caught in a bind, quality time on my grind
Rather be lonely honey and dodge you like snitches
I'm 'bout my riches, money over bitches

M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

That's from the time a nigga close his eyes I'm hopin', I hope he awoken
Payin' my own that's tokin' chokin' off a glocks smokin'
Money and power watch these bitches 'cause they skinless
Gettin' niggaz fucked 'n stuck from Timbuk' to Los Angeles

Ain't a nigga ruggeder than this grimy Heine' guzzler
Cowards better duck before my calibers start rubbin' ya
Me and my troops play blocks in groups, runnin' in flocks
Deuce-deuce in my socks keepin' a watch out for cops

Gettin' kicked, I keep my mind on my riches
While uncontrolled schemes
Keep me choosin' my money over all my bitches

M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches
M.O.B., nigga 'cause we mob on you tricks
And you know we keep it money over bitches

That's right nigga
Money over motherfuckin' bitches
M.O.B. on 'em nigga
Keep your motherfuckin' mind on your money, fuck these hoes
You don't need no motherfuckin' bitches
You need some motherfuckin' money
Get your mind right nigga, keep your game tight
Play right play by the rules and you'll get paid fuck the fools
We up out of this bitch here

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7206db772faaaac5c175684dafcdab6b

One Mic (Remix) - Lyrics - From Illmatic To Stillmatic: The Remixes - Nas

Title: One Mic (Remix)
Album: From Illmatic To Stillmatic: The Remixes
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): C Thompson, Nasir Jones

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

Lyric:
One time, yeah, yeah

Yo, all I need is one mic, one beat, one stage
One **** front, my face on the front page
Only if I had one ***, one girl and one crib
One God to show me how to do things his son did

Pure, like a cup of virgin blood, mixed with
One fifty-one, one sip'll make a **** flip
Writin' names on my ****** ****, plottin' ****
Mad violence, who I'm gon' ****, this hood politics

Ackowledge it, leave bodies ******* in garbages
Seeds watch us, grow up and try to follow us
Police watch us roll up and try knockin' us
One knee I ducked, could it be my time is up

But my luck, I got up, the cop **** again
Bus stop glass bursts, a fiend drops his Heineken
Richochetin' between the spots that I'm hidin' in
Blackin' out as I ***** back, **** gettin' hit

This is my hood I'ma rep, to the death of it
'Til everybody come home, little ****** is grown
Hoodrats, don't abortion your womb, we need more warriors soon
Sip from the star, sun and the moon

In this life of police chases, street sweepers and coppers
***** ** kids with no conscience, leavin' victims with doctors
If you really think you ready to die, with ***** out
This is what nas is 'bout, ***** the time is now

Yo, all I need is one mic
All I need is one mic, that's all I need
All I need is one mic, all I need *****
All I need is one mic, yeah

All I need is one ****, one page and one pen
One prayer, tell God, forgive for one sin
Matter fact maybe more than one, look back
At all the hatred against me, **** alla them

Jesus died at age thirty-three, there's thirty-three *****
From twin ***** there's sixteen a piece, that's thirty-two
Which means, one of my **** was holdin seventeen
Twenty-seven hit your crew, six went into you

Everybody gotta die sometime, hope your funeral
Never gets **** up, ******* tear through the innocent
Nothin' is fair, ****** roll up, ******* from wheelchairs
My heart is racin', tastin' revenge in the air

I let the **** slide for too many years, too many times
Now I'm strapped with a couple of ****, too many *****
If y'all ****** really wit me get busy, load up the *****
Do more than just hold it, explode the **** until you empty

There's nothin' in our way, they bust, we bust, they rust, we rust
**** flyin', feel it? I feel it in my gut
That we take these ****** to war, lie 'em down
'Cause we stronger now, my ***** the time is now

All I need is one mic, that's all I need, that's all I need
All I need is one mic, there's nuttin else in the world
All I need is one mic, that's all a ***** need to do his thing, y'know
All I need is one mic

All I need is one life, one try, one breath, I'm one man
What I stand for speaks for itself, they don't understand
Or wanna see me on top, too egotistical
Talkin' all that slick ****, the same way these ****** do

Wonder what my secrets is, ******** move on you
Only if they know, what your weakness is, I have none
Too late to grab **** I'm ****** 'cause I'm a cool *****
Thought I wouldn't have that *** done? Fooled you ******

What you call a infinite brawl, eternal souls clashin
War gets deep, some beef is everlastin'
Complete with thick scars, brothers ****** each other
Up in prison yards, drama, where does it start?

You know the block was ill as a youngster
Every night it was like a, cop would get ******
Body found in the dumpster
For real a hustler, purchased my Range, ****** throwin' dirt on my name
Jealous 'cause fiends got they work and complain

******* left me 'cause they thought I was finished
Shoulda knew she wasn't true, she came to me
When her man caught a sentence
Diamonds are blindin', I never make the same mistakes
Movin' with a change of pace, lighter load, see now, the king is straight

Swellin' my melon 'cause none of these ******* real
Heard he was, tellin' police, how can a kingpin squeal?
This is crazy, I'm on the right track, I'm finally found
You need some soul searchin', the time is now

All I need is one mic, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
All I need is one mic, that's all I ever needed in this world, **** cash
All I need is one mic, **** the cars, the jewelry
All I need is one mic to spread my voice to the whole world, baby

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5213f0e86d932061361eb384e80be667

Nutmeg - Lyrics - Supreme Clientele - Ghostface Killah

Title: Nutmeg
Album: Supreme Clientele
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): R Diggs, Stephanie Andrews, Ron Kersey, Arthur Wilson, Don Cornelius, Dennis Coles

Lyric:
Yeah, whassup, y'all, whassup?
This is Ghostface, straight from Staten Island
You know I don't really mean no harm

But it just happens you know
When I step approach a motherfuckin' wack nigga
That tryin' to spit his darts and can't spit 'em
Check it out though, aiyo

Scientific, my hand kissed it, robotic let's think optimistic
You probably missed it, watch me dolly dick it
Scotty, watty, cop it to me, big microphone hippie
Hit Poughkeepsie crispy chicken, verbs throw up a stone Richie

Chop the O, sprinkle a lil' snow inside a Optimo
Swing the John McEnroe, rap rock, 'n' roll
Tidy Bowl, gung-ho pro, Starsky with the gumsole
Hit the rump slow, parole kids, live Rapunzel

But Ton' stizzy really high, the vivid laser eye guide
Jump in the Harley ride, Clarks I freak a lemon pie
I'm 'bout it, 'bout it, Lord forgive me, Ms Sally shouted
Tracey got shot in the face, my house was overcrowded

You fake cats done heard it first on how I shitted on your turf
At times, Cuban Link verse, yo
Check out the rap kingpin, summertime fine jewelry drippin'
Face in the box, I seen your ear twitchin'

As soon as I drove off, Cap' came to me with three sawed-offs
Give one to Rae', let's season they broth
Lightning rod fever heaters, knock-kneeder, Sheeba for hiva
Diva got rocked from the receiver bleeder

Portfolio, lookin' fancy in the pantry
My man got bigger dimes, son, your shit is scampi
Base that, throw what's in your mouth, don't waste that
See Ghost lampin' in the throne with King Tut hat
Straight off

Yeah, yeah
I just wan't y'all niggaz
Smack all y'all niggaz, niggarettes
Universal death threats, yeah
This be the God Body, yeah, no doubt
Judge Wise

Aiyo, spiced out Calvin Coolidge, loungin' with 7 duelers
The Great Adventures of Slick, lickin' with 6 rugers
Rock those, big boy Bulotti's out of Woodridge
Porch for the biggest beer, season giraffe ribs

Rotissiere ropes, hickory scented mint scented glaze
Perfected find truth within self, let's smoke
All hail to my hands, 50 thou' appraisal
Dirty nose with the nasal drip, click flipped on fam

Dancin' with Blanch and them bitches, flickin' goose pictures
Kick down the ace of spades, snatch Jack riches
Olsive compulsive lies flies with my name on it
Dick made the cover now count, how many veins on it

Scooby snack, Jurassic plastic gas, booby trap
Ten years workin' for me, you wanna tap shit?
Bung, bung, bung, your bell went rung, rung, rung
Staple-Land's where the ambulance don't come

Yeah, you see what I mean?
You see what I mean, you motherfuckin' crybabies?
Get in line punk, you should be studyin' your odds
Instead of studyin' me

That's how you lost your first job, punk
Now, get in line, for you get your lil' thick-ass tossed up
Shit, I studied under Bruce Lee, nigga
He was on the fourth, I was on the third

Pass me a honey-dipped spliff, black mental cause continental drift
One whiff of Pow, you gets my divine stiff
Brick rock, late night, hear the tick-tock of my clock
I used to run up and pick a crab lock

Hit his stash, dip back, to the Lab, make him flip
Uptown, boo-doop, now we back on your ass
Incognito, fatal aikido blow, pop a needle
Dick a knock-knee hoe, bust out her fetal

Nine inch long, strong, Bobby pop the bitch thongs
Spit on her, then I banged on my chest like Kong King
Merciless Meng, point the killa bee sting
Ring dings right through your head bing

Snap the wing off of bats, my battle-axe tongue hacks tracks
Once the ball drop, I'ma snatch ten jacks
Pass the crack to a niggarette, puff a looseleaf cigarette
While your man search the Internet for Bob Digitech

In Stereo, crazy as Shapiro
Multiply myself ten times standin' next to zero
And snap my fingers like the Fonz
And bag me a golden bronze skinned girl with the honey blonde

Dip hair, make a nigga flip in his chair
Had the armpit shaved off perfect with the Nair
Stomach fat as a pancake for her man's sake
Used to fuck her when she menstruate
But it made her hyperventilate

Brooklyn
I know, I know, I know, I know
Queens
I know, I know, I know, I know

Shaolin
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know

Bronx
I know, I know, I know, I know
Jersey
I know, I know, I know

Long Island
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, break it down

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ede268c4e8e13c43dad70b408e1cd220

Paradigm Shift - Lyrics - Candiria

Title: Paradigm Shift
Artist: Candiria
Composer(s): Carley Gervais, John La Macchia, Eric Matthews, Kenneth Schalk

Lyric:
Ignite the flammable delirious
The fragrance of the thief inconspicuous
Application of abrasions on tender skin
Adapting mental vomiting spew in the face of you

Architect of the demented specimen
The volatile synthetic grin, the third eye sense
Low life appearance camouflages
All my vast intelligence

Framework of thoughts malignant
Like polluted kingpin tyrants
Buried in surfactants
Hidden formulas of the tongue
My patience dormant

Unique in assured diversity
The races irritate
Vandalize the broken youth in me
Contaminate, nothing in the world can compensate

Do I look dirty?
Is thy presence offending thee?
Hovering above my ego
Lashing at the policies

The prestigious, contagious, womb of the ignorants
Nostrils in the air, unaware of the vice versa
You close your eyes and condemn me
For my flaws, I'll advised you lick the open sores

Dilemmas swell
Scenario intensifies
Ruthless leper king
Gut the pig with pride

Split the mind
Fragments reflect
Friction, the rivers stray
No compromise, flavor of counting persuades

Cut the leash
I'm not your fucking dog
The feverous speech
The flesh is weak, contained by laws

They reek of domestic life
Parading for the Matricides
Field of probes recycled path
Carbonated aftermath

Pulsating, first man, self in hide
I speak you masturbate
Curdled breath finds

The down face shall be seen
Ingredient of the thieves
Product of the environment
And I'm never on my knees

I beg not, I said I beg not intent
Ashes of a care worn past
Crippled the multitudes in flocks
Deep in the flow how long does it hold?

Fiend, the negative shall dispose
Pursued by agonies
Radiate the prophecies
Seed of irritants

Exposed to spectacular suffering
Invade the consequence
The heart burns, social indigestion
Sour vendettas are in vigorous formation

Generating filters of perception
Diagnosed as the notorious seduction stiff
The scent is hardening
Mothering is full, neglect is stifling

Contents collapse
Strength in numbers, deep in pacts
Vented relentless
Taste of brilliance, optimist

Separate between dread
And longing emotion
Parallels of thought, delicate defection
Mind depleting empathies
[Incomprehensible]

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f587ac017a6449c856001527935303e4

Chemistry Class - Lyrics - Elvis Costello

Title: Chemistry Class
Artist: Elvis Costello
Composer(s): Elvis Costello

Lyric:
She throws back her hair, she shows you her mouth
The breath that I waste trying to ruin your life
Beauty's on a budget but you take it on the chin
'Cause you have to do your duty taking orders from the kingpin

You've got a chemistry class, I want a piece of your mind
You don't know what you started when you mixed it up with mine
Are you ready for the final solution?
Oh, oh

Chopped you up in butcher's school
Threw you out of the academy of garbage
You'll be a joker all your life, a student at the comedy college
People pleasing, people pleasing, people like you
You've been around so long but you still don't know what to do

You've got a chemistry class, I want a piece of your mind
You don't know what you started when you mixed it up with mine
Are you ready for the final solution?
Oh, oh

Sparks are flying from electrical pylons
Snakes and ladders running up and down her nylons
Ready to experiment, you're ready to be burned
If it wasn't for some accidents then some would never ever learn

You've got a chemistry class, I want a piece of your mind
You don't know what you started when you mixed it up with mine
Are you ready for the final solution?
Oh, oh

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9aec9486f08cc7062f40e99a6bbbd039

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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