Miami Shit - Lyrics - El Mariel - Pitbull

Title: Miami Shit
Album: El Mariel
Artist: Pitbull
Composer(s): Tony Castillo, Armando Perez, Brandon Holemon

Lyric:
Introducin' Mr. 3, yeah, 0, yeah, 5

Hop in the bucket and haul ass
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass

This to them boys on their way to Tennessee
Listenin' to M.J.G, breakin' dem birds and 8-balls
Be careful with them ki's, don't hesitate to squeeze
Watch out for them Feds 'coz they hate y'all

Bank accounts overseas, when them Feds come for me
All they gon' find is CD's, no weight, dog
But wait, dog 'coz Pit is back, bigger, badder, stronger
It's alright, you can hate, dog

But don't be surprised if a chico do you like Nicholas Cage
And blow your motherfuckin' 'Face Off'
Who the fuck wanna face off?
'Coz I'm willin' and ready to cock, aim and bang

Show the world what it means to be born and raised
In the home of the K's, that's the County of Dade
Well, they used to shoot straight phase, now they shoot AK's
So if they kick in your door, I suggest you do what they say

These are the facts of life minus them three bitches
They don't rap no more, all they do is snitchin'
I went from no pot to piss in
To gettin' taught how to whip up a pot in the kitchen, listen

Cook, cook, whip, whip, chop, chop, oh
Hear the shots, don't look, stop, drop, roll
Hit the block, tell them fiends stop, cock, go
Used to be my life but not no more

Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass

Take my banana clip to a banana click
Now that's some Miami shit
Give me your big old shit with a ton of bricks
Now that's some Miami shit

Chevys on 22's, 24's, 26
Now that's some Miami shit
That's right, that's what, that's right, that's what
That's right, I'm from Miami, bitch

I eat, sleep, shit, talk rap
See that 745 LI, yeah, I bought that
They never thought but I thought that
Give 'em a brick, bakin' soda and a peaka and it's brought back

High ranks to be exact, I bring it back
How you want it, from the stove or the microwave?
How you want it, high yellow or light brown
Or feel that Method Man, I got 'em fiendin' with they pipes out

Let's ride, I done reminisce on them days
When they used to jack tourists everyday in Dade
That's how JT Money got his name
Miami, all it equals is tons of cocaine

This is what we grew up and learned to do
These Cubans'll teach you 'bout a bird or two
Keep actin' like these boys won't murder you
Now here the sun ain't the only thing burnin' you

This where the bitches go two ways
Niggas love gun play and a triangle equals a one way
If you know what I'm talkin' 'bout then you from Dade
If you don't then welcome to rappin' raised the bottom

Welcome to rappin' raised the crib
Welcome to rappin' raised Magic City
Welcome to rappin' raised 305, county of Dade
Let's ride

Hop in the bucket and haul ass
Step on the gas, step on the gas
Fuck 'em, hop in the bucket and haul ass
Step on the gas, step on the gas

Take my banana clip to a banana click
Now that's some Miami shit
Give me your big old shit with a ton of bricks
Now that's some Miami shit

Chevys on 22's, 24's, 26
Now that's some Miami shit
That's right, that's what, that's right, that's what
That's right, I'm from Miami, bitch

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Big Shit Poppin' - Lyrics - T.I. vs. T.I.P - T.I.

Title: Big Shit Poppin'
Album: T.I. vs. T.I.P
Artist: T.I.
Composer(s): Clifford Harris, Byron Thomas

Lyric:
Hey, hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you better do it, you better do it
Whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, cuz I'ma do it, cuz I'ma do it
Whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you know we do it, you know we do it

Hey, hey, hey, big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Ball on these niggas, bein' broke is not an option

Now do it, you better do it, you better do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, cuz I'ma do it, cuz I'ma do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you know we do it, you know we do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you better do it, you better do it

Now let me hear ya say big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Ball on these niggas, bein' broke is not an option

Now do it to the maximum, take it while you askin' 'em
Don't listen to them suckers when they say you too irrational
I said I was "King" and them lames started laughin' and
Same suckers now want the King on a track with 'em

I composed several classicals, you know like "Top Back"
"Dope Boy", "Bring 'Em Out", and "What You Know About That"
Now they ask how I talk, what you know about that?
Dominated '06, now I'm goin' right back, do it

See me rain hell, I just showed you like that
Even Denzel say, "Damn, I ain't know it like that"
Nigga yeah, still Bankhead, you can tell
Ain't nothin' changed but the name on the mail

I still kick in doors with them thangs in the air
Up in Benihana's, see me slang in the chair
I will slang 'caine, no such thing as a jail
Say you need a hundred squares? It just came off the scale

Let's do it, you better do it, you better do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, cuz I'ma do it, cuz I'ma do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you know we do it, you know we do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you better do it, you better do it

Now let me hear ya say big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Ball on these niggas, bein' broke is not an option

Now do it like a ball player, where you see me ball at?
Stacks tall as ball players, from the stage to the air
Whether in Miami, Cincinnati, or the Riverdale
Arizona, California, you make it rain anywhere

Pullin' out that pistol nigga, who you think you fin' to scare?
Twenty rounds of missiles'll have you pissin' in your underwear
I tote about 40 cal so you better tone it down
Or I suggest you just prepare yourself for when it goin' down

A-Town, West Side, clubs where you'll catch me
Right up at the top where Big Kuntry, Dro, and Mack be
Jackers lie, say they caught me slippin', how could that be?
I'm something like a stalker, I be e'rywhere the strap be

The trap be, jumpin' with them hundred dollar slabs
If I want it nigga, I could get a hundred on the tab
Sell 'em all, double down, nigga do the math
Think I won't pull up in something with 200 on the dash?

Yeah I do it, you better do it, you better do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, cuz I'ma do it, cuz I'ma do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you know we do it, you know we do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you better do it, you better do it

Now let me hear ya say big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Ball on these niggas, bein' broke is not an option

Now I do it like I wanna do it, do that shit in front of you
Real nigga vision pimpin', I ain't seein' none of you
I do it for my nigga Phil's daughter and his mama too
I do it for my oldest sons and their grandmama too

Do it for my daughters and my youngest son's mama who
Go buy what she want because she know it ain't a problem to
You do something to them and to you I'll bring the drama to
You do it for a day or so, we do it for a month or two

I do it for my partners, go make sure them niggas stuntin' too
We do it with them choppers, ain't no problem, where you runnin' to?
We do it for the block, that why ain't nobody stoppin' me
I do it for my pop and my cousins too, they watchin' me

I did it nonstop, now see how these niggas copy me?
I made it from the bottom to the top where I oughta be
Who do it did good and do it did fresh
No matter what I do you know I do it to death

Hey I'ma do it, you better do it, you better do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, cuz I'ma do it, cuz I'ma do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you know we do it, you know we do it
Hey whatchu waitin' for?
Do it, you better do it, you better do it

Now let me hear ya say big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Big shit poppin' and little shit stoppin'
Ball on these niggas, bein' broke is not an option
Now do it

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a60ecf8cead13b2207a8312c26e04c99

Raw - Lyrics - Amil

Title: Raw
Artist: Amil
Composer(s): Michael Sandlofer, Amil Whitehead

Lyric:
I'm making it hard for these little rap chicks to come out
I'm copping whips, you in the street with your thumb out
You wanna battle but when it's time to spit, you dumb out
Singles, I've touched, been going platinum since the first one out

I put on seven niggas just to carry me on
Amilliyon say the hook, let 'em carry the song
I be the only bitch on the mic making it hot
With the smoke in the drop in the vacant lot

Since this bitch been in this game, I been taking spots
And if you hating me, shit, you must be hating the Roc
Take it there, yeah, I break it down like this
Ain't a bitch live who can make it sound like this

Don't make Amilliyon have to pull rank
Lyrics never on E, I keep a full tank
Any nigga that I fuck wit, got my name in the bank
Yeah, you heard me, he got at least my name in the bank

Everything I spit be raw
I be like 10 pounds of coke and be quick to draw
And it's pure fuck, Miami, it be Ecuador
For my peeps fuck a foot, I got they leg in the door

Everything I spit be raw
I be like 10 pounds of coke and be quick to draw
And it's pure fuck, Miami, it be Ecuador
For my peeps fuck a foot, I got they leg in the door

Yo, let's take it to the whips, bitch, five or six
We could take it to the block, flip dimes to bricks
Take it to the mic, see who spit the livest shit
Who wanna take it to the streets to the nines and clips?

I'm the bitch that won't skate when daddy empty the safe
Lie on the stand if Jake hem 'em up with a case
Far as this rap shit, fuck fame or shine or rhyme
I don't care who joint drop the same time as mine

Chicks redo albums once they heard my buzz
Motherfuckers know I'm a track murderer
So you could pop shit, bitch, run your mouth
I know niggas that'll get you right in front of your house

For free and that's just on the strength of me
If you could touch Amil, then you could mention me
You think Jay wrote this, that's complimenting me
I'm the best 'til somebody prove me differently

Everything I spit be raw
I be like 10 pounds of coke and be quick to draw
And it's pure fuck, Miami, it be Ecuador
For my peeps fuck a foot, I got they leg in the door

Everything I spit be raw
I be like 10 pounds of coke and be quick to draw
And it's pure fuck, Miami, it be Ecuador
For my peeps fuck a foot, I got they leg in the door

You got beef, let's put it all on the table
You want the hottest clique on the street, you know the label
You want the hottest bitch ever known, I willing and able
Could y'all broads be story tale like a Eastside fable?

You want me to spit, bitch, make it payable
If you lucky, if you'll be hearing back within a day or two
That's just coming from a chick who done paid her dues
Know I'm the hottest chick from kicks to the gator shoes

Ayo, respect this shield of David piece on the necklace
Now who wanna take it to some next shit?
Hey, yo, I crush all bitches, eat up most niggas
Teach these rap broads, train gold diggas

You know I know niggas and you know I hold figures
We speak but that don't mean my niggas is yo' niggas
We up in your spot, strapped with the hoods on
I am Major Coins and any bitch I put on, nigga

Everything I spit be raw
I be like 10 pounds of coke and be quick to draw
And it's pure fuck, Miami, it be Ecuador
For my peeps fuck a foot, I got they leg in the door

Everything I spit be raw
I be like 10 pounds of coke and be quick to draw
And it's pure fuck, Miami, it be Ecuador
For my peeps fuck a foot, I got they leg in the door

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e5deac18ad18582c2c124381d711b068

We Don'T Care About Ya - Lyrics - Pitbull

Title: We Don'T Care About Ya
Artist: Pitbull
Composer(s): Armando Perez, Frank Roman, Jonathan Smith, Luis Alejandro Diaz, Hugo Andres Diaz

Lyric:
We don't care
We don't care
We don't care
We don't care, we don't care
We don't care, we don't care

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

Now that Little Jon has opened the door
It's over dawg, this that new south, that's it, it's over y'all
No more warning y'all, we tired of getting over looked
You want beef then I hope you like it over-cooked

Oh and for that bread, it's whatever man
I'm fully prepared to pump lead
At any nigga that wanna bump heads
So bring it but when them things go Rr-rr-rringing

Someone's gonna get hit
And that's a fact, not an opinion
I'm building my connects
And that there is dangerous

Didn't your mother teach you, not to talk to strangers?
Then why are you in my ear talking all the shit
Just 'cause I'm Cuban doesn't mean I flip bricks

So stop asking me the price on them thangs down here
'Cause that sort of thangs that get chu killed 'round here
I don't care who you are, who you might be
But I'd rather die, then let an undercover bite me

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

I'm in this bitch now, y'all niggaz better get ready
I'm ready for whatever y'all want, boy, but it ain't nothing pretty
Y'all wanna start shit, tell me what y'all wanna do
Me, Pit, DB, we don't care about booze?

I don't care about slanging them thangs
Back 'em spraying them thangs
If you get roped, just homie don't mention my name
Blakah, that's exactly what I'm spitting meng
Homie, don't make me have to blow 'em chopper meng

'Cause I can spit it, spit it, however you want it, want it
My peoples is with it, with it, we about that money money
And I do anything that I have to do to get that money meng
Miami, money is a major issue meng

They, they don't understand what we about to do
We about to shit on this game, we about to shit on your crew
Pitbull don't care about ya, Cubo don't care about ya
DB don't care about ya, we, we don't care about ya

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

This game is scandalous
The more money you make
The more you're prone
To get hauled off in an ambulance

That's why I say to myself in the cut, man, I can't be seen
Ears open, mouth shut, just watching thangs
And if it pops off, I pop up, both popping thangs
Guns, I was taught proper to cop and aim

Run, when you hear that Blakah meng
P-rr-rr-rrat that's the sound of the chopper meng
Just let me know exactly what it is you trying to do
'Cause we can both dance with the Devil, dawg
It's all on you

Like basketball, if you shoot you better follow through
In a casket dawg, who the fucks gon' follow you?

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

We don't care 'bout ya clique
We don't care 'bout ya crew
We don't care 'bout ya bitch
We don't care what you do

We don't care about your cars
We don't care about your chips
We don't care about shit
Accept getting rich

Yeah, once again, my friend
I'mma be the first Latin rapper from the south
Shut shit the fuck down
And I got Lil' Jon to bounced to that
The King of the south

And Uncle Luke will tell you the same shit
So get ready, niggaz
Pitbull, DB, Lil' Jon
Y'all ain't ready for this shit

Haha, suckas

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Knowledge God - Lyrics - Raekwon

Title: Knowledge God
Artist: Raekwon
Composer(s): Robert Diggs, Cory Woods

Lyric:
Plug, word yo
I'm sayin'?
Know, you know we had the baddest
Motherfuckin' unit back in the days, kid
You know that?
You know what I'm sayin'?
I miss all my niggas though believe me
And I'll never forget none of 'em

Stovetop, Roofside, you know what I say
I had these motherfuckin', all these wild-ass niggas man
You know what I say, LB?
Shit is wild overall, you know what I'm sayin', God?
Word up, you know what I'm sayin'?
So you let my shit go on the count of three, though
You know what I'm sayin'?

Fake niggas throw shit in they drinks
Club nights we snatch linx politic, Africans and chinks
While World of Sport niggas snort coke by the seconds
Niggas projects filled with fiends injectin'
Morphine, the God seen more cream and upstate
Cousin Reek, almost got hit with fourteen'
Chill Pah, the God'll be a star when you come home
Light bones and let you rock my 3G stone

So see cousin, yo, I was workin', cats I'm jerkin'
And uptown these niggas actin' like they hurtin', keys twenty-four a brick
Columbians be on some bullshit, that's why Poppy got hit
Stay tuned, word up, I hope to see you in June
By the way, I seen your bitch, she was up in this cat's room
Skeyed up, weed the fuck up, to top it off
Look beat up, with two crack fiends huggin' your seed up
I took care of that, though, but don't worry 'bout it, I got your back though

Yo, why's my niggas always yellin' that broke shit
Let's get moneys son, now you wanna smoke shit
Chill God, yo, the Son don't chill Allah
What's today's mathematic son, Knowledge God

Fly like cashmere, last year, my team caught bodies in Gravesmere
Hit a store owner named Mike Lavonia
Italiano, slanted-eyed bangin' them fat Milano
Selling coke right out the bottle
Sometime, a nigga brought nines to test with minds
Crazy peace, buying keys in Greece
Was a rich nigga, picture the nigga without dope figures
Condo with his chick, rockin' the gold vigor

Mafia flicks, tyin' up tricks was his main hobby
Teachin' his seed, Wu-Tang karate
Mixin' drinks in clubs, hairy chest with many minks
Night time rollin' with spics
Extra live, he claimed he couldn't die, top rank
Sixteen shots in his fist to bank
And his pet piranha, he named him marijuana
Smokin' ganja, callin' his weed paisandra

Claimin' New York was ancient Babylon
Where the sky stayed the color of grey, like her-on
I can't front though, truck loads of indo
Soon to blow slow, his ass is out now, tally-hoe

Yo, why's my niggas always yellin' that broke shit
Let's get moneys son, now you wanna smoke shit
Chill God, yo, the Son don't chill Allah
What's today's mathematic son, Knowledge God

Why's my niggas always yellin' that broke shit
Let's get moneys son, now you wanna smoke shit
Chill God, yo, the Son don't chill Allah
What's today's mathematic son, Knowledge God

Yo, why's my niggas always yellin' that broke shit
Let's get moneys son, now you wanna smoke shit
Chill God, yo, the Son don't chill Allah
What's today's mathematic son, Knowledge God

Yeah, uh huh, uh huh, Miami niggas
Word up, show your love
Yeah y'all, yeah y'all, yeah
Word up, London, Europe, Africa
Word up, the fifty-two states, yeah
Catch me later, word up, yeah, yeah
About to make moves and slide like grease
Moves and slide like grease

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4aa98382a44f97e368a92e679a16d26d

Z - Shorty - Lyrics - The Best Of Both Worlds (Jay-Z & R. Kelly) - Jay

Title: Z - Shorty
Album: The Best Of Both Worlds (Jay-Z & R. Kelly)
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Samuel Barnes, Robert Kelly, Jean Claude Olivier, Shawn Carter

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

Lyric:
So I told shorty I be producing, I be making 'em beats
Be making 'em hits, ya know
So I told her my name, my name is Tone
She said, "Town!"
You know like she never heard of me, ya know
So I said, "Okay you may know me by my other name
Sometimes they call me

Track master"
We see you Tone
Tone the referee
We see you, baby
C'mon shorty

That nigga Hov, holla
Y'all niggas don't understand
Uh uh, they don't understand
Flow for 'em, no lemme sing for 'em
Just sing for 'em, check It

Mr. Kell
It's like this, some of y'all niggas got, legs for lips
Running ya mouth mad 'coz I, pop that Cris
Go up in 3-10, and cop that six
Then roll around with yo chick

Some of y'all niggas mad 'coz I drop these hits
Thug ass nigga, on some R & B Shit
Now that shit done fucked around and made me rich
And for those of you who don't like it, y'all can suck my uhh

Leadin' honies to my suite like I'm the pied piper
Have they ass hittin' high notes like they Mariah
Get that pussy wet enough to put out a bonfire
She be like, "Woo" and I be like, "Woo"

When her tides got high, fuck it, I'ma Don
Runnin' late for the studio, fuck it, I'm 'bout to come
Dress cold at club fuck it Air Force I's
Said, "I wouldn't mention, Sisqo, fuck, he's a bum"

Ally boom, buaya, hit you with the right hook
You be like, "What the fuck was that?"
Me and Jigga, we are like the industries popo
Nigga y'all best shit can't even fuck with our demo's

Shorty
From New York on to L.A.
Shorty
Chi-Town we freak the night away
Shorty
Miami all the pretty girls
Shorty
We know chicks all around the world

Shorty
From New York on to L.A.
Shorty
Chi-Town we freak the night away
Shorty
Miami all the pretty girls
Shorty
We know chicks all around the world

Shorty, what yo name is?
Shorty, who yo man is?
C'mon and make moves with a dude who move cane
Like a old man, you know who game this is

Young Hov
Name is respected in fifty different languages, mommy come roll
I keep a jet on the runway, Sunday in Paris, London on Monday
Back to L.A.

This ain't rap, this is real, I could trick a half a mill'
In three hours ma the streets will be ours
Shorty, I got something for you
Wouldn't give a chick a dime before but now I wanna spoil you

Shorty, the trips to the gucc shop, getcha cooch hot
How 'bout I do a helipads on the roof top
Shorty, ya hella rad, your my rock star shorty
Here's my number shit, you ain't gotta call me

Shorty
From New York on to L.A.
Shorty
Chi-Town we freak the night away
Shorty
Miami all the pretty girls
Shorty
We know chicks all around the world

Shorty
From New York on to L.A.
Shorty
Chi-Town we freak the night away
Shorty
Miami all the pretty girls
Shorty
We know chicks all around the world

I'm chillin' in my 4.6, at the light
5 o'clock in the morning, been drinking all night
And plus I'm high but it ain't over
Four slim bodies scooped me in a wide body rover

Panties and bras all the way from the bed to the sofa
All you R & B so called playas, I'm 'bout to coach ya
Sit right there, and watch me freak yo girl chocha
Tongue all down her throat as if a nigga was trying to choke her

It's the best of both worlds, stickin' ya in the uhh
Put ya hands up like it's money in the air
We 'bout to rip these charts like Zorro Blade
So hot your gonna need a cold glass of lemonade

To all my real live niggas, that shoot dice and play spades
In a nice crib, word up, drinking the Maid
On the rizel my nizel, that nigga Jigga is the dizel
R. Kizel in the hotel swizel's chicks on the knizel's

Shorty
From New York on to L.A.
Shorty
Chi-Town we freak the night away
Shorty
Miami all the pretty girls
Shorty
We know chicks all around the world

Shorty
From New York on to L.A.
Shorty
Chi-Town we freak the night away
Shorty
Miami all the pretty girls
Shorty
We know chicks all around the world

Shorty
Shorty

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52a04c69f349f8e7f152ba595a6f37ca

Where The Shit Goes Down - Lyrics - VI: Return Of The Real - Ice T

Title: Where The Shit Goes Down
Album: VI: Return Of The Real
Artist: Ice T
Composer(s): M Ogelton, S Adam, Tracy Marrow

Lyric:
Ice-T, nigga, representin', strictly West side, nigga
South Central in the muthafuckin' hiddouse
Check the technique, nigga
Representin' for my real niggas out there
Fuck all you buster-ass niggas, word

Saturday night in L.A., time to play
My peoples hummin' like a vibrator, gotta make crime pay
I'm packin' two gats and I wish I could carry more
Might sound crazy, but I ran out of slugs before

Yeah, I know the feds watch me
But my vest clashes hard with the Versace
So I'm just rollin' in the black five hun'
I used to low ride, now it's just for fun

I had five cars, but now I got one
Hard to keep up ballin' when you're on the run
I got two kis in my trunk and a shovel
Stepped on the one, so now I gots double

The shovel's for drama, need I say more?
Got the fat stash spot under my passenger floor
That's for the other strap, the automatic type
I gotta keep it close, in case shit gets hype

Got a bitch in jail, she didn't snitch, she did three
I'ma have to roll solo till they set her free
'Cause I got some other crimeys down, true gees
But they got all day, so now it's just me

And I'ma kick this slang until the day I die
I can't go straight, I won't even try
I'm stuck in the game, so don't ask me why
It's life in L.A.

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Long Beach and Compton are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where the shit goes down

Now niggas like they credit and they like to get they loans on
So I hooked up with my boy, who turns them phones on
He told me 'bout this nigga who won't pay
He also said he knew exactly where the muthafucka stay

So I went and got some homies I hang with
Some crazy muthafuckas who I used to bang with
We took a trip to his crib
I snatched his hoe and his kids and this is what we did

I tied they punk ass up
I cracked the safe with an axe and then the phones we cut
I didn't hurt his wife
But I promised next time, that I would take her life

I shot a nigga in his neck for disrespect, caught a body
Got a murder in Miami for a shoot-out at a party
Got blood in my trunk from a punk who squealed

Had a partner tried to play me and his cap, I peeled
Now I rest with my finger on my heater
Hand on my beeper, a light sleeper

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
New York and Philly are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Frisco and Oakland are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I used to sling enough water, you could float a boat
You could ski on the mountains of fuckin' coke
But now, most niggas serve chronic
So I let 'em check the bank and then I'm all up on it

I serve 'em with a cute hoe
In a week, they tell my bitches 'bout all they dough
Then I jack and I kill
The jack's for the money, the kill's for thrills

I got nine thousand blacks that still serve crack
Got a bitch who works the Plaza too, on the track
Got a GTA connection and I fence for jewels
Got some little kids that move my fuckin' dope in schools

Got warrants for arrest in about twenty states
Got a bigger body count than fuckin' Norman Bates
I'm a killer, jacker, dealer, pimp supreme
I'm livin' out the hustler dream

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Houston and Atlanta are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where that shit goes down

Tonight, I gotta meet this nigga from around the way
Some say he's cool, I think he's DEA
He said he want it bad, he heard that I got it good
I bagged up ten kis of flour and met him in the hood

I met him at my spot, 'cause I know it's cool
Pat him down on sight to remove his tool
I made him name ten niggas he should know
But that still ain't shit in the game of blow

He asked to see the dope, I asked to see the cash
He reached for that briefcase too fast
A fuckin' pig, yo, he thought he had the chump
I had my nigga in the closet with a bull pump

And now there's fuckin' shot-up body all on the floor
But that's what the shovel's for

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Newark and Miami are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
Detroit and Chicago are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where that shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
D.C. and Cleveland are some down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where the shit goes down

I low ride and I sag and cuss
I cover my face with the rag and bust
I know all my niggas live in down-ass towns
But South Central L.A. is where my shit goes down

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10d8037935b8850b4d48709d3f2ae075

How To Rob - Lyrics - Power Of The Dollar - 50 Cent

Title: How To Rob
Album: Power Of The Dollar
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): H.W. Casey, Samuel Barnes, Jean Claude Olivier, Curtis Jackson, Deric Angelettie, Richard Finch

Lyric:
The art of getting robbed
This is how we do Brooklyn style boy
You know what I'm sayin'?

R.I.P B.I.G, R.I.P P A C, R.I.P niggas that wanna OD
Aiyyo, the bottom line is I'ma crook with a deal
If my record don't sell I'ma rob and steal
You better recognize nigga I'm straight from the street
These industry niggaz startin' to look like somethin' to eat
I'll snatch Kim and tell Puff, "You wanna see her again?"
Get your ass down to the nearest ATM
I have dreams of fuckin' an' R 'n' B, bitch

And I'll wake up early and bounce with all your shit
When I apply pressure, son it ain't even funny
I'm about to stick Bobby for some of that Whitney money
Brian McKnight, I can get that nigga anytime
Have Keith sweatin' starin' down the barrel from my nine
Since these Harlem World niggaz seem to all be fam
I put the gun to Cardan tell him, "Tell your man
Mason Betha, haha, come up of that watch now
I mean right now"

The only excuse for being broke is bein' in jail
An entertainer can't make bail if he broke as hell
I'd rob ODB but that'd be a waste of time
Probably have to clap him, run and toss the nine
I'd follow Fox in the drop for four blocks
Plottin' to juice her for that rock Kurupt copped
What Jigga just sold like 4 mil? He got somethin' to live for
Don't want no nigga puttin' four through that Bentley Coupe door
I'll man handle Mariah like, "Bitch, get on the ground"

You ain't with Tommy no more who gonna protect you now?
I been skeamin' on Tone and Poke since they found me
Steve know not to wear that platinum shit around me
I'm a klepto nah for real son I'm sick
I'm 'bout to stick Slick Rick for all that old school shit
Right now I'm bent and when I get like this I don't think
About to make Stevie J take off that tight ass mink
I'll rob Pun without a gun snatch his piece then run
This nigga weigh 400 pounds, how he gon catch me son?

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal, so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent how it feel to rob and industry nigga?

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal, so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent how it feel to rob and industry nigga?

I'll catch P and Silk The Shocker right after the Grammies
And Will Smith and Jada ass down in Miami
Run up on Timberland and Missy the pound
Like you gimme the cash and you put the hot dog down
I figured it out
Been robbin' Joe before that's why his ass
Don't wanna be a playa no more
Mad at you I'm robbin' J.D., fuck you, pay me

Had Da Brat with 'em, shoulda had his gat with him
DMX wanna get down well you tell homey
I'm on that Treach shit, I do my dirt all by my lonely
I should rob Clue man, his shit did well
I wanna stick TQ but his shit ain't sell
I hit the studios, take shit and leave
Catch Rae Ghost and RZA for them funny ass rings
Tell Sticky gimme the cash before I empty three

I'll beat your ass like that white boy on MTV
Cannibus wanna battle while I'm stickin' them up
Nigga get capped coroners pickin' 'em up
Heavy tried to hide his shit, nigga try to stall ya
He said, "Why you robbin' me I got nuttin' but love for ya"
Caught Juvenile for his Cash Money piece
Told him I want it all he said, "Even my gold teeth?"
I caught Blackstreet on a back street in a black jeep

One at a time get out and take off your shine
Did you ever think that you would be this rich?
Did you ever think that you would have these hits?
Did you ever think that I'd flash the nine?
And walk off with your shit like it's mine?
I'ma keep stickin' niggas until I'm livid
I'll rob Boys II Men like I'm Michael Bivins

Catch Tyson for half that cash like Robyn Givens
I'm hungry for real I'm 'bout to stick Mister C
That nigga still eatin' off Big's first LP
I had Busta and the whole Flipmode on the floor
He asked me if I had enuff I told him, "Gimme some more"
Is you feelin' this? Then wait for the sequel
I gotta get Kirk Franklin for robbin' Gods People

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal, so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent how it feel to rob and industry nigga?

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal, so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent how it feel to rob and industry nigga?

For real, yo, you know what I'm sayin'?
Niggas got to get stuck up that's just how it goes down
It don't matter if you an industry nigga or a regular nigga
It don't matter, if you got it and I need it I want it
50 Cents ain't fuckin' around

Track Masters ain't fuckin' around
Crazy Cat ain't fuckin' around
The Madd Rapper ain't fuckin' around
So watch your backs, watch your pocket book, watch your pockets
Watch everybody on the train, watch everybody on the bus
'Cuz we gonna get you whether you like it or not

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96d76aa4f3a879f94d7eddb8406f08a5

How To Rob An Industry Nigga - Lyrics - Power Of The Dollar - 50 Cent

Title: How To Rob An Industry Nigga
Album: Power Of The Dollar
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): H.W. Casey, Samuel Barnes, Jean Claude Olivier, Curtis Jackson, Deric Angelettie, Richard Finch

Lyric:
The art of getting robbed
This is how we do Brooklyn style, boy
You know what I'm saying?

R.I.P B.I.G, R.I.P P A C
R.I.P niggas that wanna OD
Aiyyo, the bottom line is I'ma crook with a deal
If my record don't sell, I'ma rob and steal

You better recognize, nigga, I'm straight from the street
These industry niggaz starting to look like something to eat
I'll snatch Kim and tell Puff, "You wanna see her again?"
Get your ass down to the nearest ATM

I have dreams of fucking an R an' B bitch
And I'll wake up early and bounce with all your shit
When I apply pressure, son, it ain't even funny
I'm about to stick Bobby for some of that Whitney money

Brian McKnight, I can get that nigga anytime
Have Keith sweating, staring down the barrel from my nine
Since these Harlem World niggaz seem to all be fam
I put the gun to Cardan tell him, "Tell your man
Mason Betha, haha, come up of that watch now
I mean right now"

The only excuse for being broke is being in jail
An entertainer can't make bail if he broke as hell
I'd rob O.D.B. but that'd be a waste of time
Probably have to clap him, run and toss the nine

I'd follow Fox in the drop for four blocks
Plotting to juice her for that rock Kurupt copped
What, Jigga just sold like 4 mil'?
He got something to live for
Don't want no nigga putting four thru that Bentley Coupe door

I'll man handle Mariah like bitch, get on the ground
You ain't with Tommy no more, who gonna protect you now?
I been scheming Tone and Poke since they found me
Steve know not to wear that platinum shit around me

I'm a klepto, nah, for real, son, I'm sick
I'm 'bout to stick Slick Rick for all that old school shit
Right now I'm bent and when I get like this, I don't think
About to make Stevie J take off that tight ass mink
I'll rob Pun without a gun, snatch his piece then run
This nigga weigh 400 pounds, how he gon' catch me, son?

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent, how it feel to rob an industry nigga?

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent, how it feel to rob an industry nigga?

I'll catch P and Silkk, The Shocker right after the Grammies
And Will Smith and Jada ass down in Miami
Run up on Timberland and Missy with the pound
Like you gimme the cash and you put the hot dog down

I figured it out been robbing Joe before
That's why his ass don't wanna be a playa no more
Mad at you, I'm robbing J.D.
Fuck you, pay me

Had Da Brat with 'em, shoulda had his gat with him
DMX wanna get down, well, you tell, homey
I'm on that Treach shit, I do my 'Dirt All By My Lonely'
I should rob Clue, man, his shit did well
I wanna stick TQ but his shit ain't sell

I hit the studios, take shit and leave
Catch Rae Ghost and RZA for them funny ass rings
Tell Sticky, gimme the cash before I empty three
I'll beat your ass like that white boy on MTV

Canibus wanna battle while I'm sticking them up
Nigga get capped coroners picking him up
Heavy tried to hide his shit, nigga try to stall ya
He said "Why you robbing me
I got 'Nuttin But Love' for ya?

Caught Juvenile for his Cash Money piece
Told him I want it all, he said, "Even my gold teeth?"
I caught Blackstreet on a back street in a black jeep
?We at a time, get out and take off your shine?

Did you ever think that you would be this rich?
Did you ever think that you would have these hits?
Did you ever think that I'd flash the nine
And walk off with your shit like it's mine?

I'ma keep sticking niggas until I'm livid
I'll rob Boys II Men like I'm Michael Bivins
Catch Tyson for half that cash like Robyn Givens
I'm hungry for real, I'm' bout to stick Mister C
That nigga still eating off Big's first LP

I had Busta and the whole Flipmode on the floor
He asked me if I had enough, I told him 'Gimme Some More'
Is you feeling this? Then wait for the sequel
I gotta get Kirk Franklin for robbing God's People

This ain't serious
Being broke can make you delirious
So we rob and steal so our ones can be bigger
50 Cent, how it feel to rob an industry nigga?

For real, yo, you know what I'm saying?
Niggas got to get stuck up, that's just how it goes down
It don't matter if you an industry nigga or a regular nigga
It don't matter, if you got it and I need it I want it

50 Cents ain't fucking around
Track Masters ain't fucking around
Crazy Cat ain't fucking around
The Madd Rapper aint fucking around

So watch your backs, watch your pocket book
Watch your pockets, watch everybody on the train
Watch everybody on the bus
'Cause we gonna get you whether you like it or not

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ad16a31f90fda77d33d5f1757fbefb26

I Ain'T Havin' That - Lyrics - Heltah Skeltah

Title: I Ain'T Havin' That
Artist: Heltah Skeltah
Composer(s): Jahmal Bush, Ronnie Duren, Kamaal Fareed, Jack N Mcnair, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, Reggie Noble, Sean Du Val Price, Erick Sermon, Malik Izaak Taylor

Lyric:
They don't like us
Word up
They don't like us
They ain't gotta like us fuck them son

Starang forever like Wu Tang my crew brings drama
Hangin' your ass upside down by ya shoe strings
Smoke, tell 'em how we doin' this
Stop the whole shit just to big up my newness

(Now, by all means)
I do a show in New Orleans
And get wit b'out it 'bout it Mystikal
(Starang, we been missin' you)
Last year ATL we almost got physical

I can't talk, now, read about it in the interview
(While y'all up in D&D)
I caught two and three stitches
I was still gettin' bitches in the tunnel takin' pictures
In the mazda listenin' to 'Kris, I Got Next'
I wanted hot sex, so I ran and got the Lex

Aiyo, shit goes down
Time to throw down, show up this a showdown
So, down low, now, I'm low down
Hold down the fort, now wit a fo' pound
Blow down ya whole town first go round

Yo smile'll quickly be switched, bitch, and you'll frown
When I dig in ya pockets and take all the dope out
Lay ya gold out now and don't pronounce one word
Shut the fuck up, probably cryin' hold down

Tired of punk asses, takin' shit for a joke
Now, watch you'll pounce gat pointed at yo door
Act like you know now
We could be so foul, shake your hand, run up in ya bitch, no doubt

I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that

Shit, yo' game be asses, I got two passes to the Baja
Then turn into night we fuck, yo' cars superthug privilege
I ain't got to brag because I did it
Run before the rap when I was scrappin'

On these motherfuckin' mean streets of Brownsville gun clappin'
I ain't got to front, I make it happen
Strictly snappin' necks, strictly macs and techs
Head all night over, deuce, deuce, the feds

Yo, matter fact, here's a list of some of the shit I ain't havin'
First of all there won't be no more talkin' out yo' ass, man
I ain't havin' no back stabbin', I ain't havin' shit
Run yo' mouth, you get smacked in it, why? Why?
(Why?)

Why ask? Why say goodbye to mister nice guy? Say hi to the bad guy
Four horsemen head the magnum force, man, rip you get lit the fuck up
(Speed)
Like a spliff of human torch, man, this shit scorchin'

Do the research your feet hurt from half-steppin'
Bitin' my shit a make your teeth hurt
Word is bond Jovi B you wildin'
My dick don't stay out, my high stop ridin'
(My dick)

Son, niggaz tryin' ta beat me in the head wit gats fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
Run up in the piece think you gone dead that fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

U.S. Marshall's at my crib, tryin' ta take me back, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
We could take it ol' school at 3, meet me in the back, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

Yo, yo, where ya at?
To all my peoples Hennessey passed off
Give a toast to my whole MFC
While you clowns waitin', Ruck is shakin' the foundation

Wit some groundbreakin' shit that'll leave the town thinking
When I cock back my pistol, drop back and whistle
For my niggas to hold me down because this here 'bout to get hit dude
We miss you, stick a niggas roll and his fool clique
I gotta full clip for you and all of ya bull

U.S. Marshall and your little, whittle, when left is caught up on my pillow
Eat a dick between 2 slices of bread, you fuckin' fag
MFC keep it cookin'
(Keep it cookin')

We emerge wit the blue print to plan my escape from central Brooklyn
Rock, pick the lock, Ruck, bust the sha sha
Keep with the blast CC4 to blow the door
(Now, we blow the spot)

Armed and dedicated semi under rated, fuck it, to me dated by a wip ass
You niggaz lick ass, we blast gas pletal freak mass
Doin' the Macarana over 2 pounds of hash
(We ain't havin' that)

I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that
I ain't havin' that

You don't got no wins in mi casa
My shit's proper, you still suckin' my kielbasa
From hilshire I still fire from helicopters
Watch the birdie, I heard him tell the tale to the coppers

Clock ya comin' from the precinct singin' operas
Met you at ya crib from the blind side, I dropped ya
Knocked ya, teeth out ya mouth when I popped ya
Sent you upstate to get a gun from ya poppa

Yo, live niggaz on the wall, write that smoke, crack, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
Yo, ya smack me and I smack you back fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin that)

Y'all niggaz think y'all gon' come around here flashin' track, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
And if you niggaz owe me dough, besta get my trap, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

Son, you know they can't stand me
'Cuz my crew pack heat like Miami
Ran for these rappaz outside of the Grammy's
They be killin' me, how they willingly be grillin' me

'Cuz they shorty wop just be feelin' me
Could it be my name or my big gold chain?
Now, when we in the airport on our way to soul train
I got niggaz on the West coast
(West side)

That meet me at the airport, carryin' weed in they trench coats
In business class, eatin' French toast and coffee
Tell the stewardess to back up off me we on y'all
Warned ya but y'all still couldn't wait for the all-time great
William H. word up

And if ya call and I'm not home then you can call me back, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
You just can't smoke if you ain't put in for the sack, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

Son, don't fuck her raw, here's a jimmy hat, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
Here's a tic-tac, your breath smell like ass crack, fuck that

And when you know that when you're MFC, you're MFC for life
98 shit, Willam H. Duren, Doc Holiday

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30d679bd1837909d7bbfe14c00d22e6f

Jealousy - Lyrics - Me Myself & I - Fat Joe

Title: Jealousy
Album: Me Myself & I
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Joseph Anthony Cartagena, L Coppin, Isaac Hayes

Lyric:
Yo Stevie, [Incomprehensible]
Spill that shit, man, we toastin' right now
All my niggas, put your glasses up in the air right now
We gon' represent our niggas locked down
Our niggas passed away, we miss y'all

Nigga, every time you see me, man, you know you want to be me
And you can't deny the fact that this fat nigga's fly
Went from Sergio to Kenny to movin' them Lamborghinis
Got you sick to your stomach, now you ask yourself why

Nigga, Crack was the first, you seem 'em in Red Monkeys
And I bet you didn't now that they came in my size
Now it's highly controversial, if you'll find me, I'll commerce you
And you know that G-5 the only way that we fly

Now I'm feelin' like Pharrell and Snoop, the world beautiful
Brazilian, Columbian chicks, you know the usual
Them niggaz over there, please send them some bottles
'Cause they lookin' like some haters, I don't really need the problems

'Cause these niggaz here, we love to give ketchup
We bloody up the whole damn room if you let us
And I ain't tryin' to steal, I'm just tryin' to chill
And light up this kush with this hundred dollar bill, nigga

Jealousy, nigga, you'se a grown man
Why you get so jealous, why you take the stand?
Jealousy, why you mad at my bitch
'Cause she wear fly shit and she push nice whips?

Jealousy, I don't owe you, man
I don't know you, man, I never sold you, man
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

All these niggaz jealous, please don't be mad
Don't talk to them boys, bring up my past
Don't tell 'em 'bout the Macks that I stash in the grass
And that ten mill' Terror Squad start up cash

I'm a law abidin' citizen, I barely smoke blunts now
We into real estate, we fuckin' with Donald Trump now
When you know who told them boys what
I been rappin' for years, all of a sudden I'm hot

'Cause the only time you see me is probably when I'm on TV
Smokin' the Cohiba on the deck of a yacht
Nigga, you could never be me, though I make it seem easy
Only nigga from the Bronx, though Miami's my block

Now you got us fucked up, homey, we don't rat
We don't talk to them boys, all we do it clap
All we do is spill Crys', got that on tap
Look at all the shit I accomplished, not bad for Crack

Nigga, you'se a grown man
Why you get so jealous, why you take the stand?
Jealousy, why you mad at my bitch
'Cause she wear fly shit and she push nice whips?

Jealousy, I don't owe you, man
I don't know you, man, I never sold you, man
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

I'm feelin' like Christ at the Tabernacle, stones are thrown at me
Record labels is hidin', niggas disownin' Joey
And still I throw rocks at tanks
The poor people's champ, go against glocks with shanks

Yeah, I walk the middle of the streets with no bodyguards
Stick up kid, salute the hard body god
My jail niggaz, they love this shit
Yeah, they sharpen up they shanks while they bumpin' this shit

And my niggaz on the table, yeah, they listen to this
Little Coca, little soda, yeah they whippin' that shit
And I know it sounds eerie but my niggaz better hear me
If you speakin' on the phones, it won't be secret to the jury

They hit you wit that RICO, I'm not meanin' PR
I'm talkin' full scale riots, whole lotta triage
And I know you not scared but please be cautious
'Cause these jealous ass niggaz could be walkin' amongst us

Jealousy, nigga, you'se a grown man
Why you get so jealous, why you take the stand?
Jealousy, why you mad at my bitch
'Cause she wear fly shit and she push nice whips

Jealousy, I don't owe you, man
I don't know you, man, I never sold you, man
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

To my jail niggaz
To your street memories
I know you can hear me now
For the record we love you, we miss you

Yeah, to all my niggas that passed away
Joe Montana, my sister Lisa
[Incomprehensible] my brothers for life, nigga

Cali, LV, oh my God, jealousy
All 'em jealous ass niggas, man, it's Coka
Jealousy, crack, crack
Jealousy, jealousy, jealousy, jealousy

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5de290737a6c66b7e9bb671f77d299ce

Live At Jimmy'S - Lyrics - Up Close & Personal - Angie Martinez

Title: Live At Jimmy'S
Album: Up Close & Personal
Artist: Angie Martinez
Composer(s): F Delgado, Mike Love, Scott Mackenzie, Angie Martinez, Terry Melcher, Lawrence Parker, John Phillips, S Remi, C Rios, Sunkis

Lyric:
Graso, vamos pa'l club [unverified] seguro que no
Que ahi eta Angie Martinez, 'ta Cuban Link y Domingo
Una cosita ahi que te voy a poner por los pie
Pa 'certe bailar, tu ve carajo, va ser coé, tigeraso

Jimmy, Copacabana, in Miami, Little Havana
Ay, Latin Quarters, la Gran Manzana
We're gonna party hasta por la ma馻na
Ay, Santo Domingo, tomando Mamajuana

Gozando en Colombia, Venezuela y la Bahamas
Ay, Costa Rica, Peru y Tijuana
Ven conmigo mami, con esto nadie no para
Ay

Uhh, uhh, uhh, yo, yo, yo
Bubble heavy in the club, double Henne' in the cup
Trouble and merengue make you move yo' butt
Got the fellas goin' nuts, girl, it's too much
Got me four numbers already, the night's still young

Papi work the room, handsome like what
Mami got new shoes, hair done like what
Me, you, speed through, yeah, yeah, good to meet cha
How you doin'? Afraid to be the one baby take it floor

Don't say nuttin' dumb, maybe we could do more
'Cause it's our night and it's okay
Work hard all day, now we ready to play
And the J, the I, the M, the M, the Y, the J, the I, the M
At Jimmy's, at Jimmy's

Jimmy, Copacabana, in Miami, Little Havana
Ay, Latin Quarters, la Gran Manzana
We're gonna party hasta por la maéna
Ay, Santo Domingo, tomando Mamajuana

Gozando en Colombia, Venezuela y la Bahamas
Ay, Costa Rica, Peru y Tijuana
Ven conmigo mami, con esto nadie no para
Ay

Uhh, creep to yo' block in the black Cadillac
You could go wit a gray Mac, bra
Run, duck, son, what the fuck?
See my tattoo, got Pun on my gut

Bag yo' chick, give her none of the bucks
Curse me out, call me a bum and a slut
'Cause I bust quick left a ton in the bed
And I broke out wit more guns in a truck

Yo, yo, ain't nuttin' stoppin' us from droppin'
And rockin' the whole metropolis
We lockin' this down, straight up and down
We too hot to miss, got the shit to make 'em lose it
They can't refuse it

'Cause it ain't nuttin' like hip hop music
New shit, took a meringue beat looped it
Exclusive without doubt, this shit's stupid
Who's this? Cuban Link, no te asuste
Domingo drop the bomb, I got the fuse lit

Jimmy, Copacabana, in Miami, Little Havana
Ay, Latin Quarters, la Gran Manzana
We're gonna party hasta por la maéna
Ay, Santo Domingo, tomando Mamajuana

Gozando en Colombia, Venezuela y la Bahamas
Ay, Costa Rica, Peru y Tijuana
Ven conmigo mami, con esto nadie no para
Ay

Whoo, whoo, hey
Strobe light twirlin', smoke everywhere
Dance floor flooded, hands in the air
Bar in the back, ballers in the rear

Find me 'round there, bottles by the pair, yeah
All night 'cause it feels real good
And good wood from a nigga in the hood
Ladies, shake it, shake it like a real girl should

Let it be understood
That I'm wit my friends and we ready to go
Connects wit L.E.S to Santo Domingo
And I won't rest 'til I'm poppin' at the show
Watchin' all my people shoutin', "Go, ma, go"

So get it up, get it up
Shake it down, shake it down
If we havin big fun
If you rep Big Pun, come on

Jimmy, Copacabana, in Miami, Little Havana
Ay, Latin Quarters, la Gran Manzana
We're gonna party hasta por la maéna
Ay, Santo Domingo, tomando Mamajuana

Gozando en Colombia, Venezuela y la Bahamas
Ay, Costa Rica, Peru y Tijuana
Ven conmigo mami, con esto nadie no para
Ay

Boriqua, Morena, girl, I wanna take ya back to Cuba
(Cuba)
Habana, come on, pretty mama
(Habana)
Jamaica, Puerto Rico o Santo Domingo
We could take it there
Yeah, yeah, and bring your silk underwear it's on

Jimmy, Copacabana, in Miami, Little Havana
Ay, Latin Quarters, la Gran Manzana
We're gonna party hasta por la maéna
Ay, Santo Domingo, tomando Mamajuana

Gozando en Colombia, Venezuela y la Bahamas
Ay, Costa Rica, Peru y Tijuana
Ven conmigo mami, con esto nadie no para
Ay

And bring your silk underwear it's on
And bring your silk underwear it's on
And bring your silk underwear it's on
And bring your silk underwear it's on

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3483ce6083e94ad38b386f76bdd82581

We Do This - Lyrics - T.I. vs. T.I.P - T.I.

Title: We Do This
Album: T.I. vs. T.I.P
Artist: T.I.
Composer(s): Clifford Harris, Andrew Harr, Jermaine Jackson

Lyric:
Okay, ain't no use in tryin' to lie
You know we be ridin' fly
All that stuff you tryin' to buy
Boy, you know we be twice as fly

We do this
I'll show you how to do this
I'm probably the coolest
I'll show you how to do this
I'll show you how to do this shit

I got a drop on thirty, rims so purty
Shut ya lil' Gallardo down, close curtain
Ya got a Murcielago, I got a McLaren for it
Balla of the year, I oughta win a award

I got money offshore that I made off tour
Cash stashed in a paper bag from a whore
Some from the dro, some all blow
Never go broke but I still want more

Ya ain't gettin' nothing pimpin if ya ain't gettin' dough
Ya got a bitch and ya wonder why she ain't gettin' low
But she freakin' with four, shit, if you was tryin' to be fly
I suggest try a little more, nigga

Ain't no use in tryin' to lie
You know we be ridin' fly
All that stuff you tryin' to buy
Boy, you know we be twice as fly

We do this
I'll show you how to do this
I'm probably the coolest
I'll show you how to do this
I'll show you how to do this shit

Who ya ever seen under thirty this fly?
Playa house, South Beach, top floor, it's just a tie
And this'll never stop, I'll do this shit 'til I die
Then after that consider me a ribbon in the sky

I'm G4 flyin', big boat buyin'
Land in Miami, then I sail to a island
My Cali crew high in the hills, I ain't lyin'
Man, them bitches get high in anything they tryin'

I got cars I don't know about, money I don't know about
Three or four movies, get a hundred K a show about
Ten mil in real estate make them niggas really hate
What I care about it? I ain't like them niggas anyway

Ain't no use in tryin' to lie
You know we be ridin' fly
All that stuff you tryin' to buy
Boy, you know we be twice as fly

We do this
I'll show you how to do this
I'm probably the coolest
I'll show you how to do this
I'll show you how to do this shit

I'm a fool with the bitches, I talk they listen
Funny thing, all I gotta say is lets get it
And my mouth piece sweet but my dick game vicious
Plus I'm paid but they already rich, they ain't trippin'

She can tell I'm fly first time, she ride with me
S65 who ride the 550
King worldwide, God of my city
Yeah, them other niggas say that they hard but not really

Coupe super clean, shut all the cars down
I got 50 G's on me, I'll tear the mall down
Used to be in the [Incomprehensible], I'm in the summer home now
One in Cabo, one in Miami, think I'll go to Rome now

Ain't no use in tryin' to lie
You know we be ridin' fly
All that stuff you tryin' to buy
Boy, you know we be twice as fly

We do this
I'll show you how to do this
I'm probably the coolest
I'll show you how to do this
I'll show you how to do this shit

Ain't no use in tryin' to lie
You know we be ridin' fly
All that stuff you tryin' to buy
Boy, you know we be twice as fly

We do this
I'll show you how to do this
I'm probably the coolest
I'll show you how to do this
I'll show you how to do this shit

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cc7135553253a8bd8341be90ef7288e2

Holla At Me Baby - Lyrics - Dj Khaled

Title: Holla At Me Baby
Artist: Dj Khaled
Composer(s): Paul Wall, Armando Christian Perez, Khaled Khaled, Joseph Cartagena, Dwayne Carter

Lyric:
You got the right one, it's wheezy fuckin' baby
And if your woman lookin', I'll let the woman taste me
Okay now I'm with Khaled, we wilin' in Miami
We got a bunch of bitches, we pile ?em in the Phantom

They follow us to mansion but I don't mean the club
I'm talking bout my crib, mama I'm trying to fuck
It's cash money baby, it's young money bitch
Now you can swallow that or you can suck a dick

Okay, tell me shit, Lil Wayne fuck a bitch
Lil' nigga, big money, big gun full of that shit
Nigga I ain't Will Smith, nah, I ain't a Fresh Prince
Nigga I'm a young king, nigga I'm a Bun B

Yup, I go hard, ask my broad
Miss Stevie Wonder, she ain't lookin' at y'all
(She can't see)
The rest goes without me having to say
I say, go, go, go, go
(DJ)

Holla at me, what it do, what it is?
You ain't never seen a playa like this
(Holla at me baby)
I'm a pimp, I'll show her how I live
Take her back then I put it in her wrist
(Holla at me baby)

I'm a monster, I do it real big
You ain't never seen rocks like this
(Holla at me baby)
You can see me from afar, I'm the shit
Scream at me, ?What it do, what it is??
(What it do?)

It's Paul Wall baby, Swishahouse club rocker
Chunk a deuce, sip a deuce, pourin' a big Goose vodka
Lone Star beast straight up out the H
Sure stoppin' all the hate, sippin' on the ski taste

I got the INS on my tail, immigration still harass
?Cause they see me in a foreign ridin' on imported glass
Gettin' cash is my number one task
Until I'm under the grass, that's why I'm top of the class

I'm a grit boy lookin' for an ass like Ketoy
Leave a bitch back all nutty like Almond Joy
My boy toy IE got to sleep and eat
Got the sweets and who got the freaks?

Beat it up like an ass whipping
The album dropped and there's been a lot of ass kissing
But I ain't trippin', I'm trill
That's why I'm postin' with Khaled ?cause he real one
A hundred baby, like the bill
Holla at me baby

Holla at me, what it do, what it is?
You ain't never seen a playa like this
(Holla at me baby)
I'm a pimp, I'll show her how I live
Take her back then I put it in her wrist
(Holla at me baby)

I'm a monster, I do it real big
You ain't never seen rocks like this
(Holla at me baby)
You can see me from afar, I'm the shit
Scream at me, ?What it do, what it is??
(What it do?)

Nah homie, you done got it fucked up
You ain't got as much money as us, nope
We sent Campbell in ?cause he got goggles on
And he's pushing something far and it's fucked

Now all I gotta do is push a little button quick fast
And the chopper come out of the stash
Yeah money ain't jewels, motherfucker you lose
I'll make you do the Fuck Sean Comb dance, follow me now

Who wanna come test the kid?
Have your baby mama bless the team
Shit, I ain't even know she could twerk it like that
She a motherfuckin' sex machine
Holla at me baby

Holla at me, what it do, what it is?
You ain't never seen a playa like this
(Holla at me baby)
I'm a pimp, I'll show her how I live
Take her back then I put it in her wrist
(Holla at me baby)

I'm a monster, I do it real big
You ain't never seen rocks like this
(Holla at me baby)
You can see me from afar, I'm the shit
Scream at me, ?What it do, what it is??
(What it do?)

Stuntin' in a magnum, ridin' with my hat low
Forty-five magnum, barrel full of air holes
Dade County, represent, Dopeboy ever since
Know that I'ma veteran, million dollar residence

Rick Ross, big chips, AK's, flip clips
Off set rims on a rear six inch lips
Started on the benches, rose through the trenches
Now I want my shit bitch, go and check your senses

Known for the Benz's, chrome on the Bentley's
Smokin' on the Mentley's, Dade County big cheese
Flip soft, whip that, Rick Ross rip that
Khaled go hard dawg, talk to ?em Paul Wall

Holla at me, what it do, what it is?
You ain't never seen a playa like this
(Holla at me baby)
I'm a pimp, I'll show her how I live
Take her back then I put it in her wrist
(Holla at me baby)

I'm a monster, I do it real big
You ain't never seen rocks like this
(Holla at me baby)
You can see me from afar, I'm the shit
Scream at me, ?What it do, what it is??
(What it do?)

It's Mr. 3-0-5 a.k.a
Mr. Snort yay, spit rocks, made in Dade
I owe my future to last name Campbell, first name Luther
The gun-shine state where they shoot ya

Bought him the crib, what it do, what it is?
Bust a clip, flip a brick, hey buddy where's the lick?
That's all we talk about, well welcome to the South
We in, get the bread, then we out, no doubt

Harlas and priests, these boys dirty
They'll fuck your mother, sister, daughter and nieces
Ahora loca, mueve la cadera
Abre la boca y viene la madera

Holla at me, what it do, what it is?
You ain't never seen a playa like this
(Holla at me baby)
I'm a pimp, I'll show her how I live
Take her back then I put it in her wrist
(Holla at me baby)

I'm a monster, I do it real big
You ain't never seen rocks like this
(Holla at me baby)
You can see me from afar, I'm the shit
Scream at me, ?What it do, what it is??
(What it do?)

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3b2ff7e9c6c2f71a27e0df01d1849053