Rhymin' On The Funk - Lyrics - Sex Packets - Digital Underground

Title: Rhymin' On The Funk
Album: Sex Packets
Artist: Digital Underground
Composer(s): George Clinton, Bernard Worrell, William Earl Collins, G Jacobs, R Brooks, D Elliot

Lyric:
S H I N I N on the funk
And listen to the emcees rhymin' on the funk
We solemnly swear to never bust a style that's bunk
So listen to the way that we're rhyming on the funk

Now, we would like to ask you have you ever heard this style before'
You gotta say no, 'cause there ain't no denying
And if you say yes you're lying
People are always wondering what's up with the Underground
Are they down? Or is just another new sound

We're saying things and when we use a beat we use it right
Because we're not just playing things
Spitting rhymes like a Tommy Gun spraying things
So when you see us on stage don't just stare us down
Or compare our sound yo any other crew ya like
Yo, judge how ya like

Because we are, S H I N I N on the funk
And listen to the emcees rhymin' on the funk
We solemnly swear to never bust a style that's bunk
So listen to the way that we're rhyming on the funk

Riding this like a roller coaster hugging the curves and dipping
Like I'm supposed to do for the Underground troupe
'Cause I know I'm the poop steaming hot
Stinking up the dance floor gonna do it freelance
For the funk, my friends and all the others in the industry

They want to get with me why is that, man?
Maybe it's my smooth flow they know this guy is dope
So they get hip to the style I'm using
It's called raw fusion ain't no time for ego-tripping
Let it be known there'll be no slipping on mine
'Cause all I want is a chunk of this Underground funk

S H I N I N on the funk
And listen to the emcees rhymin' on the funk
We solemnly swear to never bust a style that's bunk
So listen to the emcees rhymin' on the funk

Yo, Money B
What's up Cold Shock G?
Check it out, would you tell the people what we mean
What do you mean, what we mean?

You know what I mean
Tell 'em what we mean
When we're R H Y M I N on the funk
Let 'em know that we got spunk

We got it
And when I count to three
Go on and hit some of that Humpty-hump
One, two, three

Well, I'm Humpty-humping
You know that I'm saying something
The funk's in your face gonna keep the place jumping
As the beat keeps pumping I'm tick-toking 'em
Dope rhymes, I'm dropping 'em on the twenty-four track
And there ain't no stopping 'em
It's too late to put the tape on pause because we're

Shinin' on the funk
Shinin' on the funk
Shinin' on the funk
Shinin' on the funk

Tell me if you think the beat is nasty
We'll get ready, we're going to get sweaty
Just in case I hope you brought a towel in
I'm on the prowl when I hear the bass growling

Growling like a big bass monster
On a rampage, it's like we were on stage
Shock G speaking from the Underground
Do they understand? I really don't give a damn 'cause we're

Shinin' on the funk
Shinin' on the funk
Shinin' on the funk
...

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1bc965507949beb184ab2489646e5f18

Chorus Line Pt. 2 - Lyrics - Ultramagnetic Mc'S

Title: Chorus Line Pt. 2
Artist: Ultramagnetic Mc'S
Composer(s): Robert E Bell, Keith Mathew Thornton, George M Brown, Dennis R Thomas, Trevor Randolph, Maurice Smith, Ronald N Bell, Robert S Mickens, Cedric Miller, Claydes E Smith, Timothy J Blair, Richard A Westfield

Lyric:
Can you funk with it?
Can you funk with it?
Can you funk with it?

Rappers wanna step on the X, then go to shit
I got the mic in my hand and well equipped
Usin' my style for a firm set of action
MC's beware, the club windows I'm bashin'
Throwin' rhymes and bombs and some cocktails

You better move quick but not slow snails
I get smooth on daddy and granddaddy
Why? 'Cause I'm the great grandfather
MC in motion, G as in go left
Rhymin' on off beat, the X is so death defyin'

Super scrubs keep tryin'
You wanna bite like a pit? I'll be the lion
I'll chew your ass like monkies on wild kingdom
And look at birds and bees that come sting them
Time after time, rhyme after rhyme

'Cause you ain't jack shit, not even a dime
A nickel and penny, a one dollar bill
How can you break wild and tell brothers to chill?
You ain't the man to move and stop the cannonball
No matter how you run hide, it's gonna land and fall
Straight on your brain, the X'll drop rocks

Leave a rapper with mumps and chicken pox
Standin' still and stiff like a mannequin
Bloody Kotex and sweat and start panickin'
I'm dissin' rappers like Damon on Living Color
You need my help on the stage? I'm not your mother
Father, son, your pissy little cousin

Suckers are crabs, I grab 'em all by the dozen
You think you're hard with them hats and all that black on
You're not scarin' the X, yo bring the wack on
I load the mic up and bust like a mack 10
While my DJ go wild, do a backspin'

Kick 'em down, one two, flights of four stairs
This ain't no sample or break from Roy Ayers
I'm just a convict, skippin' the prison line
Yo, I'm on the chorus line

It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
Flipmaster, bust your rhyme

Yeah, my funkiest deep down from the underground
Down in the Bronx, this is the funk

Yo, melody change up, grip on the beat right
I come correct hit hard like a fist fight
I thank God for pavin' the ways
For writin' these dope rhymes and rappers I slaid

I'm kickin' the rhyme gram as dope as I can and
To make you say god damn, Gee's got a hype jam
To crush a punk and make 'em beg for mercy
Because he's nothin', he can't touch me

The metaphor master has to blast ya faster
You wanna step in my way, then I'll smash ya
You see you're a bit slow, your flow's out of sync bro
You rhyme like a weasel, my rhymes are cock diesel

So step if you really feel cocky
And I'll flip and bash your skull like Rocky
Call you Bullwinkle, snatch your game plan
You played out son like Dudley Captain Caveman

Set you down, explain you can't go far
You rhyme kinda country like some shit out of hee haw
Ced Gee and I'm flexin' my wrath

Takin' rappers by one, cold bustin' that ass
So now you know exactly what's the time
I'm cold illin' on the new chorus line

It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
Yo, Tim Dog, bust your rhyme

Yo, man it's the man himself
The motherfuckin' illegal alien one
Yo comin' up next is Tim Dog
Yo, Dog, eat them motherfuckers

Comin' at cha with a funky rhyme that'll sure nuff catch ya
Get fat, get slow, get high, get low but you still can't blow
Rhythm is smashin' whippin' ass is a passion
Suckers that keep clashin' break 'em like glass and
You just shatterin'

Fuck with Tim Dog, well, you know, you're not badder than
I'm rich and thick, you're cup of noodles
My rhymes are hardcore when you're rubber like doo doo
Step back, ease back and just listen

I'm dissin' all suckers that keep wishin'
Rhyme and rhyme with the rhyme, bring another rhyme
Get another rhyme, bring a rhyme, let your mother rhyme
Steppin' to the A.M., steppin' to the P.M.

Steppin' to the bus while I'm ridin' in the BM
You see me jettin' right by with the fly Latin girl in my ride
You gettin' jealous? You shouldn't be jealous
Let me ask the fellas, hey, fellas

Why is he jealous, jockin' me and my fly ride?
You really really really wanna get inside
You wanna riff but I got the gift that come swift
And ain't got time for that bullshit

Pulsate devastate and innovate
Suckers that think they're great I just mutilate
Tim Dog, comin' back with the rhyme
Fuckin' up shit on the chorus line

It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
It's a chorus line, it's a chorus line
TR, yeah, bust your rhyme

I think, the track is very complicated
I don't know any place that will accept the track like this
We can't deal with that stuff, it's too tight

Back again, comin' off on a hype track
The man is back again, 'cause it's like that
Black, matter of fact, in death react
Combat, motherfuckers don't want that

Style, rip it up style, catch a fill it up style
Freestyle, so buck wild
I got the style you want to hear
Who's next? You better fear

TR, the super star like a Czar
In control, by far
Cruisin' like a Benz or a Jaguar
Boss your Audi, like John Gotti

So like my man whose name is
Make a move, I'll make you famous
And if you choose to step to this
You get next to this?

Remember the Exorcist
I wrap rappers like my man named Bolo
Take out a city like Chernobyl
I'm greatly underrated, highly elevated

To serve and destroy is how I demonstrate it
To keep grooves and move to soothe and prove
Fans and guests performers I amuse
To teach and reach, anyone or anybody

A fan will grab my hand and wants to join the party
I got skills and style for each and every time
On the chorus line

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8a24cce6e75c85609168858e3085de17

Rock The House - Lyrics - Gorillaz - Gorillaz

Title: Rock The House
Album: Gorillaz
Artist: Gorillaz
Composer(s): John Dankworth, Teren Devlon Jones, Jamie Hewlett, Damon Albarn, Dan Nakumura

Lyric:
I know you like that
You wanna try that
It's like a flashback
So shake your ass crack
I got the balls to
Rock the salsa
Funk the bluesa
Any groove to
Make you move 'cos
Taking you to
Another landscape
Is my mandate
I'm highly animated even though I'm decomposing
So if your feet is frozen I'm a die to see you ropin'

And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down
And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down

Tap your toes and clap your hands
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on trace the globe and shake your pants
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Just twist your hip and do the dip
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on shake and bake do whatever it takes
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

Gravitational pull
I'll have you making a fool
Out of yourself on the dance floor
Doing back spins, running man, and more
Party down with Vigga and Candor
Coming to the jam
Or look like a landlubber
And do the aqua boogie
Win lots of goodies maybe
Pop a Gucci wallet turntables is talking to me
It's awfully groovy
Seeing all the treasure and the booty

And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down
And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down

Tap your toes and clap your hands
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on trace the globe and shake your pants
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Just twist your hip and do the dip
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on shake and bake do whatever it takes
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

I wanna get down lower than Atlantis
Going toe to toe with an enchantress
Get funkier than funkadelic wearin' pampers
While you eggheads is on the wall preparin' answers
Sharing transcripts while we over here
Dipping and dancin'
Rhythm romancin'
Wallflowers
Giving no act you no
All hours we chillin' and maxin', so
Relaxing
Opposites attracting
I'm a toss my hat in
Floss when the track spin
Like I'm on a crack binge
Jigging and wiggling
Freakin' booties speakin' to the cuties so belligerent
No religion just bump the feed on
You'll feel reborn
Negativity we just dead it like dcon
Better lift your feet and just measure the beat on
The pulse when it respawns

Tap your toes and clap your hands
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on trace the globe and shake your pants
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Just twist your hip and do the dip
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on shake and bake do whatever it takes
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

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b4ef77930c1b8a968e9d3bb9d99f0719

Rock The House (Phi Life Cypher Version) - Lyrics - Gorillaz

Title: Rock The House (Phi Life Cypher Version)
Artist: Gorillaz
Composer(s): John Dankworth, Teren Devlon Jones, Jamie Hewlett, Damon Albarn, Dan Nakumura

Lyric:
I know you like that, you wanna try that
It's like a flashback so shake your ass crack
I got the balls to rock the salsa
Funk the blues

Any groove to make you move 'cos
Takin' you to another landscape is my mandate
I'm highly animated even though I'm decomposin'
So if your feet is frozen, I'm a die to see you rapin'

And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down

And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down

Tap your toes and clap your hands
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on trace the globe and shake your pants
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

Just twist your hip and do the dip
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on shake and bake do whatever it takes
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

Gravitational pull, I'll have you makin' a fool
Out of yourself on the dance floor
Doin' back spins, runnin' man and more
Party down with vigor and candor

Coming to the jam or look like a landlubber
And do the aqua boogie, win lots of goodies maybe
Pop a Gucci wallet, turntables is talkin' to me
It's awfully groovy seein' all the treasure and the booty

And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down

And when the MC rhyme and the DJ spin
I want y'all to just get down
Now while the MC rhymin' and the DJ cuttin'
I want y'all to just get down

Tap your toes and clap your hands
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on trace the globe and shake your pants
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

Just twist your hip and do the dip
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on shake and bake do whatever it takes
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

I wanna get down lower than Atlantis
Going toe to toe with an enchantress
Get funkier than Funkadelic wearin' Pampers
While you eggheads is on the wall preparin' answers

Sharin' transcripts while we over here
Dippin' and dancin', rhythm romancin'
Wallflowers givin' no act you know
All hours we chillin' and maxin'

So relaxin', opposites attractin'
I'm a toss my hat in, floss when the track spin
Like I'm on a crack binge, jigglin' and wigglin'
Freakin' booties speakin' to the cuties so belligerent

No religion, just bump the feed on, you'll feel reborn
Negativity we just dead it like D-Con
Better lift your feet and just measure the beat on
The pulse when it re-spawns

Tap your toes and clap your hands
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on trace the globe and shake your pants
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

Just twist your hip and do the dip
(How many people ready to rock the house?)
Come on shake and bake do whatever it takes
(How many people ready to rock the house?)

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ed7ee9b52198b9b0f62c0b7deb5f09ab

The Funk - Lyrics - Out Of Business - Epmd

Title: The Funk
Album: Out Of Business
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Norman Whitfield, Parrish Smith, Dwight Anthony Turner

Lyric:
Yo it's the return (uh-huh) Parrish Smith and Erick Serm'
Kid don't mess with fire because you will get burned
Cause we earn respective checks, regulated when a nigga flex
To get a rep totin mack-10's and techs
Hoes and sex, weed and Beck's, and first class flights
You name it, niggaz had it, and still got it
Always rhymin with a pardon
Like Roxanne I'm about to cold Get Retarded
You know the logo, and on mics, sometimes we flow slow
Not loco, universal, type vocal
Mogul, so don't make me wild out and have to show you
Who I am, strapped with E-Double my man
Back in Business once again, plus we backed by Def Jam

This is the funk (huh) comin out of your trunk
Erick and Parrish for years we've been makin it thump
From East to West coast, EPMD you pump
Icons in hip-hop, takin MC's to lunch
Cause it's the funk (funk funk) comin out of your trunk
Erick and Parrish for years we've been makin it thump
From East to West coast, EPMD you pump
Icons in hip-hop, takin MC's to lunch

Aiyyo it's E the Elusive, comin through with a dope exclusive
Hawkin niggaz, like I'm Yusef
Gettin down, makin it happen for those who don't believe
The incomparable, comin through stompin you
My Squad is Def, and we don't hear nuttin
I'm in the back of the crib, on the green puttin
I be the boss in this, who the fuck comin through torchin this
Ball your fists up quick
I'm the black Bill Gates, my chips be Micro
Bad like Michael, don't make me fight you
You a hater, and my crew don't like you
On the real you suck, who the hell hyped you?
You a comic Russell would say good night too
At the Def Jam, screw you and your man
Rock the house like BizMark, if so let the fifth spark
Sometime after dark

This is the funk (funk) comin out of your trunk
Erick and Parrish for years we've been makin it thump
From East to West coast, EPMD you pump
Icons in hip-hop, takin MC's to lunch
Cause it's the funk (funk) comin out of your trunk
Erick and Parrish for years we've been makin it thump
From East to West coast, EPMD you pump
Icons in hip-hop, takin MC's to lunch

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257397fa10aa689d025e2ab9f70ff70d

Symphony 2000 - Lyrics - Epmd

Title: Symphony 2000
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Chanelle Jones, Parrish Smith, Clifford Smith, Reggie Noble

Lyric:
Yeah, Erick Sermon, EPMD, yeah, check it
Redman, Method Man, Lady Luck, Def Jam
Erick and Parrish Millenium Ducats
Hold me down, hold me down

Yo, I grab the mic and grip it hard like it's my last time to shine
I want the chrome and the cream so I put it down for mine
Ill cat, slick talk, slang New York
To break it down to straight English, what the fuck you want?
Remember me? You punk faggot crab emcee
Get your shit broke in half for fuckin' around with P
Aiyyo strike two, my style Brooklyn like the Zoo
Hey you, look nigga, one more strike you through
Word is bi-dond, rock Esco, Fubu, and Phat Fi-darm
Every time I get my spit on, no doubt, I spark the gridiron
I step up and bless the track and spit a jewel
We keeps cool, no need for static, I strap tools
Next up

Yo, I believe that's me
Yo, get on the mic and rock the symphony

Yo P, time to rock, the sound I got, it reigns hot
Makin' necks snap back, like a slingshot
E hustle, and muscle my way in
Then tussle for days in, on my own with guns blazin'
Not for the fun of it, just for those who want me to run it
Then leave them like who done it?
Sucka duck, I do what I feel right now
When I spit the illest shit, cats be like, "Wow!"
Yo! I get looks when I'm in the place
That's that nigga, makin' you smile with Scarface
It ain't my fault, that my style Silkk enough to shock ya
Hit you with the fifth, block-a block-a
If I get caught you can bet I'll blow trial
Be downtown swingin', M.O.P. style
Next up

Yo yo, it's Funk D.O.C.
Yo, you're on the mic to rock the symphony

Yo yo, did you ever think you would catch a cap?
Yo, did you ever think you would get a slap?
Yo, did you ever think you would get robbed
At gunpoint, stripped and thrown out the car?
It's Funk Doc, you know my name Hoe
My style dirty underground, or Ukraine po'
When it hits you, pain pumps Kool-Aid, through the vein and shit
Snatch the trap then I dash like Damon did
Doc, walk, thin red lines to shell shock

Hairlock with fuckin' broads in nail shops
Hydro? Got more bags than bellhops
Two thousand Benz on my eight by ten picture
Papichu', slayin' crews in ICU
Battlin', usin' hockey rules
For Keith Murray, Doc gon' cock these tools
Rollin' down like dice in Yahtzee fool
I "Just do it" like Nike, outta 'Bama
With ten kids with hammers, hooked to a camper
Yo, next up

It's the G O D
Yo yo, get on the mic for the symphony

Youth on the move, payin' them dues, nuttin' to lose
Huh, street kids, broken and bruised, eyein' yo' jewels
Huh, bad news, barin' they souls through rhymin' blues
Hardcore to make them brothers act fool
Hands on the steel, flip you heads over heel
Smell the daffodils from the lyric overkill
Feelin' like the mack inside a Cadillac Seville
Too ill, on cuts, the Barber of Seville, figaro
The sky is fallin', Geronimo
I feel my high comin' down lookout below
Aiyyo, dead that roach clip and spark another

Chickenhawks, playin' theyselves like Parker Brothers
I rock for the low-class, from Locash
The broke-assed, even rock for trailer park trash
Yeah yeah, the God on your block like Godzilla
Yeah yeah, she gave away my pussy I'ma kill her
John John phenomenon, in Japan they call me Ichiban
Wu-Tang Clan, numba won
In the whole nine, I hold mine
Keep playin' with it kid, you might go blind, jerkoff
Fuck them A.K.A., for now it's just Meth
That's it, that's all, solo, single no more no less

Next up
I believe that's me
Bastard
Get on the mic and rock the symphony

Mrs. Stop Drop and Roll, rocks top the told
Hot, even though dames is froze
Pop close range at foes, and blaze them hoes
Leave 'em with they brains exposed, and stains on clothes
Y'all better change your flows, hear how Luck spittin'?
Stay drunk-pissed in the S-Type, stay whippin'
When the guns spittin', duck or get hittin'
It's written, we in the game but ball different
Point game like Jordan, y'all play the role of Pippen
Style switchin', like tight ass after stickin'
Man listen, stop your cryin' and your bitchin'
Like E and P's last CD, you're out of business

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d445017e89ad4b2648bc56abb445a5ff

Let Me Ride (Remix) - Lyrics - Dr. Dre

Title: Let Me Ride (Remix)
Artist: Dr. Dre
Composer(s): Willie Beck, Marshall Jones, Bernhard G Worrell, George Jr Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Eric Collins, Leroy Bonner, William Roberts, James L. Williams, Cordozar Broadus, Marvin Pierce, Clarence Satchell, Maurice Young, Ralph Middlebrooks

Lyric:
Uh, no, ride with me, ooh, babe
Uh, no, ride with me, oh, yeah
So many people wanna ride with me
Bumpin' thru the streets gettin' high with me
And if you're down to ride with me
'Cuz you're rollin' with the Row

Creepin' down the back street on Deez
I got my Glock cocked 'cuz niggas want these
Now, soon as I said it, seems I got sweated
By some nigga with a Tek 9 tryin' ta take mine

Ya wanna make noise, make noise
I make a phone call my niggas comin' like the Gotti boys
Bodies bein' found on Green leaf with their fuckin' heads cut off
Motherfucker I'm Dre, so listen to the play by play, day by day

Rollin' in my '4 with sixteen switches and got sounds for the bitches
Clockin' all the riches, got the hollow points for the snitches
So, would you just walk on by 'cuz I'm too hard to lift
And no this ain't Aerosmith, it's the motherfuckin' D R E
From the CPT on a rhymin' spree, a straight G

Hop back as I pop my top ya trip
I let the hollow points commence to
Pop, pop, pop, yeah 'cuz if it don't stop
I have to put my shit in reverse
go back and take another stop 'cuz I'm

Rollin' down the motherfuckin' backstreets
Wit my drink and my cup and my strap in my lap, see
Ain't nothin' but the G Funk, bumpin' in my [unverified]
Hell, yeah, wWith all the niggas sayin'

So many people wanna ride with me
Bumpin' thru the streets gettin' high with me
(Hell, yeah)
And if you're down to ride with me
'Cuz you're rollin with the Row
(With all the niggas sayin')

So many people wanna ride with me
Bumpin' thru the streets gettin' high with me
(Hell, yeah)
And if you're down to ride with me
'Cuz you're rollin' with the Row

Just another motherfuckin' day for Dre, so, I begin like this
No medallions, dreadlocks, or black fists, it's just that gangster glare
With gangsta raps, that gangsta shit makes a gang of snaps
Uh, word to the motherfuckin' streets and word to these
Hyped ass lyrics and dope beats that I hit ya with, that I get ya with

As I groove in my '4 on Deez, hittin' the switches
Bitches relax while I get my proper swerve on
Bumpin' like a motherfucker ready to get my serve on
But before I hit the dope spot
I gotta get the chronic, the Remy Martin and my soda pop

Now, I'm smellin' like Indonesia, bus stop full of fly bitches and skeezers
'Cuz my '4 on hit, pancake front and back, side to side
And all that shit, so, when I crawl I comes correct
Now, if your bitch in my shit, it's your bitch you check nigga
Now, let the Chevrolet slide as I dip a nigga trip to the South side, yeah

Right back up in you it's the D R E
Witta ounce as we bounce thru the CPT
Diamond in the back, gators on the wheels
This is strictly for my bitches, now we're hittin' in switches

Niggas gettin' jealous 'cuz hos be on our dick
But Dre don't give a fuck and I don't give a shit
So, the '4 won't blow, stoppin' by the spot to get some indo
With all the motherfuckin' bitches sayin'

So many people wanna ride with me
Bumpin' thru the streets gettin' high with me
(Hell, yeah)
And if you're down to ride with me
'Cuz you're rollin' with the Row
(With all the motherfuckin' bitches sayin')

So many people wanna ride with me
(Check this out)
Bumpin' thru the streets gettin' high with me
(No, hell, yeah)
And if you're down to ride with me
'Cuz you're rollin' with the Row

It's like Long Beach, Compton, LA and Wotts
I come thru beatin' down your block wit a million plus watts
I burn double peelout, check it out, it's me now
It's young Daz from the pad, homie, watch me skee'd out

I'm on a mission to mission with tha time for the streets
Me and my homeboys clownin' we be bouncin' to the beat
I come thru rattlin' and shakin' plus I break down walls
Me and my doggs ain't breakin' no law

Put the [unverified] in the verse, took a sip for the thirst
Swervin' by the curb while blazin' the 'erb, nickel bird
She got my sounds, the way I floss throughout the town
Me and my partners from the Row, partners from the Pound

Big Style, Joe Coomey and Snoop, Nate and Kurupt
Tray Deee, Technique, BadAss and Doggystyle
Put it work, day and night, night and day, but any day
(Hell, yeah)
You come around the way you won't live the next day, check it out

So many people wanna ride with me
(With everybody sayin')
Bumpin' thru the streets gettin' high with me
And if you're down to ride with me
(Hell, yeah)
'Cuz you're rollin' with the Row

So many people wanna ride with me
(Yeah)
And if you're down to ride with me
Cuz you're rollin' with the Row!
(You wanna ride?)

I said swing down sweet chariot stop and let me ride
(What? What? 'Cuz you're rollin' with the Row)
Swing down sweet chariot stop and, let me ride
(Word)
Swing down sweet chariot stop and, let me ride
Swing down sweet chariot stop and, let me ride

Yeah, ha, ha, yeah, you wanna ride with me?
(Check it out)
Uh, wit everybody sayin', uh
(Wit all my niggas with the humps and the bumps in the truck
They keep on fuckin' with niggas rollin' down, what you want?)

Know I'm sayin'?
(Come on, let me ride, come on, nigga, let me ride)
Uh, uh, ass, grass
(Feelin' good like ya should, homie, what you're doin'?)
(When you're up to no good)

A gas
(Doin' what you're feelin', let me ride)
Nobody rides free, hell, yeah
(Let me ride, doin' what you're feelin', ya cold chillin'
Doin' what you want, top billin', motherfucker, let'cha ride)

Know what I'm sayin'? Huh, huh, huh, huh
(I let'cha ride)
Yeah, you wanna ride?

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7d6070fd49e1fb1f6bbaf4f16ddf8b19

House And The Rising Sun - Lyrics - House Of Pain

Title: House And The Rising Sun
Artist: House Of Pain
Composer(s): Jason Vasquez, Erik Schrody, Leor Dimant

Lyric:
I rock the ill shit, ya know I kill shit
And then I build shit, get off my dills nit
'Cause I don't play that, my style goes way back
I kick my shit one time, dude, fuck the playback
I go off my head, you know I shave my shit
And ya don't quit, I say you don't quit

'Cause I'm the prodigal son, ya get well done
Just like a steak, gimme a break like Nel Carter
There's tarter on your teeth, homeboy ya got beef
Well then ya get broke, because my crew's no joke
The House Of Pain is kickin' up dirt and if we're inside the jam
Ya know we're liftin' up skirts, grabbin' on the snatch
Feelin' on the skin, I'm knockin' on your door honey let me in
'Cause I'm down with the freak mo baby
I'm at my sexual peak, young lady

Ain't nobody cooler than my man Son Doobie
Don't ya fuck around, I'll smack your knuckles with a ruler
Just like a nun from a catholic school
I'll make ya drool, and play the fool
Snatch ya by the ears, smack ya up like a queer
Take a puff off my blunt and then sip my beer
Kick the mean style, leave bodies in a pile
Everlast is my name, I'm from the House Of Pain
You know that I never play the punk role
'Cause I'm a white Irish man with a funk soul

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

Smooth like Beretta, quicker than the Jedi
You're soft like a feather, you little bed wetter
Baby, baby, I heard you caught the rabies
Bitin' on my shit, I have to say hay bee
Son will be rockin' until tomorrow
'Cause I've got the right one, like Ray Charles
Follow, swallow, the funky pass the bottle
'Cause I get recked like if I crashed my auto

I'll play it, I'll win it, I've done it, I did it
Some say I'm kiddin' but right at this minute
I'll freak it, I'll funk it and like a country bumpkin
From Albuquerque who's gonna carve the turkey
Ready, serve, entertain like Merv
Griffin, sniffin' panties, I'm a prev

The Dooby funk fellow, smooth like a jello
Some say mellow, complicated like a dello
The freakin' who's speakin' freaks it every weekend
'Cause I'll be trick or treatin' I used to drive a Lincoln
Drivin', speedin', hey Rid, I'm readin'
I make more money than that kid Alex Keaton

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

I rip flesh, yes y'all, run for the mess hall
And get your grub while I'm rhymin' on your dub
Gettin' play at the club, then I step to the pub
And crack a brew, what the fuck ya gonna do?

I rip shit, kill it, cut your gut and spill it
Treat ya like a gas tank, take your ass and fill it
And take ya for a ride to where I reside
Put your face in my pillow, and have ya weepin' like a willow
I tax that but, wax that ass
Floss a nut in your teeth, then wait for you to beef

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is

That's what it is y'all
That's what it is, that's what it is
That's what it is y'all
That's what it is

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c098f8aec662c99468c5bdfa38393b8d

House And The Rising Son - Lyrics - House Of Pain - House Of Pain

Title: House And The Rising Son
Album: House Of Pain
Artist: House Of Pain
Composer(s): Jason Vasquez, Erik Schrody, Leor Dimant

Lyric:
I rock the ill shit, you know I kill shit
And then I build shit, get off my dills nit
'Cause I don't play that, my style goes way back
I kick my shit one time, dude, fuck the playback

I go off my head, you know I shave my shit
And you don't quit, I say you don't quit
'Cause I'm the prodigal son, ya get well done
Just like a steak, gimme a break

Like Nel Carter
There's tarter on your teeth, homeboy ya got beef
Well then ya get broke, because my crew's no joke
The house of pain

Is kickin' up dirt and therefore inside the jam
Ya know we're liftin' up skirts, grabbin' on the snatch
Feelin' on the skin, I'm knockin' on your door
Honey let me in

'Cause I'm down with the freak mo baby
I'm at my sexual peak, young lady
Ain't nobody cooler than my man Son Doolah
Don't ya fuck around, I'll smack your knuckles with a ruler

Just like a nun from a catholic school
I'll make you drool, and play the fool
Snatch you by the ears, smack you up like a queer
Take a puff off my blunt, and then sip my beer

Kick the mean style, leave bodies in a pile
Everlast is my name, I'm from the house of pain
You know that I never play the punk role
'Cause I'm a white Irish man with a funk soul

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

Smooth like Beretta, quicker than the Jeda
You're soft like a feather, you little bed wetter
Baby, baby, I heard you caught the rabies
Bitin' on my shit, I have to say haybee

Son'll be rockin' until tomorrow
'Cause I've got the right one, like Ray Charles
Follow, swallow, the funky pass the bottle
'Cause I get recked like if I crashed my auto

I'll play it, I'll win it, I've done it, I did it
Some say I'm kiddin' but right at this minute
I'll freak it, I'll funk it and like a country bumpkin
From Albuquerque, who's gonna carve the turkey?

Ready, serve, entertain like Merv
Griffin, sniffin' panties, I'm a perv
The dooby funk fellow, smooth like a jello
Some say mellow, complicated like a dello

The freakin' who's speakin', freaks it every weekend
'Cause I'll be trick or treatin', I used to drive a Lincoln
Drivin', speedin', hey Rid, I'm readin'
I make more money than that kid Alex Keaton

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

I rip flesh, yes y'all, run for the mess hall
And get your grub while I'm rhymin' on your dub
Gettin' play at the club, then I step to the pub
And crack a brew, what the fuck ya gonna do?

I rip shit, kill it, cut your gut and spill it
Treat ya like a gas tank, take your ass and fill it
And take you for a ride to where I reside
Put your face in my pillow, and have you weepin' like a willow
I tax that butt, wax that ass
Floss a nut in your teeth, then wait for you to beef

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)
That's what it is y'all, that's what it is
(That's what it is)

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5a068342a04083b2d303b5c6db47aab6

Fa All Y'All - Lyrics - Da Brat

Title: Fa All Y'All
Artist: Da Brat
Composer(s): Jermaine Dupri, Shawntae Harris

Lyric:
I am quick to pull the trigger, quick to pull your card
Hard late for the boulevard
It's Da B to the R A T with the bump
Sendin' good vibrations from the trunk to the front of your ride

Where I live that's what they like
So that's what I give
Somethin' for them fools when they crawl and creep
And creep and crawl it's fa all y'all, well

Who's that makin' that funky noise?
It's Da Brat-tat-tat-tat bustin' out on that ass
Fa all y'all, fa all y'all, hey hey hey,
You don't hear me, though
Who's that makin that funky noise?
It's like that, it's like that, it's Da Brat
Fa all y'all, fa all y'all, hey hey

Now that Da Brat's in the house yo the house is packed
Guys and girls everywhere with a hump in they back
As I sling my funk like a vodoo moose through the hood
All fa y'all, 'cause everythin' is good now

Lay back listen to the phattest
Listen to the baddest rhymin' apparatus
At a status you ain't got to check
'Cause y'all knows that I definitely gets wrecked, so, uh

Who's that makin' that funky noise?
It's Da Brat-tat-tat-tat bustin' out on that ass
Fa all y'all, fa all y'all, hey hey hey
Who's that makin that funky noise?
It's like that, it's like that, it's Da Brat
Fa all y'all, fa all y'all, hey hey

Gotta give thanks to the funk when it's time to pray
With some fine ass dank now it's time to play
That shit from that ghetto ass bitch me be
B to the R A to the T

Just niggas and bitches on every side
Waitin' for the chance to get funkdafied
And all they gotta do is learn the words of this anthem
I'll grant them if you can chant them like everybody else

Who's that makin' that funky noise?
It's Da Brat-tat-tat-tat bustin' out on that ass
Fa all y'all, fa all y'all, hey hey hey
You don't hear me, though
Who's that makin that funky noise?
It's like that, it's like that, it's Da Brat
Fa all y'all, fa all y'all, hey hey

I promise to funk the whole funk
Nothin' but the funk
I promise to funk the whole funk
Nothin' but the funk

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dea6f732d2ec2034f901a813a4d4e62a

When Disaster Strikes - Lyrics - When Disaster Strikes - Busta Rhymes

Title: When Disaster Strikes
Album: When Disaster Strikes
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): George Spivey, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Yeah
Good God

Yeah, for all you motherfuckers across the whole entire galaxy
Busta Rhymes and the whole entire Flipmode Squad
Back at y'all motherfuckers in 1997
Hah, When Disaster Strikes, When Disaster Strikes
Take a look and sit on the sidelines and bear witness

On and on, return from the future like a centurion
All my affiliates, let's stack another mill-ion
While you learn on how the words go to my motherfucking song
Watch me puts it on, it keeps you open all day long
The way we fuck shit up you thinkin' somethin' must be wrong
Set the high standards for corny niggaz to get the gong
Bleach your ass blonde and black your color back to bronze
On Happy Days I be the coolest nigga like The Fonz

So spectacular how I touch souls from here to Africa
My Zimbabwe niggaz bangin' my joints up in they Acura
Pssh, OOH! Makin' you feel the funk from bumper to bumper
Drive an imported 500 in foreign license plate numbers, ha ha
Laugh at ya, oh, me and my passengers
Flip-ass niggaz over quick like frying pan spatulas
Why do you be wastin' your time, bein' mad at us?
Every voice should sing and help the music sound miraculous

Yes yes y'all, Flipmode Squad y'all
We reign supreme in 1997
When Disaster Strikes, you will all feel
When Disaster Strikes, you will all see
When Disaster Strikes, you will all bear witness
To the most high exalted

Yo, I keeps flows so ridiculous
Rhyme flow taste good like a handful of cherry licorice
Practice your rhyme or be the local practitionist
Well you can try bein' a doctor or bein a local obstetricianist
See, you can be somethin'
Quit tryin' to work so fuckin' hard to-wards nothin'
This rhyme shit was never designed for every swollen muffin'
Yo, I'm sayin'

Why y'all niggaz think that y'all could really see my Squad?
And if we hit you hard that's when you feel the power of the God
Do it right and big up my peeps and A Alikes
On alike, repel, especially feel When Disaster Strikes
Extremely delicate like the blowin' out of candlelights
The quiet killings of projects niggaz whenever they wanna fight

That type of shit that shine and blind a nigga eyesight, aiiight?
We keepin' it tight, y'all niggaz don't want it, right?
You will never ever get no wins inside mi casa
We killin all impostors like we kill the cucurachas
Bounce to award ceremonies, like we winnin' Oscars
Rhymin' rastas, eatin' enough exotic pasta, hah, yo

We keep it movin' for all of y'all
Freak y'all niggaz out while I'm makin' y'all niggaz fall
Disaster will hitcha quick any time you wanna brawl
Perm, press, a nigga back, peel them of the wall
So tell me, why do you be wastin' your time, bein' mad at us?
Every voice should sing and help the music sound miraculous!

Hah, oh yes y'all!
This situation, has now been brought before your very eyes
And as we carry on Flipmode Squad continues to conquer the world
When Disaster Strikes, you will all fear
When Disaster Strikes, you will all bear witness
To The Most High Exalted, hah!

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b445efa3428c5f50476c45b23cbeada4

Communication - Lyrics - Behind The Front - Black Eyed Peas

Title: Communication
Album: Behind The Front
Artist: Black Eyed Peas
Composer(s): William Adams, Kevin Feyen, Mike Fratantuno, Terence Graves, Allan Pineda

Lyric:
An introduction to a rapid ray Will explode like grenade
Check the medical aid 'cos the way that we parade the fade
Any MC that claims that they can be
Tend the mic when we strike precisely

We freak the level with the funk from the inner
Heaven, give me inner, black as I present a
Flock a rhyme that rock you off an ass
Powerful, power flows that'll leave your soul paralyzed

Yo, I respect that you be G in, in
It's the return of MC in, in
Yo, thank God for the season, on
And don't be tryin' to think about a reason

'Cos there is no reason for you to front
We create cuts to give you what you want
Activate communication for the world
Shockin' your mind with rhymes

Doin' it like what AP, like this here
Rockin' it like what AP, like this here
Flippin' it like what AP, like this here
Doin' it like what AP, like this here, yeah

We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down

We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down

Can I get a "Ha" from my brothers that be chillin' downtown?
"Ho" for the people that be in it what we do
"Yo" check it out 'cos we black and positive
I suck in negative from you

I got many rhymes format from the back of the brain
Interludin' with the powerful matter scatter your frame
You fallin', yo check out what we do
We be all in on the microphone never stallin'

Rhythm is my ride for the voyage of the mind
Exclusive rhyme pattin' us for what we design
I am my own Picasso when I roll
Rhymin' is my art for my heart and soul

We positive when MC in, in
Break bounce with the new blend, end
Original 'til the end, end
Sittin' it all for no reason

They fell off at the attempt to elevate
They try to duplicate the art that we create
So activate communication for the world
Shockin' your mind with rhymes

Doin' it like what Will, like this here
Rockin' it like what Will, like this here
Shockin' 'em like what Will, like this here
Rockin' it like what Will, yo, yo, it's like this here, yeah

We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down

We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down

We goin' worldwide, across the nation
Now that we've activated our communication
Wantin' demonstration, ask the activator
Before one more walk a meter, funky motivator

And I be the Will, APL from the Phil
We contain the hipnotical skill that'll kill
You dealin' with the GREAT
Black Eyed Peas guy, hella in a G

'Cause we holler in an energetic motion
With the potion I supply
Applyin' to the beat that Alligator you combine
With me and my crew incredibly and super spectacular

With the rhyme one two
One two to the beat, hop
You can't defeat
BEP's production always complete
With this sounds activate online
And I'm on time to motivate your mind

Well, I respect that you be G in, in
It's the return of MC in, in
Yo, thank God for the season, on
Sittin' there off of no reason

We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down

We do it, do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down
We do it upside down

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f9423794e9a1394590e0fb924f2927d7

Jersey Yo! - Lyrics - Redman

Title: Jersey Yo!
Artist: Redman
Composer(s): Betty Mabry, O'Shea Jackson, Reggie Noble, Anthony Wheaton

Lyric:
Yo, yo, yo
Once upon a time up in Jersey, yo
Haha, I damn near had to wreck a hoe
Yo, I knocked on her do'
("Who is it?")
Haha, it's Funk Doc here to pay a little visit to ya
(Oh)

I heard them niggaz in the Bricks get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz out in Brooklyn get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz all Uptown get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz out in Queens get smoked a lot
(Yo, yo, yo)

I smoke your budha to the last drop like I was Maxwell
If blunts came in degrees, call me a black-belt
I'm worldwide chinky, Hun-Tao with chrome inky's
Chicken ridin' shortie and she boost all her dinky

This is your brain, this is my tape on drugs
If your lame ass can't feel it, then your cord unplugged
P.P.P smoked your weed, ain't nobody around
You just got clowned for a whole half a pound, check it out now

I do a lot of stupid shit when I be smokin'
One time I left my truck runnin' in Brooklyn wide open
I forget who I call, ask for Nia and it's Tonya
("Hello, can I talk to Nia? Nia? Oh shit")
Click over
("Whassup bitch?""Oh, hi momma")

Yo, when I'm on stage rhymin' I forget what state that I'm in
The bitches numbers I lost, my baby momma find 'em
I played the lottery, forty million that day
I probably won the motherfucker but I forgot that I played
(Yo, yo, yo)

Once upon a time up in Jersey, yo
Ha-ha I damn near had to wreck a hoe
Yo, I knocked on her do'
("Who is it?")
Hah, it's Funk Doc here to pay a little visit to ya
(Oh, motherfucker)

I heard them niggaz up in Cali get smoked a lot
All them niggaz in Atlanta get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz in Virginia get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz in Rhode Island get smoked a lot
(Yo,yo, yo)

When I get high I start throwin water in the crowd
Battle MC's off the top, slaughterin' a child
Detroit call it Ganz, Miami call it Krip
No matter what you call it, it be peelin' back my shit

Ay-yo Cali niggaz got bomb, shit that same bomb
Made me forget my momma's birthday and it's tattooed on my arm
I misplace my Lex keys every time I be zee'd up
I was caught puttin' Christmas trees up, and it was Easter

Do y'all motherfuckers feel high tonight?
Knowin' y'all niggaz shouldn't drive tonight
Yo, however the plan go, close the Caravan do'
So, we can all die and get high off of secondhand smoke

Brick City got the Pep, empty out your Black N' Milds
Smokin' the L with Doc earn frequent flyin' miles
I flew around the planet with my weed tucked in
I need to go to E.O. rehab and sign my stankin' ass in
(Yo, yo, yo)

Once upon a time up in Jersey, yo
Ah-hah, I damn near had to wreck a hoe
Yo, I knocked on her do'
("Who is it?")
Yo, it's Funk Doc here to pay a little visit to ya
(You here)

I heard them niggaz in the Bronx get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz up in Yonkers get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz in China-Town get smoked a lot
I heard them niggaz in Detroit get smoked a lot
Lot, lot, lot, lot

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo motherfucker
Don't fuck around in the Bricks motherfucker
Rats'll whoop your ass over there motherfucker
Nigga got so much backyard boogie over there

The seeds'll kill you motherfucker, yeah
Chicken heads'll rob you over there, motherfucker
Sucker ass motherfucker, get the fuck on out of here ha-ha
Yo light that shit here

"We gon' take you out on W, fuck all y'all radio"

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a1c84bb217906a716ae7d2da8d783257

Ante Up [Remix] - Busta Rhymes - Lyrics - The Mix Tape, Vol. 4: 60 Minutes Of Funk - Funkmaster Flex

Title: Ante Up [Remix] - Busta Rhymes
Album: The Mix Tape, Vol. 4: 60 Minutes Of Funk
Artist: Funkmaster Flex
Composer(s): J Grinnage, D Pihnan, L Starling, E Murray, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
Attention please, attention please
This shit here feels like a whole entire world collapsed
Motherfucker, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
(Yeah, yeah, yeah)

Buck, buck, buck, buck, buck
(Buck, buck, buck, buck)
Busta Rhymes now, M.O.P. now

What you want now?
(What you want now?)
What you want now?
(What you want now?)

What you want now?
(What you want now?)
What you want now?
(What you want, want, want, want, want, want buck, buck)

Ante up, no, cut that fool
They want to act stupid gun butt that fool
When I cock that tool, nigga run your damn jewels
'Fore we fuck around and lay you up in your own blood pool, nigga

Hunt you down nigga, run your ass down
Unleash the hounds till them niggaz will gun your ass down
(Stop it)
You frontin' like this was a thing of the past
With tattoos over the scars a nigga left on your ass

My niggaz think lopsided, bust they gat cross sided
In the subways they rob trains runnin' along side it
(Buck, buck)
See motherfucker we don't play with that shit
And if you want your shit back you had to pay for that shit

You little costume niggaz, Romper-Room niggaz
Get you in the night or early in the afternoon niggaz
We takin' your whole shit while we pass through
Even the shirt off your back, nigga run that too

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
I catch you backstage, give me the keys to the Escalate
You think you cute hoe? Take off them Gucci shades
I get my dogs to do you dirty, they all seven thirty

Rock a ski-mask, whether it's June or February
I take your show money, take your 'dro money
(Oh, oh)
Yo yap that fool 'cause I don't know money
For my peeps that hate slow money I put them in the industry

So they can come and take, all your money
Wish I could bring Pun back
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that
(Blaow)
Bitch, run that

So keep actin' like you don't know where the funds at
And I'ma show y'all motherfuckers where the guns at
Ante up, yo yap that bitch
She try to spaz out then smack that bitch

Hoe you don't be rhymin', you still memorizin'
Remy want them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
(Get him, hit him)
Yap him, yap him
(Zap him, zap him)

Ante up, yap that fool
Fuck hip hop, rip pockets
Snatch jewels
Ante up

What? My whole family suck
Run up yo' stash house, tie granny up
Make you strip butt-naked
Young buck got struck with the gun butt
(For what?)

For tryin' to tuck the necklace
I'm young hungry armed and reckless
On the streets with a death wish
Don't hide when you see me, I'm on the guest list
Ante up

Show no mercy B.K., nigga, thirsty thirsty
We bang hollows, you misrepresentin'
the game motherfucker you lame and your chain hollow
Hit him, hit him, flash the tech
(Hit him)

Yap your chain, smash the lens in your specs
Listen it's, Lil' Fame right?
With that Brownsville mentality to Shanghai

Hey yo I'm firin' out a copper top city, with a whole empire
A clip full of blue-tips and a hand full of Fiyahh
Eat deep dirt nigga
(Yep)
It's Berk' I put in work until it hurt nigga
(Step)

Easy out the truck punk, 'fore I leave your ass leakin'
I'ma bang till the springs in this thang start squeakin'
Die cocksucker, boom BAP boom BAP
Aight motherfucker, what's wrong with you?

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
It's the perfect timin', you see the man shinin'
Get up off them goddamn diamonds
(Uh)

Ante up, yap that fool
Ante up, kidnap that fool
Get him, get him, hit him, hit him
(Get him, hit him)
Yap him, yap him
(Zap him, zap him)

Ante up, yap that fool
Fuck hip hop, rip pockets
Snatch jewels
Ante up

Play the MP3 online for free!

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