Pushin' Weight - Lyrics - War & Peace Vol. 1: The War Disc - Ice Cube

Title: Pushin' Weight
Album: War & Peace Vol. 1: The War Disc
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): Lionel Hunt, O'Shea Jackson, Joseph Johnson

Lyric:
Yeah
Blaze one for the nation

I got lyrics that wake up spirits
They told me how to make big hits and spend digits
Can you dig it?
You fed, you dead, see red
My lead, yo head, I fed, like you shit
I got rhymes push that shit like weight
My nigga Lincoln help me navigate
Through this hate retaliate, it's official
I got that bomb, bomb, diddy, diddy, diddy, bomb, bomb

When I hit you, push the issue, my ghetto dope is amazin'
The bitch that's with you already know that I'm blazin'
That's by the number, we can slumber, on the under
Girl no wonder, you got a ass full of thunder
The frozen Tundra ain't cold enough
And baby ain't old enough for this game, I'm rollin' up
De-zamn, it feels good to be the don
Straight legit, while niggas like Gotti just sit

A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight

A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight

I hold zone like a Corleone, no more fuckin' with that homegrown
Hit the shit we on, the rolleo's and the baggetts
You still fuckin' with them faggets, we turn haters into maggets
Oak on the dash, but no coke on the hash
You broke ass niggas learn to mash, like me, yeah
Constantly, put the hustle down
With four or five niggas that's musclebound

Send your head to the taxidermist
Won't be satisfied, till I get my face on a thermos
You got to earn this, you can't take it
Can't fake it, got to live it, or we gots to visit
Who is it? The exquisite, Don Mega
Walkin' with my entourage, I think I'm betta, makin' chedda
You see me sag in my Jag, with the rag recognize the flag
You betta get back

Everybody wanna do it like me, I got it made
Been makin' rap money since the tenth grade
Ch-ching
Since the tenth grade
Ch-ching
What you need?

A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight

A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight

I keeps a firm grip on my shit when in transit
Uncandid, it's the young bandit
Fresh out the trenches, the wood works
City of the Tempeon, where the hoods lurk
In search of the rich blocks, to lick spots, and kick rocks
From shattered glass, down the pig locks
Want tips by the clock
You niggas scramblin for fouyan
And settle for crumbs and croutans

I'm out for armored bucks and armored trucks, with armed killas
Bitch niggas get swallowed by the armadillos
Ain't no harmin' me, the army full honary niggas you can't see
So while you pace bitches and saturns livin' jenky
I hangs with niggas who got patterns on they hankey
After Ben Frankeys, with the big skullen eyes
You niggas bound and nullified
Sit back and mine stack it multiply

A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight

A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
I push rhymes like weight
I push rhymes like weight

Ask about me
Worldwide baby, worldwide baby
A yeah yeah
Ice Cube makin' more money in the rap game
Than some of you can with a bird in your hand
A yeah yeah
Puttin' it down
We wanted in fifty states for this weight

A yeah yeah
Pushin' rhymes like weight
Pushin' rhymes like weight
A yeah yeah
Yeah, blaze one for the nation

A yeah yeah
You know my name
You know my name
A yeah yeah
You know my name

Yeah, some of you fools just got in it
And think you gonna change the game, uh
You ain't changin' nothin'
I been doin' this, I been doin' this
Yeah, uh

Ask about me
Ask about me

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0e3c05e881c4ddf48a7f0094ff3c60ad

Pushin - Lyrics - Trill - Bun B

Title: Pushin
Album: Trill
Artist: Bun B
Composer(s): Jay Jenkins, Curtis Mayfield, Bernard James Freeman, Jr., Leroy Williams, Brad Jordan

Lyric:
Say man, I don't give a fuck about the FEDs
D E A, G T F, Task Force, Jump-out boys
Or your local neighborhood robbers
Baby, I got to keep on pushin'

Pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
I've got to keep on pushin', keep, keep on

Well it's the king of the hover trade and the sergeant of snow
They call me Mr. Killa Gram in case yo ass ain't know
I'm the boss baller of blow when you come to the Gulf
Other cats holdin' some weight but they ain't holdin' enough

I've been around way before the Interstate was on fire
Before they hid it in the gas tank or the tire
Before a motherfucker even knew about a stash box
We just put work in the back of the car and mashed out

Now ask a nigga that was doin' it in nine three
On the Interstate in a rental car you can find me
Suitcase is stuffed like a holiday Turkey
Chopper right beside in case a nigga try to jerk me

I did the city thing plus I played it out of state
Either way a nigga was known for havin' a lot of weight
Try to knock me down but it only made me bigger
Haters wanna see me fall but a nigga gotta keep on pushin'

Keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
I've got to keep on pushin', keep, keep on

I'm on the corner from sun up to sun down
Competition gettin' hectic, I'm headed for out of town
What I was, sellin' for twenty, niggaz sellin' for ten
So I'm 'bout to take it to drastic measurements for my ends

My partner Rob in seventeen and in the Benz
And me I'm in a bucket but fuck it, that's how it is, shit
I got an ounce about to cut it into stones
Next stop, Port Arthur, Texas, I work it in the Lones

I'm a little nigga on his hustle 'bout to rise
I was cuttin' seventeen and I was only payin' five
A week went by, and a nigga took that dry
Back to H Town, with re up about to score me nine

A Pyrex bulb and the whoop so throwed
I cooked it for nine then I stretched it for nine more
Whoa, I'm that nigga bakin' with holes in his door
Crummy niggaz sellin' that ether but fuck it, shit sold

Ay, no matter how hard it get you know I'ma
Real talk, real niggaz do real things you know they
You already know, free Pimp C nigga
U G K for motherfuckin' life, U S D A nigga, C T E nigga

You know them Houston niggaz you know they niggaz
Keep on pushin' nigga, G A niggaz you know they already
Real niggaz do real things nigga you already know nigga
C T E nigga, Rap-A-Lot records

One day you're here, the next day you're gone
'Cuz some nigga set you up on the phone
Shit, I play it how I go, I'm in a league of my own
You ain't gotta front me shit nigga, I'm buyin' my own

Whether it's sixteen bars or sixteen bricks
Move 'em one at a time, I'll take sixteen trips
I'm in the kitchen with the white, choppers by the back door
Mind on my money, but I swear this shit stack dough

Square's in the closet, a hundred thousand in the box spring
Got the stash box in the back of the Mustang
You know I keep a down ass bitch to dry that shit
Look, I-T a nigga yea she ride that shit

Hey, I hustle harder, I hustle smarter
Just left the magnum lot tried to whip me up a charter
I'm so ahead of my time, ahead of my grind
Look at snowman bitch, it's a must that I shine

See my watch is like, damn, my ears beggin' for attention
A quarter mill around my neck, in case I forgot to mention
You niggaz actin' like hoes so motherfucker keep gushin'
I'ma do what the gangstaz do and nigga keep pushin'

Keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
I've got to keep on pushin', keep, keep on pushin'
Keep on pushin', keep on pushin', keep on pushin'
Keep, keep on pushin'

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0f0acd971b8bf6806f92a92d9bcaca80

Z - Coming Of Age - Lyrics - Reasonable Doubt - Jay

Title: Z - Coming Of Age
Album: Reasonable Doubt
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Rodney Franklin, Noland Wallace Webster Shawn Carter, Kent James Mtume, Bonne

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

Lyric:
Yeah
Come experience, life as we know it
As some of you should know it, yeah, yeah
Place, Marcy, Brooklyn
Actions, well, y'all know the actions

Uh, I got this shorty on my block always clockin' my rocks
He likes the style and profile I think he wanna mock
He likes the way I walk, he sees my money talkin'
To honies hawkin', I'm the hottest nigga in New York

And I see his hunger pains, I know his blood boils
He wanna run with me, I know this kid'll be loyal
I watched him make a few ends, to cop his little sneakers and gear
Then it's just enough for re-up again

I see myself in his eyes, I moved from Levi's
To Guess to Versace, now it's diamonds like Liberace
That's just the natural cycle, nobody wanna be like Michael
Where I'm from, just them niggaz who bounce from a gun

We out here trying to make hard white into cold green
I can help shorty blow out like Afro-Sheen
Plus, I can relive my days of youth which is gone
That little nigga's peeps, it's time to put him on

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

I'm out here slingin' bringin' the drama, tryin' to come up
In the game and add a couple of dollar signs to my name
I'm out here servin' disturbin' the peace, life could be better
Like my man reclined in plush leather seats

He's sellin' weight, I'm sellin' eight balls
Sixteen tryin' to graduate to pushin' quarters y'all
I ain't gon' sweat him I'm-a let him come to me
If he give me the nod then these niggaz gon' see

I'm tired of bein' out here 'round the clock
And breakin' day, and chasin' crackers up the block for my pay
I'm stayin' fresh, so chickens check
I'm tryin' to step up to the next level, pushin' Vettes to the Jets

Diamonds reflect from the sun, directly in your equilibrium
And stunned I'm waitin' for my day to come
I got the urge to splurge, I don't wanna lifetime sentence
Just give me the word

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

Hey, fella I been watchin' you clockin
Who me holdin' down this block it ain't nothin'
You the man nigga, now stop frontin'
Ha ha, I like your style

Nah, I like Yo' style
Let's drive around awhile
Cool nigga
Here's a thou'

A G? I ride witchu for free
I want the longterm riches and bitches
Have it all, now listen to me
You let them other niggaz get the name, skip the fame
Ten thou' or a hundred G, keep yo' shit the same

On the low?
Yeah, the only way to blow
You let your shit bubble quietly
And then you blow

Hey keep your cool
The only way to peep a fool is let him show his hand
Then you play your cards
Then he through dealin' I understand
Don't blow your dough on hotties

The only thing I got in this world is my word and my nuts
And won't break 'em for nobody
Hah, I like your resume, pick a day, you can start
From now until death do us part

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

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ff4c7d50a7d3755fba9a5f93f0315956

Z - Coming Of Age (Da Sequel) - Lyrics - Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life - Jay

Title: Z - Coming Of Age (Da Sequel)
Album: Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Rodney Franklin, Noland Wallace Webster Shawn Carter, Kent James Mtume, Bonne

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

Lyric:
Yeah
Come experience, life as we know it
As some of you should know it, yeah, yeah
Place, Marcy, Brooklyn
Actions, well, y'all know the actions

Uh, I got this shorty on my block always clockin' my rocks
He likes the style and profile I think he wanna mock
He likes the way I walk, he sees my money talkin'
To honies hawkin', I'm the hottest nigga in New York

And I see his hunger pains, I know his blood boils
He wanna run with me, I know this kid'll be loyal
I watched him make a few ends, to cop his little sneakers and gear
Then it's just enough for re-up again

I see myself in his eyes, I moved from Levi's
To Guess to Versace, now it's diamonds like Liberace
That's just the natural cycle, nobody wanna be like Michael
Where I'm from, just them niggaz who bounce from a gun

We out here trying to make hard white into cold green
I can help shorty blow out like Afro-Sheen
Plus, I can relive my days of youth which is gone
That little nigga's peeps, it's time to put him on

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

I'm out here slingin' bringin' the drama, tryin' to come up
In the game and add a couple of dollar signs to my name
I'm out here servin' disturbin' the peace, life could be better
Like my man reclined in plush leather seats

He's sellin' weight, I'm sellin' eight balls
Sixteen tryin' to graduate to pushin' quarters y'all
I ain't gon' sweat him I'm-a let him come to me
If he give me the nod then these niggaz gon' see

I'm tired of bein' out here 'round the clock
And breakin' day, and chasin' crackers up the block for my pay
I'm stayin' fresh, so chickens check
I'm tryin' to step up to the next level, pushin' Vettes to the Jets

Diamonds reflect from the sun, directly in your equilibrium
And stunned I'm waitin' for my day to come
I got the urge to splurge, I don't wanna lifetime sentence
Just give me the word

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

Hey, fella I been watchin' you clockin
Who me holdin' down this block it ain't nothin'
You the man nigga, now stop frontin'
Ha ha, I like your style

Nah, I like Yo' style
Let's drive around awhile
Cool nigga
Here's a thou'

A G? I ride witchu for free
I want the longterm riches and bitches
Have it all, now listen to me
You let them other niggaz get the name, skip the fame
Ten thou' or a hundred G, keep yo' shit the same

On the low?
Yeah, the only way to blow
You let your shit bubble quietly
And then you blow

Hey keep your cool
The only way to peep a fool is let him show his hand
Then you play your cards
Then he through dealin' I understand
Don't blow your dough on hotties

The only thing I got in this world is my word and my nuts
And won't break 'em for nobody
Hah, I like your resume, pick a day, you can start
From now until death do us part

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

It's time to come up, and hold my own weight, defend my crown
Gots to lock it down and when they rush, stand my ground
It's time to come up, stick up my chest and make some loot
Gots to lock it down and when they rush stand on my own two

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2bffc1a4461d5791ea3a33e6de3356da

Where I'M From - Lyrics - R.U.L.E. - Ja Rule

Title: Where I'M From
Album: R.U.L.E.
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Artie Green, Andre L Parker, Jeffrey B Atkins, Irving Domingo Lorenzo, Demi Mcghee, Lloyd Polite

Lyric:
Hey, comin' from where I'm from, I'm from
Oh yeah, oh yeah

Kids get killed in ghettos, shot up over the car Limos
While they mom was at home, tears hittin' the pillow
Where women in the middle in a seminal funereal
Shed a tear 'cause he lost his son the same way a year ago

It's the same ego spiritual, we thuggin' in harmony
They say, "Death brings life, there exchange no robbery"
If I'm wrong pardon me, I'm just tired of poverty
Why them niggaz in the hood never hit the lottery

Unless they go lottery, first round in the draft
First we dustin' off the rounds and we slip in the mag'
Then we slip on the masks and go out and mash
And we call it feeding our family, y'all call it a tragedy, damn

How I could just kill a man?
Watch his blood flow like a river then rinse his blood off of my hand
If you hearing me speak please Lord give me a chance
Please forgive me of my sins 'cause we cleansed where I'm from

Me and my niggaz ride
Even when the sun don't shine and it's cold outside
Never run in or hide 'cause some niggaz hate it
But I can't get faded 'cause I done made it

Instead of struggling or strive
Survive my weight how these ghetto streets of mine
This is coming from where I'm from, I'm from
We all walk back in line

Now everybody know that everybody said, "Nobody can hide from beef
Except but us, who surprised when these kids get killed on the streets"
Look how these animals eat that's how they talk 'bout us
While they shed they joke and laugh puttin' a choke round us

Can I get a moment of silence?
'Cause they claimin' it's the murderers that's causin' all the violence
What 'bout the ones that protect to serve our honor
Poppin' the blue colla' with shots soon to follow

The ghettos in horror 'cause in this boy shot went back
And now the neighborhood hot and he can't move the crack
When it's all about the dollars
And he'll individually get murdered 'cause money is power

But then these snitch's get to talking and it's colder than ours
Cuffed and crimed on the bus heading straight to the Island
He was only 13 but tried us in the dope and as high as the coast
Because ain't no more children in the ghetto where I'm from

Me and my niggaz ride
Even when the sun don't shine and it's cold outside
Never run in or hide 'cause some niggaz hate it
But I can't get faded 'cause I done made it

Instead of struggling or strive
Survive my weight how these ghetto streets of mine
This is coming from where I'm from, I'm from
We all walk back in line

We ain't all killers in prison
Matter fact that's a stereo typical thought of livin'
'Cause they don't know about the hood and them love in it
Summer time top down with the wood finish

Pushin' hard, uptown windows slightly tinted
Back to back Benz and jeeps, blowin' weed with my niggaz
On our way to a house party, gonna fuck with some bitchs
Let's get some liquor for shorty who said she make us some chicken

And if we get 'em drunk enough
We probably could freak 'em and do it every other weekend
If I don't have to kill niggaz, I never would leave the ghetto
I'm like an angel that put on a halo
Cradle the grave of my niggaz that we lost in the ghetto

'Cause where I'm from in the ghetto we rock white tee's and Nike's
Roll 3 dice and name our dope ice cream
Set trends and y'all follow our lead
But in New Yitti niggaz follow they dreams, where I'm from

Me and my niggaz ride
Even when the sun don't shine and it's cold outside
Never run in or hide 'cause some niggaz hate it
But I can't get faded 'cause I done made it

Instead of struggling or strive
Survive my weight how these ghetto streets of mine
This is coming from where I'm from, I'm from
We all walk back in line

Now I lay me down and sleep
And I pray for the Lord, my soul to keep
If I should die before I wake
Pray to the Lord, my soul to take, yeah
Pray for the Lord, my soul to take, oh, oh yeah

Me and my niggaz ride
Even when the sun don't shine and it's cold outside
Never run in or hide 'cause some niggaz hate it
But I can't get faded 'cause I done made it

Instead of struggling or strive
Survive my weight how these ghetto streets of mine
This is coming from where I'm from, I'm from
We all walk back in line

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c69d3196cceffb44cb092e7503620785

Meal Ticket - Lyrics - Master P

Title: Meal Ticket
Artist: Master P
Composer(s): Eight Ball Percy Miller, Mjg Raymond Poole, Ug

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

Lyric:
My potna gave me fifty dollar, put me in the game
I been slangin' weed then I moved up to cane
Pushin' dem bouldas, slangin' dem quarters
I got 'em 2 for 3, God dammit, I'm a balla

Pushin' in weight from state to state
Niggaz ridin' dirty on my mobile phone, it's UGK
Pimp C said, "P, what's really goin' on?"
I said, "What's really happenin?" He said, "I gotta pocket full of stones"

Now P, be dat new kid on the block
36 OZ's choppin' up rocks in my rock shop
And label me a drug deala, just anotha hard nigga
Rest in peace to 2Pac and the rest of y'all thug niggas

Playaz hookin' up, tryin' to make work
Sendin' work from FedEx to UPS trucks
Now P livin' lavish, caviar and cabbage
Peppers and beans and grits and cabbage

Down south hustlin', ballin', slangin'
Niggaz teamin' up, some niggaz gang bangin'
Used to drink 40s, now it's mo whet
Used to roll cutlass, now it's Benz's and vets

Beckett on my fingaz, Rolex watches
Hoes on the block, bounce that ass, I mean pussy poppin'
Label me an alien, just like Outkast
'Cause I made my money from the ghetto and I did it fast

'Cause I'm 'bout it, y'all know I'm rowdy
Ask Big Mo and John Henry if y'all doubt it
Hooked up with 8-ball and MJG
'Cause we tryin' to get a meal ticket from these streets

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

8-ball and MJG, south side representin'
A nigga came to mention these hoes can't touch my pimpin'
Mobbin' through the swamp, P and me and G and UGK
Somethin' that a muthafucka fuck, what these hoes say?

'Cause we each be lookin for meal tickets, witches drivin' me crazy
Lady, can I claim yo' baby? Honey, call me the Shady, maybe
Construct the thinkin', we're turnin' to duckies bankin'
No laws somebody save me a slice of meat up in my grave

Captain save 'em, pay 'em, before you get to lay 'em
Got a real nigga's job, so damn hard tryin to play 'em
Weigh em, no weigh me, cause that's what they gon' pay me
Pimpin' ain't dead baby, just ask MJG

Who be I? MJG, he be me but if I was he
And you was I, who would you see? One of us is just
That when ya hungry, I do it only, pertainin' bustas
Fakes, and phonies, about that money, where my ticket?

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

Cocaine lady, white lady, sellin' good
I'm leanin' on the leather and I'm grippin' on the wood
I'm feelin' on the great ballin' in the slant back
I'm Pimp C, bitch and Tree, us niggaz roll Cadillac

Bad ass bitches can't leave my dick alone
I done 'bout me a key and changed my name to James Jones
Pimpin' ain't dead, ya heard what I said? How the fuck is pimpin' dead?
Qhen bitches still givin' me head? Lickin' my ass if he'd be the deala

Suck the nut up out a [Incomprehensible] bucket slow down suave nigga
Now bitch I be the prison pushin' everythin'
A 4 for 4 doors, king of the quarters
Fuckin' with nothin' but queens and they daughters

Get cleansed, weeded, and watered, I flow like a Asian, Malaysian
Saudi Arabian, African I be blazin' in the Golden Gate, swish it out
Holdin' weight, I hits the block, I'm rollin' bait, them fiends come out
They know they got to stole the cake, I motivate

Fiends dealas, ballas, hatas, shops and boppas
Jekyll and Hyde, Bonnie and Clyde, and niggaz
That ride with glocks and choppas where we out

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket
Tryin' to get a meal ticket

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90fe7fcc98df1cacd884cc1c9c73027f

Who The Crunkest - Lyrics - Tear Da Club Up Thugs

Title: Who The Crunkest
Artist: Tear Da Club Up Thugs
Composer(s): Joe Cooley, Jordan Houston, Jeff Page, Paul Beauregard, Earl Patrick Houston, Rodney Oliver

Lyric:
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

You know the time is tickin' short, now I'm reachin' for the vault
Grab them clothes that match the night and them things they call they
Aunt, yes, a nigga know I'm quiet, if you don't talk they think your soft
But I be quick to pull and blast and leave your body full of chalk

Never talk 'cause when you talk, these hoes be all up in your biz
Bring the word up, where you livin'? All the shit a nigga did
Hoe I ain't dentin' a fuckin' dinner roll, your bodies in the trunk
'Cause shit some keys over seas, may the flour mix with funk

I call the police, 911, "Their's been a murder on my set"
And when they pull up on my set, we pop them things and then we jet
On the low is how I keep it, if you want your blood to spill
Run your mouth off in the street and pull your gun to shoot to kill

If you real, if you realer than a motherfuckin' gang
On the block is where you hang, throw them motherfuckin' thangs
Nigga, drivin' up the K, slangin' rocks or pushin' weight
Ghetto nigga from the south, ain't no law that we can't break

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

What you know about goin' out, headin' out, ridin' out, down south
Findin' DJ Paul with the gold and diamonds in his mouth
Ridin' in the Rover with the boys and the broads in the cars behind me
Could you tell me how'd you find me

Rolex hangin' up out the window, shiny as hell
I must have gave myself away with my diamond bezzle
Slang the Rover in the garage, crankin' up the Capris
Time to check up on my tramps in the B A Z week

Zone us hangin' on corners, slangin' that marijuana
Hoe we been known since we been gone good, since this early morn
Biggity bust 'em, dust 'em, make 'em put plugs in donuts
In my hood, I'm like wassup with somethin' that's on us

Groovin' with the Hypnotized Camp Posse boys
Took my credit card, the Lexus, bought ten of them toys
Ha, ha, I got you thinkin', wishin' you was thru with the Hypnotizers
But facin' failure, you can get the club crunk like us

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Knicky knack, patty wack, automatic ghetto bust
Some say they down but they shady, so in glock I trust
I shall bust if you in it, man, represent it, man
If it's all about that, yah, that green then I'm wit' it, man

Understand where I'm comin' from, out the ghetto slum
Project Pat, Tear Da Club Up Thugs out here slangin' drugs
Makin' lame thugs bite the dust, if they step to us
Ain't no need to cuss even fuss, let that Ruger bust

If you real, you can keep it real, never fake the deal
If you gotta kill for your meal than you handle that
In the street the gat is a tool used for regulatin'
Poppin' off lead at your hat when you violating

Incriminating eyes when you see me passin' in my Lex
Haters in diguise, don't you boot this killa, do what it takes
Laid to rest, must have been your time for you to clock out
Had a vest but you should have had your fuckin' glock out

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(Folks on the right)
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)
(People on the left)

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this mother?
Who the crunkest in this mother?
Who the crunkest in this mother?

Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest, who the crunkest
Who the crunkest in this motherfucker?

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d3f24bf9f82e879807c8399025740e96

Mac And Brad - Lyrics - The Truth - Beanie Sigel

Title: Mac And Brad
Album: The Truth
Artist: Beanie Sigel
Composer(s): Brad Jordan, Dwight Grant, J Harris

Lyric:
Beanie, what's up, baby?
What's happening?
(Face)
Sigel, what ' bout to get off, baby?
We fittin' to get off
Aiyo, what we goin' to do on this shit man?
Let's wreck this motherfucker, baby', what's happenin'?

What you want to do nigga?
I, I wanna, I wanna smash it
(Smash)
Back and forth, back and forth
Let's do it, what you wanna hear?
I wanna hear some of that ol' that, ol' dear diary
(Dear diary)
Mr, Mr. Scarface, some of that old shit, you ready?
Yeah, I'm ready

I locks and load, cock and spray
Hit you niggas from a block away
SK to the Stock away
'Cause I know how to hold that shit
Empty the can with one hand and reload that shit

Give 'em the full clip, these niggas is bullshit
Been talkin' big six but scared as fuck when I pulled it
Now eat this motherfuckin' bullet
These niggas got some pussy in 'em
See I got them pissin' in they denim

Man you fuckin' with a stash raper, duct taper
Fuck you police and fuck neighbors
Move to smooth, don't duck or try to shake us
2 P 8 9 ruge, so don't tuck paper

You heard what the man said? Bitch now un ask it
I got to have it
When hitin' licks I'm a savage, you hoes is plastic
I got a semi automatic pointed at your ass
Slowin' me down gets you blasted

For your chunk, I'll trunk your folks
It ain't shit for mac to grip the gat and put the pump to work
Call your bluff run in your spot with a detective suit
Got you cuffed bout to show you what this tech will do

You must of thought that we was friendly
When we told you we was rappers, we Jackers
We want the money, that's what we after
We want the package under the god damn mattress
And if the brain splatters, don't matter, that's what we practice

Blast the rocket, knock off your leg
Tear through your forearm
Sit you in a chair, make your niggas call you short arm
Pelets in your hand, you'll never put shorts on
Ain't shit fair when you got to get your war on

So why don't you come out and play?
Make my mother fuckin' day
Y'all niggas cotton, potatoes like augrotten
We niggas plottin' to hit your stash and leave you rotten

I done bust slugs from all types of shit
I have your ass plugged up to all types of shit
And I show you, dog, how your life can get
And every thing all real fuck what you might can get

'Cause nothin' needs to be said something needs to be done
B give me a cigarette, I think I need one
'Cause in 'bout 15 seconds I'm a set the motherfuckin' alarm off
And shoot this motherfuckers arm off

You niggas better smartin' up
Act like Mac won't come through and spark shit up
Where the fuck you get heart from?
Little bitch ass nigga started commin' out the fuckin' dark from

I done told you, I'm the only nigga pushin' weight
And for another nigga to try to take my place is in the wake
It's time I retaliate
I'll make you mother fuckers pay
Now point me to the motherfuckin', yay

You lookin' at a sick bastard
This stick up shit, I got it mastered
Glove and ski mask it, any body move a lick gettin' blasted
When I'm in the crib for your shit and a thick plastic

I got this duck tape stuck in my pocket for one reason
You can stop screamin', stop squermin' or stop breathin'
'Cause I didn't come here to stay or play your babysitter
I came here to split your mother fuckin' wig, nigga

If your block gettin' money nigga, I want in
Run it in before I run in
Your spot 200 glocks and 100 men
Droppin' More shells than run and 'em

Actin' bad, smash a nigga stash and mash
Snatch the bag, bust him in his ass and dash
Un cock the mag
Kill him I don't need no mask
We Identify each other nigga Mac and Brad

Who you know but Mac and Brad?
Come through all black, no mask and crash your pad
8 clips, 4 hammers, desert eagle the place
Nobody but Sigel and Face, you feel that?

Yeah nigga that's what I'm talkin' about I know you not tired
I'm through, I'm tired and I'm out this motherfucker

Yo, I spit so real so my boys can eat
You got the nerve to have a deal and just noise on beats
Little suburb nigga never saw the streets
Silver spoon ass nigga never drawed your heat

I keep it the truth, what's all the fakin' for?
God damn, every week I got to break a jaw
And you wonder why I smack up niggas?
Shit, it's either that or Mac's gonna clap up niggas

What ya'll want me to do hun? Soften up?
So my raps can start to soften up?
Shit never that, dog, forever my baretta cat
Hittin' niggas in they fitted cap where the letters at

I told ya'll that the truth in here
Recognize hottest thing in a booth in here
The Gooch in here, aiyo, it's over in here
God damn, somebody bring me some juice in here

I used to be a drug dealer
Hangin in the cut sellin' dime rocks
Gettin' cash to eat with
Punchin' a time clock

In the ghetto makin' small change
Slingin' till the sun up
Got to pay my phone bill focusing on the come up

Got 6 shots numbers strait
Crank 'bout 38
Big boys trippin' on me tryin' to nigga hate

This 17 year old Tony Montana type
Ain't never did the killin' but still I'm lovin' the drama right
Under covers pass by thinkin' I don't know the truth
Makin' niggas these offers they know these niggas can't refuse

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44f7495060179468c48b7238c196a36e

3, 2, 1 Go! - Lyrics - I Need Mine $$ - Lil' Flip

Title: 3, 2, 1 Go!
Album: I Need Mine $$
Artist: Lil' Flip
Composer(s): Paul Beauregard, Jordan Houston, Wesley Weston

Lyric:
DJ Paul, Juicy J productions
Hypnotize Minds, shut da fuck up
Let's do it nigga, pay attention

Bring it back, bring it back
Bring it back, bring it back
Bring it back, bring it back
Bring it back, bring it back

Now if I front you a O
And once you make all ya dough
And if you steal from me nigga
?Cause my homies kill for me nigga

We?ll cut off ya head, duct tape it to ya leg
And yo partners can get it too
Now they pumpin? on his chest
?Cause they tryin? to bring ?em back

I told ya nigga you supposed to bring a Gat
But that?s what you get when you talk behind my back
So tell my foes they can get it anytime
?Cause when I?m on dat shit yeah, I got it on my mind, here we go

3 2 1 go
I?mma let you know deez rap niggas hoes
Look you don?t wanna fight ?cause I?ll break yo shit
And you don?t want drama wit da Clover G click, yea

3 2 1 go
I?mma let you know deez rap niggas hoes
Look you don?t wanna fight ?cause I?ll break yo shit
And you don?t want drama wit da Ice Slick click, yea

See nigga dis dope is cutless
Flip my knife, it's a black cutless
Shady paint wit da quarter top rags
Gotta for cheap, but we can't brag

Hataz playin? but they better have a plan B
I got a glock every time that they see me
And I?ma buss till my clips outta business
And there won't till I down all the witness

See I?mma do you bitches clean by da book
Wit no murder weapons or talkers that are no good
See I ain't no troublemaker just like to smoke bud
But you Prisseys wannabe's got me misunderstood

3 2 1 go
I?mma let you know deez rap niggas hoes
Look you don?t wanna fight ?cause I?ll break yo shit
And you don?t want drama wit da Clover G click, yea

3 2 1 go
I?mma let you know deez rap niggas hoes
Look you don?t wanna fight ?cause I?ll break yo shit
And you don?t want drama wit da Ice Slick click, yea

When we make a little G?s den deez niggas start to hate
For just rappin? or jackin? or D pushin? weight
Don't get made at the juice ?cause I hustle till it's late
And you sober passed out wit yo face in a plate

Heard you never get no pussy so you holdin? down brake
Ridin? round in rental cars like you head of the state
Tryin? to cut niggas deals in da trunk he got da baken
Soda I thought I told ya he'll get ya ?cause he fake

Since I rap don't be thinkin?, I can't leave yo body stankin?
Yes we do a lot of drugs and whole lot of drinkin?
In dis business yeah it's gangstas but dis hatin? I?m gonna finish
Hit you in fuckin? mouth and send you back to the dentist

3 2 1 go
I?mma let you know deez rap niggas hoes
Look you don?t wanna fight ?cause I?ll break yo shit
And you don?t want drama wit da Clover G click, yea

3 2 1 go
I?mma let you know deez rap niggas hoes
Look you don?t wanna fight ?cause I?ll break yo shit
And you don?t want drama wit da Ice Slick click yea

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1faafbd7cf83f6b05de7a79280e1b427

Z - Takeover - Lyrics - The Blueprint - Jay

Title: Z - Takeover
Album: The Blueprint
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Robbie Krieger, Lawrence Parker, John Densmore, E. Burdon, Shawn Carter, A. Lomax, Jim Morrison, B. Chandler, Ray Manzarek, Kanye West, Rodney Lemay

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

Lyric:
R.O.C, we runnin' this rap shit
Memphis Bleek, we runnin' this rap shit
B. Mac, we runnin' this rap shit
Freeway, we run this rap shit
O and Sparks, we runnin' this rap shit
Chris and Neef, we runnin' this rap shit

The takeover, the break's over nigga
God MC, me, Jay-Hova
Hey lil' soldier you ain't ready for war
R.O.C too strong for y'all
It's like bringin' a knife to a gunfight, pen to a test
Your chest in the line of fire with ya thin ass vest
You bringin' them Boyz II Men, how them boys gon' win?
This is grown man B.I., get you rolled in the triage

Beatch, your reach ain't long enough, dunny
Your peeps ain't strong enough, fucker
Roc-A-Fella is the army, better yet the navy
Niggaz'll kidnap your babies, spit at your lady
We bring knife to fistfight, kill your drama
Uh, we kill you motherfuckin' ants with a sledgehammer
Don't let me do it to you dunny 'cause I overdo it
So you won't confuse it with just rap music

R.O.C., we runnin' this rap shit
M-Easy, we runnin' this rap shit
The Broad Street Bully, we runnin' this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that's it
Freeway, we runnin' this rap shit
O and Sparks, we runnin' this rap shit
Chris and Neef, we runnin' this rap shit
"Watch out! We run New York"

I don't care if you Mobb Deep, I hold triggers to crews
You little fuck, I've got money stacks bigger than you
When I was pushin' weight, back in eighty-eight
You was a ballerina, I got your pictures I seen ya
Then you dropped "Shook Ones," switch your demeanor
Well, we don't believe you, you need more people
Roc-A-Fella, students of the game, we passed the classes
'Cause nobody could read you dudes like we do

Don't let 'em gas you like Jigga is ass and won't clap you
Trust me on this one, I'll detach you
Mind from spirit, body from soul
They'll have to hold a mass, put your body in a hole
No, you're not on my level get your brakes tweaked
I sold what ya whole album sold in my first week
You guys don't want it with Hov'
Ask Nas, he don't want it with Hov', no!

R.O.C., we runnin' this rap shit
B. Sigel, we runnin' this rap shit
M-Easy, we runnin' this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that's it
O and Sparks, we runnin' this rap shit
Freeway, we runnin' this rap shit
Chris and Neef, we runnin' this rap shit
Watch out! We run New York"

I know you missin' all the fame
But along with celebrity comes 'bout
Seventy shots to your brain, nigga, you are lame
Youse the fag model for Karl Kani-Esco ads
Went from, Nasty Nas to Esco's trash
Had a spark when you started but now you're just garbage
Fell from top ten to not mentioned at all

To your bodyguard's "Oochie Wally" verse better than yours
Matter fact you had the worst flow on the whole fuckin' song
But I know, the sun don't shine, then son don't shine
That's why your lame
Career come to an end, there's only so long fake thugs can pretend
Nigga, you ain't live it you witnessed it from your folks pad
You scribbled in your notepad and created your life

I showed you your first tec on tour with Large Professor
Then I heard your album bout your tec on your dresser
So yeah I sampled your voice, you was usin' it wrong
You made it a hot line, I made it a hot song
And you ain't get a corn nigga you was gettin' fucked then
I know who I paid God, Serchlite Publishing
Use your brain, you said you been in this ten
I've been in it five, smarten up Nas
Four albums in ten years nigga? I could divide

That's one every let's say two, two of them shits was due
One was nah, the other was "Illmatic"
That's a one hot album every ten year average
And that's so lame, nigga switch up your flow
Your shit is garbage, but you try and kick knowledge?
You niggaz gon' learn to respect the king
Don't be the next contestant on that Summer Jam screen
Because you know who, did you know what? With you know who
But just keep that between me and you for now

R.O.C, we runnin' this rap shit
M-Easy, we runnin' this rap shit
The Broad Street Bully, we runnin' this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that's it
Freeway, we runnin' this rap shit
O and Sparks, we runnin' this rap shit
Chris and Neef, we runnin' this rap shit
Watch out! We run New York"

A wise man told me don't argue with fools
'Cause people from a distance can't tell who is who
So stop with that childish shit, nigga I'm grown
Please leave it alone, don't throw rocks at the throne
Do not bark up that tree, that tree will fall on you
I don't know why your advisers ain't forewarn you
Please, not Jay, he's, not for play
I don't slack a minute, all that thug rappin' and gimmicks

I will end it, all that yappin' be finished
You are not deep, you made your bed now sleep
Don't make me expose to them folks that don't know you
Nigga I know you well, all the stolen jewels
Twinkletoes you breakin' my heart
You can't fuck with me, go play somewhere, I'm busy
And all you other cats throwin' shots at Jigga
You only get half a bar, fuck y'all niggaz

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704eefc2137b3027c37ff861084e0099

For The Money - Lyrics - Mack 10

Title: For The Money
Artist: Mack 10
Composer(s): T Green, Dedrick Rolison, Tina Weymouth, Russell T Jones, S Stanley, Adrian Belew, Kenyatta S Blake, Christopher Frantz

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

Lyric:
Ladies and gentlemen, Flight 10 from LAX
Is now arriving into JFK International

What, what you do, motherfucker?
[Incomprehensible], nigga
How many, hey yo, how many niggas is really makin' money now?
Know what I'm sayin'?

It's '98, I'ma tell y'all cats somethin'
This is the year of 'Do it or don't'
If you gon' do it, you better roll on with this crew cat, Juggy

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money

I duck down with Buckshot, Hoo Bang with Wu-Tang
Won't hesitate to slang, so money ain't a thang
Called Buck an' Dirty, asked them what they need
They said, ?Send me two thangs an' some L.A. weed?

So my belief is fuck the beef, all money the same
An' when I get to New York, I'ma show you the whoop game
I make a bitch stay down 'coz I'm that type of guy
Put the work on the Greyhound an' fly to the N.Y.

Hit the east coast with a pocket full of cheddar
Tan khakis on with a thick red sweater
They see me with some hoes, couldn't be better timin'
'Coz though a nigga G'd up, I got on big diamonds, so nigga what?

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money
Yo, I am comin' over to your spot tonight
I promise you, my baby, that I'm gon' do you right

Through the gusty wind, I roll with fifty men
Ready to get nifty an' shifty an' low
So what's the movements, yo? Let me know
'Coz when I come for motherfuckers, I'm comin' for throats

It was sad I bled but the red in my eyes shed
Light on the dark, I led the blind in sight
Now I got all of them inside
It's the reason why I do this an' I night ride

If you an' a nigga outside, say the word
An' I'ma splurge with my flight team, soarin' like birds
Missed it on the Friday with my nigga Cube
But the bomb blew Saturday when Mack lit the fuse

Who other than Buckshot come pick up the pieces
An' straighten niggas out like creases
Speak on it, yeah, nigga
Buckshot, ODB, Mack 10, back at it again

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money
Yo, I am comin' over to your spot tonight
I promise you, my baby, that I'm gon' do you right

Hey yo, most of you know me, some of you don't
When it comes to challengin', none of you won't
Arrange this battle to improve your style
It's a brother with a totally different profile

Most of you play cold front in your face
Hesitatin' on the rhymes, shoulda been Memorex
But you forgot, you'se an amateur
Mystery worshipper, yo, I prefer

I mind you, tease you, who's the boss?
Sucka amnesia, memory loss
Well, hit this, just quiet as kept
MCs on the charts from the start had slept

Let's take them, wake them, you should be woke
'Coz you take MC-in' for a practical joke
I present myself to be
A similar nightmare of an 'Amazing Story'

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money
Yo, I am comin' over to your spot tonight
I promise you, my baby, that I'm gon' do you right

Yo, you ain't hearin' nothin' but a drop of the dime [Incomprehensible], Know what I'm sayin'?
To all my dogs, I wanna give a shout out
To the [Incomprehensible], know what I'm sayin'?

You got my nigga, Mack 10
You got my nigga, Buckshot shorty
An' you got the one, Dirt Dog, know what I'm sayin'?
An' we gon' do it like sweat hogs, my nigga
This how we get down

People call me crazy but that's alright with me
They ask me why I'm hustlin', I say for the money

Hoo Bangin' Records, pushin' weight in '98
Cookin' nothin' but the bomb, you know what I'm sayin'?
'Coz we got 'The Recipe', fo' sho'

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219c674bf0a361ad27b1dd4b3801c7ca

Bm J.R. - Lyrics - Tha Carter (Screwed And Chopped) - Lil' Wayne

Title: Bm J.R.
Album: Tha Carter (Screwed And Chopped)
Artist: Lil' Wayne
Composer(s): Dwayne Michael Carter, Ronald Williams

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

Lyric:
Yea shorty, you know what I'm talkin' bout'
I peepin' these niggaz out here they slippin' like they ain't bout
Money no more man, so what fuck, you know what we gon' do ha?
We gon' do what we been doin' nigga, we gon' load up,
Get a lot mo' and a lot mo' and say fuck em', nigga
Keep buyin' shit, keep fuckin' hoes, loading' up on mo' bitches
Then you know what I'm sayin', we gon' get greedy too nigga
I ain't never gettin' full, I'm full blooded with this grind

I got it
I got it

Murder Capitol, only key to survive is kill
If the elements don't murder you, tha Rydahs will, fa real
And niggaz know I go hard to the fullest, get involved
And I got em' playin' dodge ball wit bullets
Yeah, I got the sawed off, fully in the Sean John hoodie
Get fucked ya play pussy
Haa, we hit em' up while dey ain't lookin'
And tha body shots hurt but tha head shots took em'

Damn and if tha red dot spot em' then tha hollow-head got em'
Knock his tops to his bottom Jack, yea
Ya see we grind from the bottom just to make it to da bottom
At the very bottom of da map, Louisiana
Piranhas, every where you at, you gotta wear a extra condom and a
Extra gat, ya bitch could get it fa actin' like a man and niggaz in
Pakistan, impactin' on ya man, I backed his hand
Ya man on command in fronta niggaz he cool wit dem boyz on fan

I'm on hot, I adjust in different climates
Stuck in a animal, keep runnin' wit my prime mates
You ain't did it 'til you done it like in fives states
Weezy-hustle, no blubber, I put on weight
And in a drought I go on a diet and stretch more
Lose all dat weight, leave a nigga wit stretch marks
You'nt even come up to a nigga chest
Pause-up, paw, what tha fuck they play dat in da club fa?

Real Shit I'm duckin' bombs from a drug war
No religion but da cops swear dat I'ma drug law
Father forgive em' fa dey know not who dey pushin' Lord
Father forgive me if I have to send em' to you Lord
I'm just tryna dodge tha shots dey send to da God
They ridin' up high way to Heaven Boulevard

Damn, dem niggaz pussy and jive, not even in tha eye exam
They ain't lookin' fa I, fa A and a K
I'll make ya face crook to tha side
Now when you smilin' everybody gotta look from tha side.
'Cuz when you wilin' you ain't lookin' you jus lookin' high
And when we hungry, you look like pie
Sweet potato-ass nigga, you lemon meringue, apple custard
Cherry jelly, don't make me get tha biscuit busta, yeah

What up chizzle? You my distant brotha
Real shit nigga, same father different motha, shit
I skip tha frontin' and stick to keepin' it trill
You not know me fa nothin' otha
I'm somethin' otha than people you feel
I'm deeper fa real
I'm deeper than skills, my speeches can kill
Rest in peace

Yeah, you underdig, shorty it's all about one thing nigga
If you bout money nigga come fuck with us
If you ain't bout money get the fuck from round us nigga
And whatever you bout we bout it
However you wanna get it we can give it to ya nigga
Order bitch, ya underdig, put ya prints in nigga
Put ya feet down and ya nuts on the concrete and let's roll
Let me get it back, hey, hey

You sleep in a field fa tryin' a dude
I'll bust ya head to da meat
Turn ya mind 2 food, food fa thought
Think, I ain't lyin' to you
I'll lie his body in grease, set fire to em'
I'll tie his body in sheets, put tha tires to em'
Make em' feel tha escalade
Put his feet in tha blades

Damn, I'm tha heat in tha blaze and niggaz keep they ways
When I'm in tha streets wit Blake, watch
My nigga hungry, he'll eat tha plate
And if I ask tha homeboy, he'll eat ya face, yeah
And tho' he got me, you can ask
I'm like a pool table, I keep tha 8
My side pocket, side wayz, when I pop it
Leave a nigga side wayz, fa five days, bird man talk

Yeah nigga, I tell em', I tell em' again shorty
If it ain't about money
Get all the fuck from round us
Fuck dat, I'm comin' bak gurl

Check my swag, I travel light, sound dog, you play hard
And I gravel like ground dog, I'm under ground call me ground hog
Lay down laws call me ground law but don't confuse me wit da law
Naw, but just confuse me wit my paw because I am the Birdman J.R.
I ain't trippin' nigga, I play tha corner like Rip-Kin nigga
Wit tha 40 Cal Rip-kin nigga, rip a nigga, flip ya vehicle
Split ya windshield, whack ya baby mama
But I let tha kid live

And people say that I am a kid still, 'cuz tha lil' nigga
Still ride on big wheels, you feelin' animal then
Come on and get killed, this kid peel bandannas like bananas
Say I'm slight bananas, I blow a weekend in Havana
In my Gabana wit my bottom bitch from Savannah
Man a train couldn't stop ya man, I'm man up and you not a man
I stand up, say I got my land, I'm tha man of my land
Call it Lil' Weezyana, that's tha new plan

Yeah nigga, you 'bout some money get at me nigga
That?s the only way
Dumb shit we bout that get at me
Nigga roll solo, dolo nigga

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Death Trend Setta - Lyrics - Crossfade - Crossfade

Title: Death Trend Setta
Album: Crossfade
Artist: Crossfade
Composer(s): Edward Sloan

Lyric:
It's what I've become that I fear the most
And I never thought it could get so wrong
I believe there's a part of me that I cannot beat
A part of me that I can't defeat
The side of me that just doesn't belong

Judging by the weight of my fucked up world
I think maybe I should take a step back
From this I need to quit pushing, just let it roll

The waves that you made
(Push me, push me)
The things that you say
(Push me, push me)
The waves that you made
(Push me, push me)
So I'll play God now
Blow you, blow you away

Yeah, it's what you've become that I took today
You never thought I could be so strong
You can see there's a part of me that you cannot beat
And part of you will always remember me
When you look around and you are so alone

Judging by the weight of my fucked up world
I think maybe, I should take a step back from this
But you had to keep pushin', so I let it go

The waves that you made
(Push me, push me)
The things that you say
(Push me, push me)
The waves that you made
(Push me, push me)
So I'll play God now

Now that you pushed me
I bet you wish we could have made things better
And now you see that I could be another would be
Another death trend setta

And now you see that you pushed me
I bet you wish we could have made things better
And now you see that I could be another would be
Another death trend setta

Push me, push me
Push me, push me
Blow you, blow you away
Push me, push me
Push me, push me
Blow you, blow you away

The waves that you made
(Push me, push me)
The things that you say
(Push me, push me)
The waves that you made
(Push me, push me)
So I'll play God now
Blow you, blow you away

Push me, I bet you wish
We could have made things better
And now you see that I could be another would be
Another death trend setta

And now you see that you pushed me
I bet you wish we could have made things better
And now you see that
(I'll play God now)

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Gimmewhutchagot - Lyrics - Kuruption! - Kurupt

Title: Gimmewhutchagot
Album: Kuruption!
Artist: Kurupt
Composer(s): Lavolta Iv Allen, Ricardo Brown, Robustian Griffin, Sean Singleton

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

Lyric:
Yo, Barshawn
Gimmewhutchagot nigga
Come and drip into the realm of the X-files
Gimmewhutchagot nigga, gimmewhutchagot nigga
Gimmewhutchagot nigga, gimmewhutchagot nigga

Get your position correct, get your ammunition correct
The tactful tech technician effect
(Bitch)
I got a quarter key, you wanna to try to stick me for it?
Put the loot up, the shoot up and hit me for it?
Niggaz hang for, do the same thang for it
Penetrate like, uh, poor the gas, blast and then bang for it

Y'all supposed to be some type of raw doggs, nigga
Fuck around and get your shit spit like laws, nigga
Fantasies never formulate
So when you get the formula to format
Restructure and reshape
Relax or we take all

We make sure we shake all
We shake tame or aim or flame all
A bitch tried to play me like nothing's really real
Like I ain't really real and I ain't really got skills
(Bitch!)
I make you hot like ten tons of lava rocks
The Juggernaut crackin' niggas like cinder blocks, nigga

Gimmewhuthcagot nigga, get blazed, get shot, nigga
We make it hot nigga raw, my nigga Barshawn
Kurupt with the auto metal cock and draw
I ain't got time to see what you saw

Beat back mothafucka before I crack your jaw
This ain't about nothin' but life and law
Niggaz killin' me
What you ice-grillin' me for?

Now how you gonna let my looks deceive you? My raps is lethal
I kicks shit that would amaze you, they daze you
Y'all think my rhymes is voodoo, for the first time comin' through
Ain't been a minute yet, already cats wanna eye-screw
Plottin' to pop you, you don't know me duke
The one that shoot, you all mad 'cuz I'm spendin' loot

That you all broke ass niggas been tryin' to scoop
See I done paid my dues, don't be fooled by the pretty boy image
'Cuz you'll get blasted up in less than a minute
It's Barshawn and Kurupt, y'all gonna feel it
'Cuz when I bless a track, I spit venom in it
So how you wanna do it, rappin' or gun-clappin'

Either or, it could happen
Kurupt, move the glock to his mouth for they gappin'
I bet next time you stay in a child's place
This is Rome folks talkin', you don't relate
If you can't hold the weight, then don't debate
Pushin' crates, headed upstate with chrome plates
(Check it out)

Gimmewhuthcagot nigga, get blazed, get shot, nigga
We make it hot nigga raw, my nigga Barshawn
Kurupt with the auto metal cock and draw
I ain't got time to see what you saw

Beat back mothafucka before I crack your jaw
This ain't about nothin' but life and law
Niggaz killin' me
What you ice-grillin' me for?

You all fiend, daydream for cream I've seen
Eyes gleam for the drop-top I be in
You wanna end my life, my niggaz ain't seein'
If so happen you did that
Where the fuck you expect the rest at?

We got that too comin' through a quarter to two
Blazin' they duct tapin' you and your boo
All at the revenue stand, we was once a crew
Mad tight, but that's life, I learned the game
Same cats that you roll with will split your game

See, I'm in it for the cheese
Nigga, fuck the fame
(Nigga, fuck the fame, mothafuck the fame)

I play the nickel plated position, get penetrated
Popes just pause, I rise with my doggs
And collar clothes impact and enthrone
Gone, zone the dome and then blown
I heard raw before I saw raw before
Mack milli's, Mack 11's and four-four's

Me and my nigga Shawn
What you got weight on your shoulders?
The Freons gettin' colder
Me and my nigga Deion's hittin' corners
I got a beam on you chest high
Fuck around and get your fuckin' chest right

I spreads like bad news
Bitches get played like the blues
Blowin' dicks like whistles
Launch like missles, pop like pistols
And confuse, misuse, enthuse
Abuse, buy the twos

'Cuz I refuse to chill like EP
I prefer to get high live with the DP
You ain't raw nigga, you more like subtle
Fuck you and your rebuttal, you laid in a puddle
It's a storm, form reform your label form
Keep calm or keep drippin' in the twist of the swarm

Gimmewhuthcagot nigga, get blazed, get shot, nigga
We make it hot nigga raw, my nigga Barshawn
Kurupt with the auto metal cock and draw
I ain't got time to see what you saw

Beat back mothafucka before I crack your jaw
This ain't about nothin' but life and law
Niggaz killin' me
What you ice-grillin' me for?

Kurupt, young Gotti
West Coast, East Coast, nigga
Raw doggs

Gimmewhuthcagot nigga, get blazed, get shot, nigga
We make it hot nigga raw, my nigga Barshawn
Kurupt with the auto metal cock and draw
I ain't got time to see what you saw

Beat back mothafucka before I crack your jaw
This ain't about nothin' but life and law
Niggaz killin' me
What you ice-grillin' me for?

Gimmewhutchagot nigga, gimmewhutchagot nigga

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38c38de628ba0ed2e3c1f5707dc6743f

Z - Ain'T No Nigga - Foxy Brown - Lyrics - Bring It On: The Best Of - Jay

Title: Z - Ain'T No Nigga - Foxy Brown
Album: Bring It On: The Best Of
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Dennis Lambert, Tyrone Thomas, Shawn Carter, August Moon, Brian Potter

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

Lyric:
Foxy Brown
What? Jay-Z, what

I keep it fresher than the next bitch
No need for you to ever sweat the next bitch
With speed, I make the best bitch see the exit, indeed
You gotta know you're thoroughly respected by me

You get the keys to the Lexus with no driver
You gotcha own '96 suh-in, the ride
And keep your ass tighter than Versace, that's why
You gotta watch your friends you got to watch me, they connivin' shit

The first chance to crack the bank
They try me, all they get is 50 cent francs
And papayas, from the village to the tele
Time to kill it on your belly, no question
I got more black chicks between my sheets than Essence

They say sex is a weapon, so when I shoot
Meet your death in less than eight seconds
Still poundin' in my after life laughin', my shit is tight
Who you askin', right?

Ain't no nigga like the one I got
(No one can fuck you betta)
Sleeps around but he gives me a lot
(Keeps you in diamonds and leathers)

Friends'll tell me I should leave you alone
(Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha)
Tell the freaks to find a man o' they own
Man o' they own, man o' they own
(Yea, yea)

Fresh to Def in Moschino, coach bag
Lookin' half black and Filipino, fakin' no jacks
Got you a beeper to feel important
Surroudin' your feet in Joanie Dega's and Charles Jordan

I keep ya dove but love
You know these ho's be makin' me weak
Y'all knows how it goes B and so I creep

I've been sinnin' since you been playin' wit Barbie and Ken 'n'
You can't change a player's game in the ninth innin'
The chrome rim spinnin' keeps 'em grinnin'
So I run way the fuck up in 'em and wrinkle the face like linen

I play hard-eh till they say God
He's keepin' it real, jigga, stay hard
Lawd, don't even trip
I never slip, nigga, get a grip

What you don't see is whatcha get
Weapons concealed, what the fuck y'all feel?
When you niggas play sick we can all get ill
(What the deal?)

Ain't no nigga like the one I got
(No one can fuck you betta)
Sleeps around but he gives me a lot
(Keeps you in diamonds and leathers)

Friends'll tell me I should leave you alone
(Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha)
Tell the freaks to find a man o' they own
Man o' they own, man o' they own

Yo, ain't no stoppin' this, no lie
Promise to stay monogamous, I try
But love, you know these ho's be makin' me weak
Y'all knows how it goes B, so I stay deep

What up, boo? Just keep me laced in the illa snakes
Bank rolls and shit, back rubs in the French tub
Mackin' this bitch, wifee, nigga
So when you flip that coke, remember the days you was dead broke

But now you're style and I raised you
Basically, made you into a don
Flippin' weight, heroin and shit, you know the pussy is all that
That's why I get bagets five carats and all that

From Dolce Gabana to H Vendell, I'm ringin' bells
So who the playa? I still keep you in the illest gators
Tailor-made so we can lay up in the shade reminiscin'
On how I fuck the best o' shit

Specially when I'm flippin' Baileys
Don't give a fuck about how you move with them other mamis
I push da Z, eatin' shrimp scampi with rocks larger than life
Fuck them Reebok broads, you made it known who your wife was

I got you frontin' in Armani sweaters before this rap shit
When you was in levers and bullshit berettas
And eek classes with mo in the glasses, shows in Cali
Wit all the flavor suede Bally's

Now all your mens' up in your Benz's high post
I swear you be killin' me playin' inside my pubic hairs
I never worry 'bout them other chicks
'Cuz you proved who was your wiz when you was spinnin' that bitch

I took a little when you was up North, your comisary stay pilin'
How you livin' large on the island, all them collects have me vex
But when you come home
Knew I was comin' off wit half of dem checks

Now we on the rise, your diamond mami wit the slanted eyes
Holdin' this grip cocked the green and the shit
Fucks no, I see half o' the dough
Made you into a star, pushin' hundred thousand dollar cars

Ain't no nigga like the one I got
(No one can fuck you betta)
Sleeps around but he gives me a lot
(Keeps you in diamonds and leathers)

Friends'll tell me I should leave you alone
(Ha ha, ha ha, ha ha, ha ha)
Tell the freaks to find a man o' they own
Man o' they own, man o' they own

Ain't no nigga like the one I got
(No one can fuck you betta)
Sleeps around but he gives me a lot
(Keeps you in diamonds and leathers)
Friends'll tell me I should leave you alone

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