Mama'S House - Lyrics - MTA2: Baptized In Dirty Water - David Banner

Title: Mama'S House
Album: MTA2: Baptized In Dirty Water
Artist: David Banner
Composer(s): Lavell W Crump, C Mcdaniel, D Menefield

Lyric:
David Banner, one of the most phenomenal feats of all time
Frekaznatcha, Alabama, Mississippi, David Banner

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

Hoe I ain't got respect, I'm comin' straight to ya crib
Drag you out in the yard, run a shank through ya ribs
I said boy, dirty, dirty boy
What you think that these bullets and guns is made for?

Bustin' on a bitch, ditches is where it lye
Bullets fly through the air, tell them crackers to die
I'm the trillest, clack-up, peel-it, dumpin' slugs til' you feel us
Banner, Frekaznatcha, ridin' until you kill us

Fuck it and if we die tell mama never to cry
I'm comin' back like Jason, bumpin' that 'Playa Fly'
Higher than a bitch, gone off that 'dro
Yeah, I'm dead though but God knows, I ain't no hoe

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

Keep my name out ya mouth, keep my name out ya mouth
Fo' we run up in yo house, fo' we run up in yo house
Keep my name out ya mouth, keep my name out ya mouth
Fo' we run up in yo house, fo' we run up in yo house

So you claimin' that you head bustin'
Come and feel these leads thrustin'
Me and my niggaz ain't scared of nuthin'
Wanna see some red rushin'

Mississippi burnin' this, Alabama turnin' this
Together we got that fire bitch, biggin' up we ride bitch
Bet ya you won't step outside trick, come step outside trick
You don't wanna collide with, my crew, we ride bitch

Sicker than a motherfucker
Crazy like them terrorist fuckas
When we hit yo block you duck us
When we hit yo block, it's ruwkus

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

At yo mama's house nigga
Muthafucka, goddamn, weak bitch
At yo mama's house nigga
Muthafucka, goddamn, weak bitch

Grab that hoe by the hair, throw that nigga in the yard
Then ya stomp that ass out, screamin', "Bitch you ain't hard"
Grab that hoe by the hair, throw that nigga in the yard
Then ya stomp that ass out, screamin', "Bitch you ain't hard"

I don't wanna be a thug, but fuck around in the club
I'm knockin' yo ass out, then dancin' off in yo blood
Tell ya mama that I'm sorry, but yo ass gotta go
Might bring yo ass out or I'm kickin' in ya dough

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Let's take this shit to his mama's house, his mama's house
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face
Pull that bitch out in the yard, slap that hoe in the face

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55c04ded48363e5f85e3188f0fdda881

Slap Somebody - Lyrics - Keith Murray

Title: Slap Somebody
Artist: Keith Murray
Composer(s): Keith Murray, Erick S. Sermon

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

Lyric:
I need a blunt 'fore I slap the shit outta somebody

Uhh, c'mon , get it up y'all
Uhh, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon, get it up y'all
Uhh, yeah, yeah, uhh, I know y'all like this one
Uhh, uhh, yeah, yeah, uhh, c'mon

Yo, you all niggas will never see my level
Rap so hot, I slap box with the devil
Tap a jaw, slap a bitch do what I like
Got a sociology and money like Reverend Ike
Yo, here's your rap eviction, get out the jurisdiction
Before I hit that ass with a cross a diction crucifixion

Editorial, news flash, extra, extra
Let this blast with yo stank ass
Face the ultimate challenge, style's got a lot of knowledge
Come in violence, leave in silence
This beat's a B, so come on take a swim
MC's can't float, don't worry about them

I'm a dupe like Patty, rich like Maddie
Slick like a caddy, but not your baby daddie
Girls, I got 'em locked, flavors come assorted
So pop that koochie girl, I can double joint it

This is for the thugs in the clubs and the hotties in the party
Who need a drink before you
(Slap somebody)
All my cats on the corner who's packed in the shottie
Who need a blunt before you
(Slap somebody)
Rewind this jam and let it rock the party before, I
(Slap somebody)
I speak with more technique than karate 'cuz, I will
(Slap somebody)

Ayo, I'm strictly from the street, that's why I get love
Airin' dearin' niggas out in the back of the club
With the mic in my hand, just got paid
Take these suckers out till I get on stage

When the girls see my face and they all get excited
Dogs in the front row 'bout to start a riot
Too loud to be quiet, too wired to be tired
Yo E crank this shit up and get it started

Get the crowd funky like the whole place farted
MC's rest in peace like dearly departed
Then it's all in together now, let me show you how
I do it rock n roll style and dive in the crowd

Murray ain't the average MC, I got a lotta things
But don't act conceited when you see me on the street
I hang with the rich, keep it real with the poor
Kick hard metaphor, 'cuz that's what I'm here for

Catch me east of the sun or west of the moon
Lookin' butterfly like a caterpillar just cocooned
Smooth like Thug Passion over the rocks
So sporty they need to put me on a Wheaties box

This is for the thugs in the clubs and the hotties in the party
Who need a drink before you
(Slap somebody)
All my cats on the corner who's packed in the shottie
Who need a blunt before you
(Slap somebody)
Rewind this jam and let it rock the party before, I
(Slap somebody)
I speak with more technique than karate 'cuz, I will
(Slap somebody)

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today
In a special way to play on baby play
The way you shake that ass girl is somethin' drastic
Fabulous and fantastic

Fly like a B-52 hot stepper
Got Latinos yellin', "Wepa, ese loco, da le toto
Pese mi culo, pape chulo"

Whatever, the more the merrier
The longer the weave the scarier
My squad is Def and we ain't hearin' ya
B.E., to think quick with the speed of a cheetah
Strip down to my wife beater

Baby doll, shake what you got, I'm not a playa hater
I just dis a lot and don't slam the doors of the Mazzarati
Because, I will slap somebody

This is for the thugs in the clubs and the hotties in the party
Who need a drink before you
(Slap somebody)
All my cats on the corner who's packed in the shottie
Who need a blunt before you
(Slap somebody)
Rewind this jam and let it rock the party before, I
(Slap somebody)
I speak with more technique than karate 'cuz, I will
(Slap somebody)

Bring me up somethin' nice, cool to drink in this bitch before I
(Slap somebody)
Fix me somethin' hot to eat before I have to go outside and
(Slap somebody)
Throw your hands in the sir from side to side before I
(Slap somebody)
Slap, slap

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046e9b44a9eadd25ebc948acd509653a

Love'S A Slap In The Face - Lyrics - Hot In The Shade - Kiss

Title: Love'S A Slap In The Face
Album: Hot In The Shade
Artist: Kiss
Composer(s): Gene Simmons, Vini Poncia

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

Lyric:
I been up, down, and all around, tell you what I'm feelin'
I been hurt and I've found, been pushed around, it's how I got this feelin'
I never thought I could hurt so good, no no
I never thought I could lose myself, but I just can't hide it
They never let you down easy, now listen

Sometimes love is like a slap in the face, you been burned and still
It's the same old mistake
If you want my opinion, I'll give it to you straight
Love is like a slap in the face
Singin' na na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na na

Love's got a hold on me, I can't believe it, but it's plain to see
Turns me upside down and inside out
Don't know why it never fails to make you scream and shout
I never knew I could fool myself, no no, I never thought I could hurt so good
But I just can't hide it, guess I'm feelin' no pain, now listen

Sometimes love is like a slap in the face, you been burned and still
It's the same old mistake
If you want my opinion, I'll give it to you straight
Love is like a slap in the face
Singin' na na na na na na na na na, na na na na na na na na na

I never knew I could hurt so good, no no, I never thought I'd say nonono, no no
But I'm here babe, I got a secret inside

Sometimes love is like a ball and chain
Keeps you up at night, why is it always the same
If you wanna know the truth, it's something I can't explain
Yeah love is like a ball and chain
Yeah na na na na, na na na na na, na na na na, na na na na na

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1331cd654784b051ed6b1ad229477de9

Of Course - Lyrics - Ritual De Lo Habitual - Janes Addiction

Title: Of Course
Album: Ritual De Lo Habitual
Artist: Janes Addiction
Composer(s): Stephen Perkins, David Navarro, Perry Farrell, Eric Avery

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

Lyric:
Of course this land is dangerous
All of the animals
Are capably murderous

When I was a boy
My big brother held on to my hand
And he made me slap my own face
I looked up to him then and still do
He was trying to teach me something

And now I know what it was
Now I know what he meant
Now I know what it is, oh

One must eat the other
Who runs free before him
Put them right into his mouth
While fantasizing the beauty of his movements

A sensation not unlike
Slapping yourself in the face
Slapping yourself in the face
It's like slapping yourself in the face

Of course this land is dangerous
All of the animals
Are capably murderous

When I was a boy
My big brother held on to my hand
And he made me slap my own face
I looked up to him then and still do
He was trying to teach me something

And now I know what it is
Now I know what he meant
Now I know what it is, oh

One must eat the other
Who runs free before him
Put them right into his mouth
While fantasizing the beauty of his movements

A sensation not unlike
Slapping yourself in the face
Slapping yourself in the face
It's like slapping yourself in the face

He said one must eat the other
Who runs free before him
Put them right into his mouth
While fantasizing the beauty of his movements

A sensation not unlike
Slapping yourself in the face
Slapping yourself in the face
It's like slapping yourself, slapping yourself

Slapping yourself, slapping yourself in the face
Slapping yourself in the face
Slapping yourself in the face

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8dd5b5b73230569f0ce1b7d6a1a236d7

My Room - Lyrics - Lifer - Lifer

Title: My Room
Album: Lifer
Artist: Lifer
Composer(s): Aaron Fincke, Mark Klepaski, Anthony Kruszka, Nicholas Coyle

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

Lyric:
Save yourself while you watch your back 'cause I'll be coming
Wanna listen to me cry, I'm gonna try
I'm back, one back for you to turn on just face it
What you're thinkin' about is impossible
I can't take it anymore listen to me

Come to my room in my bed
But the whore inside you never goes away
In the end it's okay
But the hole inside you really shows

Come with me before
You're regretting what you're doing
Wanna listen to me cry? gonna try
One slap in the face was all I needed to face it
Thinking about my situation, my situation

Come to my room in my bed
But the whore inside you never goes away
In the end it's okay
But the hole inside you really shows

Can you feel it? The commotion?
Do you feel it? Don't tell me no
And if you don't let the games begin

The scab from the past that you showed to me
Wasn't from me too much television
You laid by my side when everything's fucked
Do you know why?

Another slap in the face but not another for me
One foot in the mouth, another in the game
Why do you regret who you are?
Why do you resent me?

When all that I wanted was you
I've thrown myself away now 'cause of you
What more do you want from me?
How does it feel? What do you want?

Come to my room in my bed
But the whore inside you never goes away
In the end it's okay
But the hole inside you really shows

Come to my room in my bed
But the whore inside you never goes away
In my room in my bed

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30a6234b5f1d01a64faa1dc88087893a

Out For Fame - Lyrics - Krs One

Title: Out For Fame
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): Lawrence Parker

Lyric:
Yo right here, right here
It's right through the fence, right through the fence
Jump
Yeah right there, right there
That's the 2's and the 5's
Joe gimme that, the fat, the fat cap, fat cap
Yeah
Aight
Aight, let's do it now, let's do it now
Yeah yeah
Nah gi-gimme the other cap, gimme the other one
Yeah right there
Front Page Entertainment Group
Yeah

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"Writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall" "
I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
Hah! Hahahaha
All graffiti artists hold tight, hooo
All graffiti artists hold tight, word
Check check check it out y'all
Check check check check check it out y'all

I got twenty-five cans in my knapsack, crossin out the wick-wack
Puttin up my name with a fat cap
Suckers that want to be in my face I just slap that
Big respect to Artifacts, Fat Joey Crack and
Mack and, Bio, and Brim come again
With B.G. 183, recognize me
With the mad colors, I'm a fiend for spraypaint
Laugh if you wanna, I really care if you ain't
Cause you don't me see, and I don't know you
But I do know Cope2, he be gettin walls too
It's the underground community of what we call writers
Worldwide burners, gettin hotter gettin brighter
Whattup Nicer, whattup Razor, whattup Chino
Masta Ase in the place, you know we know
My man Rican, my man Zorro, taught me how to draw
In the yards of the 5 train and the 4
So when I'm on tour I represent the hardcore
I'm taggin up your blackbook sure, I'm out for the fame

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"Writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
Yeah, check it out check it out check it out one time
Hip-hop music in effect one time

When I was growin up, I had no butcher baker candlestick maker
I had rubbing alcohol and carbon paper
Yeah, carbon paper and a blackboard eraser
Got me chased in the bus yards, with Rican and Nazer
Historically speakin, cause people be dissin
The first graffiti artists in the world were the Egyptians
Writing on the walls, mixing characters with letters
To tell the graphic story about their life, however
Today we do the same thing, with how we rap and draw
We call it hardcore, they call it breakin the law
There used to be a time when rap music was illegal
The cops would come and break up every party when they see you
But now the rap music's making money for the corporate
It's acceptable to flaunt it, now everybody's on it
Graffiti isn't corporate so it gets no respect
Hasn't made a billion dollars for some corporation yet, so
In the name of Phase2, Stay High, Pre-streets
Grab your cans and hit the streets, I'm out for fame

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
Yeah, hip-hop culture in the house one time
All graffiti artists in the house one time
Yeah
Biggin up the other side things here y'all
The visual, not your video (check it out)

I'm livin in the city, inner city not a farm
Steady bombin til I get fatigue in my arm
Watchin for the beast cause many artists they shot em
And beat em in the yards, while doin a top to bottom
So pass me a can, not of Old Gold
But full blue, sky blue, watch me unfold
With the cold burner, of names you mighta heard of
Like Fab 5 Freddy, Sam Sever
Word to the wise, Futura 2000 recognize
Nation of creation, G Man come alive
Checkin out Revolt and Zephyr
My man Easy, and Rembrandt, Mitch 77
Oh no with the paint we can never dilly-dally
Big up and respect to Con Art in Cali
The Soul Artists, The Rebels, The Rascals, 3YB
United Artists, TAT and Dondi
Yes the other side of hip-hop is representin the visual
Toys we be dissin you, I'm out for fame

"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
"I'm writin my name, in graffiti on the wall"
Hip-hop in the house one time
Video graf in the house one time
All graffiti artists in the house dig the rhyme
Put up your nine, put up your nine, yeah

Fresh for nineteen-ninety-five
You SUCKERS

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e3af22f86472177ecb424065de4f1622

Slap In The Face - Lyrics - Cocked & Loaded - L.A. Guns

Title: Slap In The Face
Album: Cocked & Loaded
Artist: L.A. Guns
Composer(s): Mick Cripps, Philip Lewis, Tracii Guns, Kelly Nickels, Steve Riley

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

Lyric:
Kamikaze hit man
Love on the run
No mercy for the children
Of the night
You tangle on my brain
You drive me insane
I want what you got
No surprise

Cold sweat my hands shake

No point getting excited
She's on the case
Knock you off your rocker
Like a slap in the face

You fuss you fight
You think you got the right
Make love the camera never lies
We got the power
We got the moves
Fourteen thousand killer watts
Just to make you groove

And it's just
Like smoking lightning

No point getting excited
She's on the case
Knock you off your rocker
Like a slap in the face

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180a37a7462deafa504c841b018e61b3

Your Rebel Flag - Lyrics - Carnival Of Carnage - Insane Clown Posse

Title: Your Rebel Flag
Album: Carnival Of Carnage
Artist: Insane Clown Posse
Composer(s): Joseph Bruce

Lyric:
Stop the bus, violent J comes out, barrels to your chest
And blow your lungs out, motherfuck a fucking hick
I'll kick you in the mouth, swell your fucking lips up
You swallow them teeth when I do
And me and my boys will run a train on your Felma Lou

Then break her fucking back, goddamn bigots ain't all that
So, I'ma cut your brain out, reach in and pull your spine out
Welcome to the Carnival show, you're invited, you and your bitch Flo
And the wicked clowns gonna jack
Cut your lights off and if you crawl back

Don't step to the city folk, bitch, that's why you got your titties broke
So, get back on your ardvark
Don't let me see a bigot coming through Clark Park
Cut his neck with my good blade
Thirty four years old, still in the third grade

Yet speaking on others, look at your hootin' anny ass motherfucker
And your Billy bitch, hey, fuck both 'cha'll and your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag

Been down South, you can't tell me, hillbilly, hillbilly, hillbilly
Uncle Willy, acting nilly
Old bitch cooking up viddles, that fuck on the porch playing the fiddle
You know I'd love to show you that ghetto style
Take you out back and throw you in the shit pile

Life in the inner city, I'd whip your ass, but you're all shitty and funky
Like the pigs you eat, picking that shit off them yellow feet
Don't step or so much as cough
Or I'ma shoot you in the back till your chest falls off

What you say ain't always hype
So, I'll slap you in the face with a lead pipe
Teach the kids what the pops taught you
And he's a funky-ass bigot too, fell short of the due respect
Don't speak when I slap you in your red neck

Fuck all that bullshit you stuck on
Get back on your mule and get the fuck on
Don't look back, or I'ma hit ya, take that redneck bitch out wit' ya
Spit on your rebel rag, so, fuck you and your rebel flag

Wilbur, I'ma cut his neck, Haus, I'ma break his back
Guber, I'ma stab his face, Jed, I'ma slit his throat
Wilbur, I'ma cut his neck, Haus, I'ma break his back
Guber, I'ma stab his face, Felma Lou, I'ma fuck her in the ass

Hillbillies listening down South, hillbillies listening down South

I'm up and I'm headed for the South
Fidna put a round of buckshot in your mouth
And blow the back of your fucking neck loose
Hillbillies run around like a headless goose

'Cuz you tried burning down my cross
That's ready racist hick named Haus
You sleep in the barn and you fuck your horse
Brick to the head, put you back on course, yeah

But ya know I chill 'cuz if I don't flex on you, the others will
Straight folks in the south won't have it
They put a round in your racist ass quick
The cool in the south team up with the North

And blow that bigot off his fucking horse
So put away your goddamn twine
'Cuz I'm a cut your pipe and take a little moonshine
Then drink it all up

Barrels to your face and blow your fucking head off
Keep on gunning 'cuz of what they said
Punk, I'll put a slug in your bald head
Scalp a skinhead quick

And your greasy ass triple Klan ain't shit
Zip you up in the bag
And I'll shit on a motherfucking rebel flag
Yeah, shit on a rebel flag

Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag

Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, fuck your rebel flag
Fuck your rebel flag, it ain't shit

Wilbur, I'm a cut his neck, Haus, I'm a break his back
Guber, I'm a stab his face, Jed, I'm a slit his throat
Wilbur, I'm a cut his neck, Haus, I'm a break his back

Guber, I'm a stab his face, Felma Lou, I'm a fuck her in the ass
Wilbur, I'm a cut his neck, Haus, I'm a break his back
Guber, I'ma stab that motherfucker in his bitch

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a75ee048c17f7a07ded1002df3c36c7b

Madness - Lyrics - Del The Funky Homosapien

Title: Madness
Artist: Del The Funky Homosapien
Composer(s): Teren Delvon Jones, Nakamura. Danie

Lyric:
In the year three thousand and thirty
Everybody wants to be an MC
In the year three thousand and thirty
Everybody want to be a DJ

In the year three thousand and thirty
Everybody want to be a producer
In the year three thousand and thirty
Everybody want to tell ya the meaning of the music

I must appeal to you people with your faculties
'Coz everybody else is gonna laugh at me
People try to get over and take a crack at me
The universe is one and I can see what rap can be glorious

Put in the Smithsonian, my podiums for holy hymns
But you see who's controlling them
Fuck myself off 'coz of the egotistical mode I'm in
No, I can't slap you no five

When you and your cutty is talkin' shit about me outside
People take pride in what they have no hand in
Sorta like a phantom holographic handsome
But deep inside he wants to do what his man done

Just because his peers jeer and and clown
When your six foot deep no one hears you now
They say we're not compatible like deers and cows and owls
So many rules and regulations say you're not allowed

I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness

If I had to describe the way I survive, it's like vice squeezin'
The reason I'm black and still breathin'
Heathens will breed heathens so
Everybody's suspect I must check your ID

'Coz you lookin' sheisty, you might be intelligence
Someone that Del's against, opposite or positive
When I drop the law against nature be faithful

Why should I hate you, we ain't that different?
We may act different in some ways
But we still grouped together like a fuckin' survey
Sufferin' and fuck 'em all's the motto

I'm trapped in a bottle, my music's gettin' hollow
That's what happens when humanity you follow
Where every leak or info is hard to swallow

Sell your Marlboro's and car insurance
Put niggas on the moon and can't pay your burdens
I smoke herb and rock a turban
Meditate on the world and what's occurrin'

A lot of white boys like the style and copy
Dig in something deeper and you'll peep that we're not free
It's not about the separation, it's about the population

I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness

Simple minded people always point the finger
To bring it to a close as if life is their role, their path
When all paths are intersections
It all depends on the persons perception

When I'm mad as fuck you get shot
And to some it's bad luck
I believe you held something back for too long
It grew strong

And energy got its own will
And people think they make music still
But music is there without you or me, we just manipulate
For better or worse, so let it situate

I get to make records and dough
Paid out the asshole
And still seen as another face on the totem pole
Conquer, my sponsors are monsters

And everybody thinks that I owe them one
I'm glad I love music and life
'Coz it's easy to see the pain and strife and end it all tonight

I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness
I'm caught in the grip of the city madness

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d30f48d6ce12d0bf41847e467c1c2cf0

Stuck In The Middle With You - Lyrics - Cover To Cover - Jeff Healey Band

Title: Stuck In The Middle With You
Album: Cover To Cover
Artist: Jeff Healey Band
Composer(s): Gerry Rafferty, Joe Egan

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

Lyric:
Well I don't know why I came here tonight
I've got this feeling that something ain't right
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Here I am stuck in the middle with you

Yes, I'm stuck in the middle with you
And I don't know what it is I should do
It's so hard to keep this smile off my face
Losing control all over the place

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Here I am stuck in the middle with you

Well you started off with nothing
And you're proud that you're a self-made man
And your friends they all come crawling
And slap you on the back and say, "Please, please, yeah"

Well I'm trying to make some sense of it all
But I can see it makes no sense at all
Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor?
I don't think that I can take anymore

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Here I am stuck in the middle with you

Well you started off with nothing
And you're proud that you are a self-made man
And your friends they all come crawling
And slap you on the back and say, "Please, please, yeah"

Well I don't know why I came here tonight
Got this feeling that something ain't right
I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair
And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs

Well there are clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Here I am stuck in the middle with you

Yes there are clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Here I am stuck in the middle with you
Yes, I'm stuck in the middle with you
Well I'm stuck in the middle with you
Yeah, I'm stuck in the middle with you
Yeah, stuck in the middle with you

Stuck in the middle with you
Well I'm stuck in the middle with you
Well I'm stuck in the middle with you
Stuck in the middle with you
Yes, I am stuck in the middle with you
Stuck in the middle with you

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0ebe544c7faf040344f3f80a61650339

Shit Expands - Lyrics - The Lost Masters - Kool Keith

Title: Shit Expands
Album: The Lost Masters
Artist: Kool Keith
Composer(s): Keith Thornton

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

Lyric:
Bronx, Brooklyn
Queens, Manhattan
Staten Island
Keith in the house

It ain't about the bitch with a wig like she comin' from China
Y'all fronted in rented Benzes with Avis on 'em
No breakfast, I'm goin home, fuck Chelsea or diner
Let the guys with the chrome buckets expose the cuffs
Be a co-signer

I'm in your ass man, close like your Starter jacket liner
Dr. J sharper, plug your asshole up with a tub stopper
Your wife's a New York City Breaker
Your baby's mom is a pop-locker, know the metropolitan area

Custodian nigga, you sanitation worker, shit cleaner
Floor mopper, look down on the city with binoculars
Piss out at choppers, defecate 80 thousand feet in the air
I flip your small game, take your small urban territory
Put the street in the air

My shit rise, increase like subway fare
Scuffle your dinner wear
Your sneaker line ain't makin it, I piss on four pair
You know the big head boy from the projects

Retarded motherfucker, you know you be in child care
You better stay there
Your crew get picked up with shitty diapers from daycare
Your foe be his crib death

The top rappers receive hot dogs up they ass, they get F
Mark flush the toilet, you shit next
Expand your stomach range with tummy pains
Shit in the back of your Bentley when it rains

Leave your wooden panels with shit stains
Throw the turds out the windows
Watch them bounce in the carpool lanes

Hot 97
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand

The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand

Yo, where's the block at? Uh
They say 106th and Park is on the mad, fuck it is on
I haven't heard a hard record in years, uh
Everybody dancin', Harlem shakin, strip free naked

And put a pole up and watch the ratings go up
And if AJ steps, take his Jacob and slap off the makeup
I'm in the crowd like Lee Malvo, with a sniper rifle
A hockey mask, a butcher knife, yo, who knows what I'll do

They sellin' dreams with a rap battle, uh, huh
Look, yeah, you rappers are kids and rappin' with a rap rattle
Nobody ever comes out, that's right
No twelve inches, no fires, no jets

Early retired, no links
No chains, no videos, no baguettes, uh
Don't Speak, uh huh, I'm gettin Gwen Stefani
Tossed up, sellin' pussy like every week

So don't fight me, uh, you can hype me, that's right
I'm liable to go out with a terrorist style
I'm liable to flow out with a terrible style
Viacom bought you, suckers
I'm outta here nigga I'm changin' the dial

Hot 97
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand

The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand

No more cars and shit, we suicide bombers
Nigga, walk up in your radio station
We get gas from the gas station, nigga
You better ask public relations, blow out your DJ booth

With hats off, like motherfuckin' Dr. Seuss
No buckets, strictly bombs under the North Face goose
Caught you with acid, baby
We put it in your motherfuckin orange juice

Fuck a turned up cap
How bout a burnt up motherfuckin' baseball cap
With a whack-ass rap
We detonate with three sticks of dynamite through your turntables
Blow out your ass crack

You ain't the motherfuckin' pimp, you ain't the motherfuckin' mack
Review this right, you gon' drink a daquiri
Are you gon' come back to me?
Are you gon' get smacked from me?
Fuck around look how you act to me, bitch

Hot 97
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand

The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand
The shit expand, over your Jacob, the diamond watch
The penis is loose, we piss in your hand

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ed95b3b107fc97dc9b2a25ac28a05a03

Tango - Lyrics - Public Warning - Lady Sovereign

Title: Tango
Album: Public Warning
Artist: Lady Sovereign
Composer(s): Gabriel Olegavich, Louise Amanda Harman

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

Lyric:
Once again, yeah
Make way for the S O V

Bring out the bucket, bring out the cloth
Bring out the liquid, bring out the lot
If not, let's roll her to a car wash

Now washin' you will be like washin' a goth
Put out that black lipsticks 'round their gobs
How the f*** do we get it off?
I think this is gonna be a very hard job

How did ya get a tan like that in winter?
Ya ran off to boots, got a box of tinter
Didn't ya see you still got orange fingers?

What network are you on? Orange
Color of your bathwater? Orange
I think your favorite fruit must be an orange
B****, did you know you're orange?

What network are you on? Orange
Color of your bathwater? Orange
I think your favorite fruit must be an orange
B****, did you know you're orange?

Slap, bang was on the fake tan b****
You look like the tango man
Boge, boge bo do the tango
Boge, boge bo do the tango

Slap, bang was on the fake tan b****
You look like the tango man
Boge, boge bo do the tango
Boge, boge bo do the tango

It's the gone wrong salon

Your clothes keep wrippin'
Like you're the female incredible hulk
You gotta broken bra, a broken top
A broken phone and a broken coat

You've been wearin' the the same jacket
Since you were in year 8
And it smells like you urinate on it b****
That ain't great

You tried to be Christina
So ya dyed ya hair black
But really you looked like the vicar of Dibley
What on c****?

Now step back and just face the facts
You don't like the fact, I get facety on wax
Anyways talkin' about wax
Look at your face, girl relax

What network are you on? Orange
Color of your bathwater? Orange
I think your favorite fruit must be an orange
B****, did you know you're orange?

What network are you on? Orange
Color of your bathwater? Orange
I think your favorite fruit must be an orange
B****, did you know you're orange?

Slap, bang was on the fake tan b****
You look like the tango man
Boge, boge bo do the tango
Boge, boge bo do the tango

Slap, bang was on the fake tan b****
You look like the tango man
Boge, boge bo do the tango
Boge, boge bo do the tango

Why not flimmer on the window, saw as a pumpkin?
When it's approaching Halloween
Or on ya English breakfast place her
Next to the bacon, she could be the beans

You always know where she's been
And you always know when she's had a p**
'Cause the toilet seat ain't clean
The toilet seat has an orange sheen

Bring out the detergent
Scrub that umpa lumpa, it's urgent
Have you seen her face it's disturbin'?
How much fake tan are ya squirtin'?

Err, it's hurtin' ma eyes
And it's startin' to look like a sunrise
And ya fake tans so ming
You are attracting flies

What network are you on? Orange
Color of your bathwater? Orange
I think your favorite fruit must be an orange
B****, did you know you're orange?

What network are you on? Orange
Color of your bathwater? Orange
I think your favorite fruit must be an orange
B****, did you know you're orange?

Slap, bang was on the fake tan b****
You look like the tango man
Boge, boge bo do the tango
Boge, boge bo do the tango

Slap, bang was on the fake tan b****
You look like the tango man
Boge, boge bo do the tango
Boge, boge bo do the tango

Orange girl in the ring
There's a orange girl in the ring
You got tangoed
And you know the worst thing, you done it yourself

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e1fea575d67c10f1dde68352053d5811

Wagon Wagon - Lyrics - The Ringmaster - Insane Clown Posse

Title: Wagon Wagon
Album: The Ringmaster
Artist: Insane Clown Posse
Composer(s): Joseph Bruce

Lyric:
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Come down, stand in line, everybody loves to ride the
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Your momma is a bitch and she swings on my nuts in the

Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
If you missed your bus, don't be afraid, come and ride the
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
It's your last chance

Here it comes the horrifying midnight wagon
Saggin', laggin', dead bodies draggin'
On a piece of string they flop around and fling
Now shut your ass up and let the juggla sing

It's the Insane Clown Posse comin' through
Lookin' for hickies and the prickies and your ass too
Everybody gets a ride in the ghost car, don't matter who you are
We goin' straight to hell and it ain't far, Mr. Nevers
You seem to be the kill joy so get your ass in fat boy

You can sit up in the front with the Ringmaster
With the Ringading-dingalinga-ping-master
And get your motherfuckin' wind pipe chopped off
And your funky ass body gets dropped off

In the gutter, the wheels keep rolling
Throwin' heads out the back, nugget bowlin' from the

Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Are you down with the clown with clown luv, ride the
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Every dead fuck in the city comes and rides the

Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Nate the Mack, Jump Steady and Rude Boy ride the
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Don't miss your chance

The exhaust pipe is trippin' out a Deli fire
I found an old dead corpse in the trunk next to the spare tire
And it's mufflin' the sounds
Throw the bitch out and now the funk pounds, yo

Some say it's just a hearse but it's much worse
It's an old dark bucket with a clown curse
Long, dark, very spooky scary
I drink an old 40 bottle full of Bloody Mary, why

'Cuz I'm Violent J, sick in the nug-bone
I make strange sounds, clowns with frowns
Break it on down, break it up till the break of dawn
Look out your window it's the wagon in your front lawn

Ah, boom, aboockaboomba
We do the dance of the death until you get in the car
Then I pull your tongue out slap you in the face with it
Say the joker did it, in the

Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Come down, stand in line, everybody loves to ride the
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
Your momma is a bitch and she swings on my nuts in the

Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
If you missed your bus, don't be afriad, come and ride the
Wagon Wagon, dead bodies draggin'
It's your last chance

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dad4c91a9bba8972343eb0cd043bef2f

Slap U Around - Lyrics - This Toilet Earth - Gwar

Title: Slap U Around
Album: This Toilet Earth
Artist: Gwar
Composer(s): Michael Bishop, David Brockie, Michael Derks, Peter Lee, Dave Musel, Bradley Dunbar Roberts

Lyric:
I wake you up in the morning baby with a kick in the tit
I treat you like shit, you love it
Smack you right in the face now woman, just to show you I care
And then I kick your pregnant ass right down the stairs

Slap, slap, slap u around
Slap, slap, slap u around
Slap, slap, slap u around
All day, all day, every fucking day

I pay the doctor bills baby, so I'll break what I want
I spend all my money in a fucking restaurant
I let you live in my house now woman, I take you out on the town
And I want some payback now woman, I get to slap you around

Slap, slap, slap u around
Slap, slap, slap u around
Kick you, till you fall down
All day

Slap, slap, slap u around
Slap, slap, slap u around
Till your on your own, on the ground
All day

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385bd83372995f5799d2954fc2c298b8

The Bomb - Lyrics - AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted - Ice Cube

Title: The Bomb
Album: AmeriKKKa's Most Wanted
Artist: Ice Cube
Composer(s): O'Shea Jackson, Anthony Wheaton

Lyric:
It's like a holocaust to the boss when I toss
Too much knowledge kicked then you're lost
In a shuffle of feet, Jinx the fiddler
And I control your mind like Hitler

You bow and vow to authority
See now, a sucker with a style just boring me
So I show K N O W
L E D G E it might trouble you

Then I transform like a Decepticon
With a mic as a bomb
In my right palm
But I don't stay calm

So panic
Others can't flow so they go schizophrenic
You thought I dropped a dud in your face
Until you taste the blood of the bass

Then you faint, or better yet pass out
When I'm on the mic, believe it's ass out
You think you're raw so you draw

You lose, you're hung, you bite your tongue
The whole town saw in awe as you strangle
A noose on your neck, and you dangle
From side to side in the blazing heat
You're beat, you're dead, the fools fell off
You feel you're turning red

It's said that your head burst
And this is only the first verse
Of the bomb

Don't break up the fight let them rumble
Over the years I've watched some go super-bad quick
Now the smell of the pen has got them sick to the stomach

Now ask yourself, who's stupid?
I take funky, funky beats and I loop it
And pimp slap you in the face with the bass
And the boom from the bomb that I drop, stop

You have a flat top as a fashion
I love black women with a passion
But when they gotta go and show their ass in
I gotta clown the hoes, yeah

You gotta watch the ones with the big derrieres
They'll steer you wrong
Ice Cube's got it going on, hit me
For the gangster boogie two times for the gangster rhyme

The system ain't wholesome
They want to put a young brother in Folsom
And others see me on lockdown
But I come up foul then they get knocked out, word

To the brother that rolls the herb
Everybody getting knocked to the curb like that
Jinx got the gat, and it's a fact
He'll kick a funky beat to peel your cap

Now who's the mack? Who's the hoe? Who's the trick?
I got many, many styles won't you take a pick
But don't be alarmed
When I trip and stumble and fumble
And drop the, drop the bomb

I'm solo, you ask how I'm living
Still dropping more shit than a pigeon

With the L, the E, the N, the C, the H
The M, the O, the B, the great
Lyrics that make the beat swing and I gotcha
It's the hip-hopper that don't like coppers

And if you try to upset the pot, son
You get kicked in the chest like a shotgun
I make the beats, I make the breaks
I make the rhymes that make you shake
Make you find

Ice Cube never caught in the middle
I make shit to kick you in the ass a little
And still never hesitate to stutter step
Or bust a repetition on the mic

Still dissing all the hype
From left to right
How many left to fight?
So what that Lench Mob like?

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84aa5e8af78c5e64c648e91c247b3058

Cakes - Lyrics - Kool G. Rap &Amp; Dj Polo

Title: Cakes
Artist: Kool G. Rap &Amp; Dj Polo
Composer(s): Robert Diggs, Robert F. Diggs, Kool G Kool G Rap

Lyric:
Yeah
Shake your funky ass, bitch
Yaknowmean
Yo

Yo, we divide cakes to rise the stakes
Me and my apes die for papes, bust heat and hide from jake
Up in the skyscrape, on top of the world
Back yourself against the wall, gun brawl, kid, I end it for all y'all
(Shake that cake bitch)

Son'll stop the dough from flowin'
Spotless rock glowin, shots are blowin'
Pop the C-lock, rollin' waistline and glock is showin'
We keep it thugged out, who not knowin' get your knot blown' in

Yo yo, Bob Digital and Kool G Rap, we set the booby trap
African wiz wit the gat inside her dooby wrap
Derelict rhyme crabs, you rappin' for a Scooby Snack
Foul-tongued bitch, you bound to lick my doody crack

Verbal pellets spray, tec sound makes my amex
Every slap on my snare drum son could break necks
You get yanked up and spanked up, your face shanked up
Who the fuck raise your rank up?

I blow your tank up, pop the lock on a cop handcuff
Puff a dutch of dust, bust the jump' up and snuff out the judge
Fuck a cell block, black top capsule, the mailbox
It's heavy-bone birds stash glock in the nail shop

One the strip, took a sip, twist the L top
The God jewels son sound like a third rail shock
The gold cross bone, doorag, universal flag
Blast at the turbo charge and purple herbal drag

Known for the W, carry a double-two in the shoe
Iron snub rubber noose in the bubble goose
Bullets soaked in oil, hot heat will flame broil
Wu-Tang slang I bang makes your brain coil

Shaolin Gods we known to stack cakes
Desert Queen projects son, they bake cakes
Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes
Cold Medina sons, they known to take cakes

Yo, we have the Wu-Tang, we let two's bang
That's how we do thangs, that's how we move thangs
Shoes paid wit two in the brain, keep the ice blue in the Range
Me and the RZ' quick wit two of them dames

Got my dick blew in the Range, my nigga keep it true to the game
It ain't no tellin' what I do to you lames
If my mood change, choose to aim, do you and your dudes the same
Go against grain and lose a fame

Who claim life in the thug lane but life is real
Lead come out of pipes of steel, Rob, kill, or heist for mills
Spill as I let out and slice your grill
Nigga don't think twice to peel, just open shop and dice to grill

Send the six out, bust crib route
To the brick house, steppin' on new terrain, bring the click out
The streets don't wanna see you read, let a clip out
These niggas slip out, make they blood drip out

Yo we divide the cakes to rise the stakes
Me and my apes die for papes, bust heat and hide from jake
Up in the skyscrape, on top of the world
Back is up against the wall, gun brawl, kid, I end it for all y'all

The flood'll stop the dough from flowin'
Spotless rock glowin', shots I'm blowin'
Pop the C-lock, rollin' waistline, the glock is showin'
We keep it thugged out, who not knowin' get your knot blown' in

We said Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes
Cold Medina sons, you known to take cakes
Desert Queen project wizes, they bake cakes

Shaolin Gods, we known to stack cakes
Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes
Cold Medina sons is known to take cakes
Desert Queen project cats, they bake cakes

Shaolin Gods, we known to stack cakes
Desert Queen project cats, they bake cakes
Shaolin Gods is known to stack cakes
Uptown Pilan dogs, you make cakes
Cold Medina son is bound to take cakes

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f28c1e90ef2b92127202833deb3ae7c3

Posted In The Club - Lyrics - Bred 2 Die Born 2 Live - Lil Scrappy

Title: Posted In The Club
Album: Bred 2 Die Born 2 Live
Artist: Lil Scrappy
Composer(s): Paul Beauregard, Jordan Houston, Darryl R Richardson

Lyric:
You see I'm posted in the club blunt in ma mouth
If a nigga still buck I'mma knock his ass out
Posted in the club talkin' to dis girl
If a nigga wanna buck I'mma knock his ass out

Ay bitch, what you gon' do if you wanna buck
We can do it if you want to
Hey bitch, what you gon' do if you wanna buck
We can do it if you want to
Push a nigga, slap a nigga, pussy nigga, hoe nigga
Let's go nigga

I drink liquor fifths its Juicy J the pimp
I tell ya baby momma she can suck a nigga dick
Straight from the corna, the north is ma hood
I don rode on 4 flats and it's still all good

Project Pat is outta jail and we 'bout to get dis mail
To you hataz tryna rap, quit playin' wit ya selves
Memphis, Tenn, ATL, we gotta get dis cheese
And we count big bills, while deez hoes on dey knees

Mad 'cause they see me smilin' grillin' in his hoe face
It ain't ma fault, you should her made her stay in the place
She couldn't help it, I'm the king of dis area code
I been blowed, I got time balls, waitin' to explode

Fifteen years I'mma inspiration in dis game
You just gettin' dat car tomorrow, dat style about to change mayne
If you was real you'd recognize real
But bitch you blind to the signs get ya monkey ass killed

Ay, I'm posted in the club blunt in ma mouth
If a nigga still buck I'mma knock his ass out
Posted in the club talkin' to dis girl
If a nigga wanna buck I'mma knock his ass out

Ay bitch, what you gon' do if you wanna buck
We can do it if you want to
Hey bitch, what you gon' do if you wanna buck
We can do it if you want to
Push a nigga, slap a nigga, pussy nigga, hoe nigga
Let's go nigga

It's the young nigga known for bringin' da drama
Why I act crazy, yeah, I got it from ma momma
Walk in this bitch wit nuttin' but a razor
I'mma slice the hell outta muthafuckin' hata

[Incomprehensible] nuttin' but hoes
If a nigga wanna throw I'm throwin' nuttin' but bows
And what it is, you don't wanna go wit da legend
Beatin' niggas ass into the hell of heaven

Wassup I'm drunk but I'm crunk in dis bitch
If you wanna throw bottles, I'mma stab you quick
Ay, back off for a minute for I step in it
Nigga chill shawty ya boi ain't finish his sentence

Don't get mad 'cause ya broads on ma dick
And she came ova in ya damn favorite outfit
Yeah, dolla signs all in the air
And I don't give a fuck if you wanna take it there

Ayyo, I'm posted in the club blunt in ma mouth
If a nigga still buck I'mma knock his ass out
Posted in the club talkin' to dis girl
If a nigga wanna buck I'mma knock his ass out

Ay bitch, what you gon' do if you wanna buck
We can do it if you want to
Hey bitch, what you gon' do if you wanna buck
We can do it if you want to
Push a nigga, slap a nigga, pussy nigga, hoe nigg
Let's go nigga

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e3938a2ff0e55f0703c5f54b1badff9f

How I'M Comin' - Lyrics - 14 Shots To The Dome - Ll Cool J

Title: How I'M Comin'
Album: 14 Shots To The Dome
Artist: Ll Cool J
Composer(s): Gregory Jacobs, James Brown, George Jr Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Marlon L Williams, Walter Morrison, James Todd Smith, Fred Wesley

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

Lyric:
I'm comin'
I'm comin'
I'm comin'
I'm comin'

Boom bash, wake up, I set it off right
Look around and turn your wet dream to fright night
You can call me R and B homeys, which stands for rough brother
Word to my grandmother
I buck you in the head just to let ya know
Stick you for ya dough, spit on the flo'
Drag it out of ya, bring it on
I smack him back down, yo dope word is bond

I know you want a piece of the champ
But you roll too weak, you couldn't make it in my camp
You thought I went for the flip
But I'm bustin' off hip-hop clip after clip
I kept you out there, ripped you for your wear
Jump inside your video, bust you with a chair

Smack slap, smack slap, smack slap, smack
Just to make it worse and hurt your pride I'll run it back
Smack slap, smack slap, smack slap, smack
Click click boom, stop dead in your tracks
Stick the steel in your mouth
Buck buck buck buck buck, lights out

(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'

(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'

The album that I'm comin' with is rough, the flavor's mean
Kickin' you for real in the guillotine
Fourteen shots to your dome kid
I'm doin' time in the game like a bid
Movin' rhymes like a package
So stigetty step up and get your nostrils damaged
Shootin', lickin', bustin', sprayin', all of that
And then some, dead dead dead, one by one

Never step to a real man
'Cause your rhymes only work on a playground program
They impress your little friends, bring you a little ends
But you still you gotta ride in your mans Benz
Word to hip-hop, I'm a blast ya
Gotta set you on fire 'cause I gassed ya
Boom, blow, Batman, bang, pow
Unh unh, that's the way it's goin' down
(What, what)

My new album ain't no joke
You wanna take me out, how many bunch ya smoke?
I'll never slack again, I'm off the job like the mob
Hey, no prob', many solved, on the knob, make 'em soft drob
What you gotta deal with is real, made of steel
You can feel it comin', burnin', buildin', flowin' like an eel
Movin', killin', breakin', servin' you just like a meal
Take off your clothes and taste the steel

(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'

(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
(I'm comin')
How ya comin' baby?
This is how I'm comin'

Check baby
Check baby
Check baby

Rockabye baby on the roof top
Open up your mouth and taste my gallot
When your jaw breaks your gold teeth will fall
Down will come the monkey, banana clip and all
Splat, it's all over wit'
(Buck buck buck)
Another plan O.D.'ed over my war hit
The way I'm workin' and jerkin' and hurtin' brothers converted
Non-believers get murdered, 'cause I waffle birded

Get your face out the bill, catch the thrill
Carry a nine put your hootchies on the bill
The thought of you gettin' scared turns me on
Like my first television with my backup tip hard
So where's your mouth kid? Where's your heart shorty?
It's all over, cash your chips in, crack a forty
You look thirsty, you ain't gettin' no mercy mercy
And ain't no way that you can rehearse for me

Murder I wrote, murder I wrote, is what I figure
It's in my tote, it's in my tote, so I pull the trigger
Put up your women, your crib, your speakers
Your dog, your cat, your crate, your speakers
Your sister, your aunt, your crew, your knicks
Got 'em booin' all you mother rappers who think that's too tough

Bam bam, here's a hit you wish you had
A hit that makes you mad, a hit that makes you slap your dad
Dead dead dead, kill dead, kill dead
Try to battle me I gots to buck you in your head
I pull your file, click
I know you're good to style, blow
Livin' wild, when it's come to this I never smile
What did you learn from the lesson I just gave ya?
Obey your momma, be on your best behavior

It's never endin' and I am recommendin'
You put your name as Brendan
I see y'all that is blendin'
The message that I'm sendin'
Is there ain't no pretendin'
Get in the trunk, buy the album, here I'm endin'
(I'm comin')
This is how I'm comin'

How ya comin' baby?
How ya comin' baby?
How ya comin' baby?
How ya comin' baby?

How ya comin' baby?
How ya comin' baby?
How ya comin' baby?
How ya comin' baby?

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