The Grave And The Constant - Lyrics - Bag Of Hits - Fun Lovin Criminals

Title: The Grave And The Constant
Album: Bag Of Hits
Artist: Fun Lovin Criminals
Composer(s): Steve Borgovini, Brian Andrew Leiser, Hugh Thomas Morgan

Lyric:
I used to wear dress blues, I used to get my cues
From the dudes in D.C. with the wing tip shoes
And my boss said it was Paris or prison
And the judge said, "Son, you better make your decision"

I chose the former because I heard it was warmer
April in Paris, hell south of the border
They put me together, tougher than leather
They set me on your ass because they didn't know better

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on

Now I hold the fort left, right and center
The number running hard ass punk, fly girl bender
Check the photo finish, I'm in this to satisfy parole
Not posing not playing the role

See I got more gumbas than Bobby De Niro
And if I was you I'd act like Nixon and Spiro
So drink your rock and smoke your pot and chill where it's shady
I got more endurance than in-A-Gadda-Da-Vida baby

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on

I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down
I'm up to no good, with no place to go but down

Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on
Getting it on to the grave spot, getting it on, getting it on, getting it on

We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down

We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down
We're up to no good, with no place to go but down

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46969f21031f4f1ec4dd4f0a58109240

Running On The Spot - Lyrics - Jam

Title: Running On The Spot
Artist: Jam
Composer(s): Paul John Weller

Lyric:
I was hoping we'd make real progress
But it seems we have lost the power
Any tiny step of advancement
Is like a raindrop falling into the ocean

We're running on the spot always have, always will?
We're just the next generation of the emotionally crippled

Though we keep piling up the building blocks
The structure never seems to get any higher
Because we keep kicking out the foundations

And stand useless while our lives fall down
I believe in life and I believe in love
But the world in which I live in
Keeps trying to prove me wrong

Out in the pastures we call society
You can't see further than the bottom of your glass
Only young but easily shocked
You get all violent when the boat gets rocked

Just like sheep little lambs into the slaughter
Don't fully grasp what exactly is wrong
Truth is you never cared still
You get all violent when the boat gets rocked

Intelligence should be our first weapon
And stop reveling in rejection
And follow yourselves, not some aging drain brain
Whose quite content to go on feeding you garbage

We're running on the spot always have, always will?
We're just the next generation of the emotionally crippled

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3dc71273f1a9fb524545215602a5a49f

Still In Hollywood - Lyrics - Classic Masters - Concrete Blonde

Title: Still In Hollywood
Album: Classic Masters
Artist: Concrete Blonde
Composer(s): Johnette Lin Napolitano

Lyric:
I was walking down the street early this morning
Passed the graveyard voices calling to me
I was walking down the street early this morning
And the silver drops of rain hung from the leaves

And I swear, I heard the voices singing to me
Singing to the rhythm of the beat of my feet
And I swear, I heard the voices singing to me
Keep on, keep on, keep on

I'm still in Hollywood
Oh wow, thought I'd be out of here by now
I'm still in Hollywood
My, my, I'm running on a wheel and I don't know why?
I don't know why? I don't know why?

And on the bus today, I met the queen of L.A.
At least she said she was and who am I to say?
She was sixty-five and full of life
She had purple painted cheeks and glitter on her eyes

And the troll on the corner, I flipped him a quarter
And he looked at me and smiled
Well, he wasn't abused, he wasn't confused
He had nothing to gain and less to lose in Hollywood

I'm still in Hollywood
Oh wow, thought I'd be out of here by now
I'm still in Hollywood
My, my, I'm running on a wheel and I don't know why?

I'm still in Hollywood
Oh wow, thought I'd be out of here by now
I'm still in Hollywood
My, my, I'm running on a wheel and I don't know, don't know why?

So it's 3 AM, I'm out walking again
I'm just a spot on the sidewalk in a city of sin
He doesn't give a fuck, he's living under a truck
You know it could've been me, I guess it's just my luck

But I swear, I heard the sidewalk talking to me
Singing to the rhythm of the beat of my feet
And I swear, I heard the sidewalk singing to me
Keep on, keep on, keep on

I'm still in Hollywood
Oh wow, thought I'd be out of here by now
I'm still in Hollywood
My, my, I'm running on a wheel and I don't know why?
...

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19a16bd8a37384b8a30d42d393dcca32

Cross Bronx Expressway - Lyrics - Lord Tariq &Amp; Peter Gunz

Title: Cross Bronx Expressway
Artist: Lord Tariq &Amp; Peter Gunz
Composer(s): John Davis, Peter Pankey, Malik Izaak Taylor, Joseph Anthony Cartagena, Ali Shahe Jones-Muhammad, Christopher Rios, Harold Wheeler, Sean T. Hamilton, Weldon Johnat Irvine Jr., David Anthony Willis

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah, one more time, seventies shit, got the lean
Shit is leaning, it's to the left, it's just leaning, dribbling
Like, like he gave it a bag of dugy or a bag of that Tango and Cash
It's just leaning and shit, seventies, the Lord Tariq

Aiyyo, I been through many places, done many things
Seen the eyes of many faces from New York to Texas
To the faces on Rolexes, not a racist or sexist
And the best is the Lord, none the less is Gunz

Nothing less than a Lexus, bubble eye with V-V-S's
Trouble minds and troubled times, stacks, I'm trying to double mine
I'm in a six wit double dimes and a couple of nines
Me and tracks back to back, circle the block a couple of times

And we searching for this nigga to try, I'm bubbling mine
If we don't get him now then we will in due time
I bust enough shots to kill him two times, I do crimes
I get caught then my mind's defending my son's rhymes

'Cause my thoughts stay running like thugs from one-time
I've been through it under the influence, busting off I'm running into it
See me say he didn't do it, put the nine to his mind and blew it
'Cause some times I lose it, give me a gun and I'll abuse it

Puffing with my family, my bitch, my money or my music
Making killas say he's too sick when he do shit
But I'm on some new shit and it's too late the fuse lit
I treat my nine like a new bitch and the shit do kick, word

I'm on the Cross Bronx with Fat Joe and my man
On the East side of town with a blunt in my hand
Soundview, Monroe, Castle Hill, Bronx Dale
Rose Dale, Academy, Lafeyette, Cozy

I'm on the Cross Bronx with Fat Joe and my man
On the East side of town with a blunt in my hand
Commonwealth, Theriott, White Plains, Randall
Omestead, Bointain, Colgate, Watson

Play rap loud, politicking business
Wit the crack crowd, fact file, funny how I never seen a rat smile
My last trial's one of the reasons why I rap now
But still could blaow any nigga acting irate now

Fucking with me's worse than ducking police
After puffing some trees I'll probably be abducting your niece
Murdering beats since the days of permanent crease
Been around the block seen grams converted to keys

Aah Cartagena, breaks hearts in Argentine
My misses slugs to love me, my wife act like Anita
Terror Squad'll die for the cause
Even if it means blowing up things and taking over City Hall

My shit is raw straight from the Panama shores
If the feds can't catch me then they make up a law
Can?t take it no more, niggas is fake to the core
My state pen friends'll leave you broken negative ore

Bet it all on the Terror Squad click from Forrest
Real Bronx niggas that's heartless that spark shit
Regardless, niggas shouldn't have tried that shit
That's why mothafuckas gotta die like this

I'm on the Cross Bronx with Gunz my man
On the South side of town with a brick in my hand
Forest, Melrose, McKinley, the boulevard, Washington
Patterson, Courtland

I'm on the Cross Bronx with Gunz my man
On the South side of town with a brick in my hand
Brook Ave., Cyprus, Hunt's Point, Saint John, Little Vil.
Trinity, Creston, Walton

I had a dream that a team had a scheme keeping the beam
On my head like a infrared he's dead but I redeem
Now, I'm back nigga, it's on nigga
Run nigga, Joe nigga, Pun nigga, Lord nigga

Gunz motherfuckers ain't really knowing I'm really going
And feeling I'm showing that my main objective is Benz and Lexuses
Cop Rolexeses, get bigot in Texases
So fierce bitches they be calling me Exorcist

Far from the devil, I'm God I mean I'm Gunz
And I shine like sun, rhyme like none, find my gun
Got beef with this nigga with hits and shit
Chips and shit, run around here switching shit

Telling people don't play that, you gotta play this
Telling school you ain't saying that, you gotta say this
You can't wear that, you gotta wear this
Well, hear this, I'll go in yo chest and leave you earless, fearless

The only thing between us if you stop my cream
Is a glock nineteen and I'ma pop like steam
Trying to stop me and mine from eating you need a doctor
With a hundred gauze pads nigga to stop you from leaking

And a prayer from the deacon as you weaken
And words from the Funkmaster Flex dogs shouldn't have been reaching
There's only one Gunz, from what it's worth
That's me, that's it, burying shit, right in the earth

I'm on the Cross Bronx with Big Pun and my man
On the West side of town with a gun in my hand
174th, Vyse Ave, Bryant, Longfellow, Hoe Ave.
Crotona Park, Boston Road, Prospect

I'm on the Cross Bronx with Big Pun and my man
On the West side of town with a gun in my hand
Lambert, Tremont, Concousre, Jerome Ave.
3rd Ave, Ogden, Webster, Simpson

Yo, we the Bronx avengers
Partners in these peelan adventures
We the monster niggas in your dreams
That be stomping ya senseless
So be conscientious, if you march
Against us I'ma call my gentas

And you nondescripters gonna have to face the consequences
We large placentas and you small change
Hitting niggas long range, wrong gauge
Leaving niggas John Blaze, crime pays if you nice with yours

The Bronx is where you fight for yours
Ice your cross, slice cigars, light cigars
All day, wyling, freestyling in the hallways
Broadway ain't got more drama than Watson off of Colgate

This ain't the old days shorties was busting, ain't no fucking joking
Some nigga called me a German, I had to bust him open
My brothers holding me down with heavy artillery
Chevies and Willies be chilling in front of every facility

Joey from Trinity so he raps Forrest
You could save the best for us
But you still better place your bets on us
The Bronx baby, where the best get blown

My resting zone, come on nigga test your throne
I'm blessed with chrome, so leave your vest at home
I don't aim for the chest bitch
Strictly necks and domes

I'm on the Cross Bronx with uh three of my mens
Running up in your spot with a mack in my hand
Pure energy, checkmate, Blue Thunder, Obsession
Pulp Fiction, Purple Rain, Punisher, South side

I'm on the Cross Bronx with uh, three of my mens
Running up in your spot with a mack in my hand
ATL, LA, Chicago, Detroit
DC, Carolinas, Boston, NY

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8d31ffde11fa901e2d46d425ed3419e6

Running Game - Lyrics - You Can't See Me - John Cena

Title: Running Game
Album: You Can't See Me
Artist: John Cena
Composer(s): M. Predka, J. Cena, Smokey Robinson

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Lyric:
We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

I'll be makin' you move so quick you can't see me in slow-mo
Get your throat cut when you step in the dojo
Y'all got no flow, we be makin' hits
You like a proctologist, you feelin' my shit

Yeah, you all hype like a street team
I spend more time holdin' a mic than Mean Gene
Makin' beat fiends scream, they be lovin' the click
Roll solo to the party but I leave with ya chick

'Cause she know that when I'm flowin' it's hot
There's a party in my pants, she be blowin' the spot
Buck naked in the old school drop, givin' me skull again
She give me free strokes, that's why I call her a mulligan

See me on TV, knows everything about me
You can't fuck with me, she can't fuck without me
And if you think she don't be lovin' my thangs
That's like sayin' you eat at Hooters for the buffalo wings, what?

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

Fuck record execs, promisin' checks
I been cleanin' tables now I'm seein' labels, these chicks
Sayin, "Haven't we met", man holdin' my breath
Feel like the lesser of two evils that I haven't seen yet

I got girls running game with a pimp strut
Big butt booty bitches tryin' to link up
They walkin' toward me, conversation and they body bore me
I got no game, it's just some bitches understand my story

Nas said it before, that's raw
If you leavin' the club your clothes'll end up on the car floor
Man, I got no time for words after sex
I just kick you to the curb and be laughin' next

'Cause Trademarc is a clingy chick's nightmare
Even though you took me home, I won't spend the night there
I've had hookers to virgins, on they back
Wild sex all the way to dead lays like necrophiliacs

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

Johnny Cena got the girls, girls but I'm not Jay-Z
I play the field, I never let the field play me
You see my Chevy? You know there's ten chicks aboard
Plus the whip got more switches than the mixer board

I'm stickin' your whore, while you flossin' your Range
Gave her a dollar, she gave me back a buck and some change
She tried to swallow me whole, I brushed the back of her wig
She called my dick Frank White 'cause it's notoriously big

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

We roll by in the pimp ride
(Then we)
Walk through with the pimp slide
(Y'all know me)
Crew heavy on the thick side
Everybody feelin' this, y'all know we serious

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85dbf82a11f725018b6a0ab96346f890

Heads Up - Lyrics - Baby Aka The #1 Stunna

Title: Heads Up
Artist: Baby Aka The #1 Stunna
Composer(s): A Nelson, D Boys, Kedrick Moore, Phalon Alexander, Bryan Williams

Lyric:
(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

Aye, I heard it was a murder
Robbing and kidnapping, lil one with that jaw jacking
Saying that he stacking ain't packing that tool go to clapping
You hear that, move out before the

Man I don't like that nigga anyway
I heard he been ratting
We can drag him to the river Stone
Nah, leave him for Patrice

I'm a gangsta, hustler, hoodlum, slow down
I came with the four pounds so fucking let it go down
I'm tired of them niggas talking, I'm letting the trigga sparker
Bull dog barking, Cadillac done did 'em awful

He ratting, stooping, bitching, and busting balls
Say Lac, I'ma send this nigga to the mall, it is what it is
It's one way in dog, heads up
Grab on them K-9 dogs

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

Stunna a street nigga, straight up make him act as money
And I don't sleep nigga, I stay up in a black 600
I play for keeps nigga, so pay up, ain't jacking nothing
The price is cheap nigga, heads up, crackers coming

See I'm a known D Boy so they hits my spot
Put my homies on they knees and they check for rocks
So we change stash spots 'cause the blocks is hot
On the rag-less cars so they can't clip my spots

The Caprice's on the block moving slowly
That's the motherfucking police
Here come the laws nigga heads up
Better raise up Big chips if ya made something

Move, move out nigga
They coming through, what about the traffic daddy?
Nigga, fuck you, heads up you know what to do
You best to break, run, 'cause nigga they coming through

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

They told me put my hands on the car and show me your hands
I had some raw in my draws so I broke out and ran
I can't afford to be busted 'til my money advance
But I'm running with the Bird man so I'm straight nigga

I'm on the block with the rocks and the 44
It's so hot and we still burn a pound of dro'
Million stashed in the trunk or compartment doors
A hundred birds stashed in a Bentley four door

I'm sticking to tha G-Code, Tees and Bauts
Break it up [Incomprehensible] covered in rocks
Got a bitch on every exit that's holding my blocks
And I drive a [Incomprehensible] but keep my Lexus by my older shops

Streets watching, I know that's why I'm on my shit
When them people riding with four doors up my click
Showing them off to rookie cops to watch out for me
And I know this from crooked cops that get blocks from me

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

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63aaf769f4ebe08ca6db0dcb2719f53c

Still Standing - Lyrics - Dirty South Classics - Goodie Mob

Title: Still Standing
Album: Dirty South Classics
Artist: Goodie Mob
Composer(s): C Gipp, D Sheats, T Burton, W Knighton, R Barnett

Lyric:
This for the soldiers, soldiers
Stay strong my niggaz
Gangsters, players
Stay up my niggaz, real niggaz

Leavin' the cut in a rage
Loadin' up my Mac, goin' to my crib, to get my 12 gauze
One of my boys just got shot, huh
Fuckin' around, in that million dollar spot

A educated brother didn't have no money for college he was taught
The street knowledge, part of the plan
To keep us fightin' in the street
Instead of becomin' a strong black man

Every two weeks I see Sam
Pitchin' out my check with no respect but I still don't give a damn
Because I gotta make my dough
My kill, rocked down, 'til I started seein' cash flow

Everything happens for a reason, choose the season
To commit the perfect treason
Who brought me to the land, of unfree man?
To move about and catch trout, by the dozens

Even had my cousin locked down, at the feet shackled
A one-way seat, to Milledgeville
Nigga this real, how can you kill another
When it's your brother? Still standing

I never thought about, talked about what I did
Just experimented life as a young Gump
Them days long gone, school bells done rung no mo'
Spendin' hours at the house in my favorite chair

Slow mo', custom funk fingerprinted to carry a hucklebuck
Feelin' stuck with the art that my skin carries, scary
If I ever had to plot again, needin' my stick
Yeah, gidgets to pidgits, moves to Philly and the crew?

Nothin' else to prove, fold a plot like chrome
Salt lick teddy bears in the college student's room
Speed, Gipp got that too
Watch that dude, inspect that fool, still standing

Unscathed, cause this is pain
This for soldiers to feel
MC's, are running out of things to say
Radio stations are running out of songs to play

Still standing, unscathed, 'cause of pain
This for soldiers to feel
MC's, are running out of things to say
Radio stations are running out of songs to play

On the sick side, of South Central
33rd Avenue, block 600
Workers have wash and car details
The ese's got the fresh Chevrolet's for sale

Twenty G's or better, the whole neighborhood tanked up
What? On the fortress walls, there is no letters
Buddha say, the Bloods are strictly outnumbered
They besieged, on the beats, Goodie MoB, run the creeps

Y'all can have the streets, asphalt caught many suckers
Slippin' on wet floors, we puttin' out the signs
On krokers, C I T Y, such a pity
Bein' suckled dry, like a newborn

On his momma's titty before I retired I hit twenty
True to cellulite with big room pesquite on the porch
Poundin', like cartoon Ennis, old school efforts
Through the Sunday down, Crenshaw sparkin'

Zoned out, off the ink, for life
Goin through time and metal detectors
I can't take my weapon
And I can't be no dope dealer

'Cause they be done put a hit out on a nigga, plus I can't keep up
With them keys, locked in the fo'-do'
Backseat drivers havin' out-of-body experiences
Wakin up, somewhere else, still standing

Yeah, each and every element that exists in this
Universe is manifested from a thought first
Through the inner mind's eye of the unseen power in the sky
Gave birth to Mother Earth and all it's worth to you and I

This most loved invention, my consciousness is an extension
Of Him, yet I'm flesh and bone with a mind of my own
To dig deeper than the surface, whether I learn
From your upcomings or your downfalls we all have individual purpose

It's amazing, how the streets do the majority of raising
Of children who end up dead before hearing what you said
And it's sad, so all I can write about is what I had
Interpretations of life good and bad with a pen and pad

It seems like abortion, when I just write a small portion
It's either crumpled up or torn without lettin the thought be born
Young minded, and blinded in those days, I didn't want to
Have a thought that I couldn't raise, nurture, and care for

Be there for, help prepare for, the times ahead
When someone doesn't agree with what is said, huh
And if they did, don't get all arrogant 'cause that's my kid
Just be thankful that it's good and somebody overstood

Now, the listener in here want the same flow but I gotta let it grow
Clever enough to let it go, if I don't wanna rap no mo'
And I'll make sure that no one ever forgets
It's immortalized forever, on wax CD's and cassettes

And when someone goes to the store and purchases it for ten
The life cycle starts all over again
And I was granted this music as my soul mate, to procreate
And give back what I was given, a life worth livin'

And I, am still standing, unscathed
Pain is for suckers to feel
MC's are running out of things to say, and
radio stations running out of songs to play, shit!

We still standing, unscathed
And pain is for suckers to feel, huh
And MC's running out of things to say

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7398de16e1ddae57b31bc876377dc0da

Heads Up - Lyrics - Birdman - Birdman

Title: Heads Up
Album: Birdman
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): A Nelson, D Boys, Kedrick Moore, Phalon Alexander, Bryan Williams

Lyric:
(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

Aye, I heard it was a murder
Robbing and kidnapping, lil one with that jaw jacking
Saying that he stacking ain't packing that tool go to clapping
You hear that, move out before the

Man I don't like that nigga anyway
I heard he been ratting
We can drag him to the river Stone
Nah, leave him for Patrice

I'm a gangsta, hustler, hoodlum, slow down
I came with the four pounds so fucking let it go down
I'm tired of them niggas talking, I'm letting the trigga sparker
Bull dog barking, Cadillac done did 'em awful

He ratting, stooping, bitching, and busting balls
Say Lac, I'ma send this nigga to the mall, it is what it is
It's one way in dog, heads up
Grab on them K-9 dogs

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

Stunna a street nigga, straight up make him act as money
And I don't sleep nigga, I stay up in a black 600
I play for keeps nigga, so pay up, ain't jacking nothing
The price is cheap nigga, heads up, crackers coming

See I'm a known D Boy so they hits my spot
Put my homies on they knees and they check for rocks
So we change stash spots 'cause the blocks is hot
On the rag-less cars so they can't clip my spots

The Caprice's on the block moving slowly
That's the motherfucking police
Here come the laws nigga heads up
Better raise up Big chips if ya made something

Move, move out nigga
They coming through, what about the traffic daddy?
Nigga, fuck you, heads up you know what to do
You best to break, run, 'cause nigga they coming through

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

They told me put my hands on the car and show me your hands
I had some raw in my draws so I broke out and ran
I can't afford to be busted 'til my money advance
But I'm running with the Bird man so I'm straight nigga

I'm on the block with the rocks and the 44
It's so hot and we still burn a pound of dro'
Million stashed in the trunk or compartment doors
A hundred birds stashed in a Bentley four door

I'm sticking to tha G-Code, Tees and Bauts
Break it up [Incomprehensible] covered in rocks
Got a bitch on every exit that's holding my blocks
And I drive a [Incomprehensible] but keep my Lexus by my older shops

Streets watching, I know that's why I'm on my shit
When them people riding with four doors up my click
Showing them off to rookie cops to watch out for me
And I know this from crooked cops that get blocks from me

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

(Heads up)
I hear them people coming daddy
You better get to running daddy
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
They walking through the court man
(Heads up)
(Heads up)
You better stash your dope man
(Heads up)

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165cfcba6b5ab1e5d95727c1d49bf928

Tang Clan - Weak Spot - Lyrics - The 8 Diagrams - Wu

Title: Tang Clan - Weak Spot
Album: The 8 Diagrams
Artist: Wu
Composer(s): Gary Grice, Robert F Diggs, Corey Woods

Lyric:
If only we can lay our hands
On that vixen Yu Shin Hua
Then all our problems will be over
Yu Shin Hua

You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed

The quintessence, father of the hip hop renaissance
My slang been around before baton and Benetton
I've been on, fingerprint, two finger tips
So when I squeeze the rubber grip
Release the clip, then leave the clip

C-Cypher Pigs can't identify it
The true and living God, son, we exemplify it
The most complicated 'formance of life, we simplify it
Bzz, don't knock it 'til you try it

Flying dagger, make 'em stagger, then I take a swagger
Ice cold Jägermeister, take a dragon hold
Bo county crook, slide like the Nike swoosh
Bruce Almighty got more problems than Spidey, look

Old Brooklyn, Putnam Avenue crook, I've been token
All around the world, rooked it then, drive back in Brooklyn
Good looking, son, yo, son, bring the hook in
You can never find Zig weak spot, stop looking

You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed
You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed

From the continents to Croatia, I'll flame a lamester
With the new slang, much more to show ya
These rocks change, glock fully, hot pellets
Have me running through the hall
It's on, like you being chased by the relic

Can't nothing harm me, yo, I move through any project
With logic, few semi's, hide in the cockpit
Scream out, Shallah and I'ma tap in, harder than Tinactin
Don't try to play the fella, I'll blacked in

Moving all miraculous, the slap smiths of the rap game
Say my name backwards, you'll get back changed
Black man, black hooded, moving through the city
Like you Batman, still you so pussy, like Cat woman

Don't bother the Legion, more squeezing, more reason
To light a new block up, cause me to cement shit
Powerful block shoppers and all niggas getting that gwop
Dare you to try to find my weak spot

You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed
You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed

I stay on the 64 squares, while patrolling the center
Trading space from material, the time zone, I enter
It's calculated by movement, from pushed pieces
Advancements and development, once the pawn reaches

To 8th ranked, now heavily armed with a tank
My opponent's base is threatened, soldiers cut with shanks
Moved all my small pieces, MCs are driven back
Unable to avoid, capture from the attack

Such movement, is naturally quite unsound
Men is badly placed upon dangerous grounds
Loosening their position, before they were strongly posted
Before the double rooks had approached it

They must of been quick to ignore the principles
Rock a V and an effective God is invincible
A strategic plan, just the way I envisioned it
Many fallen soldiers in complete imprisonment

You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed
You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed

You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed
You thought you'd find my weak spot
But still you failed

I tell you, right, right, right, in ya motherfucking face
Motherfucker, you know, well, you know motherfucking well
When we don't play that shit, or, I don't play that shit
That's just Wu-Tang, you know, I'm the nigga that, that, give it to ya raw

When I said, "First thing first, man, you fucking with the worst
I be sticking pins in ya head, like a fucking nurse
I'll attack any nigga who slack in his mack
Come fully packed with the fat rugged stack
Shame on you, when you step through to the Ol' Dirty Bastard?

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488b6d4128300b5e60dc0ad3ce5390da

Number One Spot - Lyrics - Red Light District - Ludacris

Title: Number One Spot
Album: Red Light District
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Quincy Jones, Christopher Bridges

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

Lyric:
Yeah baby yeah

Back again
(That's right)
Luda
(Feel this)
It gets meaner and meaner each time baby
Feelin' real good too
(Holla at 'em man)
What up Uncle Face?

I'm a bull in this industry man
(Tell 'em)
Some would rather run down and get one cow
I think I'd rather walk down and get 'em all
You know what I'm talkin 'bout right? Look

I'm never goin' nowhere so don't try me
My music sticks in fans veins like an IV
Flows poison like Ivy oh they grimy
Already offers on my 6th album from labels tryin' to sign me

Respected highly hi Mr. O'Reilly
Hope all is well kiss the plantiff and the wifey
Drove through the window the industry supersized me
Now the girls see me and a river's what they cry me

I'm on the rise so many people despise me
Got party ammunition for those tryin' to surprise me
(Surprise)
It's a celebration and everyone should invite me
Roll with the crew or meet the bottom of our Nikes

Explorer like Dora these swipers can't swipe me
My whole aura's so mean in my white tee
Nobody light-skinded reppin' harder since Ice-T
You disagree take the Tyson approach and bite me

Woa don't slip up or get got
(Why not man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
(Alright)
Rappers swearin' they on top
But I'm comin' for they number one spot
(Alright man)

Scheme, scheme, plot, plot
(Say what?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
Keep it goin' it won't stop
(What you doin' man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot

Yes indeed Ludacris I'm hotter than Nevada
Ready to break the steerin' column on yo Impala
If I get caught bail out po-po I tell 'em holla
In court I never show up like Austin Powers fa-zha

Father, father and hey I love gold
But can buy anything I want from the records I've sold
Jacuzzi's hot, cristal is so cold
Neighbours catch contacts from the blunts that I've rolled

A pig in a blanket, a smoke and a pancake
Drop albums non-stop once a year for my fans sake
I crush mics until my hand breaks
Then shag now and shag later till these women can't stand straight

The Luda-meister got 'em feelin so randy
I'm double XL so I call 'em my 'Eye Candy'
Brush my shoulder and I pop my collar
'Coz I'm worth a million ga-zillion fa-fillion dollars

Woa don't slip up or get got
(Why not man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
(Alright)
Rappers swearin' they on top
But I'm comin' for they number one spot
(Alright man)

Scheme, scheme, plot, plot
(Say what?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
Keep it goin' it won't stop
(What you doin' man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot

Causin' lyrical disasters it's the master
Make music for mini-me's models and fat bastards
These women tryin' yo get me out my pelle, pelle
They strip off my clothes and tell me "Get in my belly"

Stay on the track hit the ground running like Flo-Jo
Sent back in time and I've never lost my mojo
Ladies and gentlemen ahh boys and girls
Ludacris sit down and take over the whole world

Woa don't slip up or get got
(Why not man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
(Alright)
Rappers swearin' they on top
But I'm comin' for they number one spot
(Alright man)

Scheme, scheme, plot, plot
(Say what?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot
Keep it goin' it won't stop
(What you doin' man?)
I'm comin' for that number one spot

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f37f0e6a3bb3aa5657b2c54bff7d133a

High Times - Lyrics - Cypress Hill IV - Cypress Hill

Title: High Times
Album: Cypress Hill IV
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Louis M. Freeze, R Fritz, Lawrence Muggerud

Lyric:
Now this some bad weed

The very first time I hit the weed I was young
Coughing up a lung, high strung, back in '81
Going to school, hitting the buddha behind the bleachers
Coming to class high, selling the lie to the teachers

Nickel bag, nickel bag, dime to a nickel
Selling joints to the honeys, suck it like an icicle
Others wanted the 40 but I wanted the weed
While everybody was running out, I was planting my seeds

Homegrown, backyard boogie, I'm still stoned
Got my weed plants taller than your telephone's pole
I can remember when I could only get sess in those days
Now, I'm rocking that Chocolate Thai, skunk and the haze

Roll a fat one, pass it to the left don't front
But I hate it when they don't take the seeds out the blunt
Amateur of blunt-rollers are like rookies on the field
Spilling the weed plant fucking dookies with no skill

I should write a book, how to roll it then pass it
Light it, grow it, sell it and then divide it
Mr. Greenthumb, Dr. Weed, I proceed to give
The herb man what they need

True indeed, blow your fucking smoke up in the sky
And get high with your bong
Or your Philly, or duchess give me a light

Grab the weed up, pack it in, put it in the pipe
Light it up, smoke a bowl, we puffing the lye right
Put your finger on the hole and hold it in brother
Take a puff, that's enough and pass it to another

Get the weed sack, smoke it up, 'til it's all gone
No roaches up in the ashtray, smoke up all the bomb
I use ta spend money but now I'm growing the crops
But I hate it when the pigs throw a raid on the spot

It was once said I smoke so much weed, by a brother
That I look like the nigga on the zig-zag cover
Maybe I use ta look like that way back when
When my nigga Sen Dog was around sipping on the Hen

Let the fly rhymes smother you with the scent of the skunk
We got the High Times cover, shows you how to roll a blunt
Quarter pound, quarter pound, pound to a quarter
Making trips to Mexico running down to the border

Long hairs, bald heads, dreads and punk rocks
Kids of all colors be puffin it down the block
I got the weed on lock with all the hydro methods

Call me Puffy 'cause I making and taking a hit record
Blow your fucking smoke up in the sky and get high
With the bong, Philly or duchess, give me the light

Grab the weed up, pack it in, put it in the pipe
Light it up, smoke a bowl, we puffing the lye right
Put your finger on the hole and hold it in brother
Take a puff, that's enough and pass it to another

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409353574514efcb561bc1183574c5d7

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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5b2d2394c137091dd01afda5b3dd0343

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

On Fire - Lyrics - The Hunger for More - Lloyd Banks

Title: On Fire
Album: The Hunger for More
Artist: Lloyd Banks
Composer(s): Harry Palmer, Kwame Holland, Curtis Jackson, Marshall Mathers, Christopher Lloyd, Luis Edgardo Resto

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

Lyric:
New York City
You are now rocking with the best
Lloyd Banks
G-Unit

We on fire up in here
It's burning hot, we on fire
Shorty take it off, if it get too hot
Up in this spot, we on fire
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire
Uh, nigga what you say?
We get loose in this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire, fire, fire

Now I ain't putting nothing out, I smoke when I wanna
Twenty-six inch chrome spokes on the Hummer
This heat gon' last for the whole summer
Running your bitch faster then the Road Runner
Rocks on my wrist, rose gold under
Glocks on my hip, those throw thunder
I'm buying diamonds by the pair
But when you stop, the only thing still spinning is your ear

Yeah, I'm riding with that all black snub
Raiders cap back, all black gloves
I'm 80's man, but the boy smack thugs
These record sales equal more back rubs
Not to mention I ball packed clubs
His impacts about as raw as crack was
Now all these new artists getting wrong deals
I'm only twenty-one, sitting on mills

We on fire up in here
It's burning hot, we on fire
Shorty take it off, if it get too hot
Up in this spot, we on fire
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire
Uh, nigga what you say?
We get loose in this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire, fire, fire

If you know anything about me, then you know I'm a baller
If I don't hit the first night, I ain't gon' call her
I'm trying to play, you trying to have my daughter
But I can't blame her for what her Momma taught her
And I don't care what the next nigga bought her
'Cause I ain't putting no baguettes in her abuela
I got a diamond about as clear as water
And I got bread, but I ain't spending quarters

So cut the games Ma, let's go in the back
Matter fact, turn your ass round, back a nigga down
And I ain't bias when I'm riding through the town
Like 'em small, like 'em tall, like 'em black, like 'em brown
She gotta be able to cum when I need her
Tight ass pants, little wife beater
Regular chick or R&B diva
Bitch say something, I ain't a mind reader

We on fire up in here
It's burning hot, we on fire
Shorty take it off, if it get too hot
Up in this spot, we on fire
Tear the roof off this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire
Uh, nigga what you say?
We get loose in this motherfucker
Light the roof on fire, fire, fire

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defda60e89204b7f4bf45779e2aaf09f

Proposition F*** You - Lyrics - Methods Of Mayhem - Methods Of Mayhem

Title: Proposition F*** You
Album: Methods Of Mayhem
Artist: Methods Of Mayhem
Composer(s): Tim Murray, Mike Nunez, Tommy Lee, Adam Davis, Wilfredo Rosa Jr.

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

Lyric:
Are you tired of hanging out in your car
And getting sweated by the boys in blue?
Tired of getting shot by your best friend and not receiving
Any medical attention because of lack of insurance?

If these are a few problems that plague you and your friends
This November when you go up that
Ballot box and you see the proposition marked
?Fuck you?, you know what to do

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Step into the ballot box
Blowing up the muthafuckin' spot, tired of these cops
Tired of these judges, tired of the rules
Waitin' til the day to tell 'em all, ?Fuck you?

Playin' two, 'cause it ain't enough
Got the boyz in blue still roughin' me up
On the T.V. news still talking it up
Never thought Tommy Lee could be fuckin' it up

Methods of Mayhem, Filthy and Dutch
I walk up in your party and I'm spikin' the punch
If you've had enough, you know what to do
?Vote yes!? On proposition fuck you

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Filthee, Tommy Lee, steppin' casually
Middle finger in the air for everybody to see
Obviously you haven't read over my proposition
"Fuck you", collectively be runnin' the opposition

Opposition, proposition upon exposure
Our prediction, stop your bitchin' we takin' over
I told ya, we more like pottery, stop the monopoly
We turn around nigga's that burn learn to do it properly

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Go on take away welfare, medicare
Start riots everywhere, my style she could need some health care
I am well prepared, proposition fuck you, ammunition buck you
Gotta bud a crew

Who da farmers? House senate takin' over congress
Show 'em how to keep it on this passive judgment
Passin' on the government, no paper green card
By law we rock hard, hip hop rockstars

Collage, I borough street, hoods and guns
Take your goods and run, gettin' naked for fun
Give ya food to bluff, so spark another blunt
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

I've had it up to here with rules
Face plastered prime time, headline, on T.V. News
Fuck you! It's proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

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Proposition Fuck You - Lyrics - Methods Of Mayhem

Title: Proposition Fuck You
Artist: Methods Of Mayhem
Composer(s): Tim Murray, Mike Nunez, Tommy Lee, Adam Davis, Wilfredo Rosa Jr.

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Lyric:
Are you tired of hanging out in your car
And getting sweated by the boys in blue?
Tired of getting shot by your best friend and not receiving
Any medical attention because of lack of insurance?

If these are a few problems that plague you and your friends
This November when you go up that
Ballot box and you see the proposition marked
?Fuck you?, you know what to do

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Step into the ballot box
Blowing up the muthafuckin' spot, tired of these cops
Tired of these judges, tired of the rules
Waitin' til the day to tell 'em all, ?Fuck you?

Playin' two, 'cause it ain't enough
Got the boyz in blue still roughin' me up
On the T.V. news still talking it up
Never thought Tommy Lee could be fuckin' it up

Methods of Mayhem, Filthy and Dutch
I walk up in your party and I'm spikin' the punch
If you've had enough, you know what to do
?Vote yes!? On proposition fuck you

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Filthee, Tommy Lee, steppin' casually
Middle finger in the air for everybody to see
Obviously you haven't read over my proposition
"Fuck you", collectively be runnin' the opposition

Opposition, proposition upon exposure
Our prediction, stop your bitchin' we takin' over
I told ya, we more like pottery, stop the monopoly
We turn around nigga's that burn learn to do it properly

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Hangin' on back in the streets wit
Your peeps smokin' weed, drinkin' brew, who?
You ain't got a clue, fuck you, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Go on take away welfare, medicare
Start riots everywhere, my style she could need some health care
I am well prepared, proposition fuck you, ammunition buck you
Gotta bud a crew

Who da farmers? House senate takin' over congress
Show 'em how to keep it on this passive judgment
Passin' on the government, no paper green card
By law we rock hard, hip hop rockstars

Collage, I borough street, hoods and guns
Take your goods and run, gettin' naked for fun
Give ya food to bluff, so spark another blunt
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

Tired of the boyz in blue, running up on your crew
You know what to do tell 'em ?fuck you?, it's a proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

I've had it up to here with rules
Face plastered prime time, headline, on T.V. News
Fuck you! It's proposition
Fuck you, fuck you, it's a proposition

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