Philly Philly - Lyrics - Ruff Ryder's First Lady - Eve

Title: Philly Philly
Album: Ruff Ryder's First Lady
Artist: Eve
Composer(s): Eve Jeffers, G Canters, Kaseem Dean, Dwight Grant, Darrin Dean

Lyric:
Beanie Siegal, Philly is where I'm from

We from P H I L A, period
PA, period, Eve they hearin' it
Believe they fearin' it but lovin' it though
I hate the game, fuck the fame but I'm lovin' the dough

You couldn't tell me in a million years
An' a thousands bars that I roam the Reservoir with Dogs
Show the world what 'Crew Love' was about
Drop adrenaline, 4, 5, 6, I show them what a thug was about

I know you love flossin' wit X, bustin' them checks
Gettin' tattoos, paw prints on your chest
I ain't mad, baby, get that cash
Make them hatin' bitches kiss your ass
Ruff Ryde lift that [Incomprehensible]

I'm gon' walk 'til I see how these fleas' gon' feel
When I come through wit the whip with the bee's on the wheel
Burgundy thing, cream gut, cherry wood
Steerin' wheel or be surround by the wing on the hood

I know they like, ?How they collide?
He roll wit Roc, you Ruff Ryde?, but we Black Friday tied
How you think they gon' feel seein' us Grammy night?
Let me tell you, a bunch of if, ands an' mights

Billboard charts, source ad an' mics
An' if I say so myself, goddamn, we tight
Fuck bein' humble, ain't no other way to end this
We ain't open up the door
We knocked that bitch up off the hinges

Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from

No doubt we represent P H I L A, period
E V E, period, fuck wit Beanie, period
We gon' hold it down for Illdelph for life
Came through made a name, nigga nailed it tight

An' now we shine, been knew, shit, it was about time
Switched from streets, the beats, platinum lines
Used to struggle in the hood just to brodie the mic
Took the fame 'cause they ain't give it us, now we excite

The biggest crowds an' they screamin' loud, ?Philly the shit?
Roc-a-fella rap guerrilla, blond bombshell bitch
I Ruff Ryde, take your mind, shit, you doin' the same
Work hard, now the streets stay shoutin' our names

Fame is funny, get money, snakes in the grass
When the hostility shows, niggas face get smashed
But I stay grounded, brick house stallion
My bitches keep me real while I make millions

Pile it all, we gon' have it all any minute
Give it back the hood an' we gon' ball in a minute
'Cause anything we want, we gon' have on our plate
Matter of time before we killed, the beans, it was our fate

An' cats were stressed, gave it all they expected less
Disrespect, take it back to the hood, protect your chest
Try to break us but we broke through, got the job done
That's what's up? Runnin' shit, now tell 'em where I am from

Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from

Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from

Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from
Philly, Philly, Philly, where I am from

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7798a2b8de3167b4a4f09e9f58eee035

This Joint - Lyrics - Closer to the Sun - Slightly Stoopid

Title: This Joint
Album: Closer to the Sun
Artist: Slightly Stoopid
Composer(s): Miles Doughty, Kyle Mcdonald, Ryan Moran, Oguer Ocon

Lyric:
The taste of this joint

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali

Let's take a plane up out to Philly
We flying out to Dallas
Someone I'm meeting [unverified] is
Handing in it the chalice

Some premil, we come play
We getting the weed from Cali
And rolling it up in Philly
Smoking weed up all day
Now they say they come playing, really
And I really need to hear it, [unverified]

You know that we would not get near no ordinary sensimilla
And the only thing they wanted
When the Kryptonite is gone
We started smoking supersonic
If you got money to pay
Better put your money on it

A [unverified] they go on and on and on and on
And they say they never feel it
But we're smoking this 'semilli
No [unverified] needed
When I'm high I don't conceal it
Everything is okay, this joint

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Smoked up all my weed from Philly
And everything from Cali
I'm all up and I'm by you
Smoking the kind of Maui-wowi

Pakalolo, grade A
We call to the Caribbean
Deliver it up but their seeking
All connections get paid
Different strap for every season
If you really need a reason

We light the Kryptonite and I open Red Bull
Lighten b's, more than ounce or two of chronic
In the end it's what we needed
No artificial flavor, then they come
?Oh, no, no?, we said, ?Come and let the music play
And [unverified] repeat it?

Perfection, I go on and on and on and on
I've been from Minnesota
From there onto Daytona
We come from up in New York
Now up in Cali, superfona
Everything is okay, this joint

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali
Original, cutting the beat
And I getting all the weed
I said, does it taste strong?

We rolling it up from Philly
And I need all the weed from Cali

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d9b098d8540bc0b71df4b3015a68378a

I'M In A Philly Mood - Lyrics - Daryl Hall

Title: I'M In A Philly Mood
Artist: Daryl Hall
Composer(s): Daryl Hall, Peter Lord Moreland, Alan Gorrie, V Jeffery Smith

Lyric:
Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth

Turn out the light, I can see your face
It's you and I, in the time and place
The radio playin' Teddy's groove
The city nights, nothin' love couldn't do

Oh baby, it's been too long
I need to feel the same thing
Oh that made that time our own

Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come down
I wanna hold you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Lay down your love, I can feel your soul
When night is gone let our hearts carry on
As sure as you are of the love we made
I know sometimes, we've been so out of place

Oh, lately, lately
Girl it seems that we've come home
To the place that made that time our own

Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come down
I wanna hold you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Oh, let's make it groove
Makin' it twice as smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come on
I wanna touch you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Oh lately
Girl it seems that we've come home
To that place, that place, that place
That made that time our own

Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come down
I wanna hold you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Oh, let's make it groove
Makin' it twice as smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come on
I wanna touch you now
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth

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273ba505461640818b728efcb60cfa90

I'M In A Philly Mood - Lyrics - Hall &Amp; Oates

Title: I'M In A Philly Mood
Artist: Hall &Amp; Oates
Composer(s): Daryl Hall, Peter Lord Moreland, Alan Gorrie, V Jeffery Smith

Lyric:
Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth

Turn out the light, I can see your face
It's you and I, in the time and place
The radio playin' Teddy's groove
The city nights, nothin' love couldn't do

Oh baby, it's been too long
I need to feel the same thing
Oh that made that time our own

Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come down
I wanna hold you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Lay down your love, I can feel your soul
When night is gone let our hearts carry on
As sure as you are of the love we made
I know sometimes, we've been so out of place

Oh, lately, lately
Girl it seems that we've come home
To the place that made that time our own

Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come down
I wanna hold you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Oh, let's make it groove
Makin' it twice as smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come on
I wanna touch you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Oh lately
Girl it seems that we've come home
To that place, that place, that place
That made that time our own

Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come down
I wanna hold you now
I'm in a Philly mood

Oh, let's make it groove
Makin' it twice as smooth
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, baby come on
I wanna touch you now
I'm in a Philly mood
Oh, let's make it groove
Takin' it nice and smooth

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eb2ea684e2e560318ae90a59e2cab8a3

Philly Celebrities - Lyrics - Philly'S Most Wanted

Title: Philly Celebrities
Artist: Philly'S Most Wanted
Composer(s): Chad Hugo, Joel Witherspoon, Pharrell Williams, Al'Baseer Holly

Lyric:
Uh, yeah, it's what I like
Uh, huh, yeah yeah
Queue me dawg
Yeah, most wanted, baby

Yo, see, I'm a cop' Benz 'til they make edition S-1000
And buy the mall out while you, niggas there browsin'
In the latest six coupe, hundred and twenty thuosand
Score more proud, 'bout pile reclinin'

We gonna make changes listenin' to Phyllis Hyman
Cops wanna search for guns and can't find 'em
They ask for my name, I tell 'em read it in diamonds
Mr. fuck hoes and put down the bricks
Advance my drink game for Mo' Don and Cris'
Bought whips in the order of 4, 5 and 6

Man I never been broke, I kept money to count
Get it down in dice games, win money and bounce
A million motherfuckers, it's how the word's pronounced
I keep my bank account, the banks amount
My niggas, play freeze tag with big rocks that's costly
Bonic iceman and of course, I'm all frosty

Look here we Philly Celebrities, who, movie stars
Don't worry 'bout it nigga, you know who we are
You see my damn house, you see my damn car
Don't worry 'bout it nigga, you know who we are

We Philly Celebrities, who, movie stars
Don't worry 'bout it bitch, you know who we are
You see my damn chain, you see my damn car
Don't worry 'bout it bitch, you know who we are

Boo, a clothesline nigga, I wear myself
I wish somebody spit hot and I'm sick of hearing myself
I talk big shit, how I only fuck with big chicks
With big tits, big hips and all that slick shit
Yeah, I'm a drop out, drop six
Drop they gorgeous bitch, drop they shit, soon as I hop out

Niggas, ain't near me spittin' they game
And plenty hoes in tattoo parlors getting my name
Probably think I'm highed up, pot, spit and flip game
Snorted out my mind with six bitches like Rick James
Wanna marry me and all they know is my nickname
Slow up, you want me now, 'cause I'ma blow up

Women, I kast 'em out like, Aquemini
And our roley got two faces, like a Gemini
Now, T H E B E S T, that's me
If you better than this then let's see, we, crush, yeah, uh huh
(Come on)
Y'all niggas, know from the doors we ain't playin' with y'all

Look here we Philly Celebrities, who, movie stars
Don't worry 'bout it nigga, you know who we are
You see my damn house, you see my damn car
Don't worry 'bout it nigga, you know who we are

We Philly Celebrities, who, movie stars
Don't worry 'bout it bitch, you know who we are
You see my damn chain, you see my damn car
Don't worry 'bout it bitch, you know who we are

Hey Mr. how much dough you tryin' to get
A-1 with 9 'O's' nigga, plenty of chips
A house so sick you need a shot, just to get in
Buttery suede color, every chair you sit in

Nigga, we ball real, ice we got that
Listen to Dru Hill, beauty we knock that, uhh
Chain bling all in your face you spot that
Take ours get a Tech in your face, stop that

Mad at me 'cause '99 was our summer
Wild wood Jet-ski ride the wave runner
Mad at me 'cause its us two housin'
Well, you gonna be at mad motherfucker in 2000
On an' on, say I, knock an' go, on an' on, say I, knock an' go

Look here we Philly Celebrities, who, movie stars
Don't worry 'bout it nigga, you know who we are
You see my damn house, you see my damn car
Don't worry 'bout it nigga, you know who we are

We Philly Celebrities, who, movie stars
Don't worry 'bout it bitch, you know who we are
You see my damn chain, you see my damn car
Don't worry 'bout it bitch, you know who we are

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40be8f20788711561e64d77e9147aabc

Get Silly - Lyrics - Soulja Boy

Title: Get Silly
Artist: Soulja Boy
Composer(s): M Crooms, J Dumas, V Owusu, D Way, J Wright

Lyric:
Soulja Boy Tellem

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in the back
And they twistin? up a philly

Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly, get silly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in the back
And they twistin? up a philly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in the back
And they twistin? up a philly

My chain? too silly, my wrist too silly
The girls throw me ish cuz my rims big willy
My ride too silly, I ride too silly
We for fantastic cuz I got a deally

Cuz now I?m worth a milly
Forget a rubber band cuz you can?t put a rubber band around a billion
I be wildin? on a island somewhere just like Gilligan
Drillin? holes like a dentist at the den like villerann

I ba ba ba, I?m da man girlfriend
I?m da reason why you wanna lose ya man girlfriend
I?m calm like da sea, I?m blowed like the wind
And now that I?m straight I?m bout to act a fool again

Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly, get silly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in? the back
And they twistin? up a philly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in? the back
And they twistin? up a philly

My shades too silly cuz they made by Cavalli
Jay?s so excited you can?t find ?em lil buddy
I?m not Nick Cannon but I?m wildin? out clubbin?
Watchin? everybody jockin? while I?m poppin? sumthin? bubbly

Poppin? sumthin? bubbly, I?m tryna do it big
Da boy from the A, I?m tryna represent
Dem haters in? my way, I play this game to win
Watch me take it to the ally, knock ?em all off like some pins

I drop drop drop, I?mma sell like silly
Cuz everybody dancin? and everybody feel me
With these stacks in? my jeans, just like my name was Billy
While I?m jockin? on you haters, just like a pop-a-wheelie

Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly, get silly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in? the back
And they twistin? up a philly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in? the back
And they twistin? up a philly

Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly
Get silly, get silly, get silly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in? the back
And they twistin? up a philly

The dance floor silly
The ladies gon? feel me
The fellas in? the back
And they twistin? up a philly

Get silly

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2519a5d57abd39c316202496b25abb97

Murda Murda - Lyrics - M.A.D.E. - Memphis Bleek

Title: Murda Murda
Album: M.A.D.E.
Artist: Memphis Bleek
Composer(s): Michael Diamond, Adam Yauch, Shawn Carter, Malik Cox, Adam Horovitz, Rick Rubin, Dwight Grant, Scott Storch

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

Lyric:
Chilly chill
It's gangsta, turn the music up, uh, ch'eah
Yeah, we back on that gangsta, gangsta shit
Shit, they just wanna play the motherfuckin' game
We don't give a fuck but Swizz'll lit up somethin' on you niggas
Chilly chill, let's go

I'm from murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Yeah, from murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

I feel like a felon with two strikes, mad bullshit in this life
I done seen everythin' but Christ, luckily I'm just off the basement
You niggas just bullshittin' with bars
The boys you got just tryin' my patience

Like, I don't carry around banana clips like groceries
With a presence that make 'em don't wanna get 'em close to me
Talk about we suppose to be brothers
Don't make me laugh, motherfucka you chose to be

On the side opposin' me, no matter what culture you be
From, Young Hova light your ass up explosively
A lil' use K for ya, pour out the P-A for ya
Had to bring y'all like back in the day for ya

They don't respect nothin' else, they somethin' else
Two guns with sons will get inside yourself
Loose two lungs, bullets'll get inside your health
Will take the wind outta yourself, like so

Niggas for truely in a war with yours truly
While they emulating shit they saw in the Art Of War movie
But I'm the writer of Sun Tzu, so whatever son do
I do better, more lyrics, way more cheddar

Catch me if you can, I'm the gingerbread man
Keep pumpin' 'em up make me injure bre-thren
Niggas is tryna capitalize of Hov
Like I don't realize, I see the demons inside of they souls

Niggas is dreamin' to sell what I sold
Fuckers is fiendin' to held what I hold
I just know what I know
They respect me all across the globe, although

I'm from murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Uh, uh huh, yea, yo, yo
It ain't nothin' to double clips, trust the fifth could be toss
Niggas poppin' their shit, they startin' ta piss me off
Bitches and bitch niggas tryna ride against homie
So fuck them and the Originator of Sophie

The gat spit rapid, duel actions
Look, I'm nice with the fifth the moments when you bastard get sick
I'm from the ghetto is turf where the metal do work
My ER eight grade, they had the errors since birth

Me and the God spittin', you know police come chalk ya
It's like you peep this and I'm the young A. Walker
Fuck it, I'm ridin' with Sig, you niggas is sweet
Collidin' with Cam and I'm throwin' with Free

Geda K's the co-d, young boss
Until we State Property, we spit in the Taurus
Fuck it, H in the pen, huh
You know we bang where we from nigga, H to the pen, it's nothin'

I'm from murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Yeah, murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Chilly chill
Chilly chill
Chilly chill

Aiyyo, the South Philly motherfucka kill at will
I keep my Mack Milly chilly chill
You niggas' gay like that for real
I move yay all day for real

Boss's plaque, check the status for real
Balls splat, you will lay in the ground for real
All day I'ma ammo for real
Clip shape like bananas for real

Guerrilla warfare hittin' the field
Six saw head splittin' your grill
New issue, or I might grip the Uzi pistol
Do more than bruise tissues

Crack bone marrow, lose grisel
Sit you down in a chair for real
Forever you'll wheel around for real
Listen boy, I get it down for real

I clutch pound for real
When I ball you touch down for real
Correct tar, Brett Farve, hecklaw
Cops send shots down your field
Tell, muah, leave the town for real

I'm from murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Yeah, murder, murder Marcyville
My nigga you heard I clap you, I certainly will
With my South Philly motherfuckers kill at will
Bet the nine milli make you niggas, chilly chill

Chilly chill
Chilly chill
Chilly chill
...

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83f4a7f4764eaad13d8237dd3a1bb5fd

Feel Alright - Lyrics - Sean Paul

Title: Feel Alright
Artist: Sean Paul
Composer(s): Sean Paul Henriques, Skat Burrel

Lyric:
Yo, yo
Straight up de gal dem seh dem love mi fah di illy skilly
Dem dun know, Sean Da Paul, yeah, yeah
Duttily muckilly yo

Yah mon, dutty cup back pon di scene
Comin' back fi mek di girl dem bawl out and scream
(It's like a dream)
Dutty, yeah

We mek yuh feel alright
(Woman)
Wine up ya body till a mornin' light
(Then gal)

Wave up yuh hand becau yuh know seh yuh tight
(Woman)
Bounce and gallang, woman yuh know seh yuh right
(Becau)
Woman, woman, woman

Woman yuh mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and mek me rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Bounce it gal, from oonu nuh dibby dibby
Big up all di fat titty tell dem weh yuh feel gimme
Pon di front page, anytime dem see mi see mi
Gal dem seh dem love mi fah di illy skilly

When I got some bouncin' gal, woman and yuh dun mek it
Every man round di town seh den waan set it
But Sean Da Paul alone a weh yuh waan set it
Every day we correct it so mi go so then

Gal a fat till it buff from mi caan get enough
Cau yuh plump and yuh fluff mek mi hard and tough
Yuh got di stuff, I got di handcuff
I know yuh like it from de back, I know yuh like to rough

Gal gwaan wine bubble to di bassline
Every ting gwaan mi fine if yuh don't waste nuh time
Check mi later fi go get intertwine
'Cause baby girl, yuh know yuh mek all yuh

Mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Jump up gal, jump up pon di kitty wid it
Jam down party straight back to philly philly
What yuh tink, it's a joke? We nuh silly silly
Hygrade but mi smoke dro wid nuh philly philly
Man a test like nuh ol' time gilly gilly

Shout it out, gal yuh know seh yuh waan see mi
Pon di sitten weh yuh have dat a fi mi fi mi
Gwaan start up di dutty trilly yo

Cau yuh hot fat till it buff from mi caan get enough
Cau yuh plump and yuh fluff mek mi hard and tough
Yuh got di stuff, I got di handcuff
I know yuh like it from de back, I know yuh like to rough

Gal gwaan wine bubble to di bassline
Every ting gwaan mi fine if yuh don't waste nuh time
Check mi later fi go get intertwine
'Cause baby girl yuh know seh

Dat mek yuh feel alright
(Woman)
Wine up ya body till a mornin' light
(Then gal)

Wave up yuh hand becau yuh know seh yuh tight
(Woman)
Bounce and gallang, woman yuh know seh yuh right
(Becau)
Woman, woman, woman

Woman yuh mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Mek de sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night
Mek yuh feel alright, givin' yuh di lovin' a yuh life
Mek yuh sweat till di mornin' light

Sin ting rise
Anytime mi press upon yuh tight
Baby, and me mek rock yuh all night

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97cb2a01b08d57cafec0d18b9c8d7566

On My Way - Lyrics - Kiss Tha Game Goodbye - Jadakiss

Title: On My Way
Album: Kiss Tha Game Goodbye
Artist: Jadakiss
Composer(s): Kasseem Dean, Jason Phillips

Lyric:
Aiyyo Swizz check it out
I'm shoot over to Cali, you know what I'm sayin'?
Check this movie out
Then I'ma check honey out
Then I'ma fly back to N.Y, see what's goin' on in the projects
Then I'ma shoot down to Atlanta
See how it's goin' down in the dirty dirty
Then I'ma shoot over to New Orleans, Detroit, Chicago, Seattle, Miami

I'm on my way to Cali to see my bitch
I'm on my way to New York to see my bitch
Down in Atlanta done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told
But I'm on my way to Philly to see my bitch
I'm on my way to Texas to see my bitch
Down in Miami done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told

But I'm on my way to Cali to see my bitch
And do a movie but first I gotta read my script
After that I get it poppin' at the La Mentage
I'm gettin' skull in the Ferrari, bottom garage
Then it's back to N.Y. to my project bitch
She like to do it anywhere, a real hardhead bitch
And she enjoy riffin' when I'm gone
But love when I say I'll be there in a minute, listen for the horn

I'm down in Atlanta to see my bitch
She go to college, she model, and she got chips
Rock La Perla lingerie
Tattoo on her ass that say that this belong's to Ja'
Now I don't know, what you've been told
But kiss be blowin' they mind and spendin' they dough
And I'm goin' on a lil' trip, I'll be back
Anybody lookin' for me, just tell 'em that I'm

I'm on my way to Cali to see my bitch
I'm on my way to New York to see my bitch
Down in Atlanta done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told
But I'm on my way to Philly to see my bitch
I'm on my way to Texas to see my bitch
Down in Miami done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told

I'm on my way to New Orleans, for one whole month
To see my shorty in Magnolia, she got gold fronts
We don't kiss, matter fact I only hit that once
But she chill and she like to smoke big fat blunts
Then I'm swingin' through Detroit to see my boo
You think you got every color mink, she got two
And she just slapped a hundred on the toy
Honey was a gangstress for real, gettin' money off the board

Then I'm hittin' Chi-Town, soon as it die down
Lay up in my chick's house, break a couple pies down
Nobody can do this but 'Kiss, freeze
Music please
Ah, where was I? Oh yes
Off to the Valley so I gotta go West
My chick got the gold Benz and the gray Lex
I hit her with a shirt on 'cause she got fake breasts, c'mon

I'm on my way to Cali to see my bitch
I'm on my way to New York to see my bitch
Down in Atlanta done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told
But I'm on my way to Philly to see my bitch
I'm on my way to Texas to see my bitch
Down in Miami done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told

That I'm on my way to Philly to see my bitch
She talkin' shit on the celly like she that bitch
And this how you know it's definitely real
When you drop the CL-6, then you knock Stephanie Mills
When I get there, she gon' show me more than some brotherly love
Top piece 'til I come in her mug
I'm tryin' to leave and she givin' me Hell
Told her bend over, I'ma crack that ass like the Liberty Bell

Now I'm on my way to Texas to see my bitch
I oughta be there by breakfast if I leave by six
And ain't nuttin' stoppin Ja'
I'ma get the puss, catch the Rockets game, then be on my way
Now I'm down in Miami to see my bitch
She got her own beauty salon, and she strip
I'm proud of the girl, backside's out of this world
The bitch perform, besides that, her lips was warm, c'mon

I'm on my way to Cali to see my bitch
I'm on my way to New York to see my bitch
Down in Atlanta done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told
But I'm on my way to Philly to see my bitch
I'm on my way to Texas to see my bitch
Down in Miami done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told

I'm on my way to Cali to see my bitch
I'm on my way to New York to see my bitch
Down in Atlanta done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told
But I'm on my way to Philly to see my bitch
I'm on my way to Texas to see my bitch
Down in Miami done seen my bitch, now
I don't know, what you've been told

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60280579daf9db33e61c8d70f8143646

Get Down - Lyrics - The Reason - Beanie Sigel

Title: Get Down
Album: The Reason
Artist: Beanie Sigel
Composer(s): Quincy Jones, Dwight Grant, Justin Smith

Lyric:
Chorus
(Scratching) 'get down'
This Philly cat back with them blackmatics
Pop up with the gun in ya crib fa the fun of it
(Scratching) 'get down'
Two guns you know, desert eagle, streetsweepers
It Its in the blood! Mac Pain! Click BOOM

I'll smack you in the grill or you'll feel the 45 harding
45 Yards of football stitches, look ya'll bitches (Black)
Bullets in and out the same spot
Turn you so skinny you can, in and out of rain drop
Skinny like a smoker in and out of cain spots
Hook, drop, dry coke in and out the same pot
Mac with the block could hustle at any cause
Ran through bricks like Nitsie Russel and Lady Boss
(Man) Tricky hustle, quick to bust you 380 toss
You cant escape hell, 357 with 8 shells
38 Long six shots
Get ya shit stopped, get ya clique got
Get ya strip hot, you could get swat
You could get cops, niggaz get ya shit mopped
Hit ya block with two semis and say gimme
Lay everybody down on the ground and take plenty
This four pound make you lose pounds and get skinny

Chorus
(Scratching) 'get down'
This Philly cat back with them blackmatics
Pop up with the gun in ya crib fa the fun of it
(Scratching) 'get down'
Two guns you know, desert eagle, streetsweepers
It Its in the blood! Mac Pain! Click BOOM

This Philly cat back on a mission, out the kitchen
Back at it, playing with blackmatics
One Mac eleven, one seven
A line up four buck tears for one bredren
Leave three basins of tears from one widow
50 Cars back to back with stick-up windows
Hollow points clap from Mac sittin' em in you
Nurses gotta cut ya back getting out you
Disable niggaz get staples and shit patch you
Shift over ya liver and able to reroute you
Leave you niggz tubes and cables to spit out through
You know the rules of engagement I gotta out you
(Shit) how you want it dog? We can gun it out
Spit it out, have ya fucking stomach sitting out
Dig this when the shits on, get gone
I'm rated PG, pull on-get gone

Chorus
(Scratching) 'get down'
This Philly cat back with them blackmatics
Pop up with the gun in ya crib fa the fun of it
(Scratching) 'get down'
Two guns you know, desert eagle, streetsweepers
It Its in the blood! Mac Pain! Click BOOM

You know Sigel play with them eagles, niggaz don't get tagged
Throw bullets out them dirty birds like McNabb
Bunch of niggaz where ya corners at
Get a whop, take a quarter back, bring a half back you do the math black
Aint no warnin' black, when Im wearin' black mask
Over the braids two nines like Warren Sapp
Bring prosperity back to the hood like Buck Jay
Turn ya block to slump day, who want gunplay?
All you niggaz pennies add up to one thing my dollars
Hollows holla, first class trip to satan with flyer mileage
Guess who the pillot? DOA Airlines, dead on arrival
Flatline you, no survivers they cant find you
Like Kennedy Jr. you kidding me Jr
You way out ya league
Slow up pump ya brakes shorty, I'm ya way out ya speed

Chorus
(Scratching) 'get down'
This Philly cat back with them blackmatics
Pop up with the gun in ya crib fa the fun of it
(Scratching) 'get down'
Two guns you know, desert eagle, streetsweepers
It Its in the blood! Mac Pain! Click BOOM

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9da07f8522595031132664cafa75d7a1

All My Life - Lyrics - Freeway

Title: All My Life
Artist: Freeway
Composer(s): Curtis Mayfield, Nathaniel Hale, Leslie Pridgen, Roosevelt Harrell, Ben Krass

Lyric:
Jeah, uh
Real niggas stand up, uh
Whoo
Jeah, uh, uh, yo

From Cali to Philly, Philly to Cali
I deliver the order, haulin' a milli
Y'all niggas silly, I really don't want no problems
It's North Philly hot, really hot

Duck cops, send shots at idiots, really I
Got the mack milli I wet your squadron up
Oh, he don't feel me y'all
Nate go get the gats, we shootin' up they videos

Really y'all, ain't makin' a dollar
When my shit drop, it's the Roc, holler
Shoot you from toe to collar, watch you holler, pop my collar
Holler, bink controllin' the track

Free and Nate controllin' the flow, y'all cats need to fall back
Holler, at your boy if you wanna get rich
I got a town and they want it tonight, you got pounds
Well they one of the Knicks, cross Free better be strapped
The rest of your life

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

And I'm going going back back
To Cali Cali, is we strapped? Yes
Private jet, gat in the vest, Heckler and Koch
Hit Nate soon as I land, hop in the van

Everything calm and cool, gat by the croch
Travel with the tool, it's just a part the plans
And I'm from the East side, that's how we ride
I let Mister Sig Sawyer sing a song to your man

Yeah, it's the worlds most dangerous
Clique, the Roc, we get neck in Los Angeles
Chicks scandalous, it's just a part of the plans
I smash, photograph it, send 'em home to they man

At last, I'm more than a rap star, she bit off
More than she can chew, she's one of the fans
She said she know how we do, I swallow your crew
Break a playa off then then get a job for his man, yeah

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

Tell Philly Phil Free comin' to town
And we can blaze thirty L's once I get off the plane
And go shoot past Roscoe's for chicken and waffles
You act tough, hollows will stop at your mainframe

Hit up your main man, stick to the game plan
Your main man chick wanna come home with me like Cam
Get done with her, pass her to Cam
If I wanna squirt her, take her to Fat burger

Spit murder, cross the clique, get murdered
Out in Cali wearin' any color, State Prop, stick to my brand
It ain't nothin' but crooks in here
(Whoop, whoop)
Freewizzle, big Nate Dizzle

(Whoop, whoop)
Get took straight from the club to the spittle
For shizzle, y'all gon' have to call the cops in here
And Nate from the West side, that's how they ride
Shots in your backside, never bust in the air, yeah

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

Whoo
Uh, holla
State Prop Chain Gang
Y'all niggas know what it is

Whoo
Back and forth, east to west
Whoo
Freeway is in the house, is in the house, uh

Young Gunnas in the building, holla
Y'all bitch ass niggas
Put your mouth on a pistol, nigga
Put your mouth on a motherfuckin' pistol, holla

Matter of fact, spray nigga
Jeah
Jeah, it's the Roc
Uh

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3bde8ce237cc7d20b816afe5b62e4c22

Tha Problem - Lyrics - Cassidy

Title: Tha Problem
Artist: Cassidy
Composer(s): Barry Reese, Norman Rogers, William Drayton, Carlton Ridenhour, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
1-2 1-2
I need all my real niggaz to stand up
All you fake ass niggaz fall back
It's a problem
Philly stand up

(What's ya name dog?)
Cassidy!
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy!
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)

My name Cass and I'm 'bout my B-I
Niggaz wanna be me, yeah I can see why
Told y'all how I used to roll and see Clive
Hop off the G-4, hop in the G-5
But since niggaz wanna copy and be me
I'mma hop off the yacht then hop in the GT
Got niggaz in the hood knockin' the CD
Wait 'till my face start poppin' on T.V.

See the ladies give me top for cheapy
All they wanna do is just hop on the wee-wee
My rich chick'll take a helicopter to see me
I pop Dominican and she'll drop me a key free
I got a actress in L.A., doctor in DC
Even got a lawyer, a cop in the DT
See I got money but I ain't spendin' it
I need a girl who got a job wit nice benefits

'Cuz honey bunch I ain't wit the funny stuff
You ain't gone fuck me to spend my money up
Nah, I can't have it boo
But girl do what you do I ain't mad at you
Nah, 'cuz I got since to know
That I ain't gone get pimped, I'mma pimp a hoe
Ayyo, get money nigga fuck the fame
(The industry is in trouble, betta learn his name!)

Cassidy!
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy!
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man!)

Ayyo, guess what happened, guess what happened?
I was on the radio and yo, guess what happened?
I'm sittin' there starin' in this DJ face
And all he askin' me about is the Freeway tape
I'm like, "If I ain't right, you can say, I'm wrong
But Mr. DJ can you play my song?"
Please, play somethin' that's good for the air
Please, play somethin' that the hood wanna hear

So when the radio go to put that trash on
Call 'em up and say, "Put that Cass on!"
And I ain't pissin' nobody
But if every rapper died I wouldn't be missin' nobody
'Specially if it ain't styles, 'Kiss or nobody
Busta, Nore, Swizz or nobody
If it ain't Drag, Kim or Fat Joe
I could care less if a cat gotta lay on his back, yo

So, I don't owe y'all niggaz
And y'all might be aright but I don't know y'all niggaz
I mean, it's a couple other niggaz that I've met
With the FS on my chest without press
I got love for Snoop, Puff and Wyclef
And my niggaz Esco, so let's go, yo
Get money nigga, fuck the fame
(The industry is in trouble, betta learn his name!)

Cassidy!
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy!
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man!)

Cassidy!
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy!
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man!)

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a886cc31c4b3baf3709ff409b292dcf6

The Problem - Lyrics - Split Personality - Cassidy

Title: The Problem
Album: Split Personality
Artist: Cassidy
Composer(s): Barry Reese, Norman Rogers, William Drayton, Carlton Ridenhour, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
1, 2, 1, 2, I need all my real niggaz to stand up
All you fake ass niggaz fall back
It's a problem, Philly, stand up

(What's ya name, dog?)
Cassidy
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all

(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man)

My name Cass and I'm 'bout my B-I
Niggaz wanna be me, yeah, I can see why
Told y'all how I used to roll and see Clive
Hop off the G-4, hop in the G-5

But since niggaz wanna copy and be me
I'ma hop off the yacht then hop in the GT
Got niggaz in the hood knockin' the CD
Wait 'till my face start poppin' on TV

See, the ladies give me top for cheapy
All they wanna do is just hop on the wee-wee
My rich chick'll take a helicopter to see me
I pop Dominican and he'll drop me a key free

I got a actress in L.A., doctor in DC
Even got a lawyer, a cop in the DT
See, I got money but I ain't spendin' it
I need a girl who got a job wit nice benefits

'Cuz honey bunch, I ain't wit the funny stuff
You ain't gone fuck me to spend my money up
Nah, I can't have it, boo
But girl, do what you do, I ain't mad at you

Nah, 'cuz I got since to know
That I ain't gone get pimped, I'ma pimp a hoe
Ayyo, get money, nigga, fuck the fame
The industry is in trouble, betta learn his name

Cassidy
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all

(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man)

Ayyo, guess what happened, guess what happened?
I was on the radio and yo, guess what happened?
I'm sittin' here, starin' in this DJ face
And all he askin' me about is the Freeway tape

I'm like, "If I ain't right, you can say I'm wrong
But Mr. DJ, can you play my song?"
Please, play somethin' that's good for the air
Please, play somethin' that the hood wanna hear
So when the radio go to put that trash on
Call 'em up and say, "Put that Cass on"

And I ain't pissin' nobody
If every rapper died, I wouldn't be missin' nobody
'Specially if it ain't Styles, 'Kiss or nobody
Busta, Nore, Swizz or nobody

If it ain't Drag, Kim or Fat Joe
I could care less if a cat gotta lay on his back, yo
So, I don't owe y'all, niggaz
And y'all might be aight but I don't know y'all, niggaz

I mean, it's a couple other niggaz that I've met
With the FS on my chest without press
I got love for Snoop, Puff and Wyclef
And my niggaz Esco so let's go, yo
Get money, nigga, fuck the fame
The industry is in trouble, betta learn his name

Cassidy
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all

(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man)

Cassidy
(Man, tell 'em again)
Cassidy
(Man, where ya from?)
Philly
(Talk to 'em, talk to 'em)
If ya ready to feel me
(Talk to' em, talk to 'em)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all

(I tried to tell 'em, man)
Bottom line, I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The hood know I'm a problem, y'all
(Yo, I tried to tell 'em, man)
The world know I'm a problem, y'all
(Hold on, I tried to tell 'em, man)

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99a593eada5af37adad1e45e6da23b24

This Goes Out - Lyrics - Girl Can Mack - 3lw

Title: This Goes Out
Album: Girl Can Mack
Artist: 3lw
Composer(s): Balewa Mohammed, Rob Fusari, F Moore

Lyric:
Umm, hmm, oh, oh, yeah, oh, uh, oh, yeah
My mom and them don't like ya
My friends all think you triflin'
But I don't feel quite like them
In fact I'm out to spite them

The love we share is special
Its on a whole another level
He's firm with me, he's gentle
He's intimate, yet mental

But he's quick to flip, he don't understand
Street but sweet, my kinda man
Goes to church, might be a thug
He breaks me off, show a lotta love

Disrespect, he's off the heezy
You don't want that, please believe me
Thats the only way he knows
How to show me how much he cares

This goes out to my bandana rockin out on the blockers
Chasin' that dough, bad baby daddies, 1st of the month
Child support, all non-voting, Newport smokin'
I still got love for y'all

And this goes out to my 3rd strike paroller, dry Philly rollers
Sittin' on dubs, cristal poppin', loud talkin', fuckin'
Drunk in the club, live wit' you mamma, always in drama
I still got love for y'all

Somebody's always hatin'
They're always sittin' around waitin'
'Til you make a new mistake and
Get sent back upstate

And they can just say that I told ya
Shoulda listened when I told why
So I'll cry on their shoulder
They'll be so glad its over

But he's quick to flip, he don't understand
Street but sweet, my kinda man
Goes to church, might be a thug
He breaks me off, show a lotta love

Disrespect, he's off the heezy
You don't want that, you better believe me
Thats the only way he knows
How to show me how much he cares

This goes out to my bandana rockin' out on the blockers
Chasin' that dough, bad baby daddies, 1st of the month
Child support, all non-voting, Newport smokin'
I still got love for y'all

And this goes out to my 3rd strike paroller, dry Philly rollers
Sittin' on dubs, cristal poppin', loud talkin', fuckin'
Drunk in the club, live wit' you mamma, always in drama
I still got love for y'all

You can, chasin' that dough, yeah
Child support, I still got luv for y'all

And this goes out to my third strike paroller, dry Philly rollers
Sittin on dubs, drunk in da club, yeah, yeah, yeah
I still got luv for you, luv for you, oh, for you, yeah

This goes out to my bandana rockin out on the blockers
Chasin' that dough, bad baby daddies, 1st of the month
Child support, all non-voting, Newport smokin'
I still got love for y'all

And this goes out to my 3rd strike paroller, dry Philly rollers
Sittin' on dubs, cristal poppin', loud talkin', fuckin'
Drunk in the club, live wit you mamma, always in drama
I still got love for y'all

This goes out to my bandana rockin out on the blockers
Chasin' that dough, bad baby daddies, 1st of the month
Child support, all non-voting, Newport smokin'
I still got love for y'all

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470ae55a84feda157018ce8bca0596b3

Motownphilly - Lyrics - Cooleyhighharmony - Boyz Ii Men

Title: Motownphilly
Album: Cooleyhighharmony
Artist: Boyz Ii Men
Composer(s): Dallas Austin, Nathan Morris, Michael Bivins, Shawn Stockman

Lyric:
Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men
Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men

Motownphilly's back again
Doin' a little east coast swing
Boyz II Men going off
Not too hard, not too soft

It's long overdue but now
Philly is slammin'
Boyz II Men, A B C, B B D
The east coast family
Never skipped a beat, na
While cooling on South street
Jet black Benz, plenty of friends
And all the Philly steaks you can eat

Back in school we used to dream about this everyday
Could it really happen?
Or do dreams fade away
Then we started singing them
They said it sounded smooth
So we started a group and here we are
Kickin' it just for you

Motownphilly's back again
Doin' a little east coast swing
Boyz II Men going off
Not too hard, not too soft

Yo these four new jacks is real
Smooth on the harmony tip
Nate, Mike, Shawn, and Wan
You know the mentality
Keep flippin? the gift

The spotlight is on us now, watch us do this
Da da, daaa da da, da da da da da da
Live and direct from Philly town
Rap and hype and we can get down
We are ready to roll
So now the world will know that we were

Back in school we used to dream about this everyday
Could it really happen? Or do dreams fade away
Then we started singing them
They said it sounded smooth
So we started a group and here we are
Kickin' it just for you

Motownphilly's back again
Doin' a little east coast swing
Boyz II Men going off
Not too hard, not too soft

Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men
Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men
Then we started singing them
They said it sounded smooth

Now check this out, one day back in Philly
Four guys wanted to sing they came up to me I said
"What?s your name? Ya know what I?m sayin?"
Than I said, "Alright fellas
Well let me see what you can do"
And then Wan said, "Yo Mike, check this out
See if this one moves you"

Doom doom doom da da, doom doom doom da da
Da di da di da da, da da, daa daa daa
Doom doom doom da da, doom doom doom da da
Da di da di da da, da da, daa daa daa

Motownphilly's back again
Doin' a little east coast swing
Boyz II Men going off
Not too hard, not too soft

Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men, Boyz II Men
Boyz II Men, Boyz, Boyz, Boyz, Boyz II Men A B C, B B D

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Celebrate - Lyrics - B.A.R.S.: The Barry Adrian Reese Story - Cassidy

Title: Celebrate
Album: B.A.R.S.: The Barry Adrian Reese Story
Artist: Cassidy
Composer(s): Jean Nel Wyclef, Wyclef Jean, Bobby Bush, Farel Jean, James R. Vanleer, Bobby Rush, Jerry Duplessis, Patti Labelle, Malik Pendleton

Lyric:
Ladies and gentlemen
The Preacher?s son
Patti LaBelle is in the buildin?

Let?s celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque, how we used to do
On the avenue, have a Philly
Man, how I miss those days

When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way, Lord
Miss Patti, won?t you help me sing
Lord, knows how I miss those days

Dressin? up for church on Easter Sunday
Doing the Electric Slide at every party
If only you knew what I?ve been through
You would celebrate, get up, you would celebrate

I came in this game through the back door
I know Labelle, we were so much more
We worked and earned it, God knows we deserved it
Keep on striving I know you?ll make it

Let?s celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque, how we used to do
On the avenue, have a Philly
Man, how I miss those days

When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way, Lord
Miss Patti, won?t you help me sing
Lord, knows how I miss those days

Dressin? up for church on Easter Sunday
Doing the Electric Slide at every party
If only you knew what I?ve been through
You would celebrate, fet up, you would celebrate

Get up, I?m gon? box these niggas
Take home on a number one belt
We gonna pop that thug oh no, to celebrate that wealth
See, I?mma take that hey and turn it into loot

?Cause whoever got blessed no man can test
Whoever got blessed no man can test
What goes up must surely come down, yes
So watch who you hurt on your way up
?Cause they?ll be laughin? at you on your way down

Tell the judge we don?t want incarceration
?Cause we came for the celebration
So let the women and the children eat first
?Cause it?s been so long since a celebration
(Cassidy)

This Cassidy, let?s celebrate
I?m sellin? weed and got hella cake
And I still got the thug in my back pock?
It?s hamburgers, hot dogs in the back row

On the grill we cookin? it all up
My mom got skills, she hookin? it all up
Man, it feels like back in the days
When cats wasn?t clappin? to Ks
And hoodrats was actin? they age

Clef and the rest of the gang with me
And me and Miss LaBelle we rap the same city
Philly, home of the blunts and the cheese steaks
And I cannot be stopped like I need the breaks

Let?s celebrate, have a basement party
A barbeque, how we used to do
On the avenue, have a Philly
Man, how I miss those days

When the kids was kids, no knives on the street
When the ice cream man came around the way
Lord, Miss Patti, won?t you help me sing
Lord knows how I miss those days

Dressin? up for church on Easter Sunday
Doing the Electric Slide at every party
If only you knew what I?ve been through
You would celebrate, be okay, yeah
Get up, you would celebrate
Get up, you would celebrate
Get up

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