On Fiya - Lyrics - The Price Of Fame - Bow Wow

Title: On Fiya
Album: The Price Of Fame
Artist: Bow Wow
Composer(s): Rufus Morgan, Tad Mingo, Shad Moss

Lyric:
Now catch me ridin' through the streets sittin' low
You can feel my bass bumpin' out my cherry '64
Cruisin' at about sixty just to let my hair blow
If you know me then, you know I'm about my dough

I'm ridin' on spinners, so you know they gon' chop
I'ma stay on top and you know that ain't gon' stop
When it come to competition, man, I blow 'em out the bar
Bow Wow, the boy, so fresh, so fly

I've been makin' money, so my bank on swole
Hottest thang out since I was five years old
Every time I do a show, you know it's sold out
Anytime I'm in your city, I'ma shut the thing down

I'm far from a lame just to let you suckas know
I'ma show you how to stunt with them suicide doors
And you know that I'm a pimp, if you didn't know, now you know
If your chick lookin' at me, please believe she gon' go

Now when I walk up in the club, I'm lookin' so fly
I got 26's homie, sittin' on the ride
Wanna talk about girls? I got 'em on the side
When it comes to this rap thing, man, I'm on fiya

When I walk up in the club, I'm lookin' so fly
I got 26's homie, sittin' on the ride
Wanna talk about girls? I got 'em on the side
When it comes to this rap thing, man, I'm on fiya

I'm known from hood to hood, town to town
Ask around, man, they all know how I get down
I got my game goin', I got my grill showin'
And I'm a big big balla and I love to flaunt it

I got a all red Magnum, chicks, yeah, I'm bangin' 'em
Collectin' all kinda checks and you know I'm cashin' 'em
From the 614 to the 678
All my *** on the block, go on, get that cake

Lil' momma drop it low, let me see that *** shake
Jumpin' over, bein' real, homeboy never fake
I'm the prince of hip hop, y'all and it won't stop, y'all
L B Dub, game goin' to the top, y'all

It really ain't nothin' that the boy can't do
He'd wreck his videos, not to mention movies too
Go 'head throw it up, homie, rep where ya from
Open up your trunk, dog and just let them beats bump

Now when I walk up in the club, I'm lookin' so fly
I got 26's homie, sittin' on the ride
Wanna talk about girls? I got 'em on the side
When it comes to this rap thing, man, I'm on fiya

When I walk up in the club, I'm lookin' so fly
I got 26's homie, sittin' on the ride
Wanna talk about girls? I got 'em on the side
When it comes to this rap thing, man, I'm on fiya

Now from the 305 to the 212
Go ahead throw it up, homie, rep where ya from
And from the 773 to the 404
Go ahead throw it up, homie, rep where ya from

From the 313 to the 215
Go ahead throw it up, homie, rep where ya from
From the 202 to the 310
Go ahead throw it up, homie, rep where ya from

Now when I walk up in the club, I'm lookin' so fly
I got 26's homie, sittin' on the ride
Wanna talk about girls? I got 'em on the side
When it comes to this rap thing, man, I'm on fiya

When I walk up in the club, I'm lookin' so fly
I got 26's homie, sittin' on the ride
Wanna talk about girls? I got 'em on the side
When it comes to this rap thing, man, I'm on fiya

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Lose Control - Lyrics - Cookbook - Missy Elliott

Title: Lose Control
Album: Cookbook
Artist: Missy Elliott
Composer(s): Richard Davis, Ciara Harris, Juan Atkins, Curtis Lee Hudson, Bernard Lentz, Isaac Iii Freeman, Willie Lee Duckworth, Melissa A Elliott

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Lyric:
Music make you lose control
Music make you lose control

Let?s go, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey
Here we go now, here we go now
Here we go now, here we go now
Watch out now
(Music make you lose control)

Misdemeanor?s in da house
Ciara?s in da house
Misdemeanor?s in tha house
Fat man scoop man scoop man scoop

I?ve got a cute face
Chubby waist
Thick legs in shape
Rump shakin? both ways

Make you do a double take
Planet rocka show stoppa
Flo? proppa head knocka
Beat styla tail droppa

Do ma thang muthafuckas
Ma rose Royce Lamborghini
Blue Madina always beamin?
Ragtop chrome pipes

Blue lights outta sight
Know me sow it in
Set it in sow it in
Make dat money tho it in
Booty bouncing gon hit

Everybody here
Get it outta control
Get yo backs off tha wall
'Cuz Misdemeanor said so

Everybody
(Step,step)
Everybody
Everybody
(Step,step)
Everybody

Well ma name is Ciara
For all you fly fellas
No one can do it betta
She?ll sing on acapella

Boy the music
Makes me lose control
We gon? make you lose control
And let it go fo you know
You gon hit tha flo?

I rock to the beat till I?m
(Tired)
Walk in da club it?s
(Fiya)

Get it crunked and wired
Wave ya hands scream
(Louda)
If you smoke den fiya it up

Bring da roof down den
(Holla)
If you tipsy stand up
DJ turn it
(Louda)

Take somebody by da waist den
Now tho it in dey face like
Hypnotic, robotic
This here will rock yo bodies

Take somebody by da waist den
Now tho it in dey face like
Systematic, histatic
This hit be automatic

Work wait
Work, work, work wait
Work, work, work wait
Work, work, work wait
Do it right

Hit tha floor, hit tha floor
Hit tha floor, hit tha floor
Hit tha floor, hit tha floor
Hit tha floor

Everybody here
Get it outta control
Get yo backs off tha wall
Cuz Misdemeanor said so

Everybody
(Step,step)
Everybody
Everybody
(Step,step)
Everybody

Let?s go
Everybody here
Get it outta control
Get yo backs off da wall
'Cuz Misdemeanor said

So, everybody
(Step, step)
Everybody
(Keep on steppin')

Everybody
(Step,step)
Everybody
(Step)
Get loose

Now put yo back on tha wall
Put yo back on tha wall
Put yo back on tha wall
Put yo back on tha wall

Misdemeanor?s in da house
Yeh, Ciara?s in da house
Misdemeanor?s in tha house
(Music make you lose control)

We on fiya we on fiya
We on fiya we on fiya
Now tho it girl, tho it girl, tho it girl
Yeah, now move yo arm to tha left girl

Now move yo arm to tha left girl
Now move yo arm to tha right girl
Now move yo arm to tha right girl
Let?s go now, let?s go now, let?s go now

Woo, let?s go
Should I bring it back right now?
Now bring it back now
I see you C

Now see I'm a I'm a do it like C do it
Now shake it girl
Come on and jus shake it girl
Come on and let it pop right girl

Come on and let it pop right girl
Now back it up girl
Back it up girl
Back it up girl
Back it up girl

Woooo, woooo, woooo, go go
Bring it to da front girl go go
Bring it to da front girl go go
Bring it to da front girl go go
Bring it to da front girl let?s go, let?s go, let?s go

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We'Re On Fire - Lyrics - Foxy Brown

Title: We'Re On Fire
Artist: Foxy Brown
Composer(s): Phillip Bernard, David C Brooks, Inga Marchand, A Mischkulnig, Robert Perry

Lyric:
Number one baby
Black Hand, Movado, gangsta
Ayo, I gotta do this with my stylin? voice
Ayo

See it's the Louboutin leather pump Don Diva
Get my Kevin Chiles on call me Don Diva
I?m in the Zac Posen, strapless with the back open
Back loc?ing tossing petals off of Black Roses

This is more gutta, this is more crack
And I ain?t change, I been the same bitch before rap
The only thing that changed is my ass got more fat
But my titties been crazy baby

You ain?t gotta ask who back, you soft bitch move back
Had BK on my back, even Shawn couldn?t do that
I cruise all slow in the S-Class down Classen
Pullin' up in traffic on Nostrand and Patchin'

I took six years off, I let 'em have rap
And y?all bitches played with it, I came to snatch it back then
Put it back on the project bench
And made every gangsta nigga want a dark-skinned bitch

We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
'Cuz I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?
We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
Since a chick want a nigga and a clubbin?

We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
'Cuz I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?
Makin? paper, money stashin?
Since I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?

So wanna bloodclaut this man, bad gal 'bout here
Drips out the pussy them na friend gal 'bout here
Bitch now the body sting round here
Big star body, kill off every dirty gal roll near

Bitch bust a shot and fiya
Two shots fiya, fiya, put the pussy pon fiya
Yes Iya, dress fliya, hoppin? out the Bentley coupe
On Flatbush and Empire

Y?all rap bitches, I will ruin ?em
My reps for the boostin? bitches with them bags full of aluminum
One love to Tu and them, Clyde, Shyne and Shoe and them
Chaz, Prince and Graff the whole fuckin? crew and them

Can?t forget Scruce and them, Shabar and Dew and them
Kev, Wedge, Draft and BIG I ate food with them
Y?all know Fox run the block bitches
It?s the Fox bitches, for the bloodclaut bitches, murdah

We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
'Cuz I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?
We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
Since a chick want a nigga and a clubbin?

We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
'Cuz I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?
Makin? paper, money stashin?
Since I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?

We?re makin? cheese, slowly with ease
With small fuck these easily from the G?z
The goons from the land of kings
Her breasts me squeeze all night, she make me pleased

You want promote the gangsta life and hustle
Now my girls approach you and know boy can?t bust with
And now it?s all fine and they all come sit
We?re not goin? nowhere, don?t fuck with this

Yes, Fox I?m back baby and I?m still with the hand still
Still in the hood, nigga still on the block still
Still in the Benz baby, still in the drop still
I?m still in the chinchillas, still move wit them killas, woah

Besides that I got my hearing back
The same attitude like what the fuck you staring at
Homie, my case is beat, I?m still spitting heat
Who ya know rep it harder than me, Brooklyn

We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
'Cuz I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?
We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
Since a chick want a nigga and a clubbin?

We?re on fire, we ain?t stoppin?
'Cuz I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?
Makin? paper, money stashin?
Since I really, really wanna know what?s happenin?

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