Smokin' Dro - Lyrics - Golden Grain - Disturbing Tha Peace

Title: Smokin' Dro
Album: Golden Grain
Artist: Disturbing Tha Peace
Composer(s): Christopher Bria Bridges, Taheed Epps, Ed Greene, Arbie Wilson

Lyric:
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

See I'm addicted to this fast life, it's hard to slow me down
When ya, momma on the crack pipe and ya daddy ain't around
You hear the sounds of the wildest gunshots from a large clip
When we started choppin' O's off in this empty apartment

See I was, standin' in the track, and my back is the target
With a hammer on my side lookin' like I'm layin' carpets
See you flip it 'til you get it nigga, we hangin' like this cable
On my way, to I-20 nigga I gotta play in Decatur

See I'm ridin' and I'm blowin' on twenty dollar bills
'Cause we, only got that gold; you can't buy regular around here
Stayin' true to the prestige and the economic status
I still stacked 100 G's stayin' in my momma's attic

Stackin' under Kraft-matics, Willie sleepin' on the cheese
See we got ki's and the D's and the P's and TV's
And I'm ridin' in C.P. with a glock-40 as my tooley
On the block, with the top back, blowin' out that booty up

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

You know I-20 ridin' Regal's - cuttin' cutters
Since my wood grains got no stains; be in some other shit
A big body Chevy on the, chrome lookin' pretty
If it's dro, or the sticky I need, I'm hittin' Tity

On my system knock so loud, they call the cops on me
Ladies show that ass proud, and make it drop for me
This is how a nigga ride, in A.T.L.
And if the twelve drop pull me over, I hide the scales

Blowin' dro out the song booth, with windows tinted
Ridin' clean down Old Campbellton Road, y'all know who in it
Got my seat pushed way back, arm out the window
Niggaz quick to pull a car-jack, armed when they in [Incomprehensible]

I push a Range and my brother Fate in S.S. Impala
Ludacris, with the Escalade, and Tit' quickly follow
Gettin ready for the summer get your cars out and fix it
When it comes to that ridin' and smoke, look I'm addicted nigga

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

Yo, gotta get that monkey off my back, sir
I'm smokin' dro and choppin' O's up in my 'llac, sir
Where the fuck you at when them little bitty animals attack, sir?
I'm in the trap and when I get caught up in a rap-ture relax, sir

It's like cata-racts to me, ac-tually it has to be
A fac-tory of smoke and clouds I'm chok-in proud
And Rhap-sody, the sack of trees is wrote and now
So pot-ent now the track is squeezed

So clap and be happy to be nappy and snappin'
Just keep on rappin' but nobody comes af-ter me
One hit from the blunt then I stop drop, roll
Really really wanna fuck with the glock, glock? No

They so simple better hit that block, slow
On yo' mark, get get ready, set, go
You could watch this Georgia tech' blow
If I don't get some of that wet wet wet wet dro

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Beat knockin' with the big blaze choppin' nigga
I'm smokin' dro, choppin' O's
Ridin' dirty, candy paint, lookin' purty

Play the MP3 online for free!

b8e57fcaa8e478d58b0a8856a9f48009

Cali Dro - Lyrics - Like Father, Like Son - Birdman

Title: Cali Dro
Album: Like Father, Like Son
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): D Arnaud, L Mollings, J Mollings, D Carter, D Williams

Lyric:
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
Light up that dro, light up that dro
Light up that dro, light up that dro
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
(I'm buyin' the bar tonight)
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
('Cause we're smokin' all night at the banquet club, nigga)

(Twelve thousand niggas, smoke a pound, nigga)
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
(Yeah, put some chrome
on your [Incomprehensible] while you're at it nigga)

Come on
So light it up and pass the thing to me
I'm fresh off parole and I could smoke a whole P
Can smell it in my clothes, you could smell it in my seats
That's how a nigga rolls, I was raised in them streets

I'm rollin' up a sweet, I'm fillin' it with keef
I'm too high to talk, bitch, keep it real brief
If it ain't 'bout money, you ain't even gotta speak
I smoke it in the paper, Weezy smoke it in a leaf

And nigga I'm a stunna, I got runnas
And we keep them shotguns like huntas
We smoke thunder, it put me under
I'm talkin' straight Purple Kush that thundas

See, I be fuckin' with them trees
'Cause I'm straight out the jungle
Keep about five pounds
And we ain't even tryin' to hustle
Y'all already know how that go

I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

I get my Kush from California, get my dro from Arizona
I can get it 'cross the border, got a rider name Winona
And I'll be calmer than a soma
Inside of the Phantom and it's lookin' like a sauna

And I stay high and I still got my diploma
And I still keep the Maggie on me, like Homer
And I'm too sick, man, I'm spittin' out a coma
And I'm still lettin' the money pile like Goma

And I smoke that kill, y'all blowin' on begonias
And I keep a fill of that grass like a farmer
And I keep that armor, try me and I'll spin you around
I'd be with the stars and I ain't talkin' tinsel town

That's right, the prison town
Bitch tear the fences down like Prince in town
Boy, I shits a pound of that purple rain
On the Marvin's day, you with me now?
(I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro)
Too high, you can't set me down and I be

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

We got that AK-47 white, right on set, painted and named
Named it Orange Purple Kush, that million Dollar top brand
I got that white ivory ice tea, doctors requestin' don't weed
Blazin' up so much bomb, got a bad bitch on my side

See we just smokin', we just smokin', we just tryin' to fire up
If you got the bomb, bomb, nigga, come and light it up
Yeah, blaze up, ain't nothin' like ridin' by, drivin' high
Me and all the hommies smokin', dumpin' if you chokin', smokin'

I smoke the [Incomprehensible] when they hit you
'Cause you might pass out
Look over at the bitches, snatch a blunt up out her mouth, bitch
Switch it to another scene, smokin' has you endo green
Some hommies be on that lean, mix it with that endo weed

Because we fucked up, we fucked up, you know that we fucked up
I like to smoke and drink with that nickel plated thing
Because we fucked up, we fucked up, you know that we fucked up
(I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro)

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smoke, smoke, smokin' up the Cali
Smokin' up the Cali, smokin', smokin' up the Cali
I'll pull up the Henny, Coke and light up that dro

Play the MP3 online for free!

00daaffe40554fcf88bab032e49ebb7d

All My Life - Lyrics - Freeway

Title: All My Life
Artist: Freeway
Composer(s): Curtis Mayfield, Nathaniel Hale, Leslie Pridgen, Roosevelt Harrell, Ben Krass

Lyric:
Jeah, uh
Real niggas stand up, uh
Whoo
Jeah, uh, uh, yo

From Cali to Philly, Philly to Cali
I deliver the order, haulin' a milli
Y'all niggas silly, I really don't want no problems
It's North Philly hot, really hot

Duck cops, send shots at idiots, really I
Got the mack milli I wet your squadron up
Oh, he don't feel me y'all
Nate go get the gats, we shootin' up they videos

Really y'all, ain't makin' a dollar
When my shit drop, it's the Roc, holler
Shoot you from toe to collar, watch you holler, pop my collar
Holler, bink controllin' the track

Free and Nate controllin' the flow, y'all cats need to fall back
Holler, at your boy if you wanna get rich
I got a town and they want it tonight, you got pounds
Well they one of the Knicks, cross Free better be strapped
The rest of your life

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

And I'm going going back back
To Cali Cali, is we strapped? Yes
Private jet, gat in the vest, Heckler and Koch
Hit Nate soon as I land, hop in the van

Everything calm and cool, gat by the croch
Travel with the tool, it's just a part the plans
And I'm from the East side, that's how we ride
I let Mister Sig Sawyer sing a song to your man

Yeah, it's the worlds most dangerous
Clique, the Roc, we get neck in Los Angeles
Chicks scandalous, it's just a part of the plans
I smash, photograph it, send 'em home to they man

At last, I'm more than a rap star, she bit off
More than she can chew, she's one of the fans
She said she know how we do, I swallow your crew
Break a playa off then then get a job for his man, yeah

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

Tell Philly Phil Free comin' to town
And we can blaze thirty L's once I get off the plane
And go shoot past Roscoe's for chicken and waffles
You act tough, hollows will stop at your mainframe

Hit up your main man, stick to the game plan
Your main man chick wanna come home with me like Cam
Get done with her, pass her to Cam
If I wanna squirt her, take her to Fat burger

Spit murder, cross the clique, get murdered
Out in Cali wearin' any color, State Prop, stick to my brand
It ain't nothin' but crooks in here
(Whoop, whoop)
Freewizzle, big Nate Dizzle

(Whoop, whoop)
Get took straight from the club to the spittle
For shizzle, y'all gon' have to call the cops in here
And Nate from the West side, that's how they ride
Shots in your backside, never bust in the air, yeah

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

All my life I'm, I'm gonna be
Lovin' dough, chasin' hoes, smokin' 'dro, yeah yeah yeah
All my days I'm, I'm gonna be
Ridin' strapped, back and forth, east to west, watch your back

Whoo
Uh, holla
State Prop Chain Gang
Y'all niggas know what it is

Whoo
Back and forth, east to west
Whoo
Freeway is in the house, is in the house, uh

Young Gunnas in the building, holla
Y'all bitch ass niggas
Put your mouth on a pistol, nigga
Put your mouth on a motherfuckin' pistol, holla

Matter of fact, spray nigga
Jeah
Jeah, it's the Roc
Uh

Play the MP3 online for free!

3bde8ce237cc7d20b816afe5b62e4c22

Catch Up (Incognegro Album) - Lyrics - Incognegro - Ludacris

Title: Catch Up (Incognegro Album)
Album: Incognegro
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Arbie Wilson, Christopher Bria Bridges, Bobbie Sandmanie

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

Lyric:
All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, let me be quite Frank 'cause I'm that crazy nigga Luda
Always got a drink and I'm steady smokin' buddah
I do the evil that'll bend you when I get you
I'ma sit you down then take it to the mental and essential and clown

Every chance I get, bitch I'm hit not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the can a beer, shit, I might just be too high
Then I put my middle finger up when I'm ridin' by
And say hi to plenty liquors and I know it's a sin

And if ya tell me stop drinkin' I'll just do it again
So when I get old I'ma rock, roll, shake and shiver
With some blacked out lungs and a fucked up liver

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Ey yo, I do this for bluntheads and whinos, steward Ave. Homes
Niggaz from G-Ro committed to slangin' blo, doublin' dough 24-7
Fuck po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the AC Legend, runnin' wit 2 strike felons
And I pack 4-4's like Hank Aaron, then'll smoke a L, bust shells

And dare ya to tell, walk up in the club, pretty thug
Fucked up off head shots, sippin' Courvoisier watchin' hoes
Drop it like it's hot, shakin' tits and twats
Placin' big face 20's and cock, loadin' clips and glocks

Knowin' we got the haters hot, the ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs
Live it up young nigga 'cause it's gon' catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, wit the help of Hen and Coke, I grab my pen and pad and wrote
Somethin' that I knew was dope and represent for my kinfolk
Pimp a hoe until she broke wit mo lines than chopped coke
Ey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King but I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretto

My shit even come out better, grab a blunt put it together
What a nigga really need, run up in the club
And blow a motherfucker til he bleed
Could it be an Icehouse put his lights out

Or the club get closed out, if it's hoes out I show out
Call Tyheed get Dro'd out, there's no doubt I love my life
Love the light, love to write, love the mic
So take a drag, grab a bag and match up
Hennessey and bad weed, believe me it catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Get it right, Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster
Infamous 2-0, ATL
We are the dirty south's dirtiest
Disturbing the peace

Play the MP3 online for free!

bc12451bfbda617350465c2c75b2fef2

Catch Up (Back For The First Time Album) - Lyrics - Back For The First Time - Ludacris

Title: Catch Up (Back For The First Time Album)
Album: Back For The First Time
Artist: Ludacris
Composer(s): Arbie Wilson, Christopher Bria Bridges, Bobbie Sandmanie

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

Lyric:
All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, let me be quite Frank 'cause I'm that crazy nigga Luda
Always got a drink and I'm steady smokin' buddah
I do the evil that'll bend you when I get you
I'ma sit you down then take it to the mental and essential and clown

Every chance I get, bitch I'm hit not by no bullet or no pellet
But the smoke from the can a beer, shit, I might just be too high
Then I put my middle finger up when I'm ridin' by
And say hi to plenty liquors and I know it's a sin

And if ya tell me stop drinkin' I'll just do it again
So when I get old I'ma rock, roll, shake and shiver
With some blacked out lungs and a fucked up liver

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Ey yo, I do this for bluntheads and whinos, steward Ave. Homes
Niggaz from G-Ro committed to slangin' blo, doublin' dough 24-7
Fuck po-po's I'm blowin' dro out the AC Legend, runnin' wit 2 strike felons
And I pack 4-4's like Hank Aaron, then'll smoke a L, bust shells

And dare ya to tell, walk up in the club, pretty thug
Fucked up off head shots, sippin' Courvoisier watchin' hoes
Drop it like it's hot, shakin' tits and twats
Placin' big face 20's and cock, loadin' clips and glocks

Knowin' we got the haters hot, the ballin' don't stop
Just drop more G's on drink and drugs
Live it up young nigga 'cause it's gon' catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Now, wit the help of Hen and Coke, I grab my pen and pad and wrote
Somethin' that I knew was dope and represent for my kinfolk
Pimp a hoe until she broke wit mo lines than chopped coke
Ey yo it's 2-0 I'm Eastside's King but I'm a writer with a twist of Amaretto

My shit even come out better, grab a blunt put it together
What a nigga really need, run up in the club
And blow a motherfucker til he bleed
Could it be an Icehouse put his lights out

Or the club get closed out, if it's hoes out I show out
Call Tyheed get Dro'd out, there's no doubt I love my life
Love the light, love to write, love the mic
So take a drag, grab a bag and match up
Hennessey and bad weed, believe me it catch up

All this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck
But some niggaz just really don't give a fuck

And all this drinkin' gon' catch up
And all this smokin' gon' catch up
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck
But some bitches just really don't give a fuck

Get it right, Ludacris, F.A.T.E. Fullster
Infamous 2-0, ATL
We are the dirty south's dirtiest
Disturbing the peace

Play the MP3 online for free!

609741fa71abb83faf20ef2eee0e5992

We Can Smoke - Lyrics - Big Money Heavyweight - Big Tymers

Title: We Can Smoke
Album: Big Money Heavyweight
Artist: Big Tymers
Composer(s): B Thomas, B Williams, T Quaites

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah
Smokin', smokin', smokin'
Smokin', smokin', smokin'

We can smoke, we can drink
We can freak the night away
Can we freak the night away?
Can we smoke? Let's drink
We gonna stunt the night away
Blow blunts around the way

Ma, you can shine with a nigga, if you grind with a nigga
Spend time with yo nigga, mama
Whoa, you can ride with a nigga, get fly with a nigga
Get high with yo nigga, mama
Whoa, we can blaze the haze day to day in the hood that's what's up
Whodie, we can tow the K go around the way

Jumping out the brand new truck
Whodie, situation getting sticky nigga blowing on his sticky
Sex, weed and a twist-up
Yeah, I'm in the hood with the metal
'Cause I'm good with the ghetto nigga playing get fucked up

Yeah, we live the gumbo lives it's high in spite
We struggled, but we came up
Go, you can look in my eyes see G's for life
Talking money bring my name up

We can smoke, we can drink
We can freak the night away
Can we freak the night away?
Can we smoke? Let's drink
We gonna stunt the night away
Blow blunts around the way

We can smoke the best weed
We can drink the good Cognac
We can do it in my Cadillac
Come and smoke with me
See I got that purple haze and it's time for us to blaze
Can we smoke?

Shazzam, damn, a bag of weed a cup of Cognac and a couple of seeds
Two hot strippers coming out they zippers
We some pimps dude we don't tip them, they tip us
I got my smoking jacket on 10 feet long
Inhale, exhale, that shit gone if you ain't got what I'm drinking
Then I'm drinking what ya got
Hey, keep them bitches coming cause I drink a lot

I'm a gulp like a fish you want some of this?
We can have sex, but you can't have a kiss
She said what's next your ever did X?
Ex-girlfriend now I'm cashing your checks

We can jump in the coup take a ride by Snoop
He got a lot of weed, you can like soup
You can smoke, you can drink till your lips turn pink
Till you pass out, ass out full of that dank

We can smoke, we can drink
We can freak the night away
Can we freak the night away?
Can we smoke? Let's drink
We gonna stunt the night away
Blow blunts around the way

We can smoke the best weed
We can drink the good Cognac
We can do it in my Cadillac
Come and smoke with me
See I got that purple haze and it's time for us to blaze
Can we smoke?

Whoa, we got that golden leaves rolled
With the weed in the middle dro stuck to the window blowing
Whoa, nigga feeling real good he high as he could
Nigga fucked around and blew up

Whoa, we gotta mix it right the gray goose fired
The blender with the fruit ice
Yeah, nigga look at my life and see what's inside
You fuck around and blow up

Whoa, then we blaze and blaze 'round the way
We keep both guns tucked, bitch
We read the play around the way for the people coming full up
Whoa, nigga pump your brakes you're from the state
Nigga know how we came up
Nigga plead the plate from state to state
Cooking cakes so niggas blow up

We can smoke, we can drink
We can freak the night away
Can we freak the night away?
Can we smoke? Let's drink
We gonna stunt the night away
Blow blunts around the way

We can smoke the best weed
We can drink the good Cognac
We can do it in my Cadillac
Come and smoke with me
See I got that purple haze and it's time for us to blaze

Play the MP3 online for free!

a6b195fd713dbceba1af6b45f3cef641

My Swag - Lyrics - T.I. vs. T.I.P - T.I.

Title: My Swag
Album: T.I. vs. T.I.P
Artist: T.I.
Composer(s): Wyclef Jean, Clifford Harris, Farel Jean, Jerry Duplessis

Lyric:
You gotta get your swagger together, nigga, get your suitcase
Starts on the inside, ya dig, I don't need mine, I got cribs where we goin?
If you don't love yourself you can't love nobody
Keep up, nigga, I love myself, you gon' need to travel, ladies
You go and get that Mack diesel, right

I'm the man from Atlanta to way out in Cali
Catch me in New York, I'm on the way to Miami
I be in Hawaii then catch me in Paris
I be at home barely, I'll sleep when I'm buried

What I need some sleep for? This dope got me geeked up
I went to Japan and made a mil' in a week, bro
These niggaz can't keep up when they see me in London
So I go out in Ibiza, that time I ain't sleep for

?Bout three days, maybe you?ll see me in Haiti
With Wyclef Jean and a selection of ladies
But my folk got that workin? like they back in the eighties
See the money's what move me, conversation don't phase me

Tell 'em why ?cause I been around the world
Traveled the seven seas and I be
Poppin? bottles with celebrities so you can find me
Flyin? high, smokin? better trees

Girls around the world
They keep callin? me, they call me
Paparazzi, they be follow me, they all be
Hopin? that they get a shot of me

It's my swag, they wonder what's so special 'bout him?
Why they ain't sellin? records like him? Tell 'em
It's my swag, how he always look so cool?
And why everybody do what he do, so

Gotta be my swag, they wonder why he wear his hat like that?
When girls see him why they act like that? Aye, I don't know
It's my swag, for some reason all the real niggaz love him
Even though their girlfriend wanna fuck him
I guess, gotta be my swag

Gettin? money in Frisco, wearin? my raincoat
See I'm gettin? wet and this bitch in the same boat
I came in the game slow, they act like they ain't know
That I wasn't gon' leave until I got what I came fo'

I still can't complain? though as long as I ain't broke
I came a long way but, shawty, ain't nothin? changed though
I still let the tool go, don't get it confused, bro
Run up on me wrong, now what you think I'ma do, bro?

Send you to your maker then go to Jamaica
Or either to Cabo, I chill at my condo
My swagger is perfect, hatin? on me ain't worth it
Guarantee you, boy, the Earth my turf if that hurts

Tell 'em why ?cause I been around the world
Traveled the seven seas and I be
Poppin? bottles with celebrities so you can find me
Flyin? high, smokin? better trees

Girls around the world
They keep callin? me, they call me
Paparazzi, they be follow me, they all be
Hopin? that they get a shot of me

It's my swag, they wonder what's so special 'bout him?
Why they ain't sellin? records like him? Tell 'em
It's my swag, how he always look so cool?
And why everybody do what he do, so

Gotta be my swag, they wonder why he wear his hat like that?
When girls see him why they act like that? Aye, I don't know
It's my swag, for some reason all the real niggaz love him
Even though their girlfriend wanna fuck him
I guess, gotta be my swag

Regardless what haters say I'm as real as they come
I'm chasin? that paper, baby, however it come
I'm singin? a song and movin? yay by the ton
You never seen a nigga gettin? money so young

How I get from the pen all the way to Berlin
I've been to Switzerland, skiing and pimpin?, goin? again
It ain't nothin? to catch me in the south of France
In a coffee shop smokin? dro in Amsterdam

It ain't nothin? to fly all the way to Dubai
St. Barts, St. Lucia, any day we can try
G-5 to Moscow and they say I'ma lie
I'ma ball like a dog 'til the day that I die

Tell 'em why ?cause I been around the world
Traveled the seven seas and I be
Poppin? bottles with celebrities so you can find me
Flyin? high, smokin? better trees

Girls around the world
They keep callin? me, they call me
Paparazzi, they be follow me, they all be
Hopin? that they get a shot of me

It's my swag, they wonder what's so special 'bout him?
Why they ain't sellin? records like him? Tell 'em
It's my swag, how he always look so cool?
And why everybody do what he do, so

Gotta be my swag, they wonder why he wear his hat like that?
When girls see him why they act like that? Aye
It's my swag, for some reason all the real niggaz love him
Even though their girlfriend wanna fuck him
I guess, gotta be my swag

This is impeccable pimpin?
You couldn't duplicate this shit if I told you how to, man
Ha, y'all, niggaz, keep up
By the time you get to Puerto Rico, my nigga, I'll be in Cuba

By the time you get to Cuba I'll be in Haiti
By the time you get to Haiti I'll be way over in Africa, man
You know what I?m sayin?? South of France in my land, man
The Earth's my turf, my nigga

Play the MP3 online for free!

d3ded34273d50eca38e0da65f3575047

Controversy - Lyrics - I Don't Want You Back - Eamon

Title: Controversy
Album: I Don't Want You Back
Artist: Eamon
Composer(s): Mark Passy, Yared Williams, Eamon Doyle

Lyric:
On my way to the studio
When the beat rise through like pure as gold
And you know I got dro to up my flow
When the girl I brought along just dropped her clothes

And even if it's true what you said
I could have your girl chillin' in my bed
So there's no need for controversy
What you gotta stop is all this envy

What I gotta do, cats don't even have a clue
I can't stand to see me kick a flow so unbelievably
And never gave a hand askin' bout the back up plan
Now, that is true, for ever tellin' me that you always knew

On my way to the studio
When the beat rise through like pure as gold
And you know I got dro to up my flow
When the girl I brought along just dropped her clothes

And even if it's true what you said
I could have your girl chillin' in my bed
So there's no need for controversy
What you gotta stop is all this envy

Such a funny face, ooh actin' all outta place
But I'd love to know, how you really know how far I go
Don't gotta choice, gotta play kids like it's toys
Don't gotta flap, you keep poppin' shit while I spit facts

On my way to the studio
When the beat rise through like pure as gold
And you know I got dro to up my flow
When the girl, I brought along just dropped her clothes

And even if it's true what you said
I could have your girl chillin' in my bed
So there's no need for controversy
What you gotta stop is all this envy

Please don't get mad at my talent
I just wanna meet my balance
Blaze trees, blaze girls, make money
So much jealousy, it's funny

What I bring is a whole new moment
May both shook don't wanna take chance
Stop all the hate that you're makin'
Smokin', singin', girl takin'

On my way to the studio
When the beat rise through like pure as gold
And you know I got dro to up my flow
When the girl I brought along just dropped her clothes

And even if it's true what you said
I could have your girl chillin' in my bed
So there's no need for controversy
What you gotta stop is all this envy

On my way to the studio
When the beat rise through like pure as gold
And you know I got dro to up my flow
When the girl I brought along just dropped her clothes

And even if it's true what you said
I could have your girl chillin' in my bed
So there's no need for controversy
What you gotta stop is all this envy

Play the MP3 online for free!

df0fb157845f8d128f1b4100e41cd88c

Everybody Gettin Crunk - Lyrics - Phinally Phamous - Lil Wyte

Title: Everybody Gettin Crunk
Album: Phinally Phamous
Artist: Lil Wyte
Composer(s): Paul Beauregard, Jordan Houston, Patrick Dhane Lanshaw

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

Lyric:
Yo mamma, yo daddy, yo greasy greasy grand mammy
Man they gettin' wild as fuck era body gettin' crunk
Yo mamma, yo daddy, yo greasy greasy grand mammy
Man they gettin' wild as fuck era body gettin' crunk

Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes

Yo mamma, yea I seen her butt naked in the front row
Yo daddy, yea I heard he was in V.I.P. smokin' dro
Yo grand mammy, yea I know she is a groupie from the 70's
Ain't no age limit to listen to me and all my melodys

Yo mamma, on the dance floor gettin' crunk n' drunk off Chris
Yo daddy, he is so full of beer this is the sixth time that he pissed
Yo grand mammy, man I know she's super buck 'cuz she feelin' me
Listin to good ol' boys I guess she stole her grand sons CD

Yo momma, tellin' you you need to be more like Little Wyte
Yo daddy, askin' you how your gunna pay your bills and get it right
Yo grand mammy, sittin' in the back fillin' somthin' bumpin' knowin'
Its my smokin' song, smells something good cookin'
Or could it jus be grandmas bong

Yo momma, on sadder days fliped a Benz truck on double dubs
Yo daddy, he wears white wear camo when he be huntin' doves
Yo grand mammy, has been smokin' since this CD came out and that
Ain't all, she swiched all her volumes and replaced all her tylenol

Yo mamma, yo daddy, yo greasy greasy grand mammy
Man they gettin' wild as fuck era body gettin' crunk
Yo mamma, yo daddy, yo greasy greasy grand mammy
Man they gettin' wild as fuck era body gettin' crunk

Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes

Yo momma, red light head bobing bumpin' riddin' spinners
Yo daddy, in the seat stayin' to the beat gettin super crunk
Yo grand mammy, crunk still but twice buck as both as those up in front
Pops with the auto radio puttin' some knock in the trunk

Yo momma, wanted spinners for christmas and'll she will probly get 'em
Yo daddy, also thinks that there pretty cool, so you know hes wit 'em
Yo grand mammy, doesnt give a shit as long as she can ride
And just be seen on the bills be stripin' 2 a.m. where all the ballers be

Yo momma, calls the cab from wet willys 'cuz shes on the floor
Yo daddy, sees Mike Tyson and wanted to put a tattoo on his nose
Yo grand mammy, man I love that woman shes a trip to be around
Act a clown, she might hit you frist fuck up after a couple rounds

Yo mamma, she 25, and 16 when she had you
Yo daddy, 25, 24 maybe 22
Yo grand mammy, the reason why she buck 'cuz she's barly 48
After the age of 23 she had a daughter by mistake

Yo mamma, yo daddy, yo greasy greasy grand mammy
Man they gettin' wild as fuck era body gettin' crunk
Yo mamma, yo daddy, yo greasy greasy grand mammy
Man they gettin' wild as fuck era body gettin' crunk

Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes
Gimme room, gimme room quit stepin' on my toes

Play the MP3 online for free!

6ee7d103f11ed3837625d411c6e71438

Money, Hoes &Amp; Power - Lyrics - Instructions - Jermaine Dupri

Title: Money, Hoes &Amp; Power
Album: Instructions
Artist: Jermaine Dupri
Composer(s): Pimp C Bun B Chad Butler, Jermaine Dupri, Bryan Michael Cox, Bernard Freeman

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

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah, yeah
It's the motherfuckin' infamous Pimpin' Ken
Yeah, all you motherfuckin' hoes out there misguided, undecided
Y'all need to come on and fuck with a pimp right

Yeah, if y'all keep them suckers off ya motherfuckin' mind
Bitch, I can keep em' off ya motherfuckin' behind
Check this out, bitch, ya understand
Y'all need to quit playin' the motherfuckin' joker

And come on and pay a motherfuckin' pimp broker
Yeah, ya know what I'm talkin' about
Yeah, let it be Pimpin' Ken for the reason
Ya understand I'll make it for the [Incomprehensible]

Know what I'm talkin' about, yeah, bitch please believe
We can put it on the dotted line, Atlanta tied
Ya know what I'm talkin' about, bitch
(Yeah)
Yeah, bitch, ya understand, tell that nigga ya understand

You ain't missin', bitch, you ain't on no milk carton
You with pimpin', bitch, Pimpin' Ken that is
Ho, ya know what I'm talkin' about
(Yeah)
Damn my nigga take off, J.D. we doin' this shit

Ya understand, better known
As the motherfuckin' royal highness
Ya understand, ya won't find us, ya understand
And I'm feelin' hype too
(Come on)

It's that lil' College Park nigga, in fact they call me Long Dough
Niggas hate me 'cause I'm wearin' platinum every song go
Hoes love me 'cause I, 'cause I keep it comin' strong and yo
I'm a pimp with mine every time I don't give a fuck who she is

Bitch, you can go get another
'Cause they love us niggas in the fast life
Niggas that can put it down
And came up with they cash right

Keep 'em, keep 'em in the mall fresh, ball every night
That's my life, I come through any time
I want to and hit that ass right up like a flashlight
Walkin' 'cause of all of my bling
(Bling)
One of the baddest motherfuckers that the game has seen

Think about it
From the first time that ya heard me
Way back in the 90s early
Me and my pimpin' out here doin' our thing in Swat

I got the money, hoes and power
We be in to see that ya cuttin', I'm all about cha'
But if ya not up to the mix, girl, I ain't trippin'
'Cause all day, all night, we steady pimpin', pimpin'

I got the money, hoes and power
We be in to see that ya cuttin', I'm all about cha'
But if ya not up to the mix, girl, I ain't trippin'
'Cause all day, all night, we steady pimpin', pimpin'

Still smokin' out, pourin' up, keep these bitches hoin' up
They break Pimp C long bread 'cause everything I touch be blowin' up
Candy cars, I'm a star, choppin' blades, sippin' on bars
Young pimp I'm from the South, run off put that piece in ya mouth

We Jone, fuck a clone
Keep a lil' bitch on my phone
All my cars blaze chrome
Bitch, can't leave my dick alone, alone, alone

You ain't from no Memphis, bitch
'Cause I was playin' Project Pat hittin' the switch
Puttin' the dick up in ya dame
Every time make her say my name

91, I been grippin' grain
Bitch nigga wanna steal my fame, fame, fame
I be at home smokin' dro, dro
And see a nigga doin' a dance on the video

But I'm young pimp, steak and shrimp, flyin' high like a blimp
Write my name in the sky on track
And tell the bitch to bring my money
Back, back, back, back, bitch

He talkin' directly to you

I got the money, hoes and power
We be in to see that ya cuttin' I'm all about cha'
But if ya not up to the mix, girl, I ain't trippin'
'Cause all day, all night, we steady pimpin', pimpin'

I got the money, hoes and power
We be in to see that ya cuttin' I'm all about cha'
But if ya not up to the mix, girl, I ain't trippin'
'Cause all day, all night, we steady pimpin', pimpin'

Well, if it ain't cash then I don't want it
I'm a million dollar striver, I get liver
Then the pimps that push clock punchers nine to fivers
A high diver, with mo' tricks up my sleeve than ya boy MacGuyver

A cadaver, that'll get cha' voted off my island like 'Survivor'
Is you blind, my pimpin' only gets better with age like a fine wine
And it's time open up yo blinds [Incomprehensible] a pimp to shine
Decide to yo mind, design

Two steps ahead of yo slow roll
You best to get a grip on ya world, world
Or we'll put that Miracle Whip on ya, girl
Pimp her, let a trick sip on that pearl

Let her pay that is
Ol' sucker for love, titty baby, mama's boy
That's just the way that is

And that's the way that it's gonna be, gonna be
So ya might as well take ya lil' Heartbreak Hotel reside
Stuck in the mud, still ridin' ass off to mo' me
'Cause uh

I got the money, hoes and power
We be in to see that ya cuttin' I'm all about cha'
But if ya not up to the mix, girl, I ain't trippin'
'Cause all day, all night, we steady pimpin', pimpin'

I got the money, hoes and power
We be in to see that ya cuttin' I'm all about cha'
But if ya not up to the mix, girl, I ain't trippin'
'Cause all day, all night, we steady pimpin', pimpin'

Bounce, come on, bounce, come on, bounce
Come on, keep bouncing
Bounce, come on, bounce, come on, bounce
Come on, keep bouncing
Bounce, come on, bounce, come on, bounce

Play the MP3 online for free!

f58409e893f7bc80c872eea2d833d55c

Late - Lyrics - Moodring - Mya

Title: Late
Album: Moodring
Artist: Mya
Composer(s): Mya Harrison, Eddie Cole, Terry Lewis, Bobby Ross Avila, James Harris Iii, Issiah Avila

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

Lyric:
Girl yes
Naw, for real

Twenty eight days pass me by
And she ain't even sure
Got me smokin'
Home with them
Well I don't even smoke
'Cause the worst thing
Ain't knowin' when
But not knowin' at all
I should'a been more careful
When I let him rock my boat

I stressin' all day, everyday
Hopin' it's not the case
I hope I'm just

Late
It should'a came by now
So I'm try'na figure out
Late
What the hell you did
To me when you took a dig
Late
I'm overdue
What are we gonna do
I know my body
And it's drivin' me crazy
I'm never
Late

I'd appreciate if you
Start pickin' up your phone
I'll be damned if
You're out partyin'
While I'm stressed out at home
Why you cryin' it ain't yours
I didn't do it alone '
Give it two more days
For I hit the convenience store

I'm talking about
Rite Aid, CVS
You can pick the place
I hope I'm just

Late
It should'a came by now
So I'm try'na figure out
Late
What the hell you did
To me when you took a dig
Late
I'm overdue
What are we gonna do
I know my body
And it's drivin' me crazy
I'm never
Late

Should'a came by now
So I'm try'na figure out
Late
What the hell you did
Baby to me when you took a dig
Late
I'm overdue
That's why I got an attitude
I know my body
And it's drivin' me crazy
I'm never
Late

Prolly bought it in your high school vendin' machine
Kept it in your wallet
So she was sixteen
In the back pocket of ya cross color jeans
And then had the nerve to use it on me
You better find another job
Then flippin' burgers and fries
Smokin' dro and playin' on the X box
And hangin' at the strip club is gonna have to stop

Late
It should'a came by now
So I'm try'na figure out
Late
What the hell you did
Baby to me when you took a dig
Late
I'm overdue
What are we gonna do
I know my body
And it's drivin' me crazy
I'm never
Late

It should'a came by now
So I'm try'na figure out
Late
Baby what the hell you did
To my body when you took a dig
Late
Oh I'm overdue
What are we
What are you gonna do
No what are you gonna do?
I'm never
Late
Late
Late
What are we gonna do?
What are we gonna do?
What are we
What are we
What are we
What are we gonna do?

Late
Should'a came by now
So I'm try'na figure out
What the hell you did
To me when you took a dig
I'm overdue
What are we gonna do
I know my body
And it's drivin' me crazy
I'm never late

{That bitch, Ms.Thing
Okay, another night workin' wit that bitch
Talkin' bout Moulin Rouge, Voulez-vous coucher
Ms.Whatever, you know she
Okay, she think she all that sister
Needin' ten hours of make up, what happened these old divas?
Hey boo, what's goin' on girl? Lookin' all good
Hey guys, thank you
Get over here girl, look at you! Seven eight, what?
Oh, I like that purse, where'd you get that from?
Louis Vuitton, you look beautiful baby, you're always fabulous
Oh, hold on real quick alright?
Okay, whatever, that rich bitch
Where she been? She aint even have a album like what? Ten years?
Whatever bitch}

Play the MP3 online for free!

83299717b5ca228efc753fc6432785a9

Over Here - Lyrics - Young Jeezy

Title: Over Here
Artist: Young Jeezy
Composer(s): Jay Jenkins, Demetrius L Stewart

Lyric:
We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'
See ya boys looking but y'all lame ain't tipping
Hold up, a, yeah it's some wrong wit it
If your money gon' nigga be the fuck on wit it

And don't worry 'bout what the fuck we smokin' over here
Don't worry 'bout what the fuck we drankin' over here
Don't worry 'bout who the fuck was standing over here
Don't worry 'bout how the fuck we dancing over here

I'm in a new SS and the tag still on it
And the pussy niggaz hating 'cause all the hoes on it
She ask me why I looked so mean
I said, "The Benz just boosted up to my self-esteem"

Nigga I'm the shit and if I ain't y'all let me think what I think
Matter of fact tell the waitress let me drink when I drink
Nigga think I ain't, no need to brag
Man these hoes love Jeezy, they just like my swag
The way I do my thang
I'm just a young ghetto nigga wit a big ass chain

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'
See ya boys looking but y'all [Incomprehensible]ain't tipping
Hold up, a, yeah it's some wrong wit it
If your money gon' nigga be the fuck on wit it

And don't worry 'bout what the fuck we smokin' over here
Don't worry 'bout what the fuck we drankin' over here
Don't worry 'bout who the fuck was standing over here
Don't worry 'bout how the fuck we dancing over here

Now if you feeling like a pimp dog gon' brush ya shoulders off
You trapping lil' daddy gon' get them boulders off
And I'ma teach you how to stunt
As soon as my niggaz roll up these blunts

She said, "She like my domineer"
Between me and you I think she's digging my Beemer
Love the way a lil' nigga spit so slick
Plus she heard I gotta big dick that's it

Yeah, put it on me girl
Matter of fact tell ya friends put it on me girl
Gangsta shit we got dro in the air
Bottles of Crist', Grey Goose everywhere

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'
See ya boys looking but y'all lame ain't tipping
Hold up, a, yeah it's some wrong wit it
If your money gon' nigga be the fuck on wit it

And don't worry 'bout what the fuck we smokin' over here
Don't worry 'bout what the fuck we drankin' over here
Don't worry 'bout who the fuck was standing over here
Don't worry 'bout how the fuck we dancing over here

I gotta a stable full of hoes and a trap full of dealers
A house full of bloods and a click full of killers
I'm heavy on the streets with a rep long as old Nash
I hit a hater wit a heat from a cold gat

We posted up on a black like a street light
Watching the money move making sure I eat right
Dollar for dollar and dime for dime
We out here hustle for hustle, nigga grind for grind

We got them nines in them halfs
Even them old things grinding on them hash
Folding for doe mane and we all in the dope game, buying and selling
You haters buying and telling, but what is my niggaz yelling

We getting money over here, what it do pimpin'
See ya boys looking but y'all lame ain't tipping
Hold up, a, yeah it's some wrong wit it
If your money gon' nigga be the fuck on wit it

And don't worry 'bout what the fuck we smokin' over here
Don't worry 'bout what the fuck we drankin' over here
Don't worry 'bout who the fuck was standing over here
Don't worry 'bout how the fuck we dancing over here

Play the MP3 online for free!

cf6ae19c9768dc65f8db7bb6333d8b4d

F.I.L.A. (Forever I Love Atlanta) - Lyrics - Lil Scrappy

Title: F.I.L.A. (Forever I Love Atlanta)
Artist: Lil Scrappy
Composer(s): Darryl Richardson Ii, Jonathan H Smith, Tommy Phillips

Lyric:
Yeah! yeaah
Yeah! yeaah
This ya boy Lil'Jon
Yeah! BME Cliq
Alot of yall niggas be talkin' bout air force ones and shit (Okkkk)
About adidas and shit (okkkk)
Alot of my niggas we be ridin' tha speed light (okkkk)
Get out on our feet (okkkk)

Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)

I'm a Graded baby ATL
And all my life the avis so crunk as hell
You dont' wanna step to close or go to far
'Cause where I'm from shawdy niggas beat you down wit they cars
Fila brought up from my head to my feet
Niggas on the block wit the rock they don't sleep
Man, South dekalb mall be the crunkest shit
Uh you can roll through buckhead and go to fall on a bitch
I'm a giant ass playa I'll stomp on a hater
I'ma pop the shit off in zone 3, the decatur
We can go back down to where my grandma stay
Depending on the area you better watch what you say
And I 'on care if you over there lookin all crazy
When I get locked up man them broads wanna save me
This the home ass whoopin biscuit in and the I's on the street charge mo' than a penny

Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)

Niggas grind time let my A shine
When I'm bussin rhymes smokin pine
My blood see through the georgia rhine
And niggas don't love the A like I love the A
I just love the way the A smell everyday
A time to yo time yea this how it go smokin dro'
Fuckin' hoes on the city road
When I stomp that bastard I left him with a bruise
Got fila on my feet so it had to be a shoe
I live for the A I die for the A I ride for the A
So fuck what you say
What you know about I-20 to 285
Got a fine atlanta bitch givin head in the ride
Gd's up get yo gd's up in the classroom crunk
Got Henny by my Shit so I stay "supa" drunk
Ridin downtown wit a shot of tiquila
Jon introduced me to the gang I'm hot like reefa

Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)

Carry the A on my back like a torch or rack I'ma represent it if you scared to go handle that dranki
Reminiscin on crunk years its the city of crunk where I shed my tears throw me the peace sign up the
Off the rip hell yeah I'm proud get crunk all day we 'on sleep at night and if you fight one "shawty
Don't nobody get crunk in the club like us if security trippin on pimpin we all gon' rush even thoug
They hard ain't nothin harder than stone mountain I swear to god yea yall love our hoes you love our
From the A so I love my home westside to scottdale we all cut hammers you can catch kids skippin at
Yea

Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta
Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (what!)
Forever I love Atlanta Forever I love Atlanta (fila nigga)

Play the MP3 online for free!

bd10d4692d17cd5454f8b84bedb5eae4

International Hustler - Lyrics - Freeway

Title: International Hustler
Artist: Freeway
Composer(s): Eriberto Serrano, Leslie Pridgen, K Roberts

Lyric:
Now I go from overseas, back to the block
Freeway, motherfucker, from the the, the Roc
Any day you wanna see my get shot of your strip
Everybody wanna be me, get paid off the block flip

Scripts move and paid off the rappin'
I'm makin' some things happen
You make an attempt to see me then it's clip boom
I'm makin' some things matchin'
I'm froze, stuffy nose, we bounce wit machinery, ahh

Choo, Free sneeze on you faggots
Here the clip drop, reload the semi-automatic
Get popped, then we seize keys like traffic
Box whip, locksmith, move keys through traffic

I'm like Boston, George and Blow
Philadelphia Freeway keep yay from blocks of soap
And y'all local, we international
Grip rounds every time I hit towns

And I hope y'all hear me in London and France
I tote wax down there when I ain't luggin' the cannon
And in Mecca I'm bowin', in Hawaii I'm landin'
On an island, smokin' and thinkin'

I hug blocks in the United States
I cop cribs in Africa, y'all can't relate
I kick box in Bancok, shark in Japan
Play my part, switch vans every time I hitman
And I, pull dimes every time I hit man

Since I'ma little ludicrous international post dude
And I, post up where you can't get man
Make hits with Jigga man, gotta respect dude
Much respect due, disrespect? You tek food

Feed you to the bullets in front of your steps
Pull it in front of your pets
Brains in their bowl, you pet food
Meanwhile I'm tryin' to make MJ moves
Which one? either I fool

Jordan or Jackson but until I get the fortune I'm snappin'
Snatchin', I'll show you how the meat eyes do
Give up weight, when you show 'em what them heaters do
Nigga wait, don't be that rude

You can take weight from anybody
If he think that he that dude
Roc-A-Fella nigga, we that crew
Shake niggas, And 1mixtape niggas, we got moves

And I hope y'all hear me in London and France
I tote wax down there when I ain't luggin' the cannon
And in Mecca I'm bowin', in Hawaii I'm landin'
On an island, smokin' and thinkin'

I hug blocks in the United States
I cop cribs in Africa, y'all can't relate
I kick box in Bancok, shark in Japan
Play my part, switch vans every time I hitman

And the flows sick damn, man
It's a man's world nigga, sit down you girl, niggas
That's why I bring pounds around you girl, niggas
'Case I gotta cock it back and clap on motherfucka, what?
Don't need a pound to sound you girl, niggas

But the pound's loud sound'll drown you mothafucka's ears
Yeah, it's Freeway young scarpper
Say my name wrong, I'll lodge a bullet in your nappy hair
Yeah, it's the flow of the decade
Studio, backwoods, 'dro and the Pepsi do it the best way
I was thirteen, cockin' the tek back, look how the tek spray

Now I dribble down, V-A motherfucka
For schizlle you'll see Free my nizzle
Oh, yeah, don't forget the Way motherfucka
Any stupid motherfucka in my way gettin' crippled

And I hope y'all hear me in London and France
I tote wax down there when I ain't luggin' the cannon
And in Mecca I'm bowin', in Hawaii I'm landin'
On an island, smokin' and thinkin'

I hug blocks in the United States
I cop cribs in Africa, y'all can't relate
I kick box in Bancok, shark in Japan
Play my part, switch vans every time I hitman

And I hope y'all hear me in London and France
I tote wax down there when I ain't luggin' the cannon
And in Mecca I'm bowin', in Hawaii I'm landin'
On an island, smokin' and thinkin'

I hug blocks in the United States
I cop cribs in Africa, y'all can't relate
I kick box in Bancok, shark in Japan
Play my part, switch vans every time I hitman

Play the MP3 online for free!

f8eae587931ca54fb8a2111e5350d26b

Roun' The Globe - Lyrics - Wooden Leather - Nappy Roots

Title: Roun' The Globe
Album: Wooden Leather
Artist: Nappy Roots
Composer(s): William Hughes, Ronald Wilson, Vito Tisdale, Kenneth Anthony, Michael Flowers, Brian Scott, Melvin Adams

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

Lyric:
Is the south side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)
Is the north side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)
Is the east side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)
Is the west side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)

This for my thugs baby and for the club baby
We keep it crunk, smokin' weed and gettin' drunk
(Around the globe)
Atlanta, Alabama
(Country as hell!)
Kentucky, Carolina
(Country as hell!)
Miami, Tennessee
(Country as hell!)
Mississippi, New Jersey
(Country as hell!)

Yo, aw man, the grass done got greener on the other side of the fence
So I hopped my ass over to see if I was convinced
Fast-paced city life, but country livin's the sense
Man, I copped me a Caddy said, "To Hell wit' a Benz"
Benz, Benz, twenty-inch rims
I can't leave the verti-cal grill at the back of the ranch
Got a phat farm with cows and a whole lotta land
20 acres to my name son we ain't been there

Meanwhile up in the D where they holla it up though
Thugs blow weed in the park where the club close
In Milwaukee the beast is petro, off in DC the streets is ghetto
Let's roll to Cali where they chief the best 'dro
And drive cars so big you can't reach the pedals
Never had a glass of purple juice for breakfast
Until I took my ass to Houston, Teaxs

This for my thugs baby and for the club baby
We keep it crunk, smokin' weed and gettin' drunk
(Around the globe)
New Orleans and D.C.
(Country as hell!)
Texas, Indiana
(Country as hell!)
Detroit, Chicago
(Country as hell!)
Cali, Ohio
(Country as hell!)

Copped a pair, they was sportin' jonesin'
New Orleans, went for the Cajun, winded up stayin'
Kentucky it was meth and Miami they was lacin' it
Rapped my ass of at N.Y.C. at the Bassment
Hit VA where they do nothin' but cook
Carolina, Indiana, Alabama, Savannah
Boston, Denver and all points between
Tennessee, Florida ain't nuthin' but blood for ya

Yo, yo, yo, now shake it, go'on sit back and let your hair blow
Spanish chicas waving hasta leugo, worldwide drop, weather's bueno
They say opposites attract, I'm a moreno
[Incomprehensible]
(So clear)
[Incomprehensible]
(My dear)
Shy girl all she wanted to do was fuck and cum
Top of the hill take a breath from her lungs
Country boys been over seas
Toppin' it off, London, Germany
(Nappy Roots, Ying Yang we keep it crunk baby)

This for my thugs baby and for the club baby
We keep it crunk, smokin' weed and gettin' drunk
(Around the globe)
New York, Milwaukee
(Country as hell!)
Florida, St. Louis
(Country as hell!)
Finland, Minnesota
(Country as hell!)
Vegas, Seattle
(Country as hell!)

Now shake it go'on sit back and let your hair blow
Ladies make your hands clap up bueno
Now shake it go'on sit back and let your hair blow
Holla at ya boy, hasta leugo

Aight, first say a prayer for those in combat
Might can throw some'in' on a grill when you come back
Might can take a trip to the 'Ville
And in fact we can all get loose on the porch
And of course, hit Church Hill Downs, thow some in on a horse
Or we can hit dem St. Clair waters
You ain't seen country 'til you been through Georgia
Gotdern, they still got girls in perms
(Damn)
Big cars, big wheels is the biggest concern

In my old Kentucky home
I was born and raised on catfish and corn
Collard greens and fatbacks it's country 'an a mug
Don't care where you stay you got country in your blood
If you love and that's that
Circle the globe, met the poor and the paid
Now I know for a fact that
(We keep it crunk baby)

This for my thugs baby and for the club baby
We keep it crunk, smokin' weed and gettin' drunk
(Around the globe)
Country as hell!
(Around the globe)
Country as hell!
(Around the globe)
Country as hell!
(Around the globe)
Country as hell!

Is the south side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)
Is the north side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)
Is the east side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)
Is the west side in this muthafucka?
(Hell yeah!)

Play the MP3 online for free!

80121082b2dbee257bdfbb5d1603e648