My Own Urine - Lyrics - The Jesus Lizard

Title: My Own Urine
Artist: The Jesus Lizard
Composer(s): Carey Folk Mcneilly, David William Sims, Duane Denison, David Yow

Lyric:
The dry air holds a distinct fascination
For those who are unfamiliar
For those who are unfamiliar
With any other way of living

And I can see by their eyes
I can see by your eyes
I can see by your eyes
I can't see, I can't see by my eyes

And I remember the morning I awoke
I remember, but not very well
Marinating in a pool, a puddle of blood and urine
My own urine and someone else's blood
My own urine, someone else's blood

I can see by their eyes
I can see by your eyes
I can see by your eyes
I can't see, I can't see by my eyes

That lady so ugly
She looks like Dracula

I can see by their eyes
I can see by your eyes
I can see by your eyes
I can't see, I can't see by my eyes

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White Gutz - Lyrics - Even In Darkness - Dungeon Family

Title: White Gutz
Album: Even In Darkness
Artist: Dungeon Family
Composer(s): Willie Knighton, Rico R Wade, Antwan Patton, Cameron F Gipp, Raymon Ameer Murray, Thomas Burton, Warren Anderson Mathis, Patrick L Brown

Lyric:
Yeah, so fresh so clean
When I step in the booth they scream
Like they all tend to cheer
Dungeon D-Boy here
In effect mode like who's to love it? So slow motion
Like 3 wheels and triple cheeseburgers ATL coastin' say no more!

But the pimp is one of the coolest but I pay no more
Been known to rock the big blocks and colorful gay toys
With the flip-flops and the silk socks and a Kangol to the tip top
I flow hard you drip drop
Cleaner than the urine of a two time felons piss test
I'm sitting in some Monte Carlo curse right in the headrest

White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire

Fire meaning breathing like a dragon and it's seeming that I'm
Falling into a world of my own
Fire meaning breathing like a dragon and it's seeming that I'm
Falling into a world of my own

My own world too
White thangs can't complain
Bubba on them white guts
Custom made ain't a stain
0-2 Z-7-1 on them Mickey T's
Standing with ya man wanting me to sign your hickey please
I don't need no worries keep ya white guts

How I'm riding these days keep me with the right sluts
He's just bubba happen to love the D.F.
You in the midst of history Betty take a deep breath
Sitting on the tailgate polo to the boxers
Bubba is the truth you a homo if it shocks ya
Reppin' loud and proud with my buddies from Atlanta
You trying to live cleaner here's a study and example

White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved
White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved

Sitting on 400 wides that's what they love
Incense swingin' from the mirror that's what they love
Six course licked with the glaze that's what they love
Drive with the dealership tag that's what they love
Hair bone strayed on my shoulder that's what they love
The smell of new leather in the cold that's what they love

Strawhat V-neck T's that what they love
Moon roof open blowing smoke that's what they love
Romeo cologne every week that's what they love
That's what they love, that's what they love
Go from 12 to12 Monday to Sunday
Take the first two days and sleep like mummies
And I'm out

Who in the spot you move play games with us you lose
Mercy rules beat you make you say he mean as hell
But the cutest nigga out the group
Gotcha head spinnin' like tread on a spool
Clean as a fool
With them gold shoes ooh
And I got that pool
Make you wanna holla
Seen in my impala hear them flow
Masters duals amp tweeters and twos

Stay alert on this dirt
Don't be no fool
I take you to school
Shoot you like pool
Rep with his I don't do
Expenses I dumped you?
Outkast, Goodie Mob Dungeon family
I thought you knew

White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved
White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved

There's this one in my stable
Seville so motherfucking clean
It's got a soda shade around the mean green
These youngster have never seen
It has a signature wood grain steering wheel such as yours
But oh my God what are harder are the hard wood floors
It's not coincidental all the glass was kept clear

Who's worried his or her first shit it's freezing it here
The only heat is my piece to make it even at least
I'll go to work without even catching a crack in my crease
I guess the dubs out there do what they 'posed to do
I'll ride 15mph to make a believers out of you
I got a lawsuit, pending charge for wreck less blade spinnin'
I was riding through west end and killed two women uh-oh

White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved
White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved

White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved
White guts white wall tires
Floor plush it's so fire
Brains blowed sittin' on dubs
Come through could never be loved

C A D I L L A C you and me will gray so cleanly
C A D I L L A C blowing smoke so high and freely
C A D I L L A C you and me uh
Blowing smoke so high and freely

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Make Up Your Mind - Lyrics - Sex Style - Kool Keith

Title: Make Up Your Mind
Album: Sex Style
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Trevor Randolph, Maurice Smith, Keith Thornton

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

Lyric:
Yeah, so you called me last night
You was kinda confused huh? You didn't know what to do
All excited over these football players and baseball players
Whassup? You lookin' for a million dollars or somethin'?
Man you kinda confused

Freak mode, I'ma have sex, so let 'em feel
Touch my private, my thing made of steel
Shootin' gizm, she ride like a Geo Prism
I'm out in Cali, San Bernardino Valley

I'm on the hill, not North in Pete skill
Big Willie servin', now tell me how you femmes feel
I'm in the Cadillac, drivin' in a drop top
People don't know my style, watch when they heads bop

I'm on the highway, girls pull 'em down my way
Credit cards and checks, man she get paid on Friday
The woman's out, the Phantom pushin' more clout
I'm watchin'? With Sam, drinkin' guinness stout

Bourbon booze, green alligator shoes
Union commissioned sex, government intelligence
What you see girl, that Benz is irrelevant
Materialistic, ugly man is plastic

No class, in a suit, cost rather cheap
Got the nerve to blow the horn and he try to beep
Interfere, in my spot and he's comin' here
She's in the white boots, breathin' in my ear

Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt

No affections, condom style, I got no yeast
Worldwide trunk funk, no jazz on the East
Breakin' honies down, mackin' here to Petersburg
Virginia Slim, turn the freaks out in Lynchburg

With brown bootie, Joe Smith, hit from Pittsburgh
The right player, even if I choose odds
Let me shuffle jackpots, women pick the cards
Your hydraulic butt, bounce like a six trey

I'm on the case, jealous man steppin' in my way
Hot pursuit, why she play herself? Get the boot
Actin' like Troop, he say he signed with a group
He wrote for Babyface, did songs, toured with Snoop

Lyin' to you to get thrilled
Droppin' them old lines, his breath smell like doodoo
I got a style if a brother wanna know
Smokin' that stink blunt, you still sniffin' blow

Nose runnin' on time with green slime
Step in the club, I throw urine on your mind
Big Luciano, diamond rings on the grand piano
Girls flock and guys hop on the other jock

I'm in a two door, with bass comin' through your block
Sound kicks, I got the fly broads in the mix
California butt, MC's suckin' more what
Like Gerald Levert, you try to make it work

Jheri Curl Jones, spendin' cash on a skirt
Plan to win, whassup with Uncle Ben?
Brother is sly, fatback bacon
Still fakin', his voice chords achin'

You know I'm perplex, exotic on Ampex
Dog style champ, hittin' booty for butt sex
I can't disguise myself like Michael Jackson
The flasher, are you ready for action?

Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump it

I got a summons, my clothes is off, I'm butt naked
In a discotheques, don't tell me ladies can't take it
Just to have my drawers in a overcoat
My El Dorado lean, the black caddy float

Down the hill with Frankie Dolla Bill
Honies in red zone, tell me how them drawers feel
Suckin' on the hippie, on the Mississippi
Econo Lodge, a cheap way to get a quickie

Five and five, equal ten
Add twenty up, I'm back in the spot again
Blowin' it up, I drop my own bomb
Two big green mitts, and tails on my arm

You in my way my man, yo B excuse me
I didn't call your girl, why accuse me?
I think you're insecure, not sure
If your girlfriend's home, if she's knockin' at my door

Back in your ride, no apartment, no place to wash
You can't clean, tell 'em black
He don't know yet, my discipline, how to act
Stack with fume, and twenty-four flicks
You can't win, takin' shots like the Knicks

I'm old enough with skills to be your daddy
Go ask grandma, your freaky Aunt Sally
Pretty woman standin' there with her ugly man
I don't want to shake his hand

Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt

Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump the butt
Make up your mind, who you want to pump it

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31e81420318907bb98e912ee4a58076b

We Thuggin - Lyrics - Jealous Ones Still Envy - Fat Joe

Title: We Thuggin
Album: Jealous Ones Still Envy
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Ronald Bowser, Joseph Cartagena, Robert S Kelly

Lyric:
Ooh, mmm
Yeah, uh, uh
Fat Joe and the R
That shit y'all
Breakin' shit down
Shake that, funky, funky, funky
Yeah
Sticky, icky, icky, yeah uh
I got that shit y'all
I got that shit y'all
Uh yo yo

Crack man and I'm at it again
Niggas had they run, now it's time for change
When we step in the club, nigga tuck ya chain
Got the mink on same color the Range
Uh, pour liquor for my nigga that's gone
Big Pun! Then we party like we just came home
Fuck a bitch if she act to grown
I don't need that shit, I got my wife at home

Uh words slurrin', dirty urine
Drunk off of Henry and the 'jo keep burnin'
Dancin with shorty and her friend keep flirtin'
I don't always crush two but tonight seems certain'
Party hard like "Fuck all y'all!"
Bottles in the air like we stuck up the bar
Terror Squad man you know who we are
Cruise through ya block and them drop-top Bentley's is ours

Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs and
Off up in the club, whylin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henry wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin' up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

Yeah uh, yeah yeah yo
Everybody wanna know where the crib's at
Niggas just now gettin ice, so we get that
Mami starin' at me like she wanna get kidnapped
Money lookin' happy with his wife but we triz that
Along with Lisa, Aisha, Shonda, Renee
Even ran through the dorms down in Morgan State
In Miami, pool-party off the chain
Gettin' brains in the water on Memorial Day

Uh, grand-mami ya'll cool and shit
It's ya birthday, show me what I'm foolin' with
Like no doubt, pokin' doll out, pull ya G-string down south
Oww! Pass that, give shorty a shot
True enough we gon' see if she naughty or not
I'm on E feelin' ready and hot
I give 'em twenty a pop
You wanna roll leave the panties atop

Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs and
Off up in the club, whylin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henry wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin' up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up
Yeah, Terror Squad, Rockland what the fuck what
Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up
Uh, uh, Rockland, Terror Squad what the fuck what
Some of these kids is doin' they own thing
But none of these kids stack chips like us
Some of these cats is doin' they own thing
But none of these cats run tricks like us

Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs and
Off up in the club, whylin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henry wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin' up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

Yeah uh
You know what this is
Chi-town, BX
What the fuck what?
Out

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We Thuggin (Remix) - Lyrics - Jealous Ones Still Envy - Fat Joe

Title: We Thuggin (Remix)
Album: Jealous Ones Still Envy
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Ronald Bowser, Joseph Cartagena, Robert S Kelly

Lyric:
Ooh, mmm
Yeah, uh, uh
Fat Joe and the R
That shit y'all
Breakin' shit down
Shake that, funky, funky, funky
Yeah
Sticky, icky, icky, yeah uh
I got that shit y'all
I got that shit y'all
Uh yo yo

Crack man and I'm at it again
Niggas had they run, now it's time for change
When we step in the club, nigga tuck ya chain
Got the mink on same color the Range
Uh, pour liquor for my nigga that's gone
Big Pun! Then we party like we just came home
Fuck a bitch if she act to grown
I don't need that shit, I got my wife at home

Uh words slurrin', dirty urine
Drunk off of Henry and the 'jo keep burnin'
Dancin with shorty and her friend keep flirtin'
I don't always crush two but tonight seems certain'
Party hard like "Fuck all y'all!"
Bottles in the air like we stuck up the bar
Terror Squad man you know who we are
Cruise through ya block and them drop-top Bentley's is ours

Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs and
Off up in the club, whylin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henry wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin' up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

Yeah uh, yeah yeah yo
Everybody wanna know where the crib's at
Niggas just now gettin ice, so we get that
Mami starin' at me like she wanna get kidnapped
Money lookin' happy with his wife but we triz that
Along with Lisa, Aisha, Shonda, Renee
Even ran through the dorms down in Morgan State
In Miami, pool-party off the chain
Gettin' brains in the water on Memorial Day

Uh, grand-mami ya'll cool and shit
It's ya birthday, show me what I'm foolin' with
Like no doubt, pokin' doll out, pull ya G-string down south
Oww! Pass that, give shorty a shot
True enough we gon' see if she naughty or not
I'm on E feelin' ready and hot
I give 'em twenty a pop
You wanna roll leave the panties atop

Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs and
Off up in the club, whylin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henry wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin' up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up
Yeah, Terror Squad, Rockland what the fuck what
Fat Joe, R. Kelly we pop up
Uh, uh, Rockland, Terror Squad what the fuck what
Some of these kids is doin' they own thing
But none of these kids stack chips like us
Some of these cats is doin' they own thing
But none of these cats run tricks like us

Yeah, we thuggin', rollin' on dubs and
Off up in the club, whylin' like what
Got Cris' on pop, Henry wit no chaser, mami don't stop
Throwin' up six o'clock, plus I got four hun-nies in the drop
And my man Joe's got the keys to the spot
And it's full with hunnies, panties with no tops
We take a puff of 'dro be-atch

Yeah uh
You know what this is
Chi-town, BX
What the fuck what?
Out

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4f19d5457ac43246974de8cc789090cb

Taking Pictures - Lyrics - The Lost Masters - Kool Keith

Title: Taking Pictures
Album: The Lost Masters
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Keith Mathew Thornton

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

Lyric:
Whassup baby?
C'mere let me feel your pussy a lil' bit
Turn around, that's right
Let me see that pretty ass
Lean over
Let me put a little grease in your ass
Knahmsayin baby?
Fine ass bitch

Bitch let me see one of the titties
Hit you in the face with one of these fitties
Watch pictures, pass out
In the leather sofa with the ass out
Piss in your pocketbook
With a patch over my eye like Captain Hook
Fuck all the romance and love books
Still they help your pussy like a crook
Break you down to the name of your asshole
Connected to the Chevron station and the gas cable
Motherfuckers cooperate, don't be hateful
Lotion your ass up, you're ungrateful
Take a shit in the underground picture
Make it commercial
More tasteful, parental advisory
Clean your vagina with ammonia and ivory

Piss in your face
Piss in the right place
Piss in your face
Piss in the right place

Raisin mutilation
Reynolds and Wrap, Tupperware
New Jersey sexy shit
Hype nipples, eatin your own defecation
Vicks in my nose
Sniffin glue while you smell ass
I specialize in bitches who communicate, and sell ass
If I'm upset, I get a ride and tell ass
Put your ass in a butt cast
Fingerpop you with my Jason mask
You can't sleepover and crash
Ginseng up yo that's right
Everybody's gettin pissy, with chronic and hash
Waterbed and the table
Leave urine in the back of your Taurus Sable
Tie my underwear to the back of your car
Spray your ass with
Dress you up and grab the Vaseline jar

Piss in your face, girl you know
Pissin in your face, pissin in your face
Pissin

Your eyes feel my dick in the dark
Part of your bathroom, you think I'm sick
I fill the soggy shit and you split
Over 40 to 50 plus
Old bitches who smoke PCP and dust
Fuck the lust, pour milk on your Bally with Orange Crush
Cover your asshole with a Slurpy slush
Orgy over here, that's right they doin it over there
But I'm the director with a camera, everywhere
I'm the photographer, Jim take pictures
Yo, y'all be first, cause there's seven of us
And I'm not gonna do this
I'm gonna get through this, and do this like Brutus
Taking pictures
Photographers, Nikon and Pentax

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e0ee8b1bdbf332d994b6ad826abd53ff

Greeny Green - Lyrics - Goodie Mob

Title: Greeny Green
Artist: Goodie Mob
Composer(s): E Johnson, W Knighton, R Barnett

Lyric:
Ladies and Gentlemen, you are listening
To the rulers of the spirit world
(Really, really, really, really)

Yeah, yeah, that means poetry deep in this team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Yeah, y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Yeah, yeah

Check this out, check this out, bust it

This is like a rocket, you never packed
This many condominiums in your pocket
Ugh, you never smoked this much weed before
Where else can these nigga go
Don't know tomorrow, it's about today, bruh

I want some coochie that I ain't gotta pay for
I'm the one that holidayed ya
ATL, land where we parlay ya
No nigga jealous with his gat wanna clown
It's enough females in the streets
To go 'round two, three times

Atlanta, the doctor's home
Always somebody hoggin' the payphone
Say holmes, where your daughter?
She'll tell ya, "I'm pure like artesian water"
Feed me a quarter like a jukebox

I sell rhymes like rocks, the police oughta stop checkin'
The Lord gave me a blessing
Longest crops, I sees with you
You think the Lord pleased with you?
Ugh, you think he'd kiss you?
You think he'd kiss you or he'd dis you?

Poetry deep in the team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Yeah, poetry deep in the team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Bust it

Suits of brutality patrol sectors
Day care centers ran by vestors
Drunk drivers behind the steering wheel of liquor trucks
New comers think they won the diversion on pure luck
Shark pools in the hall
One drop can start a frenzy

Feeding off of your ignorance of the law consider no excuse
We here by being careful, vigilence
Vampires [Incomprehensible] lace personal pants with blood
Just ask for the special, crackers crave samples of niggas urine
Strands of hair and semen, blue lights in the basements
Having conversations with voices between four by fours

Rack 'em up, I'll bust your head
Stay, playing the role of executioner
Been years on death row, now he don't wanna die
For arranging his wife's murder
Equal opportunity, designated bullets don't discriminate
Like unemployment, officers doing break

Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
One deep in this team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Poetry runs deep in this team

Poetry deep in the team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Yeah, poetry deep in the team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Bust it

Belligerent thoughts of militant ways
Camouflaged in the brush, love or lust
Which can we trust hidden in the cuts
Terrible they bounce 'em every third month
Yeah, after the big flood of truth
Caught in your own evidence

Now you hesitant to believe me
You back to hangin' with parks
That's what you called her
Now you run 'cause you know
That's what you want
(That's what you want, what you want)

If I felt like everything was good
Maybe then I could knock on wood
To protect the good
That surrounds my innermost thoughts
Until my thoughts were caught unguarded
As hard as it is to be perfect I try

And I still flaw listening to the next guy
That knew more and saw it before I did
Came up big, to dig an early grave
Get locked up and turn a slave for the rhythm
We rap, still get slapped by the system

Yeah, poetry deep in the team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green
Yeah, poetry deep in the team
Y'all done stepped on, we the green green

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8757c512a03454c33eceb7e8a250a760