Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Ragtop. Sort by date Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by relevance for query Ragtop. Sort by date Show all posts

Friday, August 20, 2010

Ragtop Day - Lyrics - Jimmy Buffett

Title: Ragtop Day
Artist: Jimmy Buffett
Composer(s): Jimmy Buffett, Michael Utley, Will Jennings

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

Lyric:
The five o'clock Friday blows
I let it go, I got to let it go
I put on my weekend clothes
Turn on the rock n' roll

Throw all our cares away
It's a ragtop day
It's a ragtop day

Classy little white and red
Turns everybody's head
My baby meets me at the Five and Dime
She's always right on time

We roll all our cares away
It's a ragtop day
It's a ragtop day

Cruise across the county line
A little dance and dine
A drive in picture show

And when the midnight's comin' down
We're headin' back to town
She lets her lovin' show

Feels like we're the only ones
To see the morning sun
Sleepin' through the afternoon
And risin' with the moon

Oh, don't the stars look bright
It's a ragtop day
It's a ragtop day
We'll throw all our cares away
I live for that ragtop day

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79837aa0d4fe8cadbda22542c75296eb

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Ragtop Cadillac - Lyrics - Lonestar - Lonestar

Title: Ragtop Cadillac
Album: Lonestar
Artist: Lonestar
Composer(s): Billy Lawson

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

Lyric:
I've got a black book full of numbers
All the makings of a real hot summer
Radio cranked up a rockin'
Week's pay burning a hole in my pocket

I've got everything I need almost
Everything I need I'm this close
Everything I need wouldn't you know
The only thing I lack is you and a ragtop Cadillac

I've got my new boots off of layaway
It's Friday night and I'm ready to play
Fist full of quarters for the telephone
A '65 Chevy from a friend on lone

I've got everything I need almost
Everything I need I'm this close
Everything I need wouldn't you know
The only thing I lack is you and a rag top Cadillac

I've got everything I need almost
Everything I need I'm this close
Everything I need wouldn't you know
The only thing I lack is you and a ragtop Cadillac
You and a ragtop Cadillac
I need you and a ragtop Cadillac

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a84890cd7534b9834c4bd187f1af6a8c

Ragtop - Lyrics - Pickin' On Nashville - Kentucky Headhunters

Title: Ragtop
Album: Pickin' On Nashville
Artist: Kentucky Headhunters
Composer(s): Doug Phelps, Ricky Lee Phelps

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

Lyric:
I don't drive no hard top
I don't drive no coupe
I don't drive no compact
There ain't no substitute

For a rag top, rag top automobile
Rag top, rag top automobile

If I were a rich man
If I were a king
If I were a big star
Lord, I'd trade everything
Yes, I would

For a rag top, rag top automobile
Rag top, rag top automobile

I got the top laid back
Got my cool rays on
Now look a-here baby
This cat is long gone

Lord, how I love those rag tops
And I will until the day I die
I don't want no crown in heaven
Ah, just send me out across the sky

In a rag top, rag top automobile
Rag top, rag top automobile

Rag top, rag top automobile
Rag top, rag top automobile

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Wednesday, August 4, 2010

She Likes To Get Out Of Town - Lyrics - Brooks &Amp; Dunn

Title: She Likes To Get Out Of Town
Artist: Brooks &Amp; Dunn
Composer(s): Kix Brooks, Bob Dipiero

Lyric:
Looking at her phone desk, tappin' her feet
The kind of girl your mama likes to meet
A Sunday school dress buttoned up tight
When the weekend comes she's like a red taillight

She likes to get outta town
Yeah, she likes to get outta town
She's got a little red ragtop she just bought
Just forty-five minutes from her two days off

She's watching the clock just countin' it down
That girl likes to get outta town
She's got a little glove box with everything she needs
Got some red lipstick and some Mardi Gras beads

Got some party girlfriends like to keep it unwound
That girl likes to get outta town
She likes to get outta town
Yeah, she likes to get outta town

They've got a motel room with a single bed
Just a singin' down the road goin' out of their heads
Gonna turn it on up
Time to party on down

That girl likes to get outta town
Yeah, yeah, my, my
Big funs close as the city limit sign
Yeah, yeah, do tell

Daddy's little angel gonna raise a little
Well, well, well, well

She's got a second cousin that keeps her on the phone
Got an exboyfriend that wont leave her alone
Oh but it wont hurt em what they don't know
What goes on the road, stays on the road

She likes to get outta town
Yeah, she likes to get outta town
She was born to shake it and its not her fault
But the competition just loves to talk

She's so tired of them puttin' her down
That girl likes to get outta town
She likes to get outta town
Yeah, she likes to get outta town

It's time to crank it on up
Time to party on down
That girl likes to that girl likes to get outta town
Gonna crank it, gonna crank it

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5c3b87ddde757bc2785ad3dbc89e3d81

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Daytona 500 - Lyrics - Ironman - Ghostface Killah

Title: Daytona 500
Album: Ironman
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): Dennis David Coles, Robert F. Diggs, Darryl Robert Hill, Robert M. James, Corey Woods

Lyric:
We are the G.O.D's an' we came to rock the spot
Like Ironman Starks, they be the illest MCs in the world today
Cappa, Raekwon an' the R.Z.A., so listen to them clear
An' put the box right near your ear, light your blunts an' down your beers
'Cause you could never fuck with Wu-Tang Killer Beez

Say, "Peace" to cats who rock mack knowledge, knowledgists
Street astrologists, light up the mic God, knowledge this
Fly joints that carried your points, Corolla Motorola holder
Play it God, he pack over the shoulder

Chrome tanks, player like Yanks, check the franchise
Front on my guys, my enterprise splash many lives
Rappel on fakes like reflectors
He had sugar in his ear, in his last crack career

We can can him, manhandle him, if you wanna
Run in his crib o, get ditto, skate like a limo
An' jet to the flyest estate, relate, take a break
Break down an eighth an' then wait drop it like Drake

Thugs, they be booin' an' screwin', we canoin'
Claim they doin' the same shit we doin', fuck your union
It's the same style, RZA trainable, jump the turnstyle
On the alley, tried to challenge God for the new vials

Especially that, aluminum bat in the act
Relax, lay back, sell a grenade a day, it pays black
The Mac 10 flex white cats like Windex
Index finger be sore, bustin' these fly scripts

The Wally kid count crazily, grands with our plans
Layin' with my bitches an' my mans in Lex Lands
We losin' 'em, jet to the stash an' now Jerusalem
Abusin' 'em, rockin' his jewels like we usin' 'em

Low pro star, seven thick waves rock Polar
Roll with the older God, build with the Son an' the Star

All these MCs start realizin'
That Ghost got that shit, that'll keep you vibin'
The Wu is here to bring you Shaolin's finest
But if your shields are weak, you better step behind us

Mercury raps is roughed, then God just shown like taps
Red an' white Wally's that match, bend my baseball hat
Doin' forever shit, like pissin' out the window on turnpikes
Robbin' niggaz for leathers, high swipin' on dirt bikes

Voice be metal like Von Harper radio bubble
Murder sleep away camp, the fly lady champ
The arsonist, who burn with his pen regardless
Slayin' all these earthlings an' fake foreigners

In the Phillipines, pick herbal beans, bubblin' strings
Body chemical 'Cream', we burn kerosene
The conviction of my tape is rape, wicked like Nixon
Long heads inscriptions with three sixes in

Kiss the pyramid experiment with high explosive
I slapbox with Jesus, lick shots at Joseph
Zoomin' like binoculars, the rap blacksmith
Money's Rolex with sparkles, Chef Ragtop is spotless

I'm Iron Man, no cheap cash metal, I'm steel alloy
True identity hidden inside secret tabloids
Breathe oxygen, both sides of my jaw carry oxes
The track hit like the bangers in hundred watt boxes

Yo, jostlin' these cats while Little J be deli-in'
Sip Irish Moss out of Widelians
[Incomprehensible]

All these MCs start realizin'
That Ghost got that shit that'll keep you vibin'
The Wu is here to bring you Shaolin's finest
But if your shields are weak, you better step behind us

Give me the the fifty thou, small bills, my gold plate, my slang kills
My Benz spills, what up Lils? Murder one Dunn
Killer bee stung, guess who back home, Son?
My technique of slang camp won, third platoon soon

Cristal bottles, cages of boom, probably wardrobe
The mad hatter, big dick style, beware goons
Smuggle balloons, lord of dooms, in fat pussy wombs
Let the Gods build, pull up the grill, check out the mad skills

Top secret technique, too hard for you to peep it
An' keep it, jiggy style of rap an' watchin' knuckle slang
Sweep it out of order, ape recorder can't record my slaughter
Spoil the rotten, Don is too good to be forgotten

High top notch, borderline rhymes is hand cocked
Ninety-six, my ill sound clash is still hot
Get yourself shot

All these MCs start realizin'
That Ghost got that shit, that'll keep you vibin'
The Wu is here to bring you Shaolin's finest
But if your shields are weak, you better step behind us

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6b4bd35270694d466771d815f5dffc92

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

I'Ve Been Working Too Hard - Lyrics - Southside Johnny And The Asbury Jukes

Title: I'Ve Been Working Too Hard
Artist: Southside Johnny And The Asbury Jukes
Composer(s): Steven Van Zandt

Lyric:
Now brothers and sisters gathered here today
I got something I want to share with you
Now let me warn you, it's a sad, sad story
But I swear every word is true

Now, money and me don't talk too much
We never got along too well
But when I got some in my pocket
I seem to have a lot more friends

I pay the landlord and the taxman
And it's time to go to work again

Can I get a witness? Can I get a witness?
I need somebody, let me hear you say
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I got to get just a little bit out of control

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
Gotta find somebody just to soothe my soul

I had a young girl back in Cleveland
My baby would not be true
It took me a while to realize
The evil that some girls do

I told her mother and father what I did
And they said, "What kind of work is that?"
Well, they said I just didn't never have the fear of God
They could tell by the way I laughed

Well, she ran off and married a preachers son
In a ragtop Cadillac

Can I get a witness? You know I need a witness
I need somebody, let me hear you say
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
Lord, I've been workin' too hard
I got to get out [Incomprehensible] lose control

I've been workin' too hard
You know, I've been workin' too hard
Yeah, I've been workin' too hard
Gotta find somebody just to soothe my soul

Well, people, I've learned my lesson
And I've learned my lesson well
Some girls want your money
But your money is the Devil himself

But life can get confusing
Whether you're high, low, rich or poor
I swear when you get right down to it
There's only one thing that I know for sure

Before this night is over
I'll be in trouble and I'm lookin' for more, more, more

Can I get a witness? I got to find a witness
You know, I need somebody, let me hear you say
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah
Yeah yeah, yeah yeah, yeah yea, yeah

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I need to get just a little bit out of control
Tonight my baby

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
[Incomprehensible]

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
Got to get out of control

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
[Incomprehensible]

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard
I got to get just a little out of control

I've been workin' too hard
I've been workin' too hard

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a0d6d60b2b65572f891190d31dbad062

Friday, July 30, 2010

Fly Away - Lyrics - Baby Aka The #1 Stunna

Title: Fly Away
Artist: Baby Aka The #1 Stunna
Composer(s): B Thomas, P Alexander, T Quaites

Lyric:
Hey, wassup pimp?
Birdman, mothafucker

The financial adviser of this get money game
It's Stunna, the big money man
So loosen up your strings 'cause you can get shot
The Crystal absolute is 'On The Rocks'

Ey nigga, I gotta stay, fly money
No baseball player, I got the a-ride money
I go to Jamaica, homie and ball like a dog
The leaf that sticky, homie and fog up the car

It's nothing to the icky, icky Harlem world sticky, sticky
Fifty, fifty, a gram raw cut dilly
Got minks on my body 'cause it costs too much
250 on the Bird had to frost me up

See, these gangstas, pimps and thugs make the world go round
Ride for uptown and till they lay you down
Birdman with them big chips
With the Bird Lady and the Benzes

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(Oh, it's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

So get your stock up, nigga, get our brains rapped right
The hood fucked up 'cause the nigga changed like
The Birdman Daddy keeps the bricks taped tight
A hundred of them things got my chips same night

Pull up in the Bentley with them skinny ass tires
Ice all over 'cause a nigga so fly
[Incomprehensible] and I'm doing what I'm doing
If them clubs gon' pop, I'm getting straight to 'em

Nothing on chain, I put them dubs on the thangs
Wipe a nigga down, bitch, give a nigga brains
Call a nigga changed, ma, wash a nigga range
Bird, baby, down with them Cardier frames

Gucci from head to toe and Stunna my name
Make winter weather and that's my thang
I'm iced up, nigga, smoke pounds of dro
And I'm labeled as a pimp and I mack a hoe, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(Fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today
I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it

It's the worldwide callin' and the boss of the ballin'
A hood rich, nigga, Money tall as all
The youngers of 20 cheerin' and nobody starvin'
Nobody borrowin' 'cause nobody starvin'

Ey ey, TQueezy, the dro man callin'
Get it in the jar, Jeff Pense is callin'
Buy ounce, buy pound, buy enough for the rounds by mouth
'Cause ya know how it's going down

Dro party with the Magnolia chicks
Smoke just fly, nobody givin' lips
They all on the floor 'cause the brains is flying
On the outside it's just them 20 inch tires

Bentley, Lexus, Lams and Vets
Them Ragtop, Guccis with the Smitt n Wess
Got the old school caddies and them new school too
Platinum mouth niggaz and them gold mouth too, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(It's the fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

The Birdman, bitch, coming to a city near you
Now how you luv that nigga, now I know what this is
You know what you need to do?
You need to look on the back of your CD cover

And get that sticker for the Mom Burberry G-nites
You want to come pick them up?
Come, pick them up on 6 and Magnolia and holla at ya boy c-ya?
You understand? And we gon' holla at ya another time, holla, biatch

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682a0994f9c80e0ade20e86dcca401b8

Saturday, August 21, 2010

I Wanna Go Back - Lyrics - The History Of Rock - Kid Rock

Title: I Wanna Go Back
Album: The History Of Rock
Artist: Kid Rock
Composer(s): R.J. Ritchie

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

Lyric:
I wanna go back
I wanna go back

'Cause I remember way back when
Got kicked out the crib and had a place to stay in the Clem
With some friends George and Jay
We were the funky fresh crew and I'd DJ

What a shock it was to be on the set
Comin' from a nice home, now livin' in the projects
No regrets 'cause I learned a lot
And I earned a lot in the parkin' lot

Doin' dirt for the O.G's slangin' rock
They used to call me that little white kid
Who could rock on the two turntables
And that ain't no fable

Watchin' Eddie Murphy
Instead of Clark Gable
My whole lifestyle switched Hoss
Puttin' in hours at the 76 car wash

But I could never wait for them weekends to come
Dum ditty, dum ditty, ditty dum dum
Boom, chick boom, the bass went
On turntables fuckin' it up in Duke's basement

Groove time productions, we kept the jam jumpin'
Open up your ears I'm tryin' to tell you somethin'
And give some love back to those that loved me
206 Court street and my second mom Tracy

Little Keesha and Cole
My mellow blow and my homegirl Flo
Rock round see, you could find me some
But I kept my tables in the crib when I wasn't in the club

Tom Rich and Mike Shafer used to give me rides
And buy me groceries when I didn't have no paper
And I'm grateful for this, sometimes I look back
And it's these times I miss, makin' demos on my old four track

Sometimes, I can't help but think
I wanna go back, I wanna go back
(Back in the time)
I wanna go back, I wanna go back
(I wanna go way back, way back ya'll)
I wanna go back, I wanna go back
(Back in the time)

I got kicked out again for bein' fly
Got invited to stay with Tony and Eli
An' they treated me like brothers
R I P to their cool ass mother

An my brother Din Dada
For the homies up here I still gotta lot of love
I wanna go back, way back
To change things and bring ya'll back

I'm pourin' beer out for ya'll
I'm singin' I saw the light from my cousin Paul
Life brings a lot of tragedy
I look around at times and it's so sad to see

A wasted life or a broken home
But all I can do is take care of my own
I feel so alone like a stranger
But sometimes I express my love through my anger

And I've lost a lot of friends for this
Blackman, T-Bone, Ernest KDC and Chris
And the rest of the Beast crew
I ain't sayin' that I'm awe but I still got love for you

'Cause I remember how it used to be
Make way motherfuckers beast crew's in the party
To the right, to the left
Me, black men and Funk Daddy Def Stef

And sometimes I feel blessed for sure
To a been a part of one of raps last great tours
Ice Cube, Too Short, D-Nice, yo yo
Kid Rock and it don't stop

I wanna go back, I wanna go back
(Back in the time)
I wanna go back, I wanna go back
(I wanna go way back, way back ya'll)
I wanna go back, I wanna go back
(Back in the time)

I remember little Robert 'cause I stayed with him
I used ta go and see Campbell, when I needed a trim
And when times got grim and it seemed that I lost my way
I used to get blown of with Reve

Bumpin' shoulders and slappin' hands
Willie Knight had a disco, right in his basement man
Them New Haven jams
Me and Blackman runnin' crazy scams

Not a black or white thing, a wrong or right thing
Just makin' that money and pullin' them honeys
Spandex shorts and the halter tops
Slangin' them rocks and runnin' from the cops

The only white kid walkin' round on the block
Cruisin' in Amp's low ridin' ragtop
Go see Howard for what ya need
Underage buyin' forties and bags of weed

Late night liquor from Bubba Coles
People used to say, Rock you got soul
Vince looked out and so did Lou
Had a studio budget from the cocaine loot

Chuck D and Murph were the original three
And now Richard D and Cracker are down with me
I got a studio records and a taste of fame
But when I roll through the Clem it's still all the same

Even though things change, you know I ain't forgot
'Cause the love from the past gave birth to Kid Rock
But it's hard to go back to the things I knew
'Cause the new life I have now lives for two

Yeah and that's where I'm at, I wanna go back
(Back in the time)
And that's where I'm at, I wanna go back
(I wanna go way back, way back ya'll)
I wanna go back
(Back in the time)

Bring it down
Let it ride, let it ride
Way back, way back ya'll

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3e1388b99297de245378814a4288846c

Monday, August 2, 2010

Uneasy Rider '88 - Lyrics - Charlie Daniels Band

Title: Uneasy Rider '88
Artist: Charlie Daniels Band
Composer(s): Charlie Daniels

Lyric:
Me and my buddy got us a wild hair
And figured we wanted to go somewhere
So we loaded up in my ragtop Chevrolet
We had a little bit of money and a whole lot of show
And with Hank Junior blaring on the radio
We got a tank full of gas and we was on our way

We figured we'd go down to New Orleans
We were barrelling' down old 17
When a man with a blinking red light was on our tail
He said, "You were doin' 60 in a 45
But I'm gonna let you go this time
But if I catch you again, I'm gonna slap you in the county jail"

We said, "Thank you sir, you sure been nice
And you ain't gonna have to tell us twice"
And we were Southbound and down with the wind blowing in our faces
We kept on rolling and pretty soon
The radio was cooking out a haggard tune
And we were pulling into Houston and checking out all the places

I was feeling dry and I said, "I think
We ought to stop and get ourselves a drink"
Old Jim said, "Yeah 'cause we got time to kill"
We kept on rolling and I seen this spot
We pulled into the parking lot
Of this place called, 'The Cloud Nine Bar and Grill'

We walked through the door and the place was jammed
The lights were low, they had a punk rock band
And some orange haired feller singing about suicide
I said, "Jim, this ain't our kind of place
He said, "Well, let's just have one round anyway"
So against my better judgment we walked on inside

Went up to the bar and we sat down
This feller walked up and said, "I'll buy this round"
And he sat down on the barstool next to Jim
He looked like a girl but he talked like a guy
He had lipstick on and mascara in his eyes
And everybody in that place looked just about like him

I said, "Jim, this ain't our kind of bar
Let's just go on out and get back in the car
'Cause there's gonna be trouble, ain't no sense in taking a chance"
We was getting up, getting ready to leave
When somebody grabbed old Jim by the sleeve
And this good looking girl, she was asking my buddy to dance

I said, "Jim, don't do it, there's something missing
There's fellers dancing and fellers kissing
There's a feller in high heeled shoes wearing panty hose"
He said, "Partner, I just can't turn this down
You just go over there and have one more round
I'll dance with the lady and we'll get on down the road"

So he walked away and left me alone
But this funny looking feller kept coming on
And he was making me mad with some of the things he said
Then he put his hand on my knee
I said, "If you don't get your paw off me
I'm gonna locate your nose around the other side of your head"

He said, "I love it when you get that fire in your eye
I said, "Well, partner try this on for size"
And I unloaded on him and he went out like a light
Everybody in that place must have been his friend
They all headed for me, I said, "This is the end"
But where I come from, we don't give up without a fight

They were screaming and yelling and scratching and clawing
I was punching and hitting and kicking and pawing
I was holding my own, 'cause I've been in a scrap or two
Old Jim come running up out of the blue
And that gal he was with, come running up too
And proceeded to beat on me with a high heel shoe

I grabbed her by the hair it came off in my hand
And that beautiful girl was just a beautiful man
And old Jim just got sick right there on the floor
He dropped that dude like a shot from a gun
Smeared his lipstick, made his makeup run
And me and old Jim started fighting our way to the door

Man, we lit out of there in that Chevrolet
I put in on the floor and it stayed that way
We was going' down the highway doing about a hundred and ten
We were headed for home and we was getting nearer
Then a red light came on the rear view mirror
And that same blame cop was pulling us over again

Now I'm sitting' here in this county jail
I had to call my Daddy to go our bail
But I learned me a lesson that I never will forget again
I've done give up drinking', I've give up bars
And running around the country in souped up cars
I'm going back where the women are women and the men are men

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671f2088ad480694b6f6b8ec5a754815

Thursday, August 12, 2010

If I... - Lyrics - Ill Na Na - Foxy Brown

Title: If I...
Album: Ill Na Na
Artist: Foxy Brown
Composer(s): Jean C Olivier, Samuel Barnes, Marcus Miller, Luther Vandross, Sean Carter

Lyric:
Uhh, c'mon yeah
Brooklyn, Brook-lyn, take it back, take it back
If I, Fox Boogie, ragtop six drop
Get caught, think not, light Brown
'Cause we're not to be stopped
If I

I came up fast in this crap game they call a rap game
What the damn! She's killin' it again from that dame
Now every snake fake-faced O jig
I'm like, just don't sell me the 'Bridge, I buy lakes
Friends even bend rules, chicks I lent jewels
Says, "She's actin' funny now, oh she's got money now"
Tryin' to do my thing y'all, need you on my team
But you aint gon' stop my dream, or block my cream

I liked things better when you called me Ings
A year before Rap City, way before Screen Scene
'Fore they knew who Foxy was, you probably was
The first to keep it real wit all my secrets concealed
Things got ill the minute I got a deal
And my time got shorter and you was havin' a daughter
Had to stop hopscotch, get off my rump
Damn I wish we were still playin' jump

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If I

My so-called man thinkin' he slick 'cause I stay on tour
Thought he'd never get caught tryin' to play on whores
I cried as my keys was scrapin' the car doors
From the trunk, to the hood, by the wheel and the floor
Exposed my vulnerable side, had me open wide
Said you forever keep it real, but you lied
Was the first to feel inside, the Ill Na Na
Had me thirst when you whispered to me, "How it feel mama?"

Yeah, but don't hurt it, I like the way you work it
No Diggity, don't stop, get busy
Blew up your pager, checked your clothes
Duked your house keys, stole your beeper code
What happened to the Mo's and the occasional roses
Massages and the bubble baths, rubbin' my toes as
I realize you was just misleadin' me
I shoulda known, you left your last chick to be with me

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If I

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If I

Mommy dearest tried to prepare us for a lot ahead
You never heard, preferred to smoke your lye instead
On the one to one combo told me you'd die for bread
That's why I spend these nights, cryin' in the bed
You had the deep dish six, your rep was widespread
I tried to intervene, you said it was over my head
Said I'd never understand the plight of a black man
Right, but I'm tryin' to keep you in my life

V.I.A. satellite, talkin' them burn outs
Soon you had me whilin' and you turned me out
Taught me bout how to win, the code of the streets
Luxuries and wealth, untold it was sweet
And one night you asleep after work was chopped up
Felt somethin' strange in my veins, I popped up
One foot in the house shoot flew to the horn
Got the cell operator, I knew you was gone

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If I

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If I

If I could take this back I would
If I could rewind the time to when it was all good
I would take it back to when we said goodbye
If I

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Saturday, August 21, 2010

Lose Control - Lyrics - Cookbook - Missy Elliott

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Don'T Get Outta Pocket - Lyrics - Westside Connection

Title: Don'T Get Outta Pocket
Artist: Westside Connection
Composer(s): Treyvon Green, Dedrick Rolison, William Calhoun, Kelly Garmon, O'Shea Jackson

Lyric:
Westside
We live in la la, we smokin' la la
Fuck wit dada, boo, go bye bye
Nigga, ha ha
We live in la la, we smokin' la la
Fuck wit dada, boo, go bye bye
Nigga, ha ha

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

I used to be a young phenom like Lebron
Now I'm doin' shit beyond Genghis Khan
Peon, you can't pass on Deon
The best rapper in the world ain't a European

Look, respect my gangsta, nigga, obey
An' I been rich since my first pro day, ask O' Shea
West ridin' is my forte
An' will the hustle ever stop? Nigga, no way

No, niggaz can't fuck wit Dub SC
Gang related an' leavin' 'em leakin' like STDs
C-Walkin' out of the SC, lettin' the tech breathe
Until I rest in peace, Dub gon' rep these streets

K Mac is the one, nigga, fuck Neo
No love, hit 'em up with the dub wherever we go
My game's so cold, the hoes call me Sub Zero
Oh, you know that nigga pimpin', Ken? That's my hero

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

It's catastrophic when I drop it
Atomic, demonic an' off that chronic
It's ironic how I flip them phonics
So fucked up, the product of 'Reaganomics'

I heard the price of yola went up
My gun buddy had a drop, so the pistola went up
The heater hot, nigga, burn ya skin up
The fo' fifth hold a dime an' I shoot all ten up

I'm about guns, fuck roses, I reeze over parole
Some man captured some folks the locstas never foes
Bacon soda aromas niggaz swingin' chrome motors
Dickey bombin', photo shootin' out of stolen automotives

I got diamonds on fingers an' watch on arms
Stay out a nigga way an' you won't be harmed
If I catch a bitch, I'll see for sure she'll be charmed
When I'm rollin' through the hood, a nigga heavily armed

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

Shit, my life is like a rap show
I'm out the back door, so beware of the strap, bro
'Cause that's how my blast go
Ice Cube is a asshole just like Castro

Nigga, I spit flames, leave permanent scars
Connect gang bang an' we G's about ours
An' ain't shit changed, still stripes an' stars
An' I'm done already, ain't got but 4 bars

Holdin' it down, down, down, stoned down, bustin' rounds
I'm Dub, ghetto rich nigga since bow down
Squad down, sendin' flicks to my niggaz locked down
Doin' dolas in streets wit the ragtop down

Yo, write a book 'bout a nigga like me
I got loot like an athlete, just signed wit Nike
You lose ya life if ya ever get sheisty
Could Mac ever run out of snaps? Not likely

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

Get outta pocket, we might just whoop yo' ass
Pull out a rocket, we might just take yo' cash
An' when I cock it, we might step out an' blast
But we ain't gon' let that bullshit pass

I pledge allegiance to the rag of the United Westside Connect Gang
An' to the W for which it stands
One neighborhood, under God
Invincible with luxuries an' riches for all

With luxuries an' riches for all
With luxuries an' riches for all
Just don't get outta pocket
Westside

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c505fd0ed156c5b74a36778613314b91

Monday, August 9, 2010

Fly Away - Lyrics - Birdman - Birdman

Title: Fly Away
Album: Birdman
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): B Thomas, P Alexander, T Quaites

Lyric:
Hey, wassup pimp?
Birdman, mothafucker

The financial adviser of this get money game
It's Stunna, the big money man
So loosen up your strings 'cause you can get shot
The Crystal absolute is 'On The Rocks'

Ey nigga, I gotta stay, fly money
No baseball player, I got the a-ride money
I go to Jamaica, homie and ball like a dog
The leaf that sticky, homie and fog up the car

It's nothing to the icky, icky Harlem world sticky, sticky
Fifty, fifty, a gram raw cut dilly
Got minks on my body 'cause it costs too much
250 on the Bird had to frost me up

See, these gangstas, pimps and thugs make the world go round
Ride for uptown and till they lay you down
Birdman with them big chips
With the Bird Lady and the Benzes

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(Oh, it's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

So get your stock up, nigga, get our brains rapped right
The hood fucked up 'cause the nigga changed like
The Birdman Daddy keeps the bricks taped tight
A hundred of them things got my chips same night

Pull up in the Bentley with them skinny ass tires
Ice all over 'cause a nigga so fly
[Incomprehensible] and I'm doing what I'm doing
If them clubs gon' pop, I'm getting straight to 'em

Nothing on chain, I put them dubs on the thangs
Wipe a nigga down, bitch, give a nigga brains
Call a nigga changed, ma, wash a nigga range
Bird, baby, down with them Cardier frames

Gucci from head to toe and Stunna my name
Make winter weather and that's my thang
I'm iced up, nigga, smoke pounds of dro
And I'm labeled as a pimp and I mack a hoe, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(Fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today
I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it

It's the worldwide callin' and the boss of the ballin'
A hood rich, nigga, Money tall as all
The youngers of 20 cheerin' and nobody starvin'
Nobody borrowin' 'cause nobody starvin'

Ey ey, TQueezy, the dro man callin'
Get it in the jar, Jeff Pense is callin'
Buy ounce, buy pound, buy enough for the rounds by mouth
'Cause ya know how it's going down

Dro party with the Magnolia chicks
Smoke just fly, nobody givin' lips
They all on the floor 'cause the brains is flying
On the outside it's just them 20 inch tires

Bentley, Lexus, Lams and Vets
Them Ragtop, Guccis with the Smitt n Wess
Got the old school caddies and them new school too
Platinum mouth niggaz and them gold mouth too, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(It's the fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

The Birdman, bitch, coming to a city near you
Now how you luv that nigga, now I know what this is
You know what you need to do?
You need to look on the back of your CD cover

And get that sticker for the Mom Burberry G-nites
You want to come pick them up?
Come, pick them up on 6 and Magnolia and holla at ya boy c-ya?
You understand? And we gon' holla at ya another time, holla, biatch

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Friday, August 13, 2010

Uneasy Rider - Lyrics - Charlie Daniels Band

Title: Uneasy Rider
Artist: Charlie Daniels Band
Composer(s): Charlie Daniels

Lyric:
Me and my buddy got us a wild hair
And figured we wanted to go somewhere
So we loaded up in my ragtop Chevrolet
We had a little bit of money and a whole lot of show
And with Hank Junior blaring on the radio
We got a tank full of gas and we was on our way

We figured we'd go down to New Orleans
We were barrelling' down old 17
When a man with a blinking red light was on our tail
He said, "You were doin' 60 in a 45
But I'm gonna let you go this time
But if I catch you again, I'm gonna slap you in the county jail"

We said, "Thank you sir, you sure been nice
And you ain't gonna have to tell us twice"
And we were Southbound and down with the wind blowing in our faces
We kept on rolling and pretty soon
The radio was cooking out a haggard tune
And we were pulling into Houston and checking out all the places

I was feeling dry and I said, "I think
We ought to stop and get ourselves a drink"
Old Jim said, "Yeah 'cause we got time to kill"
We kept on rolling and I seen this spot
We pulled into the parking lot
Of this place called, 'The Cloud Nine Bar and Grill'

We walked through the door and the place was jammed
The lights were low, they had a punk rock band
And some orange haired feller singing about suicide
I said, "Jim, this ain't our kind of place
He said, "Well, let's just have one round anyway"
So against my better judgment we walked on inside

Went up to the bar and we sat down
This feller walked up and said, "I'll buy this round"
And he sat down on the barstool next to Jim
He looked like a girl but he talked like a guy
He had lipstick on and mascara in his eyes
And everybody in that place looked just about like him

I said, "Jim, this ain't our kind of bar
Let's just go on out and get back in the car
'Cause there's gonna be trouble, ain't no sense in taking a chance"
We was getting up, getting ready to leave
When somebody grabbed old Jim by the sleeve
And this good looking girl, she was asking my buddy to dance

I said, "Jim, don't do it, there's something missing
There's fellers dancing and fellers kissing
There's a feller in high heeled shoes wearing panty hose"
He said, "Partner, I just can't turn this down
You just go over there and have one more round
I'll dance with the lady and we'll get on down the road"

So he walked away and left me alone
But this funny looking feller kept coming on
And he was making me mad with some of the things he said
Then he put his hand on my knee
I said, "If you don't get your paw off me
I'm gonna locate your nose around the other side of your head"

He said, "I love it when you get that fire in your eye
I said, "Well, partner try this on for size"
And I unloaded on him and he went out like a light
Everybody in that place must have been his friend
They all headed for me, I said, "This is the end"
But where I come from, we don't give up without a fight

They were screaming and yelling and scratching and clawing
I was punching and hitting and kicking and pawing
I was holding my own, 'cause I've been in a scrap or two
Old Jim come running up out of the blue
And that gal he was with, come running up too
And proceeded to beat on me with a high heel shoe

I grabbed her by the hair it came off in my hand
And that beautiful girl was just a beautiful man
And old Jim just got sick right there on the floor
He dropped that dude like a shot from a gun
Smeared his lipstick, made his makeup run
And me and old Jim started fighting our way to the door

Man, we lit out of there in that Chevrolet
I put in on the floor and it stayed that way
We was going' down the highway doing about a hundred and ten
We were headed for home and we was getting nearer
Then a red light came on the rear view mirror
And that same blame cop was pulling us over again

Now I'm sitting' here in this county jail
I had to call my Daddy to go our bail
But I learned me a lesson that I never will forget again
I've done give up drinking', I've give up bars
And running around the country in souped up cars
I'm going back where the women are women and the men are men

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