Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Me, My Yoke, And I. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Me, My Yoke, And I. Sort by date Show all posts

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Me, My Yoke, And I - Lyrics - 9 - Damien Rice

Title: Me, My Yoke, And I
Album: 9
Artist: Damien Rice
Composer(s): Damien George Rice

Lyric:
My drum, my drum
My drum gonna make ya
My drum, my drum
My drum gonna make ya come

My book, my book
My book gonna make ya
My book, my book
My book gonna make ya look

My hand, my hand
My hand going under
My hand, my hand, my hand
Going understand

My fall, my fall
My fall gonna break ya
My fall, my fall
My fall gonna break your wall

And I'm mad, and I'm mad
And I'm mad like a big dog
And I'm mad, and I'm mad
And I'm mad like a big dog, yeah

'Cause my God, my God
My God gave me a rod
My God, my God
My God gave me a rod

For fishing, fishing, fishing
Fishing, fishing, fishing, yeah

My drum, my drum
My drum gonna make ya
My drum, my drum
My drum gonna make you come

My book, my book
My book gonna make ya
My book, my book
My book gonna make you look

My hand, my hand
My hand going under
My hand, my hand
My hand going understand

My fall, my fall
My fall gonna break ya
My fall, my fall
My fall gonna break your wall

And I'm mad, I'm mad
And I'm mad like a big dog
I'm mad, and I'm mad, I'm mad
Like a big dog, yeah

'Cause my God, my God
My God gave me a rod
My God, my God
My God gave me a rod

For fishing, fishing, fishing
Fishing, fishing, fishing, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

And would you read my, would you read my
Would you read my, would you read my
Well, would you read my, would you read my
Would you read my, would you read my?

Well, would you read my, would you read my
Would you read my, would you read my
And would you read my, would you read my
Well, would you read my book? [Incomprehensible]

Fishing, fishing, fishing
Fishing, fishing, fishing, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

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8e0a8337b2cdfc2cf5f5422c204c7817

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Free At Last - Lyrics - Free At Last - Dc Talk

Title: Free At Last
Album: Free At Last
Artist: Dc Talk
Composer(s): Joe Hogue, Toby Mckeehan

Lyric:
Young people
Welcome to the close heaven[Incomprehensible]and ministry tonight
Won't you please turn in your hymnals to page 333
Sister Mildred, we're gonna play free at last
Free at last, thank God Almighty

Free at last, free at last
I thank God, I'm free at last
Free at last, free at last
I thank God, I'm free at last

Have you heard?
Listen carefully
I can't stop

Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free at last
Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free

'Cause I'm free, free at last
And I'm free, from my past, and I'm free
Free from sin, and I'm free
And I ain't going back again

Shackles had me down but he gave me a new sound
So reclaim my name from the lost and found
Ya see, something's got me jumpin' and I think it's the way
That he can take a hard man and turn him into soft clay

Out of the darkness, the father has sparked this
The spirit's alive while the flesh is a carcass
If you're seriously curious about my past
Well I once was lost but I'm free at last

Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free at last
Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free

'Cause I'm free, free at last
And I'm free, from my past, and I'm free
Free from sin, and I'm free
And I ain't going back again

Oppression was in session and my life was the term
But when I heard about the word I was willing to learn
About a flavor I could savor and a brighter tomorrow
'Cause this could never be endeavored by a wish on a star

The father first receives us, the truth then frees us
Forgiven, now I'm living like a man full of Jesus
It was hell until I fell upon my knees and prayed
But now the yoke that I was totin' has been taken away

Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free at last
Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free

'Cause I'm free, free at last, free
From my past, free from sin, and I'm free
And down on my knees when my life passed me by
And I ain't, no I ain't going back again

F R to the E E
L A to the S T

Out of the darkness, the father has sparked this
The spirit's alive while the flesh is a carcass
If you're seriously curious about my past
Well, I was once lost but I'm free at last

I'm here to tell you what he did for me and
I'm here to tell you that he set me free and
I know that he can do the same for you, too
He did it, I'm wit' it, so come and get it to be free at last

Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free at last
Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free

Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free at last
Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free

When all of God's children, black men and white men
Jews and gentiles, protestants and catholics
Will be able to join hands and
Sing in the words of the old negro spiritual

Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free at last
Free, free, I'm free at last
I thank God Almighty, I'm free

'Cause I'm free, free at last, 'cause I'm free
I'm free, I'm free, I'm free, I'm free, I'm free
Down on my knees when my life passed me by
And I ain't, no I ain't going back again
I thank God I'm free

Free at last, free at last
I thank God Almighty, we are free at last

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a61b404f1d3af855eb1b5bbb2deb809c

Thursday, August 12, 2010

That'S Me - Lyrics - S.D.E. - Cam'Ron

Title: That'S Me
Album: S.D.E.
Artist: Cam'Ron
Composer(s): Edward Jr Hinson, Cameron Giles

Lyric:
I'm not going to sit here and watch this go on any longer
You know they put my food in the dark
And then expect me to look for my plate on some Mr. Magoo shit
Fuck, I look like, I'm not going to watch this go on any longer

I'm on y'all
Harlem, who else is going to hold us down
Bloodshed niggas
Let's get it right this time around, understand, killer

Yo, I don't understand how these cats sip Daqueri's
Like it's all good down at the hit factory
Be on fifty-fourth, whole clique backing me
All that click clackery, take your wrist wrappery

I ain't no rapper, B, I skeet oozies
And I can't act, turned down three movies
So gimme your chain, your jewels and your cash
And your fast food, I'll eat your food fast

My rude ass, carry three weapons
And I'll give your face a C section and keep stepping
Who else in a hurry to mirk
We kill girls, rape 'em, bury their skirts

Imagine me wake up 7:30 for work, what?
I'd rather run the streets 7:30 with work
But met this knucklehead, thought he want a order
Came and asked me, stop pitching to his daughter

Said me, it's the man, can't be
Be glad I'm not in her damn panties
Got her damn handy
How you going to ever ask, stop carrying candy

I'm a sell to anybody in your damn family
Uncle Tom, your Aunt Tammy, your Grandmammy
Your right hand man, Randy, understand me
In Antlanta, I got an outlandish land piece
And a matching land, Desert Calasandi

You know the one with the whips, that's me
The one with the chips and the chips, that's me
The one with the toast, pants baggy, yelling out get at me
Get at me, nigga, that's me

The one that be running and dodging, you
The one that be sucking mad dick, you
The one that's scared of some yay yo
Always wanna lay low 'cause your girl say so, you, biatch

I could show you some ice
Throw you a bite
You not that good dog, who told you you're nice
Your crew, switch siders

When I come through, hey, Cam
Dick riders
But I only mess with Navigators five twenty-eight
Six drivers, big buyers, where you live, we live liver

Come through, stick your suppliers
Mack so many hoes, dick in saliva
Gash her up, ma, put it on you mouth
Then I grab her neck and try to take her tonsils out

And I don't got beef, I don't play those games
If I did though, believe me, I would say y'all names
Go to your house, red dot, scope your crib
Smack your earth, snatch your seeds, choke your wiz

My crew split, it was my mistake
But to my nigga, Duke, we all make mistakes
I'm a get shit right if I spend my cake
Jimmy, I'm a get you up out of 5 H

This is for my niggas that load the pipe
Saying I'm the best, just not promoted right
You know my life
Drink, smoke, roll some dice

Control the hiest
Know I'm a patrol your schiest
We all get schiest
Ma, keep all your rice

Wedding ring, hell no
I like all my ice
Niggas tried to make Killa Cam all polite
Turn on the set now, bitch, I'm like poltergiest

You the type talk about everything you got now
I interrupt you like, "Not now, you hot owl"
My rings like a dog, all rock wild
When I flash it, everybody shocked, "Wow!"

I see y'all concerned about me
You ain't got to go to school to learn about me

Yo, the one with mad guns, that's me
The one with the yay for twenty-three, that's me
The one with the ice, sliced, coke half price
Yoke that's nice, that's me

The one that's scared of a scuffle, you
The one that say, "Baby girl, I love you" you
The one that talk about hustling, never seen a oven
You all about nothing, you biatch

Told you I got us this time around niggas
Feeling me some, huh
Harlem, I got us nigga

Santana, Freaky Zeeky, Jim Jones, Salty
Feshon, run with us or run from us or get run the fuck over
It's fuck us, so fuck y'all

Killa biatch
Killa bitch
Killa bitch

Killa bitch
Killa bitch
Killa bitch

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7afcd4ce1bdedd47dbb0acb7266919c3

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Z - Marcy To Hollywood - Lyrics - Jay

Title: Z - Marcy To Hollywood
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Shawn C Carter, Kenneth A Ifill, Ernesto David Jr Shaw, Todd Eric Gaither

Lyric:
Back again and back again
I went from Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again

As a youth I used to hold the weed up
Old heads said I thought more like a soldier than a leader
In order to succeed I had to slow my speed up
Didn't listen to stuff took another puff of the chieva

They said, "Believe us or not trust is somethin' you earn
With every mistake you make back to us you return"
Probably would go Hollywood, I thought he was jokin'
My first taste of fame I hit the first thing smokin'

All engulfed into honeys the pussy was tight
If she threw the pussy right I got mushy like
Damn baby, I love you take all my cash
You ain't got to lie Jay, you already gettin' the ass

She loved that I was a thug it turned her on
Soon as I got soft it turned her off
I got relaxed put my feet up start dissin' my friends
And that's when the ceiling fell in

I went from Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again
I went from Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again

I came through with the shines like the streets was blind
Didn't master my Algebra, no caliber stick me
I was thinkin' how and for what? But reality bites
Like a thousand mutts, nothin' worse than the person
That's foul with guts to stick you quicker

This brand new, nigga
Yup this is the foulest this ain't Hollywood
It's the Wild West whoever guns is the loudest
That's who's the best now take ten steps and draw

Who dope can take ten steps and remain raw
Who has no regards for the law?
Me that's who now let me ask you
Did you not know if we all don't eat?

Some day that we all would beef?
Did you know about the crabs in the barrow?
They would hear me creep
It's a muthafuckin' war in these streets

I'm from the ghetto to the ghetto
And I'm back again I'm back again
I'm from the ghetto to the ghetto
And I'm back again I'm back again

From Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again
From Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again

As a youth I used to fold up, old heads
Said I thought more like a leader than a soldier
Back in the days never no heat thought shit was cool
Food cat personified even went to school

Learned wild shit made me feel kinda live
Off of nothin' with this bullshit 9 to 5
I stayed broke made me easier to provoke
Ready to yoke the first muthafucka that joked

Same dude with the hard bottom went from laid back
To locked out from talk it over to T, I shot him
Ready to perish all the shit you cherish
Leave you the wettest I got a you die first, fetish

I can recall helpin' old chicks across the street
Now I help myself liftin' cats off they feet
Can't give a fuck, nigga, I just lost my moms
Why I need to feel something steel in both my arms?

I went from Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again
I went from Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again

I'm from the ghetto to the ghetto
And I'm back again I'm back again
I'm from the ghetto to the ghetto
And I'm back again I'm back again

I went from Marcy to Hollywood
And back again back again
From Marcy to Hollywood
And back again back again

Geah, since y'all niggas don't like to think
I'ma make it real easy for y'all
You got three different types of nigga
First cat, as a youth is real wild

And for whatever reason he hit the money or whatever cooled out
You got one cat that's ghetto, grimy always remained ghetto
You know that type then you got one cat very smart young man
Everybody wanted him to be a lawyer doctor, whatever
Pressure drove him crazy, he wiled out, ha geah

Marcy to Hollywood
And back again and back again
Back again, biotch

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10985cf86a9c298e057b73eb903a7b46

Monday, August 9, 2010

Quiet You With My Love - Lyrics - Rebecca St. James

Title: Quiet You With My Love
Artist: Rebecca St. James
Composer(s): Matt Bronleewe, Rebecca St. James

Lyric:
Come to me, all who are weary
And I will give you rest
Come to me, all who are weary
And I will give you rest

Lay your head down on my shoulders
Be still my child, rest a while

And I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song
And I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song

Come to me, all who are weary
And take my yoke upon you
Come to me, all who are weary
My burden is easy and light

Lay your head down on my shoulders
Be still my child, rest a while

And I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song
And I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song

I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song
And I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song

And I'll quiet you with my love
Rejoice over you with my song, with my song
And I'll quiet you with my love

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7e386f3d5526aa3b04cb8c3890733b0c

Friday, August 20, 2010

Niggaz Wanna Act - Lyrics - Harlem World - Mase

Title: Niggaz Wanna Act
Album: Harlem World
Artist: Mase
Composer(s): Richard Frierson, Sean Combs, Mason Betha, Damon Blackmon, Hubert Yarborough

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

Lyric:
Yo, check this out right
Harlem on da rise
And you don't want no problem with us guys

M A dollar sign E
And if you ever out tryin' to find me
I think I should warn you
I get hard when I want to
Angelettie, Bad Boy, niggaz ain't ready

Yo, you the type of cat in the building, holdin' the cracks
Playin' some the niggaz on the corner holdin' the gatts
Nigga come through, a nigga kill, never blow back
You the nigga, never did but send in all the facts

Yo, I know niggaz like you 'cuz I meet 'em all the time
And I greet 'em with the 9 if they ever keep what's mine
If I lose, I get loc, put a fool in the yoke
Two to his throat, take his jewels and his coat

More than likely, you ain't got to like me
And this might be the last time I take you nicely
For my legion, fill up the season and start squeezin'
Niggaz talkin' shit, be behind the cars weavin'

There's no breathin', ain't nobody in here leavin'
You kill my man, I kill your bitch, now we even
I'm from a cold world, where it's bleeding, 20 degrees in
Fahrenheit, niggaz get sniped for no reason

Do a lot of work, got plenty funds and many guns
Many sons, niggaz do anything to anyone
And on the streets I don't doubt nuttin'
So, when you talk to Mase, better watch yo' mouth, son

Yo, if niggaz wanna act, we can act
You niggaz wanna scrap, we could scrap
You niggaz got gatts, we got gatts
You niggaz wanna style, we style
If you get foul, we get foul
You get wild, we get wild

If niggaz wanna act, we can act
If niggaz wanna scrap, we could scrap
You niggaz got gatts, we got gats
You niggaz wanna style, we style
If you get foul, we get foul
You get wild, we get wild

Yo, started with a blue whip, got a silver new whip
'Cuz feds watch when I do shit, keep poppin' up new shit, new shit
Think the whole Harlem World on some clue shit

We crisp bub sippers, strip club niggas
Peace to the street team, y'all get love niggaz
Six years ago I was the have-not nigga
Hot nigga, represent for all my block niggaz

Now, I'm 6 drop niggaz, baggette rock niggaz
10 G's a show and I ain't even drop niggaz
Shock niggaz who thought I was a pop nigga
You go against Mase, you get your wig rocked nigga

Players like me'll leave your whole block bitter
Roll hard like when I see the bank stop, nigga
Hustle is a hustle, so, I never knock a nigga
Don't really fuck with Dame but still I cop Jigga

If niggaz wanna act, we can act
You niggaz wanna scrap, we could scrap
You niggaz got gatts, we got gatts
You niggaz wanna style, we style
If you get foul, we get foul
You get wild, we get wild

If niggaz wanna act, we can act
If niggaz wanna scrap, we could scrap
You niggaz got gatts, we got gats
You niggaz wanna style, we style
If you get foul, we get foul
You get wild, we get wild

Yo, I do this everyday, why brag about the glory?
Tell you the whole truth, never half the story
You wasn't no hater, you'd probably be happy for me
Billboard first slot in every category

Niggaz say they love me, they don't love me
I know deep down they wanna slug me
I feel the vibe when they hug me
Luckily, I rock jewels that be chuckie
Over Iceberg Rhugby, pushin' a Benz buggey

For a better batch, roll fever for notes
And need I approach little niggaz seated in coach
I mean, think it's smaller than the weed in my roach
The seed in my smoke, the niggas ain't cheap, they broke

Oh yeah, this my dough year
Jealousy and envy'll get you nowhere
You don't like me, bet against me
You right, got dough do whatever you like
I get front row seats on the night of the fight

My Roley too tight, how many link, loosen my ice
And 'for I scoop the dice, bet a grand I beat the deuce twice
Niggas who don't make dough, I can affil'ate with 'em
I'm dyin' from a sickness known as Willieism

Whatever you want, we can do
We can do it better
And you niggaz wanna scrap? We can scrap
Niggaz wanna wild? We wild

However niggaz like it, you get it
Harlem World, Bad Boy, nice Chevy
It's '97, yeah, Harlem on the rise
And you don't really want no problem wit us guys

Got my man Cardan with me
K F C, D R E, Blinkey blink
Cooda Love, Utto

Black Fred, Big D, Puff Diddy
You know we get bitches
Lox, Black Rob, the whole committee
You don't stop, we won't stop

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c7caa8d843a9a8b2977e7caab83227b9

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Over Here Hustlin’ - Lyrics - Birdman

Title: Over Here Hustlin’
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): Leonardo Mollings, Bryan Williams, Dwayne Carter, Johnny Mollings

Lyric:
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

Now ho don't ask me what I'm doing, that's me in the hook
And I just keep on gettin' it, gettin' it like a ni' in the book
Yes, Wayne straight like a key of that good **
If your *** don't know the rules then I will read her the book

I got the key to the boat, I got the key to the jet
I got the key to success and get money invest
Read up with the rest, I got a Swedish connect
That means my weed is the best, yoke to even the stress

Okay, the coupe is ridiculous and the jeep is a mess
That's called my bullets and luggers, I put 'em deep in your neck
Adam's apple meet banana clip
You know my script, I just get my chips and then I dip, and then I dip

They say the bull*** walks, the money talks
So I don't answer, I don't answer unless the money talks
Yeah, that's my word, that's my word know I will front for y'all
It's money over everything and *** under all, M.O.B

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

I say uptown cobblin', uptown rockin', uptown ***
It's the home of the hard knocks
Cook up a whole block, hit it up in all white
Ridin' with a chopper, black diamonds and it all nice

Shop 'til you pop ***, do your own thing ***
Got the game from Pixie's, second floor sixth court
Bling bling king ***, money ain't a thing ***
Ridin' in a Lamborghini, suicidal regal wings

Assault rifles, my little homies big poppers
Coming through the attic, 20 in the heli-chopper
Zip it and whip it ***, that's how we ship it, ***
Burn it and light it then we flip it and we hit it, ***

I spent a mill on my grill for real
'Cause we be stuntin' while we hustlin', *** makin' his meals
We be grindin' while we shinin', *** packin' that steel
Stay fly, get money, *** stackin' the bills

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

Yeah, I say, we deep in the game, ***. we switchin' the lanes, ***
Got blood money homie, no pain, no gain, ***
Fifty a fame ***, a G a name, ***
That's what we do ***, claim your fame, ***

Hop out a range, ***, fang in hand, ***
Stop all that reppin', 'fore I send some flames, ***
All this money, ***, jewelry and fame, ***
'Cause we be stuntin', ***, moving them things, ***

Paper, paper, paper, all I need is paper, green paper
White chalk, yellow tape will
Make your shirt look like you got on the butcher's apron
Go ahead and make the steak then, *** ***

*** *** talkin', this is how money sound
I'm just chillin' but my money still runnin 'round
Yeah, and I just do's what I does
You *** couldn't even be who I was

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
We over here hustlin', we over here
We over here hustlin', we over here grindin'
I'm all, I'm all about my paper, I'm all, I'm all about my paper

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ee7462b4a2fbd9f5e4d32092f0b8ae70

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Hot Potato - Lyrics - 19 Naughty III - Naughty By Nature

Title: Hot Potato
Album: 19 Naughty III
Artist: Naughty By Nature
Composer(s): Keir Gist, Vincent Brown, Anthony Criss

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

Lyric:
Mic check 1, 2, strap it up, load the beat, cock the mic
And your rhyme better be fat or you might have to fight
Yeah, there's no escape from the terror dome
You know I'm nice when I'm bustin' fat rhymes on the metronome

MC's never pass the mic to the Foxxx, 'cause
Once I bust a fat rhyme, you be a has was
I beat you down on stage and when the battle's over
You'll be leaving your show in a hearse nova

I'm flippin' the X's three times and I'm back again
See, on my way down stage they had me strapped in
But once I hit New York and they loosened the chains
I went and bought me a tec, now I'm wild, insane

I'm on a hunt for a rapper who wanna turn singer
I got my beat 'em down bat and a itchy finger
So if you're nice with the mic and you wanna flip
I'm the rap bounty hunter and it's time to get yo ass whipped

Yeah, I'm comin' from the streets, pop
And please fight back, so you can get dropped
It's time to see who's nice and who can really rap
I smack the taste out your mouth, you wanna be a mack
I'm not tryin' to shake the water and wake the gator
But I'ma pass the mic like a hot potato

1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4

You fly high, I heard your tape then flipped
The next side lookin' for the def side
You couldn't be alright if I erased your left side
Who's wet dried when Treach tried, next died
I'm gonna slide your wet wide, so step side

Any dull raps get the skull caps pulled back full breeze
Blastin' your ass back at full speed, hoes in flow, you know, bimbo
And won't stop prayin' and playin' until I'm layin' up in fo'
Nowhere to run, nowhere to go
I got a solid hip below the belt to make your nuts not grow

Here's to all crews that been wack
I got a thinkin' cap with raps I attached with a chin strap
Flash past your girl who's def in the flesh
Yes, you can't believe that she said, "Treach"

The wicked a wicked a wully bully, bad and fully and surely bad
Ready and Willy gettin' [Incomprehensible] glad
Dissed in Hell and fell in fire
I attack your back, force you to retire with a wet wire
Give you the whip appeal like Toby, listen, oldie but Goldie
Take the dough from all who owe me

1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4

If a rapper disrespect me I smack him in his mouth
I tow him in a yoke, grab him by his throat, boom, then I knock him out
I keep heat and keep the clips in my sock
When my glock get hot you punk niggas better leave the block

Yeah, Freddie Foxxx on a rampage
Every time I touch the mic the police is standin' front stage
'Cause I been labeled as a troublemaker
I send my baddest girl to your house to play the heart breaker

She'll lay you down and put hickeys on your chest
Then turn around and blast you with a 33 shot tec
You couldn't rap, you was wack from the get-go
So you got bumped off by my head hoe

Called by the militant mack, my mentality is jail
Long as I'm strapped I can't fail
Check this, I take the bass and I bust you in the eye with it
A piece of steel with a screen on top, I'm gettin' fly with it

I'm bringin' suckers to the street again
'Cause them same broke-ass niggas ridin' on my meat again
Mr. microphone flipped the beat again
Suckers got caught with the rhyme, felt the heat again

I'm breakin' it down, lettin' you know I'm never lettin' go
I beat your brother down, punk, just to let you know
This is hip-hop, gee, not 'hit pop'

You mess around with the beats, get your boots knocked
I'ma slide, I'm in her when I see you suckers later
As I pass the mic like a hot potato

Shrimps attempt to get pimped when playin' pimp, why?
Sleepin' with a limp eye, pass the hot potato
Treach done [Incomprehensible] chop to French Fries
Mad as a murder vet, man, it'll hurt a set

Well, to hell with you and your fat-O with the gurtle neck
So ol' gold digger, dig some dirt, there you have it
Want ring or a marriage, go get the carrot from a rabbit

Before I stab him for his lucky foot
Hit him with a puffy hook, hit the hare, now look how lucky looks
I'm not a chip on your shoulder, I'm a boulder on a path
Left a gash, you catch a headache in your ass

Class I'm disrespectin', I won't see you trippin', clown
When I do, you be trippin', slippin' and fallin' down
All's left to call cops when I smack you with a leather wig
And make you suckers suede bald spots

Chip-chop, flip the hip-hop, I chuckle
You couldn't knock boots with a muthafuckin' knuckle
It's on, what's more, talk and get a boo-boo from your jaw
It's easy as 1, 2, 3, 4

1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4
1 potato, 2 potato, 3 potato, 4

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout, word up, 4 potatoes, 4 verses
Some hard rough stuff for all those hungry MC's out there
You know what I'm sayin'? Yeah baby, nothin' commercial about this
The militant mack in the house and I got a right hand
For all that try to stand in my face and front
Believe that and I'm comin' straight from the streets, word up

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082ac4f87cf2094e9c266681e80527dc

Monday, August 2, 2010

Rock Star - Lyrics - Double Up - R. Kelly

Title: Rock Star
Album: Double Up
Artist: R. Kelly
Composer(s): Christopher Bridges, Robert Kelly

Lyric:
Lights, st-st-stamina, action
I?m a rock star, check the crowd reaction
I?m like lights, st-st-stamina, action
I?m a rock star, check the crowd reaction

I?m like, ?Hey, you's a rock star baby?
Up in the buildin? makin? the club go crazy
Hey, you's a rock star baby
Thowin? *** like that you must be a rock star baby

I?ma strum ya body, ya body like a guitar string
Stuntin? in Roberto Cavalli, mami with the dime frame
Hotter than tamales you probably should be my wild thing
Tell them other chicks mind they own business
An? let us do our own thing

I got to open ya, open strokin? now ya soakin? wet
An? I?m not from Texas but I hold ?em, rope ?em an? I yoke they neck
You gon? make a playa choose, show me what that thing'll do
Class is in session, let me sh-show you a thing or two

I'll strip ya, I'll strip ya down to your bare minimums
And I'll, I'll lick ya, I?ll lick ya down, you taste like cinnamon
And I?ll grab a little bit of that whip cream
Then I'll put her on her back, get mean
Then I'll get her in the matrix, kinda like Lasik
Basically make her scream

At the top of her lungs, give her a shortness of breath
How many times can you **** before I **** ya to death?
Some would call in the ref, Ludacris is tired of playin?
In the middle of the stage with an *** like that you got everybody sayin?

Hey, you's a rock star baby
Up in the buildin? makin? the club go crazy
Hey, you's a rock star baby
Thowin? *** like that you must be a rock star baby

Say I?m a rock star baby
****in? with this **** and Patron got me hazy
Hey, I?m a rock star baby
So put ?em up if you?s a rock star baby

Girl, your booty so swoll, how you get them jeans around it?
Girl, your booty so swoll, why you think I?m singin? ?bout it?
Hit it hard from the back and then I got to sleep and dream about it
It?s like that *** is crack the way you got me feinin? ?bout it

I?m tellin? you now the way we **** gon? lead to child birthin?
Rockin? to this guitar's about to have me crowd surfin?
Kells?ll put on a show up until they close curtains
Then right after the show, back stage, *** hurtin?

Call me Scotty ?cause girl, ?cause girl I?m ?bout to beam up
Once I get ya, get ya, gone come on out of them D-cups
Strokin? it ****, strokin? it **** while you got your legs up
Makin? ya s-, makin? ya sound like ya got the hiccups

Know what you want, Kells about to give you what you need
Up in my room, you screamin?, ?Hercules! Hercules!?
Man, K-Kells and Luda on the track, our hit is guaranteed
Everybody on they feet, this is what y?all?s shirts should read

Hey, you's a rock star baby
Up in the buildin? makin? the club go crazy
Hey, you's a rock star baby
Thowin? *** like that you must be a rock star baby

Say I?m a rock star baby
****in? with this **** and Patron got me hazy
Hey, I?m a rock star baby
So put ?em up if you?s a rock star baby

I got my drink in my cup, I got my hands in the air
I?m ?bout to set this ***** off like I?m a rock star baby
We out of this club ?bout to hit the after-party
All the ladies coming with me ?cause I?m a rock star baby

So put your hands up
So put your hands up
So put your hands up
Everybody in the buildin'
C?mon! Bounce with me if you?s a rock star!

Hey, you's a rock star baby
Up in the buildin? makin? the club go crazy
Hey, you's a rock star baby
Thowin? *** like that you must be a rock star baby

Say I?m a rock star baby
****in? with this **** and Patron got me hazy
Hey, I?m a rock star baby
So put ?em up if you?s a rock star baby

Lights, st-st-stamina, action
I?m a rock star, check the crowd reaction
I?m like lights, st-st-stamina, action
I?m a rock star, check the crowd reaction

I'm like lights, st-st-stamina, action
I?m a rock star, check the crowd reaction
I?m like lights, st-st-stamina, action
I?m a rock star, check the crowd reaction

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5140ec4a07a4204876f397707a784779

Friday, August 6, 2010

The Turn - Lyrics - Method Man

Title: The Turn
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): Corey Todd Woods, William Frederi Davidson, John Goodison, Clifford Smith, Michael Philip Le Davies, Tony Hiller

Lyric:
Everywhere I turn, I see, your face
Yeah, ah, yeah, yo, yo, yeah
Yeah, motivate, motivate, from the gate, ya'll
Yeah, aiyo, aiyo, aiyo

And we the Gods, still tear the whole hood apart
Darts that'll splatter through faces, taste niggaz hearts
I'm intellectual, plus professional
And Walbaums to vegetables

Shit is right here, like buyin' fly gear
Dare any white man or fan nigga, ran through niggaz
Blew shotties in niggaz lobbies, the grand RZA
We left, the radio broke, I yoke my vocals, hittin' green smoke

Allah Math', show me when the needle broke
Numb the whole crowd up, stupid ass Loud fouled up
Never knew what they had, now they proud of us
Picture my vision, precision, lines jumpin' out of commission

Divine got me, nigga, the boss, he pop me
Rae, we gotta generate, Lord, I feel the Ditech, the mildew
Buy jets and vehicles, steal a little
Wrap up the whole rap government

Go 'head, ya'll floss wit it, walk wit it, I slap your boss wit it
Navy blue, New York fitted, I'm cold frost bitted, two puffs and off wit it
You smell the herb, 'fore I lit the spots it's forfeit it
Blocks is hot, feel the shot from fourth fit it

With no regard for your boulevard, just the shit bag and bullet scar
It's the Riddler, riddle me this, riddle me that
Who the pretender? And who the door man that let them enter?
The Wu-Tang, 36 Cham', what you smokin'?

Got you in the game chokin', like Van Gundy coachin'
Your street team, bunch of weaklings
Don't ever let me catch your reachin'
Respect when a grown man is speakin'

Shh, keep on sleepin', and just like TLC, I keep on creepin'
The five percent of ya'll, keep on teachin'
The heat seakin', missile official, that got issues
Like Funk Doc got snot tissue, it's hot nikkels

Everywhere I turn, I see, your face, but you're never there
Shh, shit ain't over

Okay, now, same shit, different day, grindin', gettin' paid
Self at it, automatic, guns that spit and spray
Gotta have it, ass grab it, time to slip and weight
Godbody, House your Party, watch the kid 'n' play

Ya'll gon' make me go postal, up in this muthafucka house
Full of bloodsuckers and hoes that love hustlers
Roll that izza, pour me another kizza
Bigga, to my nigga, so drunk they can't get up

Shotguns through nose, hot ones through foes
Let the herb spots run till the cops come, suppose
I was just another stick in the mud, on a Saturday
Thinkin', how I'mma get the fifth in the club

See my crew thick, everyday I fights to prove it
We comes undisputed, with batteries included
Honey's bee like Meth, I be like what?
They want some free cd's, I'm like, "See these, nuts"

If ya'll muthafuckas gettin' high tonight, say all right, haha
If ya'll muthafuckas gettin' drunk tonight, say all right, haha
It be Tical, okay, haha, yeah, yeah, okay
It be Tical, okay, haha, yeah

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baba2bc81a6229cc7d3e0a7be4bfa03d

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Egg Man - Lyrics - Beastie Boys

Title: Egg Man
Artist: Beastie Boys
Composer(s): Michael Diamond, Matt Dike, John Robert King, Adam Horovitz, Adam Nathaniel Yauch, Michael S Simpson

Lyric:
Ahh yeah
I looked out the window and seen his bald head
Ran to the fridge and pulled out an egg
Scoped him with my scopes he had no hair
Launched that shot and he was caught out there
Saw the convertible driving by
Loaded up the slingshot and let one fly
He went for his to find he didn't have one
Put him in check correct with my egg gun
The egg a symbol of life
Go inside your house and bust out your wife
I pulled out the jammy he thought it was a joke
The trigger I pulled his face the yoke
Reached in his pocket took all his cash
Left my man standing with an egg moustache
Suckers they come a dime a dozen
When I say dozen you know what I'm talking about boy

Yea that's right I'm the Egg Man Driving around
King of the town "Yea"
Always got my windows rolled down
Ready to throw
You know I'm the Egg Man

Once upon a time
You know I'm the Egg Man

Humpty Dumpty was a big fat egg
He was playing the wall then he broke his leg
Tossed it out the window three minutes hot
Hit the Rastaman he said "bloodclot"
Which came first the chicken or the egg
I egged the chicken and then I ate his leg
Riding the trains in between cars
When I pull out the station "you're gonna get yours"
Drive by eggings plaguing L.A
"Yo they just got my little cousin ese"
Sometimes hard boiled sometimes runny Ray
Comes from a chicken not a bunny dummy
People laugh, it's no joke
My name's Yauch and I'm throwing the yoke
"Now they got me in a cell" but I don't care
It was then that I caught catching people out there

Up on the roof In my car up all night
I'm going through science like Dolemite
The Mack Who
I'm the Egg Man, taxi driver
I'm the Egg Man
"Egg Man, Egg Man "

We all dressed in black we snuck up around the back
We began to attack the eggs did crack on Haze's back
Sam I am down with the program
Green eggs and ham Yosemite Sam
Come Halloween you know I come strapped
I throw it at a sucker K-pap
You made the mistake and judge a man by his race
You go through life with egg on your face
Woke up in the morning peculiar feeling
Looked up and saw egg dripping from the ceiling
Families punk rocks the businessman
I'll dog anybody with an egg in my hand
Not like the crack that you put in a pipe
But crack on your forehead here's a towel now wipe

"Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man
Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man
Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man Egg Man "
Egg Man

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548d77551d915cab01dd6c31dc5342d4

Friday, August 13, 2010

Jane 3 - Lyrics - Business As Usual - Epmd

Title: Jane 3
Album: Business As Usual
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Parrish J Smith

Lyric:
J to the A to the N to the E, yo P
J to the A to the N to the E, yo P
J to the A to the N to the E, yo P
J to the A to the N to the E, yo P

One hot summer day back around the way
A new kid moved onto the block and his name was Jay
Jay was cool, he trucked jewels, packed a nine mill
Yeah, and kept his smitty's on his tool

Anyway Jay portrayed to be like hard
So we took him in and put him down with the hit squad
His house was phat, full court in the back
Jacuzzi in his bedroom, a "Welcome" on the doormat

Plus AZT, full house alarm system
One rottweiler, one pitbull, no one could vic him
Something strange about the crib, I had to think
Why the whole goddamn house was dressed in hot pink

Yo Jay, where's your bathroom? Bust a move, I gotta piss
Three doors on the left, homeboy, ya can't miss
My head was busted, disgusted, I said, "What's goin' on?
I seen a douche bag and safety Maxi-pad tampons"

Left the bathroom, went back where I was
Tapped Jay on the shoulder and said, "Eiyyyooo 'cuz"
"I thought you lived alone"
"I do"
"Are you certain?"

There's bras and leotards, hangin' on the curtain
Yo Jay, what's your problem, homeboy, you look stunned
What you doin'? Put down that knife, where's my gun?"
Shit's thick, I reached for my tool, I wasn't strapped

Left the nine in the car, right next to the Jim Hat
It's my ass, I better think fast real quick
I got a flashback from a Bruce Lee flick
Got in my stance, don't lie

Kay, I broke for the door
Tripped on some bullshit in the living room floor
Jay, rushed me, I grabbed him, scooped him up in the yoke
Ahh shit, kicked him in the nuts, that's all she wrote

It was like rapunzel
Rapunzel? Down came his hair
Titties popped out and there was ass everywhere
Jay a transvestite? Not quite he was more like

J to the A to the N to the E, yo P

Don't tell me, you went out like a sucker
Chill, took off that mustache
Grabbed that ass and I fucked her
Peace, I'm Audi 5000, Audi 5000, ahh shit

All of that real shit, you know what I'm saying?
Jane? Haircut, haircut like Anita Baker?
The whole shit, yo, the whole shit, you know what I'm saying?
Nah you can't man, I ran right up in her like Bruce Jenner

But better, right in there, man, I didn't even care
Are you crazy? Well, I was holdin' me
Don't tell me it was Jane you were juicin'
Sheiit, kick it-e

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b88ac5bab6af64682858ef2c790c573b

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Merciful God - Lyrics - The Roches

Title: Merciful God
Artist: The Roches
Composer(s): Suzzy Roche, Terre Roche

Lyric:
The yoke
The yoke
The yoke upon
The yoke upon the neck
The yoke upon the neck of the disciple

That neither our fathers
Nor we are able to bear

The yoke
The yoke
The yoke upon
The yoke upon the neck
The yoke upon the neck of the disciple

That neither our fathers
Nor we are able to bear

Merciful God
This is a prayer
Merciful God
This is a prayer

I can
I cannot
I cannot hide
I cannot hide my sorrow
I cannot hide my sorrow from my friends and family

Will love have the power
To overcome despair

Be not afraid for the pastures
Of the wilderness will spring
Be not afraid for the pastures
Of the wilderness will spring

Be not afraid
Be not afraid
Be not afraid

Merciful God
This is a prayer
Merciful God
This is a prayer

Someone
Someone told
Someone told me
Someone told me, I lost
Someone told me, I lost my sense of humor

Someone
Someone told
Someone told me
Someone told me, I lost
Someone told me, I lost my sense of humor

I did a song and dance that made him laugh
Till he was scared

Merciful God
This is a prayer
Merciful God
This is a prayer

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30b22094ab56aa9aa6bc8f2c40547395

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Beware - Lyrics - Capital Punishment - Big Punisher

Title: Beware
Album: Capital Punishment
Artist: Big Punisher
Composer(s): J Tineo, C Rios

Lyric:
I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware
I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware

Yo, what you thought punk, shit was sweet, now you can't sleep
Gotta keep ya eyes open wide and hide ya face from the streets
I'm like the beast with a warrant, far from alarmin'
Gave you fair warnin' now you on the stairs swallin'

I'm callin' out any rapper that I doubt, smack 'em in the mouth
Throw 'em in the yoke, then I knock 'em out
No doubt, Freddie Foxxx files twenty shot auto glock
Benny blind Puerto Rock style

Wit' a twist of black in the brow, twist ya cap and I'm out
Sleep wit' the fish-dips for yappin' too loud
What's happenin' now? Niggaz is hard as hell but they Gargamels
Pickin' on the smallest victim gives 'em heart to kill

My squad is real and holds it down the hardest regardless
Besides of the largest, we polish the floor
With the rawest hardcore artists
Flawless victory you niggaz can't do shit to me
Physically lyrically hypothetically realistically

I'm the epitome of catchin' wreck, catch you when you cash your check
Smash you when you pass then jack you for your fuckin' Lex
Nothin' less than the best if the squad did it
Hard-headed niggaz better beware and fear like God said it

I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware
I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware
I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware
I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware

Ay, yo I warned you, now all niggaz could do is mourn you
I'm born to kill and still thrilled, I put it on you
There's no regrets, remorse, only results and loneliness
Only the strong survivors strive through life as warriors

All of us die, some of us kill, even massacred
Who wanna try? Punisher will if you ask for it
I'm hazardous for your health and hell's your next stop
For real my shit's cocked the world has just stopped

I'm not the one you should be underestimatin'
Come, test your fate an' I guarantee I'll be under investigation
You can't handle the whole, I'll slam you on your skull
Or we can go blow for blow like Evander and Bowe, ya never know

However tho' I still hold the title
When all my rivals the chance to dance who missed the homicidal
Hand on the Bible I swear to defend my crown
I've been around since forever and never let it touch the ground

Don't fuck around and catch a rude awakenin'
My crew's basically waitin' patiently for you to move your patrons in
Then we'll surround you, form desert storm and pound you
Look around you, Terror Squad's everywhere like Soundview

The Boogie Down do it like nobody, who are we?
The foundation, you're facin' a whole army

I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware
I gave you fair warning, beware, beware, beware

Yeah, yeah, yeah, whassup now potna?
Know I'm sayin'? Think this just some rap shit?
We do this shit for real, Terror Squad nigga
Fuckin' shoot the place up! Muthafuckas know the time

This muthafuckin' rap game
Joe Crack, Big Dog Punisher, Full Eclipse crew
What da fuck, what
Beware, beware, beware

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0bfb8c120b5971fa2aa258006e1b3f71

Ebonics - Lyrics - Big L

Title: Ebonics
Artist: Big L
Composer(s): Lamont Coleman, Rondell Turner

Lyric:
Yo, pay attention
And listen real closely how I break this slang shit down

Check it, my weed smoke is my lye
A ki of coke is a pie
When I'm lifted, I'm high
With new clothes on, I'm fly
Cars is whips and sneakers is kicks
Money is chips, movies is flicks
Also, cribs is homes, jacks is pay phones
Cocaine is nose candy, cigarettes is bones
A radio is a box, a razor blade is a ox

Fat diamonds is rocks and jakes is cop
And if you got rubbed, you got stuck
You got shot, you got bucked
And if you got double-crossed, you got fucked
Your bankroll is your poke, a choke hold is a yoke
A kite is a note, a con is a okey doke
And if you got punched that mean you got snuffed
To clean is to buff, a bull scare is a strong bluff
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it

Speak with criminal slang
That's just the way that I talk, yo
Vocabulary spills, I'm ill

Speak with criminal slang
That's just the way that I talk, yo
Vocabulary spills, I'm ill

Yo, yo
A burglary is a jook, a woof's a crook
Mobb Deep already explained the meanin' of shook
If you caught a felony, you caught a F
If you got killed, you got left
If you got the dragon, you got bad breath
If you 730, that mean you crazy
Hit me on the hip means page me
Angel dust is sherm, if you got aids, you got the germ
If a chick gave you a disease, then you got burned

Max mean to relax, guns and pistols is gats
Condoms is hats, critters is cracks
The food you eat is your grub
A victim's a mark
A sweat box is a small club, your tick is your heart
Your apartment is your pad
Your old man is your dad
The studio is the lab and heated is mad
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it

Speak with criminal slang
That's just the way that I talk, yo
Vocabulary spills, I'm ill

Speak with criminal slang
That's just the way that I talk, yo
Vocabulary spills, I'm ill

The iron horse is the train and champaign is bubbly
A deuce is a honey that's ugly
If your girl is fine, she's a dime
A suit is a fine, jewelry is shine
If you in love, that mean you blind
Genuine is real, a face card is a hundred dollar bill
A very hard, long stare is a grill
If you sneakin' to go see a girl, that mean you creepin'
Smilin' is cheesin', bleedin' is leakin'

Beggin' is bummin', if you nuttin' you comin'
Takin' orders is sunnin', an ounce of coke is a onion
A hotel's a telly, a cell phone's a celly
Jealous is jelly, your food box is your belly
To guerrilla mean to use physical force
You took a L, you took a loss
To show off mean floss
I know you like the way I'm freakin' it
I talk with slang and I'ma never stop speakin' it

Speak with criminal slang
That's just the way that I talk, yo
Vocabulary spills, I'm ill

Speak with criminal slang
That's just the way that I talk, yo
Vocabulary spills, I'm ill

Yeah, yeah
One love to my big brother, Big Lee
Holdin' it down
Yeah, Flamboyant for life
Yeah yeah, Flamboyant for life

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e3090048bd2a253e7541c70e86dfb8b2

Monday, August 2, 2010

Rest - Lyrics - Big Daddy Weave

Title: Rest
Artist: Big Daddy Weave
Composer(s): Michael Weaver

Lyric:
To all who are weary and those who are heavy laden
Lay at the feet of the one who loves you best
Bring all of your trials and all of your tribulation
Come unto me and I will give you rest

I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest

I take my yoke upon you come and learn from me
For I am humble in spirit and so you must also be
And Lo I will be with you in the midst of every test
If you run unto me, I will give you rest

I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest

I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest

I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest
I will give you rest

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bd59eb45649823e93dd8c7f5b9b4586c

Monday, August 16, 2010

Waitin' Ta Hate - Lyrics - War And Peace Vol. 2 (Peace) - Ice Cube

Title: Waitin' Ta Hate
Album: War And Peace Vol. 2 (Peace)
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Parrish J Smith, George Jr Clinton, O'Shea Jackson, William Lee Nichols, Walter Morrison, Garry Shider, Allen Williams

Lyric:
Ain't no California love

I see them niggaz
You see them niggaz?
I see them niggaz

Look at them niggaz just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate
Look at them bitches just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate

Get your ride on, ride on
This ain't the day for you to die on, die on
I'm a nigga that they lie on, lie on
See these shoes you wanna try on, try on

Yo, we can go to war with the enemy
All we need is AK's and Hennessy
This ain't back in the days of Tennessee
Pull the trigger and release the energy

See muthafuckas run till they catch one
In the back and it might cause a cardiac
Bitch act like he died and we brought him back
Him screamin' for his mama and his sister pack

Flat line, these niggaz wanna act like
They ain't never had a full can of act-right
Make me pull out my gat, right
And smoke his muthafuckin' ass like a crack pipe

So what you sayin', muthafucka?
We ain't playin', muthafucka
AK'n muthafuckas
So what you sayin', muthafucka?
We ain't playin', muthafucka
AK'n muthafuckas

Look at them niggaz just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate
Look at them bitches just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate

Get your smoke on, smoke on
Here's another verse to choke on, choke on
To all my niggaz in the pen, get your yoke on
To all my thugs in the house, get your loc on

We can really give a fuck about a broke home
All we care about is bitches we can poke on
Nigga, what's that bullshit that you spoke on?
Better roll on 'fore we split your whole dome

'Cause you're fuckin' with Ice Cube the Terrible
Fuck around, I make your life unbearable
Make you live all scary and careful
Come through my neighborhood, you better tip-toe

'Cause if you loud, then you might get chased down
Westside Connection catch a case now
Po-po's find your monkey ass face down
Tell your mama that you in a better place now

So what you sayin', muthafucka?
We ain't playin', muthafucka
AK'n muthafuckas
So what you sayin', muthafucka?
We ain't playin', muthafucka
AK'n muthafuckas

Look at them niggaz just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate
Look at them bitches just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate

Ain't no California love
You can hate me now
Ain't no California love

To all my niggaz with the lleyo
They rock it up like Play-Doh
They cook it up like Waco, better do what I say so
Better lay low, 'cause you fuckin' with a halo

Death to the niggaz with the big mouth
And death to you devils from the Old South
And death to you hoes turnin' tricks out
And death everyone that go the bitch route

Check it, if you infected by this record
Bow down butt-naked and pray to God
Ice Cube won't spare the rod
Westside Connection here to mob, nigga, rob

We can take it to the streets
We can take it to the concrete
You niggaz know where the Don be
You bitches ain't tryin' to find me
All you haters need to shut the fuck up and get behind me

Look at them niggaz just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate
Look at them bitches just waitin' to hate
Waitin' to hate, waitin' to hate

So what you sayin', muthafucka?
We ain't playin', muthafucka
AK'n muthafuckas
So what you sayin', muthafucka?
We ain't playin', muthafucka
AK'n muthafuckas

This is dedicated to them haters
Who ain't gon' kill nothin'
And who ain't gon' let nothin' die
You know 'em, you know 'em

When you see Ice Cube you better holla
And pop a collar
When you see Ice Cube you better holla
And pop a collar

Play the MP3 online for free!
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