Money Is My Bitch - Lyrics - I Am - Nas

Title: Money Is My Bitch
Album: I Am
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): Jean Claude Olivier, Samuel J Barnes, Nasir Jones

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Lyric:
I love you so much
Don't never leave me
I won't let you leave

The ho turned me out, green eyes, had a crush on her
Since five years old, met her, fell in love wit her
I saved that ho 'cause she bring more hoes
She major yo, the way she left them other dudes cold
Heartbroken she walked right out of mad nigga's life
So when I bagged her up right, I had to make her my wife
And I ain't gonna loose her like those other lames did
I keep a stash safe kid, when I proposed it made her face big
She keep me jigg, glorifying Medallions
Got me in clothes made by Italians, feed me lobster and scallions
Watching her pile on my bed, her body feel stacked
She been around for years, know the hustlers, pimps, and Macks
Bankers and diplomats
She the scratch on my back
Her cream I lust, now I got her I dont know how to act
When she not around, I'm heated, 'bout to lay somethin' flat
Know how to treat it, never take for granted, she got me trapped

My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
Aah money, money, money
Love her 'cause she keep a nigga rich
Ohh money, you my honey
But I think she got me pussy whipped
My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
Aah money, money, money
Yeah, that bitch treat me like a trick
Ohh money, you my honey
She says without her I can't be rich

All the fun we have together, I keep you in my pocket
Its so much of you I share you and speak to you in private
You got me karats on my wrist
I'm a savage for your kiss
Embarrassed when I'm not with you, I'm off guard
Niggas always expect to see us two together, stable
The best couple they seen since Trump and Marla Maple
Don't need no pre nup
'Cause when we hump we do it up
Make sure we both will bust a doller sign nut
Before I got to know you, my life I say was mediocre
Break of day, slingin' all night long, fienin' to stroke ya
Seeing niggas wit you I wasn't happy
Wanted to stick them up to get you, heard you calling for Daddy
And gladly I take you as my lawfully wedded wife
Never divorce me, I promise to treat you right
Keep you satisfied never lie help you grow
My legal tender, lovely Federal Reserve note

My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
Aah money, money, money
Love her 'cause she keep a nigga rich
Ohh money, you my honey
But I think she got me pussy whipped
My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
Aah money, money, money
Yeah, that bitch treat me like a trick
Ohh money, you my honey
She says without her I can't be rich

I won't sell my soul to you
What do I owe to you?
My cars, my house, my flow to you
Screw you
Before you
Real niggas said I was cool, now I got you
They envy me cause I'm wit you
You floss too much
Turn niggas out, one touch
For you, my guns bust
You always said in God we trust
Its hard enough to keep counting on you
You cheat wit Government thugs, got the IRS pounding on you
I think I like'd you better when you where illegal
But you had to get professional
Musical
Now when we fuck we use profalactic, hard plastic
Stick you in ATM's, limited cash quick
Said you'd give me luxury, when I asked it
Fucking me, I gave you back shots in ya assets
Promised happiness but really did nothing for me
I guess, bitches like you just grow on trees

My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
Aah money, money, money
Love her 'cause she keep a nigga rich
Ohh money, you my honey
But I think she got me pussy whipped
My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
Aah money, money, money
Yeah, that bitch treat me like a trick
Ohh money, you my honey
She says without her I can't be rich

My money, money, money
Ohh money, you my honey
My money, money, money
Ohh money, you my honey
My money, money, money
My bitch is my money
Ohh money, you my honey
Money is my bitch
My money, money, money
Yeah, that bitch treat me like a trick
Ohh money, you my honey
She says without her I cant be rich

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Money On My Mind - Lyrics - Tha Carter, Vol. 2 - Lil' Wayne

Title: Money On My Mind
Album: Tha Carter, Vol. 2
Artist: Lil' Wayne
Composer(s): Dwayne Michael Carter, Johnny David Mollings, Leonardo V Mollings

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

Lyric:
Yeah
Money on my mind
Money on my mind
Money on my mind
Money money on my mind

Money on my mind
Money on my mind
Money money on my mind
So money is all I think of

Money on my mind
Money on my mind
Money on my mind
Money money on my mind

Money on my mind
Money on my mind
Money money on my mind
So money is all I think of

Steppin' out the motherfuckin' car they in awe
I'm lookin' like a star bitch when you see me make a wish
Holla at ya motherfuckin' boy J.R.
Bird man my pa bitch ball bred born rich

Dear Mr. Toilet I'm the shit
Got these other haters pissed 'cause my toilet paper thick
I know but trip and that forty make a chip
Out a potato head wimp and like ranch I dip

And the hustle was all muscle just strength
When it comes to that weight I don't struggle I just lift
I got my hand on the game yeah, I make a grip
Hundred grand in my fist same on my wrist

Get key money from a quarter blame it on my wrist
I whip coke like hoes nigga I'm a pimp
Lil' nigga 'bout to rape the market
If we talkin' 'bout money baby now we talkin'

Money on my mind
(Yeah)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)

Money on my mind
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money money on my mind
(Get money)
So money is all I think of
(Get money)

Money on my mind
(Yeah)
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money money on my mind

Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
So money is all I think of
(Get money)

Yeah, nigga get it in a slump if you know how
In the heart of the summer we need a snow plow
What you know 'bout that baby it's yo time
Coke transactions on the phone we call it blow job

Too fast for the feds too cocky for the cops
Had to ditch my old bitch gettin' sloppy wit the pots
Hoppin' off the boat meetin' papi at the docks
He tell me I'm gainin' weight I tell him I'm gettin' paid

Money over bitches I'm yellin' it to the grave
Developed at a young age go after what pays
These Cabana sunshades block the sun rays
I drop a car note in the mall on the first day

I gotta get it even if it's in the worst way
That cake like it's it's my birthday
New Orleans my birthplace ya heard me
Where moneys more important than the person, nigga

Money on my mind
(Yeah)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)

Money on my mind
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money money on my mind
(Get money)
So money is all I think of
(Get money)

Money on my mind
(Yeah)
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money money on my mind

Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
So money is all I think of
(Get money)

Twistin' up a blunt thinkin' 'bout my next dollar
I'm diggin' in the game tryna get some money out her
I'm so vain it's a problem
It ain't a stain on these Pradas I'm just bein' modest

Got me a goddess sure how to divide it
She still down and she don't get none of the profit
We around the city let the tints hide me
Thats a cold muthafucker whoever inside it

Forever symbolizing the grind it don't walk to you
I make it run like horses do
Giddy up baby if you got it then hit 'em up baby
I know it's crazy but I can't get enough baby

I love it, I fuckin' love it
I'm a self made millionaire fuck the public
Ridin' to myself 'cause I don't fuck with nothin'
Pistol on my lap on the way to the money

Money on my mind
(Yeah)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)

Money on my mind
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money money on my mind
(Get money)
So money is all I think of
(Get money)

Money on my mind
(Yeah)
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money money on my mind

Money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
Money on my mind
(Get money)
Money money on my mind
(Fuck bitches)
So money is all I think of
(Get money)

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Shotgun Fire - Lyrics - On My Way to Church - Jim Jones

Title: Shotgun Fire
Album: On My Way to Church
Artist: Jim Jones
Composer(s): Jim Jones

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

Lyric:
Dip-Set, uh
Jones, Capo Status
Dip-Set nigga
You know the streets is what it is nigga
Watch ya step and watch ya moves

Shit, make 'em believe in this prophecy
You can see I'm tryin' to lead my democracy
To get money and rip sleeve off of my city
And slow down, then try to breeze through the projects B
And how I speeds in velocity
We came up movin' keys of that knotty B
My man caught 10, couldn't find the keys to the lobby B
The boys rushed him, 2 keys of mahogany
In my life you can't see me, not possibly
How we swoop up in Harlem, 20 Coupes
When we mobbin' 40 troops if it's problems
'Cause 1 nigga you know is a shotgun driver

Ready to dump triggers, that shotgun fire
I ain't gone front nigga I shot some guys up
Didn't kill 'em though, fuck 'em though
And they came back to my block like riders
But I'm like, "Crouching Tiger", spin, roll, crouch and fire
A fast retally, now it's cash we tally
Miami, Atlanta, fuck it we smash to Cali
Back on L.A. Ave, you know the Lennox strip
Where they Henny sip
Beef we let the semi rip

Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit' Dip-Set, I will press on this .9

Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit' my paper, I'll press on this .9

And yeah we world renowned and I might twirl through town
And in a Dip-Set mansion is where ya girl be found
How can a pearl be drowned, how can a diamond not shine
Man I'm on my G mack, I scoop up dimes all the time
They love my pimp juice, I let my crimps loose
They get a glimpse, oo, some went and cinch douche'
Scoop her feed her feed her shrimp soup
Mind fuck her, brain fuck her
Mouth screw her 'til it hurt, uh, shit

She scream, "Do me it hurt", I'll have her movin' that work
I mean two of them chirps up in her Dooney and Bourke
So ruthless it hurts, I mean I'm truly bezerk
When I scoop up my cash man, I swoop up and murk
Yeah, a trick and a bag bitch, two bricks and a bad bitch
Shit, them bitches mackin', I'm as sick as maggot
But I don't fuck wit no bitch if she ain't worth
No chips or no cabbage

Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit' Dip-Set, I will press on this .9

Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit' my paper, I'll press on this .9

I'm so problematic
And do to servin' Harlem-matics
My fame and fortune still revolve wit' static
Still involve wit' savage types that move drugs
365 all around set every nite
I ain't the passive type
On the benches where I crashed them nites
Blowin' hemp, movin' slabs of white
Spend days up in court
How I shaved weight to snort
Give that to the press or Dave Mays in the source

Yes, since success it has changed
Since we, stepped up in this game
And stepped up wit' our game
No more chef cuttin' cain
Hoes X'd up in they brain
Lemme sex up in the Range
So much princess cuts in my chains

Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit' Dip-Set, I will press on this .9

Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit' my paper, I'll press on this .9

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Penitentiary Chances - Lyrics - Harlem: Diary of a Summer - Jim Jones

Title: Penitentiary Chances
Album: Harlem: Diary of a Summer
Artist: Jim Jones
Composer(s): D Mohammed, Jim Jones

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Lyric:
Rell fresh home
How it feel to back where the bricks my nigga
Ya heard, I got the D.A. on my ass right now
All my soldiers behind the G Wall
Inhale, exhale, fuck the police

I'm up early on the strip while the birds chirpin'
I had to turn my ohone off too many birds chirpin'
Damn my homies gotta sit in the bing
So for them, I flood my chain and piss in my ring

Yeah, shit on these niggaz 'til I sit wit the Lord
I woulda been home last year but I got hit at the board, nigga
Yeah, you spotted man, now you red dotted man
You fuckin' wit Hell Rell, New York City's rider man

Now is these niggaz some killers like us?
No
They say the real, well they realer than us?
No, no, no

Is my set good?
Yes
Is my bet good?
Yes
Is my threat good?
Yes, yes, yes

Since you've been home they done indicted ya boy
Due to the circumstances of this life we enjoy
Niggaz start snitchin' they Sammy the Bullin'
'Til my niggaz start grippin' these hammers and pull 'em

That's when these niggaz start switchin' turnin' Islamic and Muslim
'Cause they seein' my position is straight savage and hoodlums
Shit, who suffered and lost, my new truck is a Porsche
This is One-Eye Willie and I'm from fuckin' New York

Who them niggaz paintin' the town red
Dip-set
Banks stop and we lay down bets
Byrd Gang
Who them niggaz gettin' that money man
Dip-set, Dip-set, Dip-set, Dip-set, Dip-set

Who them niggaz leave wit ya bitch nigga
Byrd Gang
Who them niggaz squeezin at bitch niggaz
Dip-set
Who them niggaz that gotta get rich nigga
Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang

Now do these niggaz be bangin' like me?
No
They say they G is they gangstas like me?
No, no, no

Is my guns good?
Yes
Is my ones good?
Yes
Do we run hoods?
Yes, yes, yes

My pistol game been tight since chicken lo mein and rice
Tryna get that paper, flippin' that caine for a price
Fiends goin brazy, hittin that caine through the pipe
Niggaz that bang to the right, I'm just sayin this is life

So we adore and survive
Cause through this war we gon ride wit two 4's on our side
Shit, man I'm riskin' it all
Cause for this love and this money man, I just wanna ball

Who them niggaz paintin' the town red?
Dip-set
Banks stop and we lay down bets
Byrd Gang
Who them niggaz gettin' that money man
Dip-set, Dip-set, Dip-set, Dip-set, Dip-set

Who them niggaz leave wit ya bitch nigga
Byrd Gang
Who them niggaz squeezin' at bitch niggaz
Dip-set
Who them niggaz that gotta get rich nigga
Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang, Byrd Gang

These niggaz want me to slow down and switch my speed
And these bitches pokin' holes in the condom tryna get my seed
Leave me alone lemme twist my weed
Two things I never seen a U.F.O. and a bitch I need

The Beamer shinin' on B.B.'s, niggaz tryin' to be me
You gangsta on the streets dawg, north signin' to P.C
These niggaz washed up callin' it quits
It don't matter, Porsche to 6, they be all my dick

I slaughter the strip wit a quarter a brick
I got Florida chicks comin' to N.Y. for the dick
I only been home for a month but I'm still fresh y'all
Up in this booth and still smellin' like the mess hall

Now is these niggaz more liver than me?
No
He kinda hot but is he spittin' more fire than me?
No, no, no, no

Is my dope good?
Yes
Is my coke good?
Yes
Am I so hood?
Yes, yes, yes, yes

Now is these niggaz some killas like us
No
They say the real, well they realer than us
No, no, no

Is my set good?
Yes
Is my bet good?
Yes
Is my threat good?
Yes, yes, yes

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My Kind Of Bitch - Lyrics - Tunnel Of Love - Insane Clown Posse

Title: My Kind Of Bitch
Album: Tunnel Of Love
Artist: Insane Clown Posse
Composer(s): Mike Clark, Joseph Frank Bruce

Lyric:
My kind of bitch ain't like your bitch
'Cuz my bitch don't bitch at all
My bitch don't blink, she don't even think
About money or fuckin' mall

My kind of bitch don't fix her hair
She don't care about what she wears
'Cuz she's much too busy pulling the worms
Out her butt, she ain't bathed in years

My kind of bitch, I'll never forget
We first met on a Oujia board
Miss Crabber Damned, she would chew on snakes
And swallow a ninja sword

I said, "Hey bitch, how do you do?
Some fucks call me Violent J"
She picked her nose and flicked it at me
Smiled and was on her way, my kind of bitch

My kind of bitch
My kind of bitch don't fix her hair
She don't care about what she wears
My kind of bitch don't fix her hair
She don't care about what she wears
Fuck that

My kind of bitch has a hole in her neck
And has to talk like this, "I love you"
She can drink through it, ya get used to it
It whistle every time we kiss

My kind of bitch gots one good tittie
The other one's skinny and red
She can make the one jiggle
The other one don't do shit but just sit there dead

My kind of bitch has a wooden eye
With a nail sticking half way out
It once caught a fire and we all had to spit
In her face just to put it out

My kind of bitch is a little loopy
And her ass might droop a bit
But I scoop that loop and fold the flop
And I fuck that pile of shit, my kind of bitch

My kind of bitch
My kind of bitch gots one good tittie
The other one's skinny and red
My kind of bitch gots one good tittie

Hello? My name is J
I'm from Detroit
I'm looking for a girl who's, dead
A girl who can possibly fulfill some of my fetishes

Which include, dipping your titties in Faygo
And slapping my face with them
Jumping from the dresser
And landing on my balls

My kind of bitch waits till I sleep
Then run and fuck my friends
And everytime I break her legs
Then give my homie's ends
(What's up, man?)

She shot me once and stabbed my neck
And even broke my nose
But I lick her from her crooked neck
Down to her stringy toes, my kind of bitch

My kind of bitch
My kind of bitch waits till I sleep
Then run and fuck my friends
My kind of bitch waits till I sleep
Then run and fuck my friends

Hello? My name is Shaggs
And I'm lookin for a girl with a big big fat fuckin ass
And titties and a big fat fuckin ass
And, uh, I want my dick sucked
And I want my balls scratched

And I want her to scratch my ass
And twist my balls at the same time, that's a must
And I'm looking for a girl who can stretch
Titties and stuff em in her ass

Fuck yeah, motherfucker
I'm looking for a bitch
I'm looking for a girl to fit my needs
(My kind of bitch)

We can have picnics under the moon
In the graveyard
We can have picnics under my house
(My kind of bitch)

I'm looking for a girl to die with
If you're already dead, that's cool
You can sit around and wait for me to die
(My kind of bitch)

I'm looking for a girl to squeeze me
I'm looking for a girl to squeeze my balls
Let me squeeze your neck

This is Lisa, I've been a bad, bad girl

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46cb72d2c48a4623f1cf8e6ad053d452

A Pimp'S A Pimp - Lyrics - Confessions Of Fire - Cam'Ron

Title: A Pimp'S A Pimp
Album: Confessions Of Fire
Artist: Cam'Ron
Composer(s): Darrell Branch, Lamont Dozier, Cameron Giles

Lyric:
Ayyo a pimp's a pimp
Flow is flow
Doe is do
Ho's a ho
Chic's a chic
Trick's a trick
Bitch a bitch across the world
So nigga getcha money and attend to your girl

Now when it comes to these hoes I did 'em I got 'em
Rip 'em and rock 'em
But if I hit 'em I pop 'em
But if I lick 'em I lock 'em
And I ain't famous at all
Let my game tell it all
But they a pain in my balls
Got to train 'em like dogs

From how they
Walk and they talk and when they sit on the couch
To how they
Lick in they mouth and never shit in the house
But I make, babies with babies
Let the street drive 'em crazy
They say "Cam, good you saved me
Now I pimp 'em and they pay me"

They feelin' it like Jay-Z
Or sugar hill like AZ
When party time like plainly
I'm so-so def like JD
Oh baby they have you stressed, nigga
Mad depressed

I want they mind muthafucka, you could have the rest
'Cause I gas 'em up, I tell them I'm more than just the lover
I want to be your friend, father, confidant and brother
See my, nine-inch slugger now she, choose her devotion
With messing with my money, girl you messing with my emotion

Ayyo a pimp's a pimp
Flow is flow
Doe is do
Ho's a ho
Chic's a chic
Trick's a trick
Bitch a bitch across the world
So nigga getcha money and attend to your girl

Now baby-cakes what's you're name?
Ain't no need to explain
Why is that?
'Cause I'm from down south
Well I got down south game
And to mess wit' you this my last attempt
'Cause I only like when you're ass is bent
So they're dumb they're sashin'

You ain't know why you catch their pimp?
Go ask him, my whores are fresh
So I afforded them
'Xplore the rest
Tell you now back door's the best
For the stress
We never raw in flesh
Why I'm sores agues

I done pay for yeah I stack them chips
Condoms when I grab them hips
Kiss and mix you wrap them lips
And if she act, smack the bitch
If she wack, smack the bitch
Sad to see the way it had to be
Smack the bitch the bitch don't smack me
Cupid's snap me but so are mine on my lines

Yo, my rhymes got a concubine
'Cause I control they mind
Avoid the crew, 'void the groove
Got more doe, than the fued
Got more hoes, than the few
If I die they wouldn't know what to do
Whatcha think all they do is cry?
Tell you this between you and I
Forty slit wrists outta the forty nine suicide

Ayyo a pimp's a pimp
Flow is flow
Doe is do
Ho's a ho
Chic's a chic
Trick's a trick
Bitch a bitch across the world
So nigga getcha money and attend to your girl

And now I'm drunk of the henry now
Went off the remmy now
Niggaz always envy now
'Cause I'm good and plenty now
And when it come to gettin' head, yo many bow
Girls acting friendly now
Killa c'mon feel me oww

I leave'm past sleeping
Last weekend
I took cardin' to get his ass eatin'
He said you pass freepin'
But I'ma ace so throw your cards up
But if you stink baby, I ain't hard up
Parl' up
To wash up

But that's insulting
Revolting
But if you clean we ballin'
Eat you 'till you catch convulsions
And girls all feen, for the bod
On my team and my mob
Think we scheme and we rob the way they screamin' for god

And all sluts, with he V's
Let 'em see how it be
They be like "No, you ain't puttin' all that meat up in me"
You wil' in out
For the styinout
Girls say I'm foul and doubt
But baby got to understand
That's what my style's 'bout

Ayyo a pimp's a pimp
Flow is flow
Doe is do
Ho's a ho
Chic's a chic
Trick's a trick
Bitch a bitch across the world
So nigga getcha money and attend to your girl

Ayyo a pimp's a pimp
Flow is flow
Doe is do
Ho's a ho
Chic's a chic
Trick's a trick
Bitch a bitch across the world
So nigga getcha money and attend to your girl

Ayyo a pimp's a pimp

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269348f256a131127e69e08cca93828d

Baller Bitch - Lyrics - Foxy Brown

Title: Baller Bitch
Artist: Foxy Brown
Composer(s): Inga Marchand, G Marchand, T Shaw

Lyric:
Yo foxy, shorty yo
Don't let that pretty shit fool you yo
I ain't pay that bitch phone bill

This is for all my ballin' ass bitches
All over worldwide
Shake them thighs for them pies
For all my niggas on every street corner
That's right, love you all niggas

This is for the baller bitch
The waller bitch
My niggas never call a bitch
You all be rich
So Short, what you mean?
I bet I be a poor girl's dream
More money than she ever seen

This is for the baller cats
All the cats
That want a bitch to lay on their back
To hell with that
So Fox what you mean?
Bet I be a poor nigga's dream
More money than he ever seen

Kiss the projects goodbye
I'm a change you bitch
I'm a have niggas thinkin' you a famous bitch
Here's the keys to the Benz but don't start the car
If you good I'm a let you park the car
From a straight broke ass to a baller bitch
They got no other choice but to call you rich
I got hella fly ladies, never cry ladies

Those cheat on they man type, tell a lie ladies
Diamond rings, platinum chains
Tell them 'Baller Bitch' when they ask your name
I say strut that strut
Walk that walk, pop that shit, talk that talk
Hold your head high, be proud of this life
Pray to God that you never fall out of this life
'Cause it's much more better than all world scenes
Bitch open up your eyes, it's a poor girls dream

This is for the baller bitch
The waller bitch
My niggas never call a bitch
Y'all be rich
So Short, what you mean?
I bet I be a poor girl's dream
More money than she ever seen

This is for the baller cats
All the cats
That want a bitch to lay on their backs
To hell with that
So Fox, what you mean?
Bet I be a poor nigga's dream
More money than he ever seen

That's right
Kiss that jail shit goodbye
I'm a lace you nigga
I'm a have bitches thinkin' you a famous nigga
Here's the keys to the crib
Have you lovin' this life
And bitches ain't nothing fuckin' with a thug in your life
And you frontin' ass niggas who be courtin' the hype
Like they OT

And ain't ever sold a drug in they life
I got husslin' ass niggas
Thuggin' ass niggas
Always on some shit never trustin' ass niggas
Bust your guns niggas cop your ones
And tell them 'Big Baller' when you flash your ones
Nigga lock the bar down
Show these cats how it's done
And slide through the hood and go fuck with your Dons

This is for the baller bitch
The waller bitch
My niggas never call a bitch
You all be rich
So Short, what you mean?
I bet I be a poor girl's dream
More money than she ever seen

This is for the baller cats
All the cats
That want a bitch to lay on their back
To hell with that
So Fox, what you mean?
Bet I be a poor nigga's dream
More money than he ever seen

That's right
Call me what you want
I've been heard the worst
And if there's Cris in this bitch
Then I'm poppin' it first
And if the 700s come, I'll be coppin' it first
So whenever you see some hot shit, I'm rockin' it first

Shit, droppin' it first
The pardon choppin' it first
Basically when I ride by I'm hurtin' them worse
So now, boo what you gonna do?
You see how quick I got you
That's how quick I will drop you

This is for the baller bitch
The waller bitch
My niggas never call a bitch
Y'all be rich
So Short, what you mean?
I bet I be a poor girl's dream
More money than she ever seen

This is for them baller cats
All the cats
That want a bitch to lay on their back
To hell with that
So Fox, what you mean?
Bet I be a poor nigga's dream
More money than he ever seen

Play the MP3 online for free!

c971019a4266d35e91eddeeee7a73e59

Z - Is That Yo Bitch? - Lyrics - Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter - Jay

Title: Z - Is That Yo Bitch?
Album: Vol. 3... Life and Times of S. Carter
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Shawn C Carter, Timothy Z Mosley, Carl Mitchell, Melissa A Elliott

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

Lyric:
Uh, yo don't get mad at me
I don't love 'em I fuck 'em
I don't chase 'em I duck 'em
I replace 'em with another one

You had to see she keep calling me BIG
And my name is Jay-Z
She be all on my dick
Gradually I'm taking over your bitch

Coming over your shit, got my feet up on you sofa, man
I mean a hostess for my open hand
You coming home to beer shifts and there be soda cans
I got your bitch in my Rover, man

I never kiss her, I never hold her hand
In fact I diss her I'm a bolder man
I'mma pimp her, it's over man
It's over man, it's over man

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thighs
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh, is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them, bitch

Yo, yo, why you home alone, why she out with me?
Room 112, hotel balcony
How she say, Jay you can call the house for me?
There's no respect at all

You betta check her dawg
She keep beggin' me to hit it raw
So she can have my kids and say it was yours
How foul is she? And you wifed her
Shit, I put the rubber on tighter

Sent her home, when she entered home
You hugged her up
What the fuck is up?
She got you whipped, got your kids

Got your home, but that's not your bitch
You share that girl, don't let 'em hear daddy Earl
It'll make 'em sick that his favorite chick
Ain't saving it, unfaithful, bitch

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thighs
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh, is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them, bitch

Cool out homie, you betta keep her away from my balling clique
Keep her out of nightclubs all in the mix
From hanging out with chicks who be swallowing dicks
From catz who order Cris play the floor with the Knicks

It can only lead to something unfortunate
Hot boy like Jigga man scorch your bitch
Play the floor dot Jigga man go first
Then we all rock till we all hot

You know the boy from the Roc got them whores on lock
Got the bitches in the smash, making yours drive fast
Do we get more cash than the average nigga?
All dem hoes like damn I gotta have this nigga

'Cause I'mma hot black, how in the hell can you stop that
You can fuck mine, how the hell can you knock that?
I'm just playing the cards choosenly
Jigga man, who ya supposed to be?

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thighs
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh, is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them, bitch

Tha Jigga and Twista got 'em screaming
Like a demon fiending for the semen
Chrome gleaming like the dome off Keenan
Gone while I'm leanin' smoking

I'm whip it in the stomach
Your bitch on the passenger side of me flashing your money
Why you acting so funny?
You know she been flirting while your working

Behind the curtain knuckles jerking for certain
Poppin' that pussy
Sweatin' till no fluid is left
When I come in the party with J we gonna do it to death

You gon' ruin your rep
Trippin' while we pimpin' these hefers
Playa lectures got me shining like a new Gator stepper
Must have been mad

When your ho put my stuff in the dash
Bust in her ass
To climax, I come up with a nab
The game don't stop

Legit ballers bending up the block
Niggas rushing, coming at us cause of status and props
Sucking and fucking, loving it when I put tha dick up inside her
Can't help it if she yellin' with a ridah

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thigh
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh, is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them, bitch

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thigh
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh, is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them, bitch

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thigh
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them

Oh, is that your bitch
Why she all in his six?
With her hand on his dick
Keep licking her lips

Is that your bitch?
Why she all in his ride?
With her hand on his thigh
Keep looking in his eyes

Oh is that your bitch?
You better tell her chill
While you all in his grill
Don't you know that man kill?

Is that your bitch?
Why she paging him?
Keep praising him?
'Cause that's Jay and them, bitch

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16b249a7473baecb63e9102cf2a5639f

Gin And Juice - Lyrics - Gourds

Title: Gin And Juice
Artist: Gourds
Composer(s): Mark Adams, Steve Arrington, Cordozar Broadus, Harry Casey, Richard Finch, Raymond Turner, Steve Washington, Daniel Webster, Andre Young

Lyric:
With so much drama in the L.B.C.
It's kinda hard bein' Snoop D-O-double-G
But I, somehow, some way
Keep comin' up with funky ass shit like every single day

May I kick a little something for the G's?
And, make a few ends as I breeze through
Two in the mornin' and the party's still jumpin'
'Cause my momma ain't home

I got bitches in the living room gettin' it on
And, they ain't leavin' 'til six in the mornin'
So what you wanna do? Shit, I got a pocket
Full of rubbers and my homeboys do too

So turn off the lights and close the doors
But, but what? We don't love them ho's, yeah
So we gonna smoke a ounce to this
G's up, hoes down, while you motherfuckers bounce to this

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Now that I got me some Seagram's gin
Everybody got they cups, but they ain't chipped in
Now this type of shit happens all the time
You got to get yours but fool I gotta get mine

Everything is fine when you listenin' to the D-O-G
I got the cultivating music that be captivating he
Who listens, to the words that I speak
As I take me a drink to the middle of the street

And get to mackin' to this bitch named Sadie
She used to be the homeboys lady
(Oh, that bitch?)
Eighty degrees, when I tell that bitch please
Raise up off these N-U-T's, 'cause you gets none of these

At ease, as I mob with the Dogg Pound, feel the breeze
Bitch, I'm just

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Later on that day, my homey
Dr. Dre came through with a gang of Tanqueray
And a fat ass J of some bubonic chronic
That made me choke, shit, this ain't no joke

I had to back up off of it and sit my cup down
Tanqueray and chronic, yeah, I'm fucked up now
But it ain't no stoppin', I'm still poppin'
Dre got some bitches from the city of Compton

To serve me, not with a cherry on top
'Cause when I bust my nut, I'm raisin' up off the cot
Don't get upset girl, that's just how it goes
I don't love you ho's, I'm out the do' and I'll be

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, laid back
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, bitch
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

Rollin' down the street, smokin' endo
Sippin' on gin and juice, bitch
With my mind on my money
And my money on my mind

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bae70282c10e280c222d9198c477be3f

Bitch Betta Have My Money - Lyrics - Ja Rule

Title: Bitch Betta Have My Money
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Robert Mays, Lorenzo Jeffrey Atkins

Lyric:
What up love?
You thought I wouldn't recognize ho like stats
I peep you at the strip joint
You and that little black chick
Acting like you so innocent
When you in the six

Usually that bring the freak right out of a bitch
I knew something was wrong, lesbian I go on
Ain't nothing wrong with bump n' grinding right
I like mines tight, you like yours licked
And we both like bitches to get high, high wit

You opted to leave a nigga with no options
You freak hoe dance topless, baby
What's ya sitcho, you ride dildo
Plastic nympho, only see dick in porno
Hun listen, I can make your life a world of difference
Throw me in the mix of your sexual experiences

See what happens in like two weeks
These hoes is freaking
Making about two g's a piece a weekend
That's what I'm saying

It ain't easy pimped out
Flossing furs, diamonds
Matching sets his and hers
Keep ya hoes on point
Tell them watch the fuzz
'Cause bitch better have my money

It ain't easy pimped out
Flossing furs, diamonds
Matching sets his and hers
Keep ya hoes on point
Tell them watch the fuzz
'Cause bitch better have my money

Keep my ones on top, my tens on lock
My hoe in the drop, got a hot little co-op
Prestigious, rock a Cuban link with Jesus
Lord have mercy, let me touch this
Tease it for reasons

I can't explain to you Lord
'Cause you know my actions are censored
Don't diss chips to fuck with no broad
This one can get it, damn near split it

Yeah, picture me paying for some pussy
I ain't even smelled yet, let alone got wet
But I'm willing to make a bet
That the next time we riding, if she ain't riding
On the turnpike you you bobbing

While I'm weaving, getting weede
Believe me, this pimp shit ain't easy, baby
I tell you ain't no hoes like the ones I got
They make you fiend for that pussy coming up out ya pockets

It ain't easy pimped out
Flossing furs, diamonds
Matching sets his and hers
Keep ya hoes on point
Tell them watch the fuzz
'Cause bitch better have my money

It ain't easy pimped out
Flossing furs, diamonds
Matching sets his and hers
Keep ya hoes on point
Tell them watch the fuzz
'Cause bitch better have my money

Baby girl you so hot I feel like Iceberg Slim
I pimp plenty women
Got to tip my hat to a ten
Just been in too many run ins with dead ends
Comparisons range from thick ones to thin

Explosive sex thoughts coming from this young work horse
I spend hard times like D.A.'s in criminal courts
Fro the love of my life I'll cut down on the sport
For the jewels with ice and creep to never get caught

You know the game, you and I is one in the same
But you got my name tattooed on ya leg
Shit is serious, now you calling me acting delirious
Used to be my best bitch, now somewhat resistant

Street life got you hot like Heather Hunter
Worn out and don't nobody want ya
First time I met ya you played me out of pocket
I ain't know no better bitch, now stop it

Game is the topic
And what's between your legs is the product
Use it properly
And you'll make dollars biatch

It ain't easy pimped out
Flossing furs, diamonds
Matching sets his and hers
Keep ya hoes on point
Tell them watch the fuzz
'Cause bitch better have my money

It ain't easy pimped out
Flossing furs, diamonds
Matching sets his and hers
Keep ya hoes on point
Tell them watch the fuzz
'Cause bitch better have my money

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37ecaff410597fa55193ccc30d477e08

Honey Dip - Lyrics - Harlem: Diary of a Summer - Jim Jones

Title: Honey Dip
Album: Harlem: Diary of a Summer
Artist: Jim Jones
Composer(s): Corey Williams, Zukhan Bey, Jim Jones, Laron James

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

Lyric:
When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

Yo we talked about 8, said I was comin' through to hit
Now it's wee hours in the mornin' and I'm drunker than a bitch
Stumblin' and shit, I jumped up in the whip
Flipped open the horn like where's my honey dip

And bitch fuck ya man tonite, you know my steelo
Sizzurp wit the Cristal, the corners playin' cello
You see me well you jus smile you know we on the lelow
I'm whippin' through the town like we ballin' up a key load

I'm tryna dip up in the tele
Dip up in the room, then dip up in her belly
Dip off on Pirelli's, Dip-Sets Fonzarelli
My white T-shirt, lookin' dip up in my pelle

Smokin' weed up in the range, full speed left lane
It's me against the world, MOB up in my vein
Wit another nigga girl, gettin' low to give me brain
If the bitch about the 'cause you ain't gotta spit no game

When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

You know, I'm lookin' for a honey dip
But I'm no dummy, most these bunnies
Are money hungry and lookin' for a money clip
So after the brother hit, I'll tell a honey dip

She won't see a contact, address nor buddy list
I ain't on some hubby shit, that lovey dovey shit
It's nuttin' trick I'm suttin' slick
You couldn't get enough of it

How a slugger jus slide up through the check in
Wit that linin' on the Wesson
Hundred diamonds on my neck and wrist shit
I'm rich bitch, rhyming's my profession

Watch how I do this stupid grindin' and perfectin'
Who's flyer when I step in got 'em spyin' every second
'Cause that 06 charger remind 'em of a 7
Yes man, I'm so fresh the pro mess wit bread honey

My jean's 800, these are called Red Munkey
The flossin' is gone, come talk to a Don
Fly enough to belong on a catwalk in Milan, holla

When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

I got me a lovely chick, I got me a slutty chick
I got 'em all but my favorite one is my honey dip
She get drunk wit me, roll the piff up wit me
Throw singles at other hoes in the strip club wit me

She do anything for jus one quicky
She a nympho chick for this slow dick
She give no lip, she jus go get
The paper I ask her for, my bitch so quick

Plus she know every Santana song
And she don't mind puttin' the damn bandanna on
Slap her ass tell her dance in this thong
She do it all for daddy, she move it all for daddy

She get a brick and she boof it all for daddy
Hit the road shake the State Troopers off for daddy
And she bring all that paper back
No short paper back, she sure don't play wit that

When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

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ca4798fef2b9a1323d73cc1b7d862525

Bout My Business - Lyrics - R.U.L.E. - Ja Rule

Title: Bout My Business
Album: R.U.L.E.
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Raymond Grant, Jeffrey B Atkins, Simon Haseley, Irving Domingo Lorenzo, Richard Grant, Jeffrey Crocker, Tiheem Crocker, Ramel Gill

Lyric:
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yo
I got a knack for pushin crack, and cookin raw coke
Fresh off the boat, no vest but I tote, and wear it like a coat
I'm starin through the scope, with one eye open and one shut
Zero in on the target, spark him and watch his head bust
Ain't shit to discuss, unless it's moneybags
Or the SK-8, drop Jag with funny tags
Homey laugh now but die later when the lead dump
And double barrel slugs like Elmer Fudd, I'm handsome

Some of your favorite rappers is flamin, I'm bangin things at them
They claim they gangster, lettin mens give brains to them
I aim the stainless, let the games begin
Bang bang dangerous, my gun gang famous
My hoes don't speak English, catch 'em at the foreign money exchange
New Armani leather in the Range
When you see my gang, tuck in your chain
We stuck in the game, we fuckin the same, bang

I'm bout my money and bout my business (bang!)
Shout out my niggaz en route to riches (bang!)
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!)
And we all gon' get away, all my niggaz say
I'm bout my money and bout my business (yeah!)
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!)
Gettin money and nigga it's insignificant (yeah! what?)
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say

It's back to business, stackin riches
If you, act suspicious, it's a Wrap like Reynolds
Black Continental, mac outta the window
Black's out of his mental, I black out with pistols
It ain't confidential, all the shit I been through
Now I'm gettin money and a mill' is essential
Bang bang, nigga, 'til the day we die
A tooth for a tooth and a eye for a eye

Nigga you know it's, business befo' pleasure, money over chicks
Dummies in the clip, nickel on my hip patrollin through the strip
Bet a stack, head crack, no rollin to the six
Scoop up my chips, then I split, with my beautiful bitch
Like Jada Pinkett Smith, for that paper I leave stinkin and stiff
Your pinky and wrist, and your necklace
Get removed nigga, my wolves is playin hardball
Leavin him bloody like a Pelican Bay yard brawl

I'm bout my money and bout my business (bang!)
Shout out my niggaz en route to riches (bang!)
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!)
And we all gon' get away, all my niggaz say
I'm bout my money and bout my business (yeah!)
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!)
Gettin money and nigga it's insignificant (yeah! what?)
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say

Who wanna know why I got so much beef with so many rappers?
Drama, it's the INC red rum spun backwards
Karma, is a muh'fucker watch your actions
Cause the clip to the max slips in bananas
I catch fire like matches {whew} then blow out
And the flyest crews goin the fastest
Pull up to the hottest club in New York, with my hazards on
No tags, I just drove it off the showroom floor
Straight cash, bout my paper, I'm on my gangster
Doin this shit for ten years, niggaz I'm major
Maybach and all that, same behavior
Money over bitches, bitches over strangers
Guns befo' bangers but bangers do
For niggaz that had enough and ain't got no clue
That they can get slayed, flex and get sprayed
And spin they head like yo' hottest DJ's, motherfuckers

I'm bout my money and bout my business (bang!)
Shout out my niggaz en route to riches (bang!)
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!)
And we all gon' get away, all my niggaz say
I'm bout my money and bout my business (yeah!)
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!)
Gettin money and nigga it's insignificant (yeah! what?)
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say

I'm bout my money and bout my business

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fef03a788657f2d277f2b281a872ddc1

My Mind Right - Lyrics - Memphis Bleek

Title: My Mind Right
Artist: Memphis Bleek
Composer(s): Shawn Carter, Malik Cox, Lalo Schifrin, Dwight Grant, Richard Grant

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

Lyric:
DJ Clue
New Memphis Bleek
Understand what this shit right here is about
Understand what this shit right here is about
From Marcy
Understand me, yeah, yo

This for the streets and you know I ain't goin' nowhere
Get your guns out who want it with Memphis yeah
I'ma make you understand why I do what I do
Why I keep my hat tilt, and my doorag too

I'm a thug, my heart pump gangsta shit
I fuck with her, she my gangsta bitch
My wrists don't freeze, glocks'll squeeze
Whole click got a watch, droppin' keys

And I want the block back
You niggas had your run, we'll stop that, you better watch this cat
I done came up, and fuck bringin' your name up
It's beef I'ma see you, and bang 'til you hang up

Your life on line, but here's the truth
You ain't hype to die, but you hype to shoot
You let the Henny talk for you, you really a bitch
Why the D's know your name 'cuz you really a snitch

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

'Memph Bleek Is', back for the streets
Knowin' that 'Coming of Age', controllin' the creep
Put in work on these streets, bustin' my heat
Dodgin' the D's, you know it's a margin between me

And only a few fit in, your lifestyle's written
So who you supposed to be, play your position
I used to write to the wall, about the Porsche
Now I write for the house and the rob report

I used to think, Bleek and the baddest bitch
Now the, baddest bitch is a average bitch
All I need her is for head and to stash my lead
Push my V, take this key to Hempstead

And you run through backwoods, I twist backwoods
And greenery, sha shoo with heavy machinery
You know exactly who these streets belong to
B.I.G. done warned you and I'ma run up on you, nigga

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

Ayo I think I'm the best, from coast to coast
I'm above rap cats, they know what I gross
What they make from they album, I do at my show
Your advance is what, I spent that when I was broke

I ship gold, you better watch me now
Many middle in this game, at the top I'm found
I wanted these cats, reppin' my hood, then go back
Be on the same old bench, with the same old rap

I'm from Marcy, you see them cars we buy
Seats up, smoke blunts, with my concubine
Twin, P-89 for you two fake faggits
Tucked under the lining of the Roc-A-Wear fabric

Fuck y'all, you know the squad be 'bout
Anything that involve dollar signs and accounts
It's the M dot E M P H man stop
I bought C a watch, next day I bought a house

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

Play the MP3 online for free!

58b1a1f4ef931b5d14a83c412a5099f2

My Mind Right (Remix) - Lyrics - The Understanding - Memphis Bleek

Title: My Mind Right (Remix)
Album: The Understanding
Artist: Memphis Bleek
Composer(s): Shawn Carter, Malik Cox, Lalo Schifrin, Dwight Grant, Richard Grant

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

Lyric:
DJ Clue
New Memphis Bleek
Understand what this shit right here is about
Understand what this shit right here is about
From Marcy
Understand me, yeah, yo

This for the streets and you know I ain't goin' nowhere
Get your guns out who want it with Memphis yeah
I'ma make you understand why I do what I do
Why I keep my hat tilt, and my doorag too

I'm a thug, my heart pump gangsta shit
I fuck with her, she my gangsta bitch
My wrists don't freeze, glocks'll squeeze
Whole click got a watch, droppin' keys

And I want the block back
You niggas had your run, we'll stop that, you better watch this cat
I done came up, and fuck bringin' your name up
It's beef I'ma see you, and bang 'til you hang up

Your life on line, but here's the truth
You ain't hype to die, but you hype to shoot
You let the Henny talk for you, you really a bitch
Why the D's know your name 'cuz you really a snitch

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

'Memph Bleek Is', back for the streets
Knowin' that 'Coming of Age', controllin' the creep
Put in work on these streets, bustin' my heat
Dodgin' the D's, you know it's a margin between me

And only a few fit in, your lifestyle's written
So who you supposed to be, play your position
I used to write to the wall, about the Porsche
Now I write for the house and the rob report

I used to think, Bleek and the baddest bitch
Now the, baddest bitch is a average bitch
All I need her is for head and to stash my lead
Push my V, take this key to Hempstead

And you run through backwoods, I twist backwoods
And greenery, sha shoo with heavy machinery
You know exactly who these streets belong to
B.I.G. done warned you and I'ma run up on you, nigga

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

Ayo I think I'm the best, from coast to coast
I'm above rap cats, they know what I gross
What they make from they album, I do at my show
Your advance is what, I spent that when I was broke

I ship gold, you better watch me now
Many middle in this game, at the top I'm found
I wanted these cats, reppin' my hood, then go back
Be on the same old bench, with the same old rap

I'm from Marcy, you see them cars we buy
Seats up, smoke blunts, with my concubine
Twin, P-89 for you two fake faggits
Tucked under the lining of the Roc-A-Wear fabric

Fuck y'all, you know the squad be 'bout
Anything that involve dollar signs and accounts
It's the M dot E M P H man stop
I bought C a watch, next day I bought a house

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

I got my mind right, money right, ready for war
'Memph Bleek Is', yeah, I told you before
I got the streets locked, Bleek hot as before
You know the game and the name now I'm ready to war

Play the MP3 online for free!

d1d40acd6277b555f4c35ea8a1bc2869

Shattered Dreams - Lyrics - Stop N Go - Ugk

Title: Shattered Dreams
Album: Stop N Go
Artist: Ugk
Composer(s): Chad Butler, Bernard Freeman, Ray Erskine Jr Parker

Lyric:
Uhh, dedicated to all the underdogs, knahmtalkinbout?
Muthafuckas told me I wasn't gon' be shit
Told me I was gon' be able to do this rap shit
Knahmtalkinbout? My own family talked down on me, knahmsayin?

You can't let no bitch shatter yo' dreams
It might not be all bad as it first seems
You might not have all the things you need, yeah
But all you got to do is believe

I got to get my money, yeah
I got to get my money, yeah
You got to get yo' money, yeah
I got to get my money, yeah

Man, I refuse to let these bitches take away my pride
Them hoes can lock my body up but they can't lock my mind
See I'm a young street flame, I got them fire eyes
I mean that Eyes of Fire, the Tiger, the Black Pride

I call some women bitches and I call some women whores
A bitch a dirty boar, a hoe open up the pussy store
Now what's the difference between the two? Man, I just told you that
But that don't mean that every woman I know is down with that

If you a bitch and wanna switch, it ain't too late to change
It's all about how you carry yo'self and how you handle thangs
Some say that hoes and pimps is born, I don't believe that shit
'Cause anytime you wanna stop, it ain't too late to quit

Just 'cause you sold your body don't mean you a hoe for life
I got to speak it right for all the ones that paid the price
But if ya in it to win it, go head and live the life
But baby, if you ain't in it, you still can do it right

You can't let no bitch shatter yo' dreams
It might not be all bad as it first seems
You might not have all the things you need, yeah
But all you got to do is believe

I got to get my money, yeah
I got to get my money, oh ho
You got to get yo' money, yeah
I got to get my money

To all the babies havin' babies on ya' own
I know you feelin' fucked up and feelin' all alone
I know ya people tellin' you, "Ya fucked up your life"
Ya only fucked up if you lay down and don't continue to fight

And to the young nigga out there tryna sell dope
I know your family fucked up and it's your last rope
In your heart, I know ya cold with this rhyme shit
But ain't nuttin' hap'nin' but this 20?s and this dime shit

And you the daddy with lil' mama that's 'bout to have the baby
You wanna own ya team but niggaz tellin' you ya crazy
What you thankin'? You too young to have a family
But all the moves ya makin', look like you a man to me

When you get caught up, man, them niggaz ain't gon' ride witchu
But get down with that girl and she gon' keep it live witchu
But she gon' help ya put your money up and save somethin'
'Cause right now ya run it, th'ew it back and you ain't made nuttin'
It's time to change sumthin'

You can't let no bitch shatter yo' dreams
It might not be all bad as it first seems
You might not have all the things you need, yeah
But all you got to do is believe

I got to get my money, yeah
I got to get my money, oh oh
You got to get yo' money, yeah
I got to get my money

If you a ballplayer, man, go 'head and play ball
Don't let nobody steal your dream if you ain't came to fall
I know they say, "It ain't enough room in the NBA"
You tell them haters save that bullshit for another day

If you a sanger, lil' mama, go 'head and sang ya song
Them hoes say, "You ain't gon' make it", the funky bitch is wrong
You ain't got to get butt-naked on stage in a thong
Just sang your records to show the people you got it goin' on

I see a whole lotta motherfuckers come and go
I know young niggas sold they soul for the dirty dough
They want a rapper, I understand, go 'head and chase ya dream
But chase to hog it up, the lawyer end up like a fiend

Some people gay, what can I say? The only judge is God
But don't be shame and try to hide 'cause then you livin' fraud
'Cause everythang done in the dark, gon' come to the light
So do yo' thang, 'cause can't no man tell you what's wrong or right
Right, right, right, right
So do yo' thang, 'cause can't no man tell you what's wrong or right

Play the MP3 online for free!

09df19d4adb7c1a557d416b0886a44f9