Nine Houses - Lyrics - Seals And Crofts

Title: Nine Houses
Artist: Seals And Crofts
Composer(s): Darrell Crofts, James Seals

Lyric:
Nine houses faith built and all of us, all of us abuse them
Nine houses faith built and all of us, all of us must use them
For if we do then we can make the trees and the hills and rivers wide
Sing with such love and a peace they've never known

I can see, I can feel
I can do a million things in dreams where sense is no longer needed
In the wilderness, in the wilderness
I can cross a million streams in dreams where sense is no longer needed

Children in cocoons many colored tunes
Make their way into a day where sense is no longer needed

So there's a lotta sense in livin'
When the world we know starts givin'
We can spread our wings some sunny day and fly away
But 'til we all fly together, what sense does it make?

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64d0749f57e63bb95b24dd5e89df7613

Gun Talk - Lyrics - R.U.L.E. - Ja Rule

Title: Gun Talk
Album: R.U.L.E.
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Andre S Parker, Jeffrey B Atkins, Irving Domingo Lorenzo, Ramel Gill

Lyric:
Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

Real talk, the INC about to run New York
'Cause there's no real niggaz left to hold the torch
Who gon' hold us of, 'cause you don't read newspaper's nigga
Lt. Ja tell it, that's murder inc boy's, that's real killers
Money laundering, tax evade and drug dealers
Backed by chemical grit, you can't be serious
We just niggaz getting money, fucking all the bitches
And life and death between a matter of inches

You know
That fo' four that handle his business
Like capital game, reload and hit them with interest
Damn, what so gangsta about these niggaz
Now I got the full speed niggaz, led
Leave them dead over prayers, or head
'Cause we done fucking these same bitches
And you know they talk, and the pillows be my witness
My forgiveness, niggaz can't be this stupid
It's gun talk, niggaz better get used to it

Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

Yeah, I don't care if you're a criminal or a cop, shoot or get shot
I'm raised by the plot, product of the hater
The gauge and the glock, and I keep a blade
I ain't afraid if it pop, the gauge still a gun
Married murder one, sleep with the fishes
Tasting red rum, young and corrupted
Nothing to fuck with, straight out of the gutter
With no introduction

Our role models is forced with the hollows
Fuck sloths the swallow the fifth a holla
The witness and the polla, weed twisting ganja
Load up the clip's and flip the corner
They Morner, be mourners stay gunner
We gangster, gangster point and blank ya'
Thank ya', niggaz keep me in the mood
To eat a nigga food, I murder with real bombs

Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

The nine the cal the pound of coke, niggaz
The weed the dope the E' the coke, niggaz
The gauge is mine, that's all I know
I've been doing this since 9 6, the oldies know
This tough load, the 3 8 o's, I let my hoe's hold
Keep it in them working, in case I'm legal searching
They got worship god, and trust the gun
Ask for your forgiveness and send niggaz up

Fucking stick niggaz up, these bitch niggaz touch
It's all about violence, real niggaz is silenced
And know these niggaz whoes guns got low mileage
Got ducked taped, all tied up in their houses
I'll make you watch while I fuck the spouse
This ain't business, it's personal, gun talk
When I holla you're the first to know
How many hoes, and how much blood has been lost of

Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

Yeah
Murder INC
We riding here motherfuckers

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9da8fed8e6da7c791d06522dc9f583b5

Talk - Lyrics - Ja Rule

Title: Talk
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Andre S Parker, Jeffrey B Atkins, Irving Domingo Lorenzo, Ramel Gill

Lyric:
Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

Real talk, the INC about to run New York
'Cause there's no real niggaz left to hold the torch
Who gon' hold us of, 'cause you don't read newspaper's nigga
Lt. Ja tell it, that's murder inc boy's, that's real killers
Money laundering, tax evade and drug dealers
Backed by chemical grit, you can't be serious
We just niggaz getting money, fucking all the bitches
And life and death between a matter of inches

You know
That fo' four that handle his business
Like capital game, reload and hit them with interest
Damn, what so gangsta about these niggaz
Now I got the full speed niggaz, led
Leave them dead over prayers, or head
'Cause we done fucking these same bitches
And you know they talk, and the pillows be my witness
My forgiveness, niggaz can't be this stupid
It's gun talk, niggaz better get used to it

Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

Yeah, I don't care if you're a criminal or a cop, shoot or get shot
I'm raised by the plot, product of the hater
The gauge and the glock, and I keep a blade
I ain't afraid if it pop, the gauge still a gun
Married murder one, sleep with the fishes
Tasting red rum, young and corrupted
Nothing to fuck with, straight out of the gutter
With no introduction

Our role models is forced with the hollows
Fuck sloths the swallow the fifth a holla
The witness and the polla, weed twisting ganja
Load up the clip's and flip the corner
They Morner, be mourners stay gunner
We gangster, gangster point and blank ya'
Thank ya', niggaz keep me in the mood
To eat a nigga food, I murder with real bombs

Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

The nine the cal the pound of coke, niggaz
The weed the dope the E' the coke, niggaz
The gauge is mine, that's all I know
I've been doing this since 9 6, the oldies know
This tough load, the 3 8 o's, I let my hoe's hold
Keep it in them working, in case I'm legal searching
They got worship god, and trust the gun
Ask for your forgiveness and send niggaz up

Fucking stick niggaz up, these bitch niggaz touch
It's all about violence, real niggaz is silenced
And know these niggaz whoes guns got low mileage
Got ducked taped, all tied up in their houses
I'll make you watch while I fuck the spouse
This ain't business, it's personal, gun talk
When I holla you're the first to know
How many hoes, and how much blood has been lost of

Well bitch niggaz get you of the grind, nigga grab the nine and
Well fake niggaz try to cop the style, cop the 40 cal then
Well if you don't like the way it's going down, nigga grip the pounding
And if there's more than one that got the gold, grab the calico

Yeah
Murder INC
We riding here motherfuckers

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8640c1b9c9d49d148dfc6f75b034e7d1

Find Ya Wealth - Lyrics - Nas

Title: Find Ya Wealth
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): Brian Douglas Bennett, Nasir Jones, Leshan Lewis

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Lyric:
Crime, life, bitches, money, time
For my Braveheart's, my Braveheart's
Uh, uh, uh, what, what, what?
One time, two times

From 'Breaking Atoms' to 'Illmatic', to goin' platinum
Shit did change course since rippin' it with Main Source
Nine-one, nine-two, time flew
Out of the blue, time for a new young king to rule

Younger frame, older state of mind
Find my name on a page in your Qu'ran, I learned that, in '89
When I was slingin' cocaine and baby 9's
Put it in rap and I gave ya'll a way to rhyme

God guides us, from public assistance to high rises
Condos, houses where y'all can't find us
Move on your cliques in silence, and wet it up
My meal everyday was a slice and 7-Up

Took advice from a street legend
Identities have been changed, to protect the innocent
Witnessin' niggaz mistakes, visits at niggaz wakes
'Cause jealousy infiltrates and seals your fate

Look way deep inside yourself
Discover the diamond inside, find ya wealth
Once you get it, you gotta live it the limit
Niggaz never wanna see you with it, fuck them tho'

Niggaz can't come close enough to touch the dough
The lifestyle I live is untouchable
So we clutch a few, guns that'll touch your crew
'Cause we learned to do what the hustlers do

Different ways to come out the hood, in cuffs or a casket
Or crazy, or shootin' three pointer baskets
Or maybe, it's the rap shit, all type of tactics
We use to get dough, some choose kickin' in doors

I asked a reverend, my mother and a best friend
Less than ten years ago for me to get dough
What ya'll recommend is either dope weed or blow
'Cause high school was slow, and jewelry was hot

Duckin' truancy cops, trains I hopped, to make it downtown
Cisco in my veins, pissed between trains
Canal Street, just lookin' at rings
Outside through a glass, went in the store and asked how much it cost

Korean man brushin' me off
For some other big time customer, probably a hustler
Who looked down at my small chain and chuckled up
I said, "I'll be just like you soon, motherfucker what?"

Look way deep inside yourself
Discover the diamond inside, find ya wealth
Once you get it, you gotta live it the limit
Niggaz never wanna see you with it, fuck them tho'

Niggaz can't come close enough to touch the dough
The lifestyle I live is untouchable
So we clutch a few, guns that'll touch your crew
'Cause we learned to do what the hustlers do

To them niggaz who get life and throw a smile at the judge
Wildest thugs, who blow trial, exiled from the hood
Keepin' bitches, comin' through on visits
You will survive, them weak freaks think you finished

You first time in, you known for poppin' your toast
By your third year in you, forgotten by most
Niggaz wife cut them out of they life, niggaz don't write
Friends actin' like they don't be gettin' your kites

It be ill, niggaz comin' home and no time to get killed
Not even home a month and they get peeled
Backwards in they own backyard or in the park
One to the head, two to the heart, you should be smart in the projects

Who gon' die next?
Hoodrats know who let the gats blow and who keep cashflow
Like the niggaz know the rats, with some good asshole
Blunts be a good-ass roll while passin' your 'dro

Look way deep inside yourself
Discover the diamond inside, find ya wealth
Once you get it, you gotta live it the limit
Niggaz never wanna see you with it, fuck them tho'

Niggaz can't come close enough to touch the dough
The lifestyle I live is untouchable
So we clutch a few, guns that'll touch your crew
'Cause we learned to do what the hustlers do

Feel me?
One time, huh, two times, uh, uh, uh
What, what, what? Uh, uh, uh

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8f992e66000be7d09eac29b20b77a944

Whatever Happened (The Birth) - Lyrics - Az The Visualiza

Title: Whatever Happened (The Birth)
Artist: Az The Visualiza
Composer(s): Anthony S. Cruz, Robert F. Diggs

Lyric:
Yeah, some firm shit, you know I mean?
For all the niggas, in New York
All across the motherfuckin' world
Ain't nuttin' changed yet, shit's still real
Yo

Yo, major large niggas get they grind on cash
While the crab thinkin' niggas keep they mind on ass
I guess most motherfuckers ain't designed to last

Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?

You know the routine, fast cars, rings get a crew seen
We true fiends, old school style that's how we do things
Born and destined, hands on many investments
Strong, reflect this 'til I'm drawn back to the essence

Street wise, 36 waist, small feet size
The C.I.'s quick to slide off, once the heat rise
Detour, poverty zone, police war going through each dawn
Searchin' new ways for me to eat more

Fast learner, quiet storm, play the back burner
Bureaucrats, I react like Nat Turner
Hold weight, used to rock kicks wit no lace
Fuck a soulmate, low heart pace, pulse at a slow rate

Runnin' rapid, while others play as if they captive
Brain's inactive, bein' subjected to this crab shit
To each his own, fuck the foulness, need a week alone
We can zone, all day long, on the speaker phone

600, nine five North, stay blunted
Stress, I came from it, sex got drained from it
The new breed star gazin', raisin' two seeds
To be free, the franchise is all a whole crew need, indeed

Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?

Whips and full clips and pussy lips, rubber grips attached to hips
Past the journey to the crib, the purest sickness cura
Holy Koran, sirah, leaves man to understand
I stand up as rough briva

Heart is bleedin', stress got my hair line receedin'
God look, we feedin', leadin' my seeds, back to Eden
And stay suspicious of promiscuous bitches
Who don't wash and do dish

And to big for your britches
Lustin' riches, fuckin' the next man mistress
You wonder why your pussy itches
Fat ass sample wit out the glitches

Shatter your mental, split your bean up like a lentil
Disfigure your face, you recognizin' by the dental
Hot lead from raw heat, left in store meat
Lay it out on Broadstreet

Before he left all he heard was the echo from the shot
Cops autopsy revealed, he was stopped by the glock
Devils lettin' off Scuds, thugs trapped up in hood houses
New York, been infested by Bloods

Lustin' for colors of red More black lies done shed
Through yet the blood travelin'
Through veins remain blue
Boned out until we zone out, no doubt

Chicken heads beg for the 9 inch Applehead
Their legs open like fallopian, lubricated by petroleum
Nine months later comes the ovary explosion
Bitch you stupid? A hundred dollars you couldn't recoup it

When I reign the truth on your brain you muted
Rula, zig-zag, zig Allah, plus Allah zig, zag-zig
We addin' more knowledge to your wig

Yo, major large niggas get they grind on cash
While the crab thinkin' niggas keep they mind on ass
I guess most motherfuckers ain't designed to last

Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?

Word up, word up, yeah
Wu-Tang, firm up in this piece know what I mean?
Open it down, stamp of approval, you know?
Get ya brain washed, you know what I'm sayin'?

Get ya muscle tendered & straight
No doubt, no doubt
Word up, the black God exists in the physical form, you know?
Holdin' this, A to the Z, I know what time it is, aight, Armageddon

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255b899c7bf4e3db215d4b082e85a8c8

Pony Ride - Lyrics - De La Soul

Title: Pony Ride
Artist: De La Soul
Composer(s): Kelvin Mercer, David Jolicoeur, Vincent Mason, S Preston

Lyric:
Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my time
Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my time

I'ma stand up for art express, do mic test rehearsals
Eight years of man livin', ain't no edits or commercials
Flick the God like mummy, but my own want a debit
Tossin' facts and how they axis don't, spin on a limit

Ain't no need to dwell, to health I'm fakin' your jax
Ride niggaz get to sittin' to rear, so play the Parks of Rosa
Suppose I have my whole life on it
Funny how those you love, love the evil they do

I brew the medicine to heal, a bit of verbals we had
But yo' ideas of heal, is left the surface of it scabbed
Navigations nearly took me on some cruise type expense
Dispensin' me some shitty canal, I took the juice

Because I'm used to one-ways, detours and destinations
Of ways in life, I pretends the knife
Stuck in my spine'll be a symbol, how Jack can B. Nimble
But it's time to make that foggy vision crystal
We gots to get the crystal right?

Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my time
Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my time

Well, I don't wanna go that far
To sell my soul, I ain't gonna go that far
I'm takin' minds and hearts beyond the shinin' star
Raw dick, honey I don't wanna go that far

So listen why you riskin' your mentality against mine?
Sick of leadin' love, sick of leadin' love
Leavin' love loud faced in the vehicle of mine
Them wanna do awards, be it of nine ninety-nine, watch 'em

Profile the true fall out for so-called friends
Like mercury and water, we just don't blend
I end the game technically, you wanna stop me
True gems show affection like Jody Watley, so

Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my time
Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my

Take my, take my time
Take my, take my, take my time
Take my, but I don't wanna go that far

I recall kissin' on my lady, talkin' bout makin' babies
Now we made the baby, but cannot connect as legal spouses
Now me and my daughter reside in different houses
What louses up the structure, is leavin' things up to

The child lesser, than a child runnin' wild from mild pressure
Mega, negative
To live a master plan when that plan has no master
You stare at false tongues, leadin' the yung'un to disaster

Postures of this world is seen as mad crooked
Want your manhood, but man, your dad took it
We used to swallow 40's and a whole lot of pride
Nice MC's be frontin' on some whole other vibe

Just because them albums are sealed, doesn't mean
Them lyrics are untampered with, let's kill the myth
That as MC's we know it all, we all children still
No tricks for ninety-six, it's due time we build man

Just stop takin' me for a ride
All I wanna do is take my time
Just stop takin' me for a ride
'Cause all I wanna do is take my time

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e56163165a8ddc6cc1d61eb3ebf2d79e

Whatever Happened (The Birth) - Lyrics - Az

Title: Whatever Happened (The Birth)
Artist: Az
Composer(s): Anthony S. Cruz, Robert F. Diggs

Lyric:
Yeah, some firm shit, you know I mean?
For all the niggas, in New York
All across the motherfuckin' world
Ain't nuttin' changed yet, shit's still real
Yo

Yo, major large niggas get they grind on cash
While the crab thinkin' niggas keep they mind on ass
I guess most motherfuckers ain't designed to last

Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?

You know the routine, fast cars, rings get a crew seen
We true fiends, old school style that's how we do things
Born and destined, hands on many investments
Strong, reflect this 'til I'm drawn back to the essence

Street wise, 36 waist, small feet size
The C.I.'s quick to slide off, once the heat rise
Detour, poverty zone, police war going through each dawn
Searchin' new ways for me to eat more

Fast learner, quiet storm, play the back burner
Bureaucrats, I react like Nat Turner
Hold weight, used to rock kicks wit no lace
Fuck a soulmate, low heart pace, pulse at a slow rate

Runnin' rapid, while others play as if they captive
Brain's inactive, bein' subjected to this crab shit
To each his own, fuck the foulness, need a week alone
We can zone, all day long, on the speaker phone

600, nine five North, stay blunted
Stress, I came from it, sex got drained from it
The new breed star gazin', raisin' two seeds
To be free, the franchise is all a whole crew need, indeed

Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?

Whips and full clips and pussy lips, rubber grips attached to hips
Past the journey to the crib, the purest sickness cura
Holy Koran, sirah, leaves man to understand
I stand up as rough briva

Heart is bleedin', stress got my hair line receedin'
God look, we feedin', leadin' my seeds, back to Eden
And stay suspicious of promiscuous bitches
Who don't wash and do dish

And to big for your britches
Lustin' riches, fuckin' the next man mistress
You wonder why your pussy itches
Fat ass sample wit out the glitches

Shatter your mental, split your bean up like a lentil
Disfigure your face, you recognizin' by the dental
Hot lead from raw heat, left in store meat
Lay it out on Broadstreet

Before he left all he heard was the echo from the shot
Cops autopsy revealed, he was stopped by the glock
Devils lettin' off Scuds, thugs trapped up in hood houses
New York, been infested by Bloods

Lustin' for colors of red More black lies done shed
Through yet the blood travelin'
Through veins remain blue
Boned out until we zone out, no doubt

Chicken heads beg for the 9 inch Applehead
Their legs open like fallopian, lubricated by petroleum
Nine months later comes the ovary explosion
Bitch you stupid? A hundred dollars you couldn't recoup it

When I reign the truth on your brain you muted
Rula, zig-zag, zig Allah, plus Allah zig, zag-zig
We addin' more knowledge to your wig

Yo, major large niggas get they grind on cash
While the crab thinkin' niggas keep they mind on ass
I guess most motherfuckers ain't designed to last

Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?
Whatever happened to the realness from back in the past?

Word up, word up, yeah
Wu-Tang, firm up in this piece know what I mean?
Open it down, stamp of approval, you know?
Get ya brain washed, you know what I'm sayin'?

Get ya muscle tendered & straight
No doubt, no doubt
Word up, the black God exists in the physical form, you know?
Holdin' this, A to the Z, I know what time it is, aight, Armageddon

Play the MP3 online for free!

1c5ca80e52d0e2e3abbb92cd3d85d672

Dr. Dooom'S In The Room - Lyrics - Dr. Dooom

Title: Dr. Dooom'S In The Room
Artist: Dr. Dooom
Composer(s): Keith Thornton

Lyric:
Yeah, for the motherfuckin' 2000
In this mother
Straight from Houston, Tex
The motherfuckin' Dr. Dooom

I'm shuttin' rappers down like guiliani shut down strip clubs
Turnin' your fake gangster hardcore stories
Into some Mickey Mouse, Teletubbies shit
Y'all niggaz need to quit, stop pullin' your silicone tits

And this city is my town
Don't even fuckin' tryin' to say a fly rhyme
I'm holdin' possessions you don't own
And your cellular phone don't even fuckin' roam

Y'all got the nerve to be standin' in the hot rap zone
Against somethin' you can't afford
Rappers be soundin' bored at the show
I need to start pullin' your bitch-ass fuckin' extension cord

Suckers be fakers, ATM pullin' frauds
I'm sendin' two men, out to boo men
Quick to get to y'all niggaz like Western Union
I'm comin' like the fax machine

I pour it on your whole team
Y'all niggaz ain't got time to scheme
I'm out to shatter your fuckin' rap dreams
Top to bottom, any angle, whatever your bullshit mind think

Your words gon' tangle
Sound like shit on a tascan mix
A bunch of y'all tracks need to be fixed
Professionally, you sound like the dog toto

When I see Flex, I'ma ask him
Why he playin' a lot of records from a bunch of homos
With feminine vocals
I catch niggaz when clubs are packed, rubbin' elbows

Tryin' to whisper shit in ugly bitches earlobes
Dr. Dooom callin' wack niggaz houses from the Radisson hotel room
Penthouse suites, bitch niggaz get 911 beeps
I'm always hearin' more softest MC's talk shit about the streets

Fuck your seedy impression of pain
Ninety-nine percent of your shit was normal
One percent sound strange
A&R's be suckin' a lot of dick
And spreadin' they ass cheeks to get the hits

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin up

You couldn't rap with me if we was twins stuck together
You be the deformed one, catchin' the warm one
I pay a crack head five dollars
To fuck up your million dollar marketing plan

With a brand new sub-machine gun
And a hot dog, on a Yankee stadium bun
First class rates, hire wall street messengers
To move your antique rap styles in milk crates

Special delivery for all you motherfuckers
Sportin' hard boots with ashey faces tryin' to get with me
Y'all suckers is amateurs, gettin' fucked up the assholes
By the top worst managers

On the publishin' deal, wipe my condoms off your Ampex reels
No games to be played, you lookin' fuckin' jiggy
MC's with collared shirts and shoes tryin' to duplicate biggie
No matter where, you only got one pair

Alligators don't match with them fuckin' flares
Who's doin' your dress code, some old stank bitch
With mascara touchin' up your face on the road
You feelin' healthier, your rap audience

Is only New Pork to Philadelphia
Baltimore never even heard your fuckin' metaphor
Shut the fuck up, put your buck up, look at the dicks you suck up
Maximum ass thoughts, you fuckin' get crushed

Like the five o'clock train rush, sweaty as a motherfucker
The best rapper can lick my ass
I make your girl pick me up lick my sperm in your E-class
Leave my diapers moist in the back seat of your rolls Royce
Stop your whole organization on park avenue and start laughin' at you

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

You ain't the top rap in the country
New jacks, you shoulda knew that
From experience, you couldn't write from the beginnin'
Bookin' studio time, with some scramblin' concert shit on your mind

Who's crowd, the blues feel my news
Accurately in New York City
There's a thousand motherfuckers tryin' to rap and look pretty
Save it for David

Take that motherfuckin' rented ride back to Avis
When it come to rap I'm the big motherfucker on the pay list
Ridin' the Amtrak, lookin' at Billboard
You need to be hung on a steel cord

Sittin' next to a Doberman, shit in Harlem
Any poodles on the mic, we gon' stop 'em
I'm in the dressin' room with the average bitch
Lookin' like halle berry, rubbin' my nuts

My fingers all up in her guts
Watchin' Monday night football with my dick all up in her butt
MC's stand away when I pull out my mitt put your hand away
Most of these fake hard rappers never seen the projects

Live in fuckin' pesquateway
Scared, palm that away
Why don't you bastards move back in the metro area
The Marriott is the spot

Where the prostitutes lick your Rolex watch
Left you naked out with your stomach out
Hangin' out with cocaine on the dresser
With a Puerto Rican girl with HIV from park chester

You sniffin' that shit again
Souped up from the neck up from the butt crack up
You need a fuckin' checkup

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat
Dr. Dooom is in the room
Walkin' up the street, with bare feet, eatin' raw steak meat

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f2eb84e64e8902650e1dcbb1ac74b199

U Ain'T Gotta Go Home - Lyrics - Joe Budden - Joe Budden

Title: U Ain'T Gotta Go Home
Album: Joe Budden
Artist: Joe Budden
Composer(s): Joseph Kuleszynski, Joseph Budden

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

Lyric:
Yeah the world famous DJ Clue desert storm
Jump off Joe Buddens on top
This go out to all my niggas
You ain't gotta chain but you got a
Mean muthafuckin' wrist game
All my ladies you ain't got a car but you gotta
Mean muthafuckin' heel game
Click them heels you know how we do it c'mon c'mon
Woh woh okay dub
Woh have some fun with it

Mami I'm there if you fine in the rear
We can get into whatever if you don't mind boo be yeah
And when I'm done slidin' you somethin' fierce
You ain't gotta go home but you gotta get the fuck outta here

I ain't got to tell homeboy he know that
This is 'Matrix Reloaded' and Neo's back
I'm up humble apologies sorry clowns
I'm here for the long run I ain't coffee brown

Get to know me the man the person
So by the time I'm on my fifth album
You should understand the first one
It's non-fiction you deny you want proof
I only buck in the air when the sky's in the booth

You gets liable to shoot
This twenty-two release some extra keyholes
On the driver's side of your coupe
Like nighty night here's your lullaby bitches
You might need just a lil' more than butterfly stitches

Get out of line and get stuck up duke
Lose your spines tryin' to touch us jukes
Get to the mall in a circle guns out playin' duck-duck goose
This shit is kinda aight till I fuck in the booth

I'm sayin' I'm here got my nine up in here
Thugs wanna rumble I don't mind nigga yeah
And when I'm done slidin' up somethin' fierce
You ain't gotta go home but you gotta get the fuck outta here

Like I don't roll with niggas that'll lift ayn chrome
Take a look at 'em you can see they just skin and bones
Y'all talk about bricks when y'all know who move 'em
Us real niggas make withdrawls while y'all go through 'em

We carry long guns we can contra on it
We talk about it we live it y'all ponder on it
Shit ridiculously priced us cons afford it
I'm talkin' straight cash you might need a sponsor for it

But wait ever met somebody that wouldn't chill
Every second he feel the need to let you know that he's real
Every second he wanna talk about his homies that died
And the people he killed and in the future all the people he will

Talk about who he stabbed and beat up and he won't cool out
Yakety-yakkin' he's reminiscing on different shootouts
How he was there shotties was blastin' cops came with body bags
And he's talkin' but nobody asked him

Naw he want attention he want his name yelled
And me and him always end up in the same cell
I'm pissed on the top bunk I can't sleep this guy ain't street
Go 'head nigga I ain't beef but feel

Stop there who popped him where
Who you backed out on and had the whole block scared
Ma when I'm done pokin' you from the rear
You ain't gotta go home but you gotta get the fuck outta here

Ma you real aggressive catchin' me of balance
It's a turn off don't you know niggas respect a challenge
Move a lil' slow gettin' at me
Treat the pussy like it's worth somethin'
Don't just go throwin' it at me 'coz

While you doin' it at the same time
I'm thinkin' how many niggas hit you wit that same line?
Or how many other niggas you ran game to?
How many niggas you fucked or you gave brain to?

How many other dudes houses you done came to?
With condoms on you hopin' that he find 'em on you
And I ain't tryin' to catch nothin' from you
So I'm caught up in a catch twenty-two

If I don't fuck her then I'm not like guys she met before
So while I'm turnin' her down she's just likin' me more
But if I do get to pokin' hit her with long strokin'
I now have a girlie on my hands that's open

I don't want her callin' me constantly
Thinkin' 'coz I fucked her she got a bond with me
I don't want her misunderstandin' a one night stand
It was just a nut I'm not your man

Ma I'm there if you fine in the rear
We can get into whatever if you don't mind boo be yeah
And when I'm done slidin' you somethin' fierce
You ain't gotta go home but you gotta get the fuck outta here

Ma I'm there name a time and where
We can get into whatever if you don't mind boo be yeah
And when I'm done pokin' you from the rear
You ain't gotta go home but you gotta get the fuck outta here

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87ae3932f18eec4fab50283a6b39c428

Body Bag - Lyrics - First Come First Served - Dr. Dooom

Title: Body Bag
Album: First Come First Served
Artist: Dr. Dooom
Composer(s): Kurt Matlin, Keith Thornton

Lyric:
Yeah, Dr. Dooom, beware when I walk in your room
That's right, A K A, Kool Keith

I'm washin' pots and pans, fried gorillas with tortilla chips
And clam dips, my pants ripped, playin' 'Gladys Knight'
On Fright night, with buffalo meat in your ass vomit
Gastric juice with French toast, balls from a moose

Heavy convulsion construction in your stomach tucked in
Leave you with Maalox and Castor oil of toxic waste
Your area's vacant with where house aroma
Cat turds and horse drops your face went into a coma

Exterminating houses, with fifty mouses, diapers and kids
Drivin' trucks for the roach business
Twelve to nine, I move body bags to Cedar Sinai
Eatin' co-workers food, I'm rude
Walk in the beverage center with a jockstrap dude

Approach security with a delivery
Never stating a major, cut cables in elevators
Make the rush hour stop draggin' dead elephants in department stores
While, people shop, with a briefcase from Spelmen

I have to tell men, get off my back
I'm workin' overtime like a janitor with stamina
Buried the last bodies in Canada
In Toronto, I used to jerk off in a ten room condo
With serious surgery Dr. Dooom workin' in the office building

Drivin' some Bronco like O.J. Simpson
Nervous smokin' a pack of Winston's
With twenty-seven dead people in Pontiac, Michigan
Twenty-eight in Denver, twenty-eight, I can't remember
Walkin' through a town called, Gatesville
You suckers out there, know how Norman Bates feel

Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight

From a little town, that's right a tore down house
With some real estate in Peat skill
I ran a meat market behind Johnny Rocket's
Paid truckers to haul body pieces from the East to the West
With 'The Devil' branded on your chest

I had to step up and the judge wrote 'Confess'
Watch the whole Arkansas Kansas City testify
Against my lies and my alibis, I was surprised
My lawyers dressed in black and a Rolls Royce buried in the back

Arms missing, knees cut down to the knubs
All I had was people to grub, stories to tell to the Enquirer
How I set a bunch of people in the nightclub on fire
My intention was to get even like Spielberg
Throw like Stephen King, 'Children of the Corn' on a swing

I stuck needles in your face like Pinhead
You been dead for eighty hours in a college dorm
With a thunderstorm, lightning with big bolts
I used to hang with Jim Jones before he started the cults
The SSA, the Sacrifice and Serve-it Angle, I'm the next strangler

Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight
Hey what's that smell down there?
Take that body and bag it, then I'm outta sight

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6d5389611162aeff2f7e7d9ffc528779

Endangered Species (Tales From The Darkside) [Remix] - Chuck D Listen - Lyrics - Kill At Will - Ice Cube

Title: Endangered Species (Tales From The Darkside) [Remix] - Chuck D Listen
Album: Kill At Will
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Bernard Worrell, William Earl Collins, Eric Sadler, O'Shea Jackson, Carlton Ridenhour, Jr., George Clinton, Garry Shider, Anthony Wheaton, Grace Cook Hazel

Lyric:
Peace. ha-ha don't make me laugh
All I hear is motherfuckers talkin' succotash
Livin' large, tellin' me to get out the gang
I'm a nigga, gotta live by the trigger
How the fuck do you figure?
That I can say peace and the gunshots won't cease
Every cop killin' goes ignored
They just send another nigga to the morgue
A point scored- they could give a fuck about us
They rather catch us with guns and white powder
If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me
Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy
They kill ten of me to get the job correct
To serve, protect, and break a nigga's neck
'Cause I'm the one with the trunk of funk
And "Fuck Tha Police" in the tape deck
You should listen to me 'cause there's more to see
Call my neighborhood a ghetto 'cause it houses minorities
The other color don't know you can run but not hide
These are tales from the darkside

You wanna free Africa, I stare at you
'Cause we ain't got it too good in America
I can't fuck with them overseas
My homeboy died over a key of cocaine
It was plain and simple
The nine millimeter went pop to the temple
Pop pop pop was the sound I put the bitch down
And ran to the schoolyard bathroom
Looked in the trash can yo it had room
So I ducked my ass in it for a minute
Covered with sweat I had the layback
Mad as fuck, thinkin' about the payback
Tonight the crew gonna have a little fun
I went home and cocked the barrel of my shotgun
It's gettin' critical - I start the five-point-oh
There they go - drive real slow
I yelled out "Ice Cube sucka"
Shot gun hit - and murder motherfuckers
I told you last album, when I got a sawed off, bodies are hard off
Its a shame, that niggas die young
But to the light side it don't matter none
It'll be a drive by homicide
But to me it's just another tale from the darkside

Standing in the middle of war
The middle we flex
When we die, they won't make check
Ebony can't see to the darkside
The term they apply to us is a nigga
Call it what you want, 'cause I'm comin' from the coroner
Same applies with a PhD
Who's black - don't wanna role - sells his soul
Watch his head go rollin'
Who the fuck are they foolin'?
Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes
Matches the color of the one on my face as they wonder what's under my waist
Standin' on the verge of them gettin' brown
That's a fact got a fear on their bozack
Run, run, run, their ass off, they can not hide
Yet cube, they can't fuck with the darkside

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2facbb6c0790bba1ef958128c1197d00

We Don'T Need It - Lyrics - Hardcore - Lil' Kim

Title: We Don'T Need It
Album: Hardcore
Artist: Lil' Kim
Composer(s): James Lloyd, Rayshaun Spain, Kimberly Jones, Mark Charles Richardson, Roger Troutman, Shirley Murdock, Larry Troutman

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

Lyric:
Yeah, fuck that, yo, I want some pussy tonight
I think I wanna fuck my bitch, Goldie an' shit
Only because she got some money for me an' shit
I think about fuckin' her
An' go fuck my other bitch that live in fuckin' big houses
I don't know what the fuck I'm gonna do but check it

How you spell cash? C's an' some hash
At last, a nigga kickin' game full blast
How you want it, diamonds or dime-elles
Jansport bookbags an' bags from Chanel?

It's Seebeeaki smellin' up my Kawasaki
Jawns by Versace, all them joints by Jockey
Clock me workin' real hard for a nickel
He drive a tricycle an' his pants too little
An' his shoes too little

Won't you get with the clique with the big ass dicks
That make sure your kicks fit?
The real shit, true balla pack steel shit
The nigga with the movie an' the mill' shit

Mass appeal get me in the clubs for free
So all you got to do for me is just
Make your way to my king sized bed
An' lie on my pillows an' my Gucci bedspreads
Keep your pussy, I got other plans instead
Just gimme some head, gimme some head

If you ain't suckin' no dick
We don't need it, we don't need it
If you ain't lickin' no clits
We don't want it, we don't want it

If you ain't drinkin' no nut
We don't need it, we don't need it
If you ain't lickin' no butts
We don't want it, we don't want it

Some bitches do an' some bitches don't
Ride a dick 'til he bust, shit, I know I won't
Niggas cum too fast for me
A waste of a good dick, if you ask me

I like a nigga like to put his back in it
If it's a weave, fuck around an' pull a track in it
All I get few strokes, that's it
This bomb ass shit got your cigarettes lit

Who me? Forced to use plan B
Masturbate, play with the pussy
This nigga here bust off snorin'
He straight, I knew this date would be borin'

I wanna wake him up to do his duty
Nigga, use that tongue
Click the booty, click the booty

You wanna steal the pussy like a thief
Now kiss the lips without the teeth
So I could bust a nut or two, come clean like Jeru
Goodnight to you too, boo

If you ain't suckin' no dick
We don't want it, we don't want it
If you ain't lickin' no clits
We don't need it, we don't need it

If you ain't drinkin' no nut
We don't want it, we don't want it
If you ain't lickin' no butts
We don't need it, we don't need it

Nine out of ten women, want to spin
On the snake of Blake Carrington
But I need much more to get raw
Hard core, dick to jaw, dick to jaw

You drinkin' babies
Don't wanna hear baby strictly, yes, boo
Well, if he cum up on your chest slow

If not, then your not down with me
Little Ceasar, Van Clef or B.I.G.
Capone, Nino or Bugsy
Don't ask Kim for a date, she want her pussy ate

If you ain't suckin' no dick
We don't want it, we don't want it
If you ain't lickin' no clits
We don't need it, we don't need it

If you ain't drinkin' no nut
We don't want it, we don't want it
If you ain't lickin' no butts
We don't need it, we don't need it

We don't want it, we don't want it

Gimme some head
Gimme some head
Gimme some head
...

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6fd5efe98408ee45ef147dc14f0db6b2

Six Minutes - Lyrics - Even In Darkness - Dungeon Family

Title: Six Minutes
Album: Even In Darkness
Artist: Dungeon Family
Composer(s): Willie Knighton, D Davis, R Waters, R Bailey, E Johnson, Patrick Brown, Frederick Bell, Thomas Burton, R Murray, J Williams, Cameron Gipp, R Barnett, Antwar Patton, Rico Wade

Lyric:
360 seconds, it's on
Unlimited firsts, from calibers unknown
Come wit it in ya verse or take a job and stay gone
I don't care if it's rehearsed or off the top of your dome

With this specified time, you can do as you please
Make a decision to create life or spread death and disease
We got 360 degrees of emcees
That make these rap niggaz sound like they swangin' from trees
Everythang from brain food to puttin' broads on they knees
We do it all for the love and never all for the cheese

Hot tub, bubbling like warm water, call me, hot tub
Cut your wife and daughter like a meat cleaver
We be the Dungeon Family
Niggaz up under the step from A T L to overstand me

D F is the clique I represent
Puffin' purple, poppin' poppers, spittin' straight pimp shit
Conversation without compensation, we sensed this
It's not to mention that yo' girl, you're persistent in
Nothin' physical happened but give me six minutes
When ya off, somebody gon' get in it

Say no names, wear my hair longer than your first strang
Yo' girl wish she was drafted for the Georgia drill team
But I ain't gon' say no more
You need to catch somebody else I'm 'bout to hit the door, I'm out

Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on
Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on

Fine lil' mama, my home gon' be a palace
Laid out like a salad, keep a nigga from malice
I'm movin' things to the South
A dog like me need a pussycat 'round the house, with a row bone

Ain't nothin' like me and you baby with no clothes on
I'm tired of runnin' the streets all night
And a girlfriend ain't gon' stay down, witcha like a wife
I can't let all you girls get to my head
'Cuz you know what I want between them legs

Hey, I'm just walkin' outta foot locker, strollin' through Greenbriar
Stepped in the food court, just gonna but a bean pot
Ay, cool, cool cutta, cut her to the finch
If a girl gotta future behind her, I'm up in it

And I'd like a pretty lady with a tailback mouth
'Cuz if you hit the right spot, she'll go back runnin' her mouth
Now, every time I meet a girl, she puttin' her hand in her purse
And when my next record drop, I ain't wearin' no shirt
Let's do it

Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on
Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on

Oh, oh, oh

Hats off, nigga, can we put a fist in it 'fore we handle business?
Hallelujah, for the bank, Benz's, houses, hummers, tanks and all that
Gon' see, that they mean shack in the end
The world was my enemy, yes, who all was my friends

On the strong delucious
Unstoppable, followin' the tradition of men
Can't say, "Aww, look at that man
He's too dirty for industry", dead ass or is he

Five minutes and fifty nine seconds gone by
Are you really ready for this lyrical high?
We can shoot without bullets, D F to the fullest
Should it ever come to light?

It's true art, not hype
Come strong, take the mic, make sure it's tight
I rock a party all night with my team on the right
Straight ready for the lights, camera, action, Miss Jackson

Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on
Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on

Introdu, introdu, introducing ice cold water
We stay sharp as a broke glass bottle
Just as sure as four quarters make a dollar
Ten dimes do too and I ain't takin' none shorter

Pay attention to every quote we say
'Cuz I got this here like it's in stores today
Holla, ready to rock, when he step on the scene
'Cuz shorty stay clean like, shicka-ding, shicka-ding

Well, I can be that and you need that, freaky D that
And if you want your monologue and open come and seek me
A few done fried man or we can bligh man
I'm the guy that kill ya cat and I dare you to defy me

If you can time me, I promise in sixty seconds
You'll be intriged and overwhelmed and obligated to rewind me
That reminds me and my name is the divinely
Human Cee and I hope you had a freaky time fuckin' with me

Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on
Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on

Oh, oh, oh

Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on
Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on

Oh, oh, oh

Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on
Six minutes, six minutes
Six minutes, Dungeon Family you're on

Oh, oh, oh

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1921fee72c621ef7e251def540bd3908

Out Of Control - Lyrics - Dave Alvin

Title: Out Of Control
Artist: Dave Alvin
Composer(s): Dave Alvin

Lyric:
I scored some speed in San Berdino
So me and baby could get a little bump
And now she?s in that motel room
Puttin? on a show for some chump

Yeah, well, baby?s gotta make a livin?
And I don?t mind waitin? out in the car
?Cause I got some nine millimeter muscle
In case things go too far

You know I try to take it easy, man
And just go with the flow
But sometimes things can get a little bit
Out of control

Well, my old man worked his whole life
In the Kaiser steel slag pit
And I worked there for a while back when I was a kid
But I got tired of all their shit

But that was years ago, man
Before they tore that Fontana plant down
And my old man smoked himself
Into a six-foot hole in the ground

And I got the same bad habit
And it?ll probably take its toll
But sometimes it?s the only thing that keeps me
From goin? out of control

Well, my ex-wife?s workin? evenings
At a Sizzler makin? minimum wage
And she?s cleanin? up other people?s houses
Every day just like some slave

And she?s livin? with the kids in a mobile home
Just off the 60 freeway
Some nights I go to see her
And sometimes she lets me stay

Since she found Jesus
She?s always tryin? to save my soul
Yeah, but every now and then she still likes to get
A little out of control

I used to work a little construction
But I never got along with my boss
So I do a little import export
Makin? enough just to cover my costs

And I?m losin? my hair and I?m losin? my teeth
But I?m tryin? to keep my grip
And live to see one more day
Without makin? any stupid slips

You know I could have played the game man
And just done what I was told
But I guess I was born just a little bit
Out of control

Baby gets done in there, I?m gonna
Take her for a little ride
Cruise up into the mountains
Park the car and get a little high

?Cause baby likes to look at the shootin? stars
And make wishes as they fly by
And I like lookin? down at the city
From way up there in the sky

Then I pull baby close to me
When it starts gettin? cold
Close my eyes for a little while and let the world
Spin out of control

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32a074711cdb1c8a23ef3d1086601376

When Animals Attack - Lyrics - Distort Yourself - Institute

Title: When Animals Attack
Album: Distort Yourself
Artist: Institute
Composer(s): Gavin Rossdale, Christopher Traynor

Lyric:
These nights are getting longer
Seems like I've always been awake
There is danger in the houses
A nemesis in shape

She took my metal bones
Placed them where I could feel again
You know how bad things get

When animals attack, you need fire
When animals attack, you need fire

Nine lives for the madmen
Trouble for the sane
What is good for your survival
May not be good for your health

She took my mental bones
She took my soul and everything
You know how bad things get

When animals attack, you need fire
When animals attack, you need fire
When animals attack and

When there's no way out
When there's no way out
When there's no way

The more I need the less I know
How I will try to need less
Try to need less

She cooked my mental bones
She took my soul and everything
You know how sad things get

When animals attack, you need fire
When animals attack, you need fire
When animals attack
When animals attack

When there is no way out
When there is now way out
When there is no way out
When there is no way

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867d16a1bf335a7a9abc479972215bf9

Endangered Species (Tales From The Darkside) - Lyrics - Featuring... Ice Cube - Ice Cube

Title: Endangered Species (Tales From The Darkside)
Album: Featuring... Ice Cube
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Bernard Worrell, William Earl Collins, Eric Sadler, O'Shea Jackson, Carlton Ridenhour, Jr., George Clinton, Garry Shider, Anthony Wheaton, Grace Cook Hazel

Lyric:
Peace. ha-ha don't make me laugh
All I hear is motherfuckers talkin' succotash
Livin' large, tellin' me to get out the gang
I'm a nigga, gotta live by the trigger
How the fuck do you figure?
That I can say peace and the gunshots won't cease
Every cop killin' goes ignored
They just send another nigga to the morgue
A point scored- they could give a fuck about us
They rather catch us with guns and white powder
If I was old, they'd probably be a friend of me
Since I'm young, they consider me the enemy
They kill ten of me to get the job correct
To serve, protect, and break a nigga's neck
'Cause I'm the one with the trunk of funk
And "Fuck Tha Police" in the tape deck
You should listen to me 'cause there's more to see
Call my neighborhood a ghetto 'cause it houses minorities
The other color don't know you can run but not hide
These are tales from the darkside

You wanna free Africa, I stare at you
'Cause we ain't got it too good in America
I can't fuck with them overseas
My homeboy died over a key of cocaine
It was plain and simple
The nine millimeter went pop to the temple
Pop pop pop was the sound I put the bitch down
And ran to the schoolyard bathroom
Looked in the trash can yo it had room
So I ducked my ass in it for a minute
Covered with sweat I had the layback
Mad as fuck, thinkin' about the payback
Tonight the crew gonna have a little fun
I went home and cocked the barrel of my shotgun
It's gettin' critical - I start the five-point-oh
There they go - drive real slow
I yelled out "Ice Cube sucka"
Shot gun hit - and murder motherfuckers
I told you last album, when I got a sawed off, bodies are hard off
Its a shame, that niggas die young
But to the light side it don't matter none
It'll be a drive by homicide
But to me it's just another tale from the darkside

Standing in the middle of war
The middle we flex
When we die, they won't make check
Ebony can't see to the darkside
The term they apply to us is a nigga
Call it what you want, 'cause I'm comin' from the coroner
Same applies with a PhD
Who's black - don't wanna role - sells his soul
Watch his head go rollin'
Who the fuck are they foolin'?
Nobody knows, but I suppose the color of my clothes
Matches the color of the one on my face as they wonder what's under my waist
Standin' on the verge of them gettin' brown
That's a fact got a fear on their bozack
Run, run, run, their ass off, they can not hide
Yet cube, they can't fuck with the darkside

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Take It In Blood - Lyrics - It Was Written - Nas

Title: Take It In Blood
Album: It Was Written
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): Joseph Pruitt, Trevor Randolph, Randy Walker, Maurice Smith, James T Epps, Nasir Jones, Cedric Miller, Keith M Thornton

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Lyric:
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that

Yo, I never brag, how real I keep it, 'cause it's the best secret
I rock a vest, prestigious, Cuban link flooded Jesus
In a Lex watchin' Kathie Lee and Regis
My actions are one with the seasons

A tec' squeezin', executioner, winter time I rock a fur
Mega popular, center of attraction
Climaxin', my bitches they be laughin'
They high from sniffin' coke off a twenty-cent Andrew Jackson

City lights spark a New York night
Rossi and Martini sippin', Sergio Tachinni flippin' mad pies
Low price, I blow dice and throw 'em
Forty-five by my scrotum, manifest the, "Do or Die" slogan

My niggaz roll in ten M3's
Twenty Gods poppin' wheelies on Kawasaki's
Hip-Hop's got me on some ol', sprayin shots like a drumroll
Blankin' out and never miscount the shells my gun hold

I don't stunt, I regulate
Henny and Sprite, I seperate, watchin' crab niggaz marinate
I'm all about tecs and good jooks and sex
Israelite books, holdin' government names from Ness
MC's are crawlin' out, every hole in the slum
You be aight like blood money in a pimp's cum

I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
For, you wack MC's

Currency is made in trust of the Messiah
I'm spending it to get higher
Earth, Wind, and Fire singing reasons why I'm
Up early, trustworthy is a nine that bust early

Sunshine on my grill, I spill
Remi on imaginary graves, put my hat on my waves
Latter Day Saints say religious praise
I dolo, challenge any team or solo

You must be buggin' out, new to my shit, home on a furlough
Ask around, who's laid up, sharp and straight up
Mafioso, gettin' niggaz wigs sprayed up
Skies are misty, my life's predicted by a gypsy

I'll one day walk into shots drunk off champange from Sicily
This be the drama, I'ma pause like a comma
In a sentence, paragraph's indented
Bloodshot red eyes, high, yellow envelopes of lye

Openin' cigars, let tobacco fly
Condos are tuneproof, we're looking out the sky's moonroof
Shittin' like gin and prune juice
Yo the system wants the coon's noose, hang 'em high

Courtrooms filled up, it's off the hook while I just wrote a statement
Like I'm facing twenty years in the basement
Chilling on the via with Mumia for wearin' chrome, I told the judge
Snakes slither like Sharon Stone, but like Capone I'm thrown

I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
For, you wack MC's

I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
For, you wack MC's

Yo the time is wastin', I use the mind elevation
Dime sack lacin', court pen pacin'
Individual, lyrical math abrasion
Psychic evaluation, the foulest nation

We livin' in, dangerous lives, mad leak and battered wives
A lifestyle where bad streets is patternized
Wise men build and destroy
While the real McCoy dopefiend, named Detroit is still dealin' boy

Coke suppliers actin' biased
'Cause rumors say that niggaz wear wires and we liars
But every night the gat's fired, and every day a rat's hired
I still remain the mack flyest in the phat Kani

It's just the killer in me, slash drug dealer MC
Ex-slug filler, semi mug peeler
Demi, bottles of Mo', yo simply follow me flow
Put poetry inside a crack pot and blow

Rough holes for cracked out pussies and buttholes
Bring the G's and the D's roll, they can't touch those
Why shoot the breeze about it, when you could be about it?
My degrees are routed, toward the peasy haired brick houses

Instead of the fake medallions
Rich niggaz transport in thousands
Foreign cash exchange amountin' to millions
Doors is locked, rocks is chopped, watch the cameras in the ceilings

Trick bitches catching mad feelings
Peelin' off in the Lex Jeep, techniques is four-wheelin'
I bet it be some shit when we connect with Stretch
When we catch them sex niggaz with the tecs you blessed, word
So now it's on, never wasted a slug
Time is money when it comes to mine, take it in blood

I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
For, you wack MC's
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that

I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that
For, you wack MC's
I made it like that, I bought it like that, I'm livin' like that

Gambo, Brownsville
Wizard, Fort Rockaway
Big Jersey
Connecticut, D.C., Sudan
V.A., N.C., L.A.
So on and so on
Big Ha, Houston Fifth Ward

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