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

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Spanish Joint - Lyrics - Voodoo - D'Angelo

Title: Spanish Joint
Album: Voodoo
Artist: D'Angelo
Composer(s): Roy Hargrove, Michael Archer, Angela Stone

Lyric:
Whenever it rains I feel this way
A little somethin' to get me through this day
Give me a little that, no time flat
Gonna be a good thing

Serene, but in need of feelin' free
Lettin' go and landin' on my feet
Brushed the dirt off my back, no time flat
Gonna be a good thing

Well, people believe this sayin' is true
Whatever will be, will forever do
Whatever the cost, I'll pay in full
I ain't got nothin' to do with you

Gotta get out, gotta get out of here
I'm in the dark and the light looks sincere
Brushed the dirt off my back, no time flat
Gonna be a good thing

All you do is complain about your pain
And the cloud that follows
You won't cease to rain
Don't look back, handle that
Make it into a good thing

Somethin' in me's gotta be
Sole controller in control of me
A link in your chain just won't do
I don't want nothin' to do with you

Somethin' stirrin' inside of me's gotta be
Sole controller in control of me
A link in your chain just won't do
I don't want nothin' to do with you

Well, people believe this saying is true
Whatever will be, will forever do
Whatever the cost, I'll pay in full
I ain't got nothin' to do with you

I ain't got nothin' to do with you
I ain't got nothin' to do with you

I ain't got nothin' to do with you
I ain't got nothin' to do with you
I ain't got nothin' to do with you

Play the MP3 online for free!
32b8fbf9c96c952658c0ac0883577379

Monday, August 16, 2010

Walk On By - Lyrics - Don Cartagena - Fat Joe

Title: Walk On By
Album: Don Cartagena
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): T Lane, Anthony Best, Joseph Cartagena

Lyric:
Yes indeed, what the deal?
This is the world famous Kid Capri
Up here with my man Joey Crack
Joey Crack got this new joint coming out
Yo Joey, tell 'em what the name of this joint is

This is for the hoes and bitches
A-yo what about all the young ladies
The positive young ladies
Like I said, this is dedicated to the hoes and bitches
Speak on it man

This ain't for the intelligent civilized divas
For all the hoes and bitches who swallow nut by the liters
Two months pregnant madd dick pokin' the fetus
But she don't give a damn still suckin' dick for sneakers

You know the type, damn dirty is right
She even did it with dice and made a dildo of ice
A-yo it's like the hiest move ya phat ass to gain
And if you love me baby girl, give my friends some entertainment
(Yo that's foul Joe)

Hey yo, I treat 'em how they act yo
Behave like a hooker and played like a mad hoe
Rumor has it that you take it in the asshole
And wrap ya lips around my dick like a lasso

I love the way you hold that Joe Crack Bozak
While niggas bone that, my stomach's where ya nose at
Just another hoe in the midst
That does more than kiss when we start pourin' the 'cris

All you bitches be fuckin' for money
Playin' niggas but they can't get shit from me
You ain't smokin' my lye, pushin' my ride
And if you ain't fuckin' just walk on by
All you bitches just walk on by

I once knew a girl by the name of Savannah
Met her backstage at a show in Atlanta
Seemed like a nice girl, class and well-mannered
When I took her to the hotel the bitch went bananas

Did my eyes decieve me, was she suckin' three pee-pee's?
Caught it all on tape so I could watch it late on TV
Couldn't wait to beep me, started in the car
Shorty caught the quick train from the Trinity stars

Big Joe'll railroad, any frail hoe
Have a bitch scream and yell throwin' elbows
Now who the hell knows, why these girls fuck for cell phones
Turnin' tricks for material shit

Now bust it, you wanna hit it, gotta pay top dollar
These chics is hot rodders, with grips like Rottwilers
But why bother, picture me payin' a fee
I'll just play like Akinyle and fuck these hoes for free

All you bitches be fuckin' for money
Playin' niggas but they can't get shit from me
You ain't smokin' my lye, pushin' my ride
And if you ain't fuckin' just walk on by
All you bitches just walk on by

Picture B, more on the floor on all fours
Mind must've lost yours, never been tossed
Tour, that's what I do for ones, not whore
Baby that's what I do for fun

Now I dread that I gave you head
All because them four double A duracells went dead
My vibrator, huh, playa hatin' on me
Thinking you can hit this and get away scott free

Now you boomeranged, alI wanted was some action
Brought my own Brenton, got my own mansion
Now you off tryin' to front to yo niggas
'Cuz I blew ya back out and got my own figgas

Please, you was just something to do
Had a camcorder too, how you like that boo?
You mad? 'Cuz I hit that and vanished
Or 'cuz you on tape screamin' 'Charli Baltimore' in Spanish

All you bitches be fuckin' for money
Playin' niggas but they can't get shit from me
You ain't smokin' my lye, pushin' my ride
And if you ain't fuckin' just walk on by
All you bitches just walk on by

Just walk on by
See ya later, yeah
You scandulous hoe

Play the MP3 online for free!
ddb3525029ed46b927802b8509ed5cec

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Slap Them Up - Lyrics - Krs One

Title: Slap Them Up
Artist: Krs One
Composer(s): William Broady, Norberto Cotto, Douglas Jones, Lawrence Parker

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

Lyric:
Tellin' it like it is, right about now D.J. Premier
Is in the motherfuckin' house and shit
Ya know what I'm sayin'? But yo, yo Kris, run that shit
Ya know what I'm sayin'? That, that shit, my joint
Run that motherfucker, it's only right kid

(Do it, do, do, do it)
Drop that bass line, you want lyrics?
We give ya lyrics, check it out now, one time
(Do it, do, do, do it)

When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya come slap them up
When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Ill will, slap them up

MC's get ate, get broken like a pretzel
And get dissed if they ever try to step to
They can't take a MC with loose lips
Talk a lotta shit but sink no motherfuckin' ships

Lyrics make bigger holes than hollow tips
Watch another rapper body get stiff
Just like in church, we pass the basket
As I preach over his casket

Fuck it, kick the body right over
And say, "See ya, hmm, nice to know ya"
Got another rapper to see
Yo Kris, bust that ass certainly

If you're shiverin' get off the pot
Let the original rapper rock the spot
You stand there and jock, goin'
This is absolutely ludicrous, what can you do to Kris

Chattin' foolishness, step along quick with that stupidness
It's me rippin' this for self, where else ya lookin'?
I got more rhymes than all the Jamaicans in Brooklyn
So beat it or be seated, Gee I'm mad undefeated

Young boy, you can't see me, run along and make pee-pee
I was rockin' rhymes when 'La-Di-Da-Di' was a demo
Admit you been on my tip for years and just can't seem to let go
Go, go call your mother, tell her you wanna battle KRS quick
I bet the minute you get home you'll get your ass whipped

Crazy ill mad styles is what I give 'em
Not a run of the mill 'em, I drill 'em, I got ridiculous rhythm
None of my styles you can get with 'em
Still um, will um, your crew come get some so I can kill 'em

Well, I roll by myself but don't let it fool ya
If I got beef my crew'll damn step to ya
We don't play no games, I'll come straight to your rest
Lift up your shirt and blast you in your chest, well, that was fresh

A fad doesn't fill the bill, but mad skills will
Don't let me have to kill you kid, God forbid still
Greed will lead your need to succeed
But your speed, your speech

Your outreach is a breach of what I teach
For lyrical styles you're a leech
If I was Spanish I'd say, "You lie like a beech"
Wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow, wow

Wow, for a amateur you really looked hard
But you're really a bitch, when you get it together
Call me, here's my card
Check the list, you lack breath control, mental behavior
Lyrical talent, imagination and flavor

I got no time for amateur rhyme, you could be hurt
Thinkin' you're hard because you wear a gangsta T-Shirt
I'll smash your wanna-be ass in the deep dirt
Black, you'll come up dizzy sayin', "How da fuck he do dat?"

'Cause you're yappin' like you can't be reached
If your name ain't Arrested Development, save your speech
Time to ill, I got mad skills to fill
Not a fake, I got more styles than Drake's got Tasty Cakes

Gotta be the best Gee, don't try to test me
You'll get jacked son, even if your name is not Jesse
Let's be up front when I meet ya
Peace, uh, I'm the motherfuckin' teacher

When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya come slap them up
When we come in all de dance 'nuff D.J.'s shut up, woy
Gal, will ya come slap them up

Do it, do, do, do it
Yo South Bronx, South South Bronx
South Bronx, South South yo, Uptown
Brooklyn's in the house, lemme tell ya 'bout Staten Island
What about Queens? Do it, do, do, do it, do it, do, do, do it

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5d26525f69b5efd1af31d39797ef501b

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Release - Lyrics - Bridging The Gap - Black Eyed Peas

Title: Release
Album: Bridging The Gap
Artist: Black Eyed Peas
Composer(s): Jaime Gomez, Will Adams, Allan Pineda

Lyric:
Just had a show tonight
Voice all scraggly and all

Yo Tab and Ap let's go interact
Matter of fact let's attack 'em with the contact
Make the ultimate impact leave 'em hunchbacked
Light 'em up with the mic like we pyromaniacs
Feel the power when I unleash exact
There's no kinda act tactics that can stop that
When I climax, I'ma like kick a hole in that
Sympathetic non poetic crap you callin' a rap

And I might revitalize your cardiac
So you can realize the heart of rap recited by the Black, Eyed Peas
I'ma seize your income
And freeze all the competition and give some
I flip a show up in the Hamptons
Rip it down to Compton performin' my anthem
You know that's the joint, that's the jam
Look I got some new shit, we came to do it again

Scream if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Holla if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Vent if you need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Yo self just let it out, y'all just let it out
Holla and let it out

Introduction, here's a new concussion
I'ma break it down like a mechanical conductant
Eruptin' volcanic lyrically meaning somethin'
All you muthafuckas sayin' nothin' need to stop them
Time to break forth, ain't no goin' back now
Movin' on for the better things that's my profile
Uproar uncontrollably make you say
[Foreign content]

Creates so soul sonically makin' you bounce your
Energetic created terror shakin' your dance halls
One in a million with the mission, bringin' in back, raw
Talent on the mic will excite better than dropped bras
Anybody lost follow the source of course
BEP the family bringin' you the strongest force
Bridgin' it on every angle and make ya
From the mic Apl-De-Ap is on demand

Scream if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Holla if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Vent if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Yo self just let it out, y'all just let it out
Holla and let it out

Me and microphone go like source for me and warn
My delivery is news like get on your mark
When it's on then it's on step on stage and perform
If you're scared then step off, 'cuz your pride be all gone
If it's time that you leave, go ahead then proceed
If it's skills that ya lack take twenty steps back
It's a slap you will get if you try and disrespect
The crew is the Peas and we 'bout to do the next

[Foreign content]
All for you
Spanish tongue you're speakin' to
Makin' moves, makin' moves angry foot is makin' moves
Makin' moves, makin' moves, Black Eyed Peas is makin' moves

Scream if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Holla if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Vent if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Yo self baby let it out, y'all just let it out
C'mon let it out

Scream if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Holla if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Vent if ya need to just let it out, let it out
Let it, let it out, let it out
Yo self baby let it out, y'all just let it out
Holla and let it out
Let it out, let it out
Let it out, let it out
Let it out, let it out
Let it out

Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself
Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself
Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself
Stop thinking about, the times you were roaming about
Don't tail the wing laughing about

Don't stress yourself
Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself
Breathe in, breathe out
Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself, yea
Breathe in, breathe out
Don't stress yourself
Don't stress yourself

Play the MP3 online for free!
141ac9bb80fd16a140fa55a4a75e7278

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Shakey Dog Starring Lolita - Lyrics - The Big Doe Rehab - Ghostface Killah

Title: Shakey Dog Starring Lolita
Album: The Big Doe Rehab
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): Todd Simon, Pierre Cour, Levar Coppin, Deleno Matthews, Bryan Blackburn, Nicholas Movshan, Corey Woods, Dennis Coles, Leon Michels, Andre Popp

Lyric:
Yeah, what's the deal? What's the deal y'all?
I need y'all niggaz to buckle up one time
Fasten your seat belts, I'm a take y'all on some real shit
This Theodore shit, y'all niggaz know what time it is and shit
Y'nah I mean? It's real motherfuckin' shit, you know

Yo, making moves back and forth uptown
60 dollars plus toll is the cab fee
Wintertime bubble goose, goose, clouds of smoke
Music blastin' and the Arab V blunted

Whip smelling like fish from 125th
Throwin' ketchup on my fries, hitting baseball spliffs
Back seat with my leg all stiff
Push the fuckin' seat up, tartar sauce on my S Dot kicks

Rocks is lit while I'm poppin' the clips
I'm ready for war, got to call the Cuban guys
Got the Montana pulled in front of the store
Made my usual gun check, safety off, come on Frank

The moment is here
Take your fuckin' hood off and tell the driver to stay put
Fuck them niggaz on the block they shook, most of them won't look
They frontin', they no crooks and fuck up they own juks
Look out for Jackson 5-0 'cause they on foot

Straight ahead is the doorway
See that lady that lady with the shopping cart
She keep a shottie cocked in the hallway
Damn she look pretty old Ghost
She work for Kevin, she 'bout seventy seven
She paid her dues when she smoked
His brother in law at his bosses' wedding

Flew to Venezuela quickly when the big fed stepped in
3 o'clock, watch the kids, third floor, last door
You look paranoid that's why I can't juks with you
Why? Why you behind me Larry?

Shakey Dog stutterin', when you got the bigger cooker on you
You is a crazy motherfucker, small Hoodie dude
Hilarious move, you on some Curly, Moe, Larry shit
Straight parry shit, Krispy Kreme, cocaine
Dead bodies, jail time you gon' carry it

Matter of fact, all the cash, I'm a carry it
Stash it in jelly and break it down at the Marriott
This is the spot, yo son your burner cocked?
These fuckin' maricons on the couch watchin' Sanford and Son

Passin' they rum, fried plantains and rice
Big round onions on a T-bone steak
My stomach growling yo I want some
Hold on, somebody's comin', get behind me, knocked at the door
Act like you stickin' me up, put the joint to my face

Push me in quickly when the bitch open up
Remember you don't me, blast him if he reach for his gun
Yo who goes there? Tony, Tony one second homie
No matter rain, sleet or snow you know you suppose to phone me
Off came the latch, Frank pushed me into the door
The door flew open, dude had his mouth open
Frozen, stood still with his heat bulgin'
Told him freeze, lay the fuck down and enjoy the moment

Frank snatched his gat, slapped him, axed him
Where's the cash, coke and the crack? Get the smoke and you fast
His wife stood up speakin' in Spanish, big tittie bitch holdin' the cannon
Ran in the kitchen, threw a shot, then kicking the four fifth

Broke a bone in her wrist and she dropped the heat
Give up the coke! But the bitch wouldn't listen
I'm on the floor like holy shit! Watchin my man Frank get busy
He zoned out, finished off my man's wiz

He let the pitbull out, big head Bruno with the little shark's teeth chargin'
Foamin' out the mouth, I'm scared
Frank screamin', blowin' shots in the air
Missin' his target, off the Frigidare, it grazed my ear

Killed that bullshit pit, ran to the bathroom butt first
Frank put two holes in the doorman's Sassoon
The coke's in the vacuum, got to the bathroom, faced his bad moves
The big one had the centipede stab wound

Frank shot the skinny dude, laid him out
The bigger dude popped Frankie boy, played him out
To be continued

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5151316ff9c523bf28f8719ca0066ae7

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

What Part Of The Game - Lyrics - Mcgruff

Title: What Part Of The Game
Artist: Mcgruff
Composer(s): Herb Brown, Tony Dofat, Cameron Giles, Born Teddy Cubia

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

Lyric:
I'm the greatest rapper in the world, you who tryin to kid man
I will slam dunk on your big man
Been rappin for years, crackin them bears, the sound of platinum chairs
Predict future cash and it's near, my speech is dittly
I bust shots until the heat gets heavy
Fuck bitches until the sheets get sweaty
Beats and melodies, will make me blink
I'll pull my shank out, and give a warrior's cry
If you ain't down wit my crew, all you die
You can tell I'm real, by lookin in the ball of my eye
I will get some cream from it, one day, your baby and my baby
Can my some dough on Teem Summit
Countin the loot, fountain the youth, the young God
Here's the inside thug, like a Marmashad
Some wanna have emotions and kill me
Put the toast to my kidney, when I speak most of them feel me
So, keep my name off ya breath
'Fore my nigga Gruff take the chain off ya chest
All guaranteeing, blaow, take the brain off ya neck
Off the top of the dough, one shot and you'll blow
Fuckin wit Panama P.I., guarantee I'll take ya outta ya zone

Ayyo me and my nigga Hais, ride, lay loose
Case ya try to play Zeus, got the tray deuce
Hidin right inside the bubble, face goose
Not to quickly to make to make news
I'ma ace deuce, caught cases, I got Gotti and O.J. juice
And my crew, you're very stackless, very cock now
Phase of every Rocky, turn your caviar ass into, um
Chicken teriyaki, Spanish nigga try to front on me
I say papi Rocky, wish he would of shot me
'Cause I don't care if he frail or cock D
When I got the glock, B, can't stop me
And no judicial system could affix me, try to lock me
Over papes on mine, Mr. D.A., someone to lace ya dime
And tell P.H. that the camera job, come on, that's a waste of mine
'Cause I got my girl Curry, live in D.C
Work the spring court, you know for me, that just scary
How Harlem nigga do, get in the building bitch hurry
Before my girl see, back to top, so she can give me one on jury
Says hung, got her sprung, she fell that I'm young
Her little toy boy, make her lick my ass wit a tongue
She's so smart, she's dumb, but I keep, tomorrow ain't promised
Now I might need a one way flight to St. Thomas
And at the same time I got a JAG fetish
And who knows, I might have bad credit
I can't borrow from niggas I ass betted
Go to your girl, I pop my truck faster
Don't make me Flex on you ghetto style like Funkmaster

You got money, what it look like?
You got crack, what it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook like?
Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took mics
You got crack, what it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook like?
You got some money, what it look like?
What part of the game is that?
You fuck around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat

I live the God knowledge, my book of life, he read like twice
Five percent shine, today the grease like, my attribute's like
Paretic chrome, I thrown, throw it at your dome, blown
It be known, like Sa Salasi clone, connect wit one zone
Cybernetic, verbal buck slang, king ebonic
Nickname Farad, all of ya dude, rock me Muhammad
I came swift, wit off as the shit, they couldn't catch it
Define this, got drawn so swift, couldn't detect it
Thug covert, sip Scotch drink, just like an Irish
Move like the infamous full blown antivirus
Apollus, mad Olympic, fragile fitness
Supreme gymnast, ancient decent, homey scriptures
Equilibrium, catch me at the Wimbledon, thug gentlemen
Guess jeans, Wu shirts, construction Timberland
You're nobody wit nothing and your name shall be Nathan
Who you facin, slugs blazin the amazin

Ayyo check it, I used to live reckless
Snatch kids necklace, nigga respect this
A nigga catch this, blaow, trigga specialist
Is your death wish, leave you rib and chestless
Gun ho, real life thug, every one know
From the Bumjo, to the kids, to Colombo
My niggas locked down doin state, did you rumble?
Twenty five to L, on the humble, real thug shit
Plug shit, catch you, wouldn't dare fuck wit
Care rugged, from the skulls down to the Timb's
Surroundin your Benz, wit niggas houndin your gems
Yo pump this jam in your joint
All my thug niggas cruisin wit the mamas on points
City wise guys, gritty high guys, pretty mamas
I even make boricua, shake the titty tatas
Harlem World slugger, watch it explode like Pearl Harbor
Screw ma, get a girl's Vodka
And get them hotter, slide 'em off, twist 'em proper
Yo I'm a sex fiend, fuckin in my 400 hundred Lex' ring
Flex cream, presidential rolly wit Gets gleam

You got money, what it look like?
You got crack, what it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook like?
Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took mics
You got crack, what it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook like?
You got some money, what it look like?
What part of the game is that?
You fuck around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat

You got money, what it look like?
You got crack, what it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook like?
Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took mics
You got crack, what it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook like?
You got some money, what it look like?
What part of the game is that?
You fuck around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat

Play the MP3 online for free!
ee03ad45b9600871a873cd6f461f1721

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Shakey Dog - Lyrics - Fishscale - Ghostface Killah

Title: Shakey Dog
Album: Fishscale
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): Todd Simon, Pierre Cour, Levar Coppin, Deleno Matthews, Bryan Blackburn, Nicholas Movshan, Corey Woods, Dennis Coles, Leon Michels, Andre Popp

Lyric:
Yeah, what's the deal? What's the deal y'all?
I need y'all niggaz to buckle up one time
Fasten your seat belts, I'm a take y'all on some real shit
This Theodore shit, y'all niggaz know what time it is and shit
Y'nah I mean? It's real motherfuckin' shit, you know

Yo, making moves back and forth uptown
60 dollars plus toll is the cab fee
Wintertime bubble goose, goose, clouds of smoke
Music blastin' and the Arab V blunted

Whip smelling like fish from 125th
Throwin' ketchup on my fries, hitting baseball spliffs
Back seat with my leg all stiff
Push the fuckin' seat up, tartar sauce on my S Dot kicks

Rocks is lit while I'm poppin' the clips
I'm ready for war, got to call the Cuban guys
Got the Montana pulled in front of the store
Made my usual gun check, safety off, come on Frank

The moment is here
Take your fuckin' hood off and tell the driver to stay put
Fuck them niggaz on the block they shook, most of them won't look
They frontin', they no crooks and fuck up they own juks
Look out for Jackson 5-0 'cause they on foot

Straight ahead is the doorway
See that lady that lady with the shopping cart
She keep a shottie cocked in the hallway
Damn she look pretty old Ghost
She work for Kevin, she 'bout seventy seven
She paid her dues when she smoked
His brother in law at his bosses' wedding

Flew to Venezuela quickly when the big fed stepped in
3 o'clock, watch the kids, third floor, last door
You look paranoid that's why I can't juks with you
Why? Why you behind me Larry?

Shakey Dog stutterin', when you got the bigger cooker on you
You is a crazy motherfucker, small Hoodie dude
Hilarious move, you on some Curly, Moe, Larry shit
Straight parry shit, Krispy Kreme, cocaine
Dead bodies, jail time you gon' carry it

Matter of fact, all the cash, I'm a carry it
Stash it in jelly and break it down at the Marriott
This is the spot, yo son your burner cocked?
These fuckin' maricons on the couch watchin' Sanford and Son

Passin' they rum, fried plantains and rice
Big round onions on a T-bone steak
My stomach growling yo I want some
Hold on, somebody's comin', get behind me, knocked at the door
Act like you stickin' me up, put the joint to my face

Push me in quickly when the bitch open up
Remember you don't me, blast him if he reach for his gun
Yo who goes there? Tony, Tony one second homie
No matter rain, sleet or snow you know you suppose to phone me
Off came the latch, Frank pushed me into the door
The door flew open, dude had his mouth open
Frozen, stood still with his heat bulgin'
Told him freeze, lay the fuck down and enjoy the moment

Frank snatched his gat, slapped him, axed him
Where's the cash, coke and the crack? Get the smoke and you fast
His wife stood up speakin' in Spanish, big tittie bitch holdin' the cannon
Ran in the kitchen, threw a shot, then kicking the four fifth

Broke a bone in her wrist and she dropped the heat
Give up the coke! But the bitch wouldn't listen
I'm on the floor like holy shit! Watchin my man Frank get busy
He zoned out, finished off my man's wiz

He let the pitbull out, big head Bruno with the little shark's teeth chargin'
Foamin' out the mouth, I'm scared
Frank screamin', blowin' shots in the air
Missin' his target, off the Frigidare, it grazed my ear

Killed that bullshit pit, ran to the bathroom butt first
Frank put two holes in the doorman's Sassoon
The coke's in the vacuum, got to the bathroom, faced his bad moves
The big one had the centipede stab wound

Frank shot the skinny dude, laid him out
The bigger dude popped Frankie boy, played him out
To be continued

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Tuesday, August 10, 2010

N-Noreaga - Invincible - Lyrics - The Reunion - Capone

Title: N-Noreaga - Invincible
Album: The Reunion
Artist: Capone
Composer(s): Jimmie L. Cameron, Victor Santiago, Vella Cameron, Chris E. Er Martin, Kiam Holley

Lyric:
(CNN, CNN, Capone and Noreaga)
(You know what I'm sayin'?)
(The invincible, untouchable, CNN)
For all the niggas who keep askin'
When CNN gonna do a joint with Premier

Ha, we did it, we here now, y'all niggas can stop askin'
Go cop the fuckin' album, The Reunion
(The invincible, untouchable, CNN)
(The invincible, untouchable, CNN)
But right now, CNN and Premier, nigga, do it like this, nigga

Yo, yo Melvin Flynt drop, my whole collasso stop
I can't believe I fucked up and made a half-ass album
My excuse is, my pops just died
And I ain't wanna make music, my pops just died

My fans stuck with me, my shit still went gold
I got a habit just to drive, gettin' head and I roam
CNN, we like the Grand Royal
I write rhymes with the Coke oil

Yo, Apollo heat, see me, sell [unverified] right with [unverified] creep
Got out the club, seen the police, [unverified] deep
I'm like Frank Mathis, see me blow my dough
And any bitch givin head, if she blow I know

Oh no, we had to go see Premo
Taped it up, The Reunion, a brand new cut
Up in D and D, stayin' with some rats and some sluts
From the projects, she know we need our welfare cut

CNN, Network Channel 10, yo, it's all reality
I'm in it to win it, sit back picture that
Yo respect it, the legacy'll never end
CNN, Network Channel 10, yo, it's all reality
I'm in it to win it, sit back picture that
Yo respect it, the legacy'll never end

Premo, what up man?
Yo, I'm not rowdy but I bang niggas and I pop collas
I grind for the top dollars, fight rottweilers
Put my hand on the Bible, tell it to the judge

I'm a lie for my thug, take it in blood
I'm dot com, I drop bombs, kill ya squad
Live like I'm still in the yard 'til I pop ya god
For my niggas in the bridge, with the 50 dollar

Panasonics and the blank 8's
Who rap chronic collab jake
Whether we have not or have cake
We got gas to get that straight

We movin' at a fast rate, my last case I got bail
My first one, man did indicted
How I write it, sister can't stand it
I smoke bud, get pissy, who could flow with me

Staggerin', bang like the wild Aficans
Spit gutter on a Premo beat, for the love of the street
The only child, my little brother was he

CNN, Network Channel 10, yo, it's all reality
I'm in it to win it, sit back picture that
Yo respect it, the legacy'll never end
CNN, Network Channel 10, yo, it's all reality
I'm in it to win it, sit back picture that
Yo respect it, the legacy'll never end

Yo, yo, my thugs is bilingual
You see my shit speak Spanish
Disappearing acts make your whole team vanish
From coast to coast I got them things

Badda-boom-badda-bing, he the glorious king
Another album, another plaque
Another ounce and another mac
Another chromed out gat
Another place to face where I lace you at
I put all type a holes in ya face you black

Yo, yo, who think I don't got it?
I'm like workin' with a bird, I got long product
Give it to you raw, won't chop it
New York niggas is foul, we body sling shit in the val'

Them pregnant fiends, killin they child
I'm the next best thing to X, oral sex
Brand new tecs, food stamps and welfare checks
I'm the messiah, recognize it, political prisoner
From the projects, I send shots where the cops is, nigga

CNN, Network Channel 10, yo, it's all reality
I'm in it to win it, sit back picture that
Yo respect it, the legacy'll never end
CNN, Network Channel 10, yo, it's all reality
I'm in it to win it, sit back picture that
Yo respect it, the legacy'll never end

The invincible, untouchable, CNN
The invincible, untouchable, CNN

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Friday, August 13, 2010

Loyalty - Lyrics - Loyalty - Fat Joe

Title: Loyalty
Album: Loyalty
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): J Eaddy, Marcello Valenzano, M Denne, Joseph Cartagena, R Perez, Andre Lyons, Remy Smith, K Gold

Lyric:
Cool an' Dre, uh
Terror Squad, motherfuckers
They're all gonna laugh at ya, haha
They're all gonna laugh at ya

Yeah, uh, haha
(Yo, oh, God)
Haha
(Feedin' you, feedin' you)
Yo
(Feedin' you, feedin' you)

Yo, uh, yo, call me the JV artist
That means I own two joint ventures an' two different labels
Niggas that pay me homage
Been in this game for nine seasons
That's nine reasons why I'm expired the rhyme beefin'
Y'all niggas is rappin' ass backwards

I left twenty spots since beginnin' this rap shit
All yo papi lo que pasa contigo
Mad 'cause I'm the only nigga reppin' our people
When I came in this game, no one wanted the job
All of a sudden, niggas actin' like they wanna go hard

Spittin' venom 'bout the Squad, try an' shittin' the God
This ain't no 'Scarface' shit, blow up your kids in the car
An' since you wanna act like you livin' a movie
I'll hit you with more shots than Bruce Lee got
In a 'Fist of Fury'

Bitch niggas, nothin' but snitch niggas
Today you on my dick, tomorrow you on his nigga
Got deported from the Squad, can't afford another car
Where's your house at? I heard you're livin' with your moms
(Livin' with your moms)
Blane nigga, better stay in your place
Keep talkin', burst a flame in your face, motherfucker

Yo, yo, with this comparison, the Geddy is God
'Cause even though you never seen me
I been put fear in your hearts
An' I'm smooth like a Mulo, it theme
Skip bullets of your Coogi beam before you knew you were seen

Yeah, I'm nice an' I don't care if you know
'Cause all you really need to understand is
How hard I'm rulin' with Joe
An' the streets is no place for late bloomers
Just gangsta niggas, snakes an' bitches
That meant to spread rumors

Listen, I'm from the Bronx were the gun shoot rabid
Front if you want but don't think we don't shoot rapids
I'm what some might consider a ghost
'Cause I move at night
Plus I'm the type to play a live nigga close

I'm the ultimate, high consulted, rhyme vocalist
I write dope, spit dust an' shit cocoa bricks
This is what you dicks need to act, knowledge
Or get the shit smacked outta ya fat cabbage

Don't ask why we act violent
We just killas an' thugs
Niggas wit mad talent that still dabble in drugs
I only rap now to speak to the streets
They say the Squad gotta feed 'em the beef
So we gonna feed 'em the beef

My nine milly blaze an' hit hard like Willy Mays
Since my kiddy days
Grew up with thugs who were really crazed
Ain't no silly games, right here be the truth
150 proof, whoever, I'm talkin' to you

They call me Prospect, I'm one in a mil'
One of the real, I rap but I still put a gun in your grill
I'm the reason why I catch you when your car breezin' by
With your Iceberg team
You look when the light turns green

You're scared to death, don't make me have to air at ya chest
Or tear ya flesh for actin' like I carin' whats left
Anyone can get it in a minute, give it some time
I'm livin' this rhyme
Let my nine get in your spine, sit an' recline

Get so mad, forget an' rewind
So I can see what I did again an' just slide
To the next level, hop on the bike an' just pedal
Bustin' at your best rebel, who runnin' to test medal

Let me get settled, lay my mom down in this game
For niggas kinda refrain, I push 'em down in the train
'Bout it the same, my three cousins up in the Benz
Big, G Psycho an' E, y'all know what this is

Yo, yo, it's the T E a R, a, a R, a O, R Squad
So you know I gotta be that bitch Remy Mar
With Armageddon an' your nigga Joe, the God
Tony Sunshine an' motherfuckin' Prospect
Straight out the projects

A forest, where they kill for mil's an' they blast the steel
But I'm from murda murda Castle Hill
I got a big ass burner but I'll slash your grill
Yo' don't got no status, don't want no static
They knew you was loco toto an' I don't no Spanish

All I know is how to cock back an' aim for the cabbage
An' keep on bustin' 'til the bitch brain splatter
Aan' the kids won't matter when the crib's on fire
What you spit don't matter 'cause this bitch on fire
An' I won't stop rockin' 'til I retire
Any bitch disagree is a goddamn liar

Yeah, uh, infamous Terror Squad, nigga
Loyalty, what does it mean to you
How many a y'all niggas is loyal?
All these Benedict Arnold niggas
Switch sidin' niggas, ya heard?

Nigga, I throw this whole rap shit out the window
In a sec, ya heard? Joe Crack, the Don Diggler
The savior, Caesar, the streets is mine, nigga
We ride, who wanna test the record launcher, ya see 'em?

Uh, haha, feedin' you, feedin' you, feedin' you
Make your move, baby, c'mon
Step up, baby, they're all gonna laugh at ya
Woo, BX

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