Fuckin' Or What? - Lyrics - Kiss Tha Game Goodbye - Jadakiss

Title: Fuckin' Or What?
Album: Kiss Tha Game Goodbye
Artist: Jadakiss
Composer(s): D Styles, Linda Creed, Thomas Randolph Bell, J Phillips, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
What's up ma? Is we fuckin' or what?
Haha, trying to say something tonight baby
I know everybody ask their chick this question
In the house, in the club, in the car, outside, everywhere
Yo yo yo

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

Ain't no need in buyin' a drink or holdin' a convo
If you ain't coming back to the condo
It's damn near 4 in the mornin' ain't shit to discuss
'Til you ask which dick do you suck

I'm trying to fuck til it's light outside
You feel the same? Get your coat get your friends
The truck right outside, listen ma I wanna ball out
So when I say I'm above the nut I expect you to suck it all out

And let my man tear your walls out
'Cause he just came home and he need pussy to fall out
I get it crump ask the fellow players
Kiss hit more hoes than they list in the Yellow Pages

It's never to cuff 'em, share 'em right after I fuck 'em
To come clean I'm a mellow gangster
Pass a chick like a baton runner to runner
Been through a million thongs from Summer to Summer

So you'll never see J stressed they always say yes
Everynight dog I be bustin' a nut
I just can't stop gettin' the butt
And the only thing I ask girlfriend is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

Look if you don't like men, be out
And if it's all good and you got a girlfriend then we out
Please don't hit me with the two worse lines
How you don't be doin' this or this is your first time

Listen we all grown bitch, you came here on your own, bitch
I leave them lawsuits alone bitch
She try to tell me she model
I told her me too you ain't sayin' nothin' slick suck it and swallow

I just wanna hit you from the back and watch the Apollo
And if the pussys all that I might holla tomorrow
But you actin' like a rabbit how you cling to the carrots
It ain't the bling it's the nigga ma, get it and stash it

Caught a coy, caught a flashback check this out
Bring your girlfriend in the room Shorty and lick her asscrack
And even though your tongue stuck in her butt
The only thing I wanna know is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

All my strip club honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my eat-pill honeys is we fuckin' or what?
All my hood rat honeys is we fuckin' or what?
I just wanna know one thing, is we fuckin' or what?

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My Music - Lyrics - On Top of Our Game - Dem Franchize Boyz

Title: My Music
Album: On Top of Our Game
Artist: Dem Franchize Boyz
Composer(s): Chad Butler, Jermaine Dupri, Bernard James Freeman, Maurice Gleaton, Bernard Leverette, James Phillips, Gerald Tiller, Leroy Williams, Jamall Willingham

Lyric:
Dis dat soso def shit

Make my music for the boyz with the O's
The old school pro's in the strip club
Make my music for the boyz with the O's
The old school pro's in the strip club

Every time I do it, u know just who I do it fo'
My o.g. niggaz, my gurls in the strip club
And fa my top cats thats block cruisin'
Thats for the coops serve the rocks on the block music

And any club, any party don't rock dis
I'm sendin' my trend dawg its lean wit it, rock wit it
And fo' the projects buildings behind the locked gates
They do wut they gotta do and hustle at a top rate

Movin dem o's makin' dey pension
We grind til we ride sittin' on 24 inches
My ghetto niggaz and bitches know how to keep it hood
I keep it gutta Im'a gangsta u know just how I do it

Make my music for the boyz with the O's
The old school pro's in the strip club
Make my music for the boyz with the O's
The old school pro's in the strip club

I?m the shit you can't say I?m not
I keep white keep purp like a crayon box
Aay, and got a nice whipped game and I can't lie
Shit I could cook coke on a camp fire

Put it in my hands, I can make it go
If I can't move it then I'ma call Tony yo
I let the bullets from my gun spread
Sippin' hard while u down on the corn bread

First I droppin? the mix
Hit the pot like a Edward and bought 8 bricks
Yup, in my white tee so u know I keep it white
And I keep green like a traffic light

Make my music for the boyz with the O's
The old school pro's in the strip club

Yo pimpin', u know who it be its B.U.N to the little b
One hundred and one percent gangsta check my pedagree
Movin? thru yo? city like a muthafuckin? mayor
Hate on me nigga like I muthafuckin? care

I?m the king of the trill, got the streets in a head lock
A head busta piece so heads up I keep the lead cocked
Sellin' mo yayo than u could stuff in a bread box
And im'a keep on pushin even when the fed's flop

I represent the trill, I stand up fo? the hood
I?m holdin? down the underground just like a nigga should
UGK and DFB we do it fo? the block
Dem d boyz in the trap holdin? work keepin? it cocked
It don?t stop

I make my music for the ones servin' J's, servin' j's
The bitches in the club shakin' ass fo the pay, fo the pay
Fo' the ones one the block, ten hoe block holders
Fo' the ones that'll knock ya head off ya shoulders

Thats gangsta I doin? fo? the thugz
And the bitches in the hood on erry type of drug
Shipped across the border from purp to the cola
I hustle spreewells like fa three ten and molderz

Pond shop niggaz, keep a couple handguns
Chopper in the trunk and they keep one in the head son
B. un is out the test u wanna test son
My motive is to kill a nigga shoot above the chest boy

Make my music for the boyz with the O's
The old school pro's in the strip club

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6dd34a129caeeac457bfa6cf8b1bd782

Let'S Ride - Lyrics - Doctor's Advocate - Game

Title: Let'S Ride
Album: Doctor's Advocate
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Scott Storch, Jayceon Taylor

Lyric:
Pull the rag off the 6 4
Hit the switch, show the whole world how it go
The Game is back, the Aftermath chain is gone
The D's is chrome, the frame is black

So watch it lift up 'til the lowrider bounce and break
And knock both of the screws out the license plate
So let the games begin
These other rappers so far behind me, they could taste my rims

Let the whole turn as the Dayton spin
It ain't been this much drama since I first heard Eminem
'In Da Club', poppin' *** like M&M's
Call it 'Dre Day', we celebratin', *** bring a friend

Bottles on me, tell the waiter to order another round
And put that cheap *** Hypnotiq down
Put your Cris' up if you feel the same way
Who got a mill switches? Everybody

If I could fit the whole hood in the club
Hop in the lowrider, long as it got speakers in the back
I turn into a strip club
Call it a lap dance, when the 6 4 bounce that ***

If I can fit the whole world in the club
Tell the DJ to bang my hits, me on that West Coast tip
Pop bottles and twist up
Roll up everythin' in a bag, get a ***, call it Aftermath

Somebody tell me where the drinks at, where the freaks at?
You lovin' on the first night? Meet me in the back
I got a pound of sticky and a gang of ***
Move ***, you know who they came to see?

The protégé of the D R E
Take a picture with him and you gotta touch me
Then you gotta touch Busta, can't touch Eve
Got somethin' on my waist, say 'You can't touch Eve'

That's my gangsta chick and like Crips and Bloods
We in the club on some gangsta tip
So homie, twist up, light another dub
Everybody high, ain't nobody fightin' in the club

'Ain't Nuthin' But A G Thang', baby, it's a G thang
Bounce like you got hydraulics in your G-string
I'm with a different chick seven days a week
Hit the switch, watch it bounce like a Scott Storch beat

If I could fit the whole hood in the club
Hop in the lowrider, long as it got speakers in the back
I turn into a strip club
Call it a lap dance, when the 6 4 bounce that ***

If I can fit the whole world in the club
Tell the DJ to bang my hits, me on that West Coast tip
Pop bottles and twist up
Roll up everythin' in a bag, get a ***, call it Aftermath

They thought I wasn't comin' back, look at me now
Hoppin' out the same cherry 6 4 with the red rag top down
I'm The Game, homie, call your girl
She ain't home, she with Game, homie

Remember that, Dre? You passed me the torch
I lit the *** with it, now the world is my ashtray
Ridin' three-wheel motion 'til the *** scrapes
Turn Sunset into a Daytona drag race

Now watch it bounce, hit the switch
Let it bounce 'til the police shut the strip down
When you hit the club, tell 'em you came with me
We gon' twist up in the V.I.P.

It's a new day and if you ever knew Dre
Then homie, you would say I was the new Dre
Same Impala, different strokes
Same ***, just a different smoke

If I could fit the whole hood in the club
Hop in the lowrider, long as it got speakers in the back
I turn into a strip club
Call it a lap dance, when the 6 4 bounce that ***

If I can fit the whole world in the club
Tell the DJ to bang my hits, me on that West Coast tip
Pop bottles and twist up
Roll up everythin' in a bag, get a ***, call it Aftermath

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725c6f5ddf4510aea33f40e945d8f4ff

Strip Club - Lyrics - Banned In The U.S.A. - 2 Live Crew

Title: Strip Club
Album: Banned In The U.S.A.
Artist: 2 Live Crew
Composer(s): Luther Campbell, David Hobbs, Mark Ross, Christopher Wong Won

Lyric:
As you know, we are now in the strip club in Magic City
Ohh, somebody's beeper goin'
Yo, oh, hey, hey, hey, hold on
Yeah, that's the one by me, yo, yeah

They just don't know, I'm in the strip club tonight
I ain't seen all o', y'all comin' in the strip club
Lookin' at all this pussy, me and the boys, me and 2 Live Crew
Brother Marquis, Mr.Mixx, Mr.Mixx, uh, Fresh, Fresh Kid Ice
You know we at Magic City Lounge, ladies and gentlemen
If y'all don't know where it's located, it's in Atlanta

The strip club is the place to hang
Just watchin' all the bitches just throwin' that thang
In a smoke-filled room, filled with noise
On a special night just for the boys

I'll be sittin' at a table, just sippin' on a drink
While the bitch is on stage, showin' the pink
Oh, what a sight to see
It looked like the pussy just winked at me

They'll do anything for a tip
Like table-top dance or even grab your dick
With my money in hand, lookin' for fun
Look out, man, 'cause here she comes

Hey, hey, hey, hey, y'all wanna get them four girls over there?
Them four, fine motherfuckers
The one over there makin' her pussy jump and shit?
Two pussies in one? Aright y'all, y'all repeat after me
Bring that pussy over here, here, bring that pussy over here, here

Chillin' late night, I was drunk as fuck
A nigga bored as hell, so I hit the club
Gave a bitch five for a table-top dance
She took off her g-string and shook her ass

Baby, all that? You got to work harder
Do some back flips to make me harder
So I called the waitress, gimme a drink
And by that time, a nigga start to think

Is that bitch in here swallows bottle tops
I know she could make me hard as a rock
So shake ya booty, girl, smack the devil and raise the flag
And let Marquis bless and watch that ass

Damn, Mixx, get yo' face out of that pussy
Hey, Marquis, what you doin' man?
You not supposed to be doin' that
Know you got pussy like that there

Hold on, hold on man, hold on, we got
Y'all really with us now, okay, let's say it
Bring that pussy over here, here, fellas say it
Bring that pussy over here, here, oh shit

She danced on the table, I poured with sweat
Put my hand in my pocket, pulled out a bet
She laid on the table, then opened her thighs
No hairs on the pussy, which made my dick rise

She went crazy, and I got loose
Gave her a 20 and the pussy juiced
It's the boys' night out and we're lookin' for fun
Look out, man, 'cause here she comes

Hold on, hold on, hold on, Chris
You gave her a 20? You buyin' pussy, man
That's against the law
You know we got locked up one time already

Hey, hey, hey, don't buy no pussy
Okay, fellas, y'all ready to get some new hoes?
Let's go

Everybody say, bring that pussy over here, here
Bring that pussy over here, here
Lemme hear ya say, bring that pussy over here, here
Bring that pussy over here, here

Now that we done got all the pussy
Now y'all know, we gotta take some of these hoes home
'Cause uh, this hotel gets a little lonely
And we needs to fuck

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30055287f62205a4c895150f23e5de2d

I'Ve Got To Have It - Lyrics - Jermaine Dupri

Title: I'Ve Got To Have It
Artist: Jermaine Dupri
Composer(s): Peter Brian Gabriel, Jermaine Dupri, Nasir Jones, Monica Arnold, Bryan Michael Cox

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Lyric:
Uh-huh, oh, uh-huh, oh, so so def
(I've got to have it)
See this is what it's all about right here
Understands me, see my life real
(I've got to have it)
I don't know about yours
Everything I do is an event, Nas, Monica, and me
(I've got to have it)

When it comes to my honeys in the strip club
Sumpin' on dubs in the middle
What the block like what?
Say my name

When you see me with the crispy fade
Ice it out, glowin' with the lights is out
Yo, say my name
When you see a Bentley or Ferrari
A Maserati, it's probably me
Say my name

When your hear this song bump in the club
When you're chillin' on the corner with your thugs
Say my name
I make it hot and take your block
Who they wanna be and hate they not
Yo, say my name

When your girl don't call you when you beep her
And you hit it and her thing feel deeper
Say my name
Pull on her hair, spankin' her rear
While I'm in 'em, all I wanna hear is you
Say my name

Squeeze my, beef is done
Police come you know the game
Don't say my name
Dipped out crazy
Timbs chicken and gravy
Q B, Dupri baby

When it comes to the clubs packed
Cristal flowin'
(I've got to have it)
When it comes to homes plushed out
Chrome stuck out in traffic
(I've got to have it)

When it comes to a neck full of glow
And a check full of O's, you know
(I've got to have it)
When it comes to my honeys in the strip club
Sumpin' on dubs in the middle
What the block like what?
Say my name

Gotta have my tied up
Iceberg Gucci Rolley
Bezzled up, bezzled up
Gotta have me a double O
With a six in the front
And the bump, bump in the trunk

Gotta have me an Escalade
My house is laid
A man that keeps my bills paid
My records play every day
What can I say?
I've got to have it

When it comes to the clubs packed
Cristal flowin'
(I've got to have it)
When it comes to homes plushed out
Chrome stuck out in traffic
(I've got to have it)

When it comes to a neck full of glow
And a check full of O's, you know
(I've got to have it)
When it comes to my honeys in the strip club
Sumpin' on dubs in the middle
What the block like what?
Say my name

When you see a black do-rag through the tint
Of a black Bent going too fast
Say my name
When you talk about longevity
And they know how to keep gettin' that cash
Say my name

When you're sick of your songs sittin' on the right
And wanna know what the top feels like
Say my name
You wanna know what being hot feel like
And shuttin' down the spot feel like
Say my name

J D from the home where the bowls get thrown
And the dough get gone real quick like
Sick like 40 karats and a chain
Foolish ain't it?
Say my name

Everythin' you did, I've done did double
If you hate to see flash, your ass is in trouble
Scram now and don't look back
'Cause until I die it's like that

When it comes to the clubs packed
Cristal flowin'
(I've got to have it)
When it comes to homes plushed out
Chrome stuck out in traffic
(I've got to have it)

When it comes to a neck full of glow
And a check full of O's, you know
(I've got to have it)
When it comes to my honeys in the strip club
Sumpin' on dubs in the middle
What the block like what?
Say my name

I've got to have it
I've got to have it
I've got to have it

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7165e87f8f2367b28a2f375ccba6653c

Table Dance - Lyrics - Bobby Valentino

Title: Table Dance
Artist: Bobby Valentino
Composer(s): Gregory Colbert, Darion T Crawford, Todd Daniel Moore, Courtney Stewart, Jamal Tandy, Arbie Leedester Wilson, Bobby Marcel Wilson

Lyric:
Ooh, I just wanna table dance

You'se a booty shakin' pro, keep my pants and [unverified] low
Got me orderin' up more singles than on the datin' show
You my favorite, I'm yo' regular customer
I love it when yo' top disappear like a convertible

You jerk it and twurk it, so you can keep yo purse thick
Neva for the girls get to work, an early bird chick
Got teachers, preachers, lawyers and retire men
That love to see you slide down that pole like a fireman

What I gotta do, what I gotta do
I just wanna table dance
Shakin' that thang, shakin' that thang
Off in this place

What I gotta do, what I gotta do
I just wanna table dance
Startin' this thang, shakin' that thang
Shakin' that thang

Monday night in the club and I'm feelin' good
Got a pocket full of money like a playa should
Walk in the club and it's lookin like a video

I see you shakin and poppin girl, drop it low
I see you watchin' me, watchin' you got me twisted
Bring me the Henny and the coke and then you mix it
Girl, come over here, I got something to tell you, yeah yeah

You're my favorite girl
(I come to the booty club just to see you)
You're my favorite girl
('Cause can't nobody whip the thang like you do)

What I gotta do, what I gotta do
I just wanna table dance
Shakin' that thang, shakin' that thang
Off in this place

What I gotta do, what I gotta do
I just wanna table dance
Startin' this thang, shakin' that thang
Shakin' that thang

Spend a 50, spend a 100, dawg, spend a stack
Tell the DJ play my record then bring it back
8 inch stiletto, Queen Mcghetto

Touch from yo' neck to ankle
Don't nobody move like you
Spend all my dough, on leave wit you
And when the party's over, I gotta take you home

You're my favorite girl
(I come to the booty club just to see you)
You're my favorite girl
('Cause can't nobody whip the thang like you do)

If you ain't tippin', then you trippin'
It's a two dance minimum
Last chance for romance ladies and gentlemen
I stay in the strip club, that's what a playa cause
Ten thou worth of ones, I'm 'bout to throw on Suga

She poppin' and dropping live right in front of me
Laid back on her back, legs spread so I can see
Part time dancer, part time mother
Part time student, she a full time hustla
And that's why I love her

What I gotta do, what I gotta do
I just wanna table dance
Shakin' that thang, shakin' that thang
Off in this place

What I gotta do, what I gotta do
I just wanna table dance
Startin' this thang, shakin' that thang
Shakin' that thang

Magic City, man, the number 1 strip club in Atlanta, man
Get yo' mind right, Monday night live
Don't get it twisted, still lookin' for that bread
Mix tape get yo' mind right
DJ Nandi on the ones and twos

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88eaa6050d2b383f45331f7f40c7bb64

This Is How We Do - Lyrics - Big Money Heavyweight - Big Tymers

Title: This Is How We Do
Album: Big Money Heavyweight
Artist: Big Tymers
Composer(s): Byron O. Thomas, Bryan Williams

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

Got one more minute, hold last call
Two drunk players leaning on the wall
Three crazy niggas screamin', "Alcohol"
Four more niggas claimin' that they ball

Five bartenders and they all want leave
Six ugly bitches with some fucked up weaves
Seven dyked broads and they all look rough
Eight niggas hollerin', "Don't fuck wit us"

Nine bitches runnin' off at the mouth
Ten bitches trying to hear what they talkin' about
Eleven cute shorties in the whole damn club
Twelve wannabe, gonna be, nothin' but scrubs

Thirteen fights, niggas, bitches and dykes
Fourteen police reading niggas they rights
Fifteen minutes on Interstate-10
At the strip club, we gon' do it again

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

Comin' through my hood on spinnin' blades
Mami know my name, niggas know I don't play
Jump out the whip, and we blaze in the shade
'Cause I gotta get straight, got an ounce of that haze

Early birds don't play, makin' drops in the spots
We struggle, but we hustle, man we hustle 'round the clock
Goin' to the club, where the bottles gon' pop
We VIP niggas, so them bitches gon' jock

Maybach on them 23's
Escalade all green, Cadillac lean, who that be nigga?
You know that be baby
He goin' to the club in somethin' updated

Porsche trucks, Infinity graded
Gotta give props to the man that made me
Red Gold, I start it went crazy
Afford to stunt, niggas, stay in y'all places

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

Pimp, picture me and your misses, lit up like Christmas
I look her in her eyes, and ask her could she kiss this
I do you, but never ever him he is a wimp, and you is a pimp
Then she goes down, to my brown, one eye, big guy, hear that sound?
Slurp, slurp, take that spit turn everything off bruh check out my outfit

I'm in the club smokin' buds with my thugs
Hoes show me love, and I never been a scrub
I'm walkin' out, thought lil' one had a grudge
She the one he love, so I hit 'em with a dub

I'm in an Escalade faded, waistline crazy
The yellow-gold stealth, faded
Got the chrome, nigga, plated
Hoes gon' love it, but these busters gon' hate it

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine, sing out, it can ring out

This how we do it, where I'm from
I'm thuggin' in the club, until I see the sun
Shine, on my face, got the gun on my waist
Walkin' to my Escalade, tell them niggas I'm not afraid
To let the nine

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4cb2ca1baab1f73e5e33e32b840329bd

Like This - Lyrics - Veteran - Marques Houston

Title: Like This
Album: Veteran
Artist: Marques Houston
Composer(s): Michael Houston Houston, Andre Merritt, Cory Peterson, Jasiel Robinson, Christopher Stokes, Cory Bold

Lyric:
Shorty, get like me, do it like this
It'll be every dream, baby, **** a price list
Let Joc grow with it, I see what I want, [Incomprehensible] gon' get it
Them haters wanna hate, grown with it

My God, I'm dope boy, fresh, hit the toe and Izod
The most downloaded song in your iPODs
Me and M H never tricked, so why start?
Shorty, keep back, play your part

Rollin' in the Bentley, watch how I hit the strip
Wrist blingin' on the steering whip
It's like a house on 24
Everybody knows, this is how it goes
Gotta make it do

I don't wanna go but if you can't, try to do it like this
Pop a bottle when you hit the club
Tippin' ball well, get a lil' tipsy, y'all
Then make your way to the dance floor

Hey, bounce like this, work them hips
Ladies, show these fellas how you grind like this
Fellas walk like this, talk that ish
We're gonna show these ladies how we hump like this

Like this, like this
(In the club)
Like this, do it like this
(In the club)

Like this, like this
(In the club)
Like this, do it like this, y'all

Roll up in the club and I'm lookin' kinda icy
Red monkey jeans with a fitted and a white tee, yeah
Yeah, I know, ladies, you lie
Y'all wanna know wassup

All I'm tryna see is a honey with a fatty
Drop it down south and back it up on Big Daddy
That's cool, do it how you do
Yeah, mama, that's wassup

Now let me see ya bounce like this, work them hips
Ladies, show these fellas how you grind like this
Fellas walk like this, talk that ish
We're gonna show these ladies how we hump like this

Like this, like this
(In the club)
Like this, do it like this
(In the club)

Like this, like this
(In the club)
Like this, do it like this, y'all

I'm as slum as they come, yeah, I know it
Every time I open up my mouth, I show it
Everybody's on, baby, I blow it
Gotta couple wars if these strippers, I'ma throw it

Gotta couple bottles, yeah, gonna pour it
Baby, we Crystal, shorty, we'll mow it
Ice, tonight's the night
I'm in the big coup, fitted, tilted to the right, you like?

I know you choose it, Young J O and Marq Houston
Meet me in the room, it's going down
I wanna see you in that Vicky Secret gown
Clap on, clap off, I wanna see the lights go down
Clap on, clap off, I wanna see you turn that thing around

Hey, bounce like this, work them hips
Ladies, show these fellas how you grind like this
Fellas walk like this, talk that ish
We're gonna show these ladies how we hump like this

Like this
(In the club)
Like this, like this
(In the club)
Like this, do it like this
(In the club)

Like this, like this, y'all
Like this, do it like this, y'all

This is M H, Yung Joc, T U G, Bad Boys
Block Entertainment, collabo, let's go
You heard my homie, M H, huh
You got 'em going crazy with this one
The track, the club, all that

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5d3c66e226a56fc967078fb7ab36e37a

Bang - Lyrics - Doctor's Advocate - Game

Title: Bang
Album: Doctor's Advocate
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Delmar Arnaud, Ricardo Brown, David Drew, Jayceon Taylor

Lyric:
J ***, what we do, what we do?
Look, ***, listen

You got them funny *** colors on, take it off
If you in the club with ice on, we takin' off
I thought you was a gangsta ***, you better shake it off
What? Sh-sh-shake it off or get *** on

Gettin' my *** on, red strings on
Louis Vuitton kicks, Louis Vuitton frames on
Louis Vuitton belt holdin' the ***
You know who I am, *** I'm Mr. Westside

This West West or nothin', get your *** get your flag
Gangstas, we love to sag, we *** it back and ***
Like booyaka booyaka, we lay the party down
G-G-Game, Dogg Pound, everybody get down

Look, *** I nurture and breed
I ain't never gave a *** about a *** needs
And *** try to invade our town
I'ma lay 'em down, spray the *** and get out

Say goodbye to the '64, hello to the '6-trey
He ain't never seen hydraulics, look at his *** face
Up, down, now watch my *** scrape
Daz call Snoop, I'ma *** walk to get Dre

And *** bounce back, heat on the track
Dribble *** like Wade and bounce like Shaq
Throw a *** in the pot and watch it bounce right back
Like that, like that? Like that

You got them funny *** colors on, take it off
If you in the club with ice on, we takin' off
I thought you was a gangsta ***, you better shake it off
What? Sh-sh-shake it off or get *** on

We street connected, respected, I gets pathetic
When I did it, I must admit it, so *** go and rep it
Lil' homies around here constantly on smash mode
Lil' *** with *** that blowin' out your ***

How we give it, the culture that we live in
Fresh out the hospital or fresh out the prison
Real *** for life, the roots of the G tree
N.W.A., Dr. D R E

We not S T A R's, we don't put stars in our shoes
*** we put the whole car on the shoes
You don't wanna see my car on the news
I'll 'Set It Off' like Queen Latifah, red beam on the ***

Chippin' in traffic, dippin' the classic
Dippin' to classics, whoopin' that ***
It's hood, *** ready to get it, your *** can get it
'Cause I know she'll *** in less than a minute

Cuz, I'ma have to show him where the house at
Two milli *** situational attack
In the back with a sack, Cadillac all black
Like this and like that

Bang, broken like glass and plastic
Out on him with the mask and plastic
We got access to massive ***
Purchased last week, DPG, C

You got them funny *** colors on, take it off
If you in the club with ice on, we takin' off
I thought you was a gangsta ***, you better shake it off
What? Sh-sh-shake it off or get *** on

Here come them outta town *** what up, ***?
What up, cuz? They don't even know what 2Pac first album was
Should I tell 'em, ***? Nah, *** 'em, loc
Me and Kurupt three-wheelin' on the hundred spokes

Dash, brake, bounce and scrape
Run up on the '64, see the ***
*** like Eazy, *** like Dre
*** like Snoop, *** in L.A.

*** like ***
From now on, wear a Bathing Ape hoodie, get stripped in the club
Like a *** in the club, watch him strip in the club
You like ice creams? Get a banana split in the club

No jewelry, you can't wear *** in the club
And that go for every *** in the club
So you better take it off 'fore you get in the club
Game and Dogg Pound along side sittin' on dubs, remember that

You got them funny *** colors on, take it off
If you in the club with ice on, we takin' off
I thought you was a gangsta ***, you better shake it off
What? Sh-sh-shake it off or get *** on

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5d64c139ce46b56409f0cb5b770a55fb

5000 Ones - Lyrics - Dj Drama

Title: 5000 Ones
Artist: Dj Drama
Composer(s): Phalon Alexander, Sean Combs, Clifford Harris, Cornell Haynes, Jay Jenkins, Carl Mitchell, Jasiel Robinson, Gary White, Cedric Williams

Lyric:
I got 5000 ones, lookin' for the baddest bitch in the club
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her
I got 5000 ones when I see her pimp, I'm throwin' it up
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her

See me when I walk in, ain't nothin' to it
Brought ten stacks to the back, then threw it
Make it rain, ain't a thang
When it come to money I got it, man

You the next best thang, I'm the hottest, mayne
You talk that shit, I'm 'bout it, mayne
We way over here, up out your range
Don't try to be G, that's not your thang

You try me G, that Glock gon' bang
K I N G, that's not gon' change
I'm rich, bitch, I don't care about no fame
'Cause if all else fails, I got cocaine

Still see me all on TV wit it
Still in da hood what ya need he get it
Dough low 44, see me wit it
If a nigga runnin' up best believe he get it

See us in da club, nigga, we be trippin'
Niggas rap 'bout that shit we livin'
7 or 8 stacks on 2 or 3 bitches
Sucka niggas over there hatin', we chillin'

I ran out of ones, so go back get more
Say shawty, bend it over back, real slow
Jack dat ass up, grab that pole
Show me you 'bout that action, hoe

I got 5000 ones, lookin' for the baddest bitch in the club
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her
I got 5000 ones when I see her pimp, I'm throwin' it up
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her

Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold it, no
They can't hold it, no, they can't hold it, no

Eeenie, meenie, miny, moe
I'm lookin' for the direction this money 'bout to go
I'm 'bout ta blow, we pop bottles
Me and the whole clique certified shot callas

Blow top dollas
Got this bitch jumpin' off the chain like Rottweilers
5000 ones, throw 'em then stop
See I'm lookin' for the baddest bitch
Splurge for a second when I'm done you can have this bitch

5000, 10,000, 20
Ones in my hand, that's good money
Ones in my fan, we get money
She pop that thang, she get that

That money's fallin' like rain
I'm VIP that's champagne
I'm K I D do my thang
And yes, indeed, I got change

Or shall I say I got paper
Stacked money tall as skyscrapers
Hater's you fly I fly paper
She pop that thang she get that

She make it hot like wasabi
Look at that body on mommy
She probably stand right beside me
And I tsunami lil' mommy

I got 5000 ones, lookin' for the baddest bitch in the club
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her
I got 5000 ones when I see her pimp, I'm throwin' it up
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her

They call me Young, my money long
I make it rain, now loose your thong
Now loose your bottoms, now loose your tops
You saw what I just spent, I could've bought a watch

I could've bought a car, maybe a couple bricks
I send my hood bitch the fifths on a shoppin' trip
5000 ones, ya you know young wit it
So high up in the air, she need a flight to go get it

Still Mr. Magic City, you know no replacements
This is what I do I got a pole in my basement
If I can make it to Onyx, I bring Onyx to the condo
Call lil' bro bring me 20 grand pronto

I got 5000 ones, lookin' for the baddest bitch in the club
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her
I got 5000 ones when I see her pimp, I'm throwin' it up
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her

Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold it, no
They can't hold it, no, they can't hold it, no

It's the Twista and can't nobody hold him
The money the stacks that we makin' you can't fold 'em
Get love in the strip club
Gotta nigga feeling so freaky they askin' is you roamin'

Yeah, makin' it rain is automatic when
She's askin if you trickin' you got it
Pimpin' is a habit from Twista magic city
And the muthafuckin' betta bet not bitch about it

Steady stackin' paper that's the reason we be throwin' it up
Dollas at the coke, they slang d
Really lil' mamma all over Dj Drama
And T.I. Joc and Nelly when we in da club

I'ma pop a couple of bottles and I'ma start that good shit up
Got 5000 ones and I'm about to throw it up
Sip on some that Patron
I'ma 'bout put a hundred on one of them thongs

Gotta cup a lil' somethin' 'cause I pay the bill
Still money ain't shit, I make major deal
Better ring the alarm, here come the paper
Twista comin' in the club when I get I pop a lot
When she come up wit a fatty I gladly tip her
Jazze, tell 'em what I got

I got 5000 ones, lookin' for the baddest bitch in the club
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her
I got 5000 ones when I see her pimp, I'm throwin' it up
I'm lookin' for her, I'm lookin' for her

I'm lookin' for her I'm lookin' for her
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold
Stacks so fat rubber bands can't hold it, no
They can't hold it, no, they can't hold it, no

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a51d2fbf23536d99733b31c07590b3aa

Strip Down - Lyrics - Blow The Whistle - Too $Hort

Title: Strip Down
Album: Blow The Whistle
Artist: Too $Hort
Composer(s): Charles Pettaway, Todd Shaw, Zachary Wallace, Phalon Alexander

Lyric:
Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***, girl

You got dem heels, do that A-Town lady stomp
You ain't white, b***, must be them razor bumps
Stop s*** that cat, girl
You might need to get it waxed, girl

I saw enough of you the other day
You need to go the other way
Everythin' looks good on the h*** but her face
Turn back around, girl
Before you drop it to the ground, girl

I wanna see you down on all 4's
What you got on drawers for?
That's daytime s***, hit the club when the mall close
And drop them panties, girl
Your p*** feelin' better now, ain't it, girl?

Hear the crash from the cymbal
When your a*** start to tremble
Wanna ride with a pimp, blowin' h*** out the window
Better make my night happy
Or it's gon' be some problems like Lil' Scrappy
You know the drill

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***, girl

Naw, baby wasn't doin' it right
C'mere, lil' mama, see what you look like
Can you get butt naked, girl?
Can I see how you shake it, girl?

You gotta turn a n*** on when you dancin' to the song
I wanna get you all alone in the mansion in a thong
Lemme see that p***, h***
You think you got what I'm lookin' fo'?

I need a freak that'll suck me back hard when I cum
Ain't no way we goin' to sleep, not befo' we see the sun
Can you make that happen, girl?
I'm all night, all day with this mackin', girl

I wanna see you do that dance when you swing on the pole
Put your a*** in my hands, put my thang in your h***
Now shake that a***, girl
But don't do it too fast, girl
You know the drill

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***, girl

You make me feel like we f*** and we still in the club
You probably have a t*** millionaire really in love
Let me see that p***, girl
Now let me see how you touch it, girl

You act like you wanna f*** when you back it up
Make my d*** get bigger than a mack truck
Let me see you bend over, girl
You gotta get a little closer, girl

I ain't tippin' no mo' 'til you get buck booty
Wanna see you a*** naked like you're in a f*** movie
Shake that booty, girl
You know you wanna give it to me, girl

I said, waitress where the 'Gnac at, I need a big sip
Girl, if you don't get naked I'm about to dip
'Cause time don't stop, girl
Get naked and climb on top, girl
You know the drill

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***

Hey, strip down to your a***
Whoa, more excitin' than the last h***
Just pop that p*** and shake that a***
Pop that p*** and shake that a***, girl

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6c91bc0ef6c252c94a3c7bafb659e51c

Hold Up - Lyrics - Onyx

Title: Hold Up
Artist: Onyx
Composer(s): Kirk Jones, Kejuan Muchita, Fred Scruggs, Fredro Starr

Lyric:
Yeah, nigga, yeah, south suicide Queens
That's right, Q U, nigga, yea yea
Shit like that, know what Im sayin', put these drinks up
Ya heard? Let's do this right, what? Yo

Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block
For my one stop niggaz that be huggin' the spot
Sittin' on crates, gettin' loaded, get that cake
Dodgin' drinks, spit and hafta cover they face

Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside
In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side
See no games, with real niggaz from other hoods
Car titles get lost, some niggaz get jooked

But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam
Holdin' the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand
From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof
To them slick dudes, hot and they workin' the phone booth

'Cuz Lord, knows, I'm gonna reload and bust back
Incredible gats, indicted for a federal rap
They ain't duck low enough, shots shredded they hat
Murdered and gone, nigga, it's a medical fact

Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, this is for my chicks in the spot
All my bus stop bitches that be pushin' them drops
Playin' the gate, get it ma, get those papes

Hustle that face, seven G's below ya waist
Project chick, dippin' whips, cruisin' the strip
Gettin' money for tuition, go to school and she strip

Kill in the club, when niggaz dicks get hard
Murda mami, set you up and niggaz bricks get robbed
Help her soul if a chick try to set my team
I'm tying her up, rep till the death of Queens
All my staircase niggaz keep flippin' the jun's

All my outta state niggaz keep gettin them ones
Guns in the air, hit you with invisible glocks
That mean you never see it comin' nigga, fifty two shots
I'm takin' ya block nigga, if you like it or not
You either roll or get rushed, I guess not

Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin' crazy

Sticky fingaz, the nigga that be stickin' them spots
For all my gun-cock niggards, that be bustin' off shots
Lay in the straight, black mask raidin' ya gate
Show me ya safe before I put two in ya face

Dirt on my kicks, hoodies all lookin' for whips
Catch a rat nigga, leave his Bentley sittin' on bricks
Bloody ice-pick fights in the yard
Ten times outta ten, step to me and ya life get scarred

Shoot outs in broad daylight, bustin' at feds
Dirty cops with a ki of coke, bring 'em out dead
For my jail niggaz, stashin' bangers deep in they cots
For my grimy niggaz, hidin' under cars from cops

Empty the glock, hitchu with disposable gats
Bust you, wipe it off, throw it away, it's a rap
What nigga? I see you back in the hood scrap
Turn ya Benz to a coffin nigga, straight like that

Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin' crazy

Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
And my dime little mamis rockin' timbs and jeans
When it's on, know, we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin' bent, goin' crazy

Hold up
South suicide Queens, enjoy
South suicide Queens, enjoy

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e53a54dd856cbfbc09ace59fa047cd0c

Oh - Lyrics - Goodies - Ciara

Title: Oh
Album: Goodies
Artist: Ciara
Composer(s): Ciara Harris, Christopher Bria Bridges, Vidal Davis, Andre Harris

Lyric:
It's another one and another one
One, one, one

This is where they stay crunk
Throw it up, dubs on tha Cadillac
White tees, Nikes
Gangstas don't know how to act

Adams Ville, Bankhead
College Park, Carver Homes
Hummers floatin' on chrome
Chokin' on that home-grown

They got that southern cookin'
They got them fellas lookin'
Thinkin' I was easy, I can see it
That's when I say no, what for
Shawty can't handle this
Ciara got that fire like

Oh, 'round here we ridin' slow
We keep it gotta, you should know
Gettin' crunk off in tha club
We gets low, oh

Oh, all my ladies to tha flo'
Handle it, ladies, back it up
Gettin' crunk up in tha club
We gets low, oh

Buddy take a new whip
Paint strip into a bowlin' ball
Still smoke unemsmote
Wood-grain on tha wall

Light-skinned thick chicks
Fellas call 'em redbones
Close cuts, braids long
Gangstas love 'em all

They got that southern cookin'
They got them fellas lookin'
Wishin' I was easy I can see it
That's when I say no, what fo'?
Shawty can't handle this
Ciara got that fire like

Oh, 'round here we ridin' slow
We keep it gotta, you should know
Gettin' crunk off in tha club
We gets low, oh

Oh, all my ladies to tha flo'
Handle it, ladies, back it up
Gettin' crunk up in tha club
We gets low, oh

Southern-style, get wild, old skools comin' down
On a different color whip, whip, whip
Picture perfect, you might wanna take a
Flick, flick, flick, flick, flick

Call up Jazze, tell him pop up the bottles
'Cuz we got another hit, hit, hit
Wanna go platinum, I'm who you should
Get, get, get, get, get

Ludacris on tha track, get back trick
Switch on tha ?Lac, I'm flexin' still
Same price every time, hot song, jumped on
'Cuz Ciara got sex appeal

And I keep the meanest, cleanest, baddest
Spinnin' on stainless wheels
Could care less about your genus
I bump ya status, I keep the stainless steel

Trunk-rattlin' what's happenin', huh?
I don't even think I need to speed
Bass-travelin', face-crackilin' huh?
Turn it up and make the speakers bleed

Dirty south we ballin' dawg
And neva think about fallin' dawg
Ghetto harmonizin', surprisin',
Runnin' back, 'cuz tha song is cold

Oh, 'round here we ridin' slow
We keep it gotta, you should know
Gettin' crunk off in tha club
We gets low, oh

Oh, all my ladies to tha flo'
Handle it, ladies, back it up
Gettin' crunk up in tha club
We gets low, oh

Oh, all my ladies to tha flo'
Handle it, ladies, back it up
Gettin' crunk up in tha club
We gets low, oh

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600981d0c37cba1d889c401fbf9bd7e0

Honey Dip - Lyrics - Harlem: Diary of a Summer - Jim Jones

Title: Honey Dip
Album: Harlem: Diary of a Summer
Artist: Jim Jones
Composer(s): Corey Williams, Zukhan Bey, Jim Jones, Laron James

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

Lyric:
When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

Yo we talked about 8, said I was comin' through to hit
Now it's wee hours in the mornin' and I'm drunker than a bitch
Stumblin' and shit, I jumped up in the whip
Flipped open the horn like where's my honey dip

And bitch fuck ya man tonite, you know my steelo
Sizzurp wit the Cristal, the corners playin' cello
You see me well you jus smile you know we on the lelow
I'm whippin' through the town like we ballin' up a key load

I'm tryna dip up in the tele
Dip up in the room, then dip up in her belly
Dip off on Pirelli's, Dip-Sets Fonzarelli
My white T-shirt, lookin' dip up in my pelle

Smokin' weed up in the range, full speed left lane
It's me against the world, MOB up in my vein
Wit another nigga girl, gettin' low to give me brain
If the bitch about the 'cause you ain't gotta spit no game

When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

You know, I'm lookin' for a honey dip
But I'm no dummy, most these bunnies
Are money hungry and lookin' for a money clip
So after the brother hit, I'll tell a honey dip

She won't see a contact, address nor buddy list
I ain't on some hubby shit, that lovey dovey shit
It's nuttin' trick I'm suttin' slick
You couldn't get enough of it

How a slugger jus slide up through the check in
Wit that linin' on the Wesson
Hundred diamonds on my neck and wrist shit
I'm rich bitch, rhyming's my profession

Watch how I do this stupid grindin' and perfectin'
Who's flyer when I step in got 'em spyin' every second
'Cause that 06 charger remind 'em of a 7
Yes man, I'm so fresh the pro mess wit bread honey

My jean's 800, these are called Red Munkey
The flossin' is gone, come talk to a Don
Fly enough to belong on a catwalk in Milan, holla

When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

I got me a lovely chick, I got me a slutty chick
I got 'em all but my favorite one is my honey dip
She get drunk wit me, roll the piff up wit me
Throw singles at other hoes in the strip club wit me

She do anything for jus one quicky
She a nympho chick for this slow dick
She give no lip, she jus go get
The paper I ask her for, my bitch so quick

Plus she know every Santana song
And she don't mind puttin' the damn bandanna on
Slap her ass tell her dance in this thong
She do it all for daddy, she move it all for daddy

She get a brick and she boof it all for daddy
Hit the road shake the State Troopers off for daddy
And she bring all that paper back
No short paper back, she sure don't play wit that

When I'm dippin' on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me 'cause she ain't like all them other chicks
Let you hit then she split, that's why I got a honey dip

From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell 'em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips

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Creep Show - Lyrics - Monster - Killer Mike

Title: Creep Show
Album: Monster
Artist: Killer Mike
Composer(s): Rufus B Johnson, Archie Hall, Michael Santigo Render, Richard Hall

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

Lyric:
Welcome to the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Anything goes strippers and live shows
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Ecstasy, hydro, and good blow
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Hoes strip, where pimps and hoes do strolls
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Where hustlas collect rocks and straight rolls

Welcome home motherfuckers you're back again
Into the den of inequity the life of sin
Where after the after party and the hotel lobbies
Probably find me drunk off Bacardi
In a swank hotel an aspiring actress
Trying to push her back through a thousand dollar mattress
In Chicago a couple of bottles, couple of models, stolen Diablos
Fast and furious going full throttle

Post club function, pills get swallowed
Ladies get loose and so do bra straps
Power, money and sex drive good raps
Freaks emerge in a twilight with party pack
Of hydros alcohol blurred eye sight
From dusk till dawn is when vampires roam
Pro athletes trick and don't go home

It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Anything goes strippers and live shows
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Ecstasy, hydro, and good blow
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Hoes strip, where pimps and hoes do strolls
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Where hustlas collect rocks and straight rolls

Riding with my nigga big boy you don't sleep
Even partied with Diddy up in NYC
Got drunk, rubbed titties of Dominican freaks
Every night bachelor party in the boom boom room
On trees get burned or liquor consumed
You ain't really seen a color, till you seen it on shrooms
Lipstick on the pale of my Pelle lapel
Spot hotter than fish scales cooked in coked ale

Vampire party and we gets it down
In the undergrounds, underground
Underground in club comer's basement
Ladies and low life's do get wasted
So high you can't hear the music
But you feel it when the bass hits
The atmosphere like the first year
Freak bass hit every body's heart goes fast
Rolling Mitsubishi's shakin' that ass

Welcome to the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Anything goes strippers and live shows
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Ecstasy, hydro, and good blow
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Hoes strip, where pimps and hoes do strolls
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Where hustlas collect rocks and straight rolls

Got twenties on the Escort, bitch park my shit
It's Bizzare from D12 in this bitch
And which nigga want to fight
I'm the club with Surge Knight, Ike, and Killer Mike
Fat dick for all my enemies
Caught a disease fucking Roy and Jazzie T
My girlfriend's a fucking fool when she turned her back
I'm making out with her mother like I'm in high school

And I don't sale crack to my African brothers
I sell it to they mothers and they ex-lovers
So go ahead bitch pop the X
So I can work your neck in the back of my Vett
Red bones, I hate 'em no question
I like fat bitches with bladder infections
Bizzare get down from strokers to Magic City
It's the creep show, show your nasty titties

Welcome to the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Anything goes strippers and live shows
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Ecstasy, hydro, and good blow
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Hoes strip, where pimps and hoes do strolls
It's the creep show, street show, freak show, peep show
Where hustlas collect rocks and straight rolls

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2c130a11761b218682fb75ec406ac2ce

Yep, I'M Back - Lyrics - From Nothin' to Somethin' - Fabolous

Title: Yep, I'M Back
Album: From Nothin' to Somethin'
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): John David Jackson, Jeffrey Contella

Lyric:
Boom, clap, boom, clap
Boom, clap, boom, clap
Boom, clap, boom, clap
Boom, clap, boom, clap

Now everybody get your hands up
Now everybody get your hands up

Loso, mo? betta, mo? chetta
I do da rose, I am not a moeta
Challenge me with the bling, these n*** know betta
The wings are as big as the logo on those sweaters

H*** betta have a fall back attack
I come through like a funeral, all black on black
Couple 6 deuces, all back to back
Few flyin? Spurs, all back to back

We da ?04, ?05 dunkin? in dem
When it comes to makin? O?s we like dunkin? to dem
Na, I ain?t talkin? donuts
I?m talkin' white ones like the Nike low cuts

You couldn?t see me if you stood on your tipy toes
But you could smell this Cali *** with da zipy closed
Damn Skippy Doe, the seats is peanut butter
You neva seen a studda like street fidda didda damn

Yep, I?m back stuntin?, yep, I?m back frontin?
Yep, I?m somebody who made somethin? outta nothin?
Yep, I know you see somethin? dat you wantin?
It?s just somethin' about me, you can't go without me, y?all

Said you can?t go on without me, y?all
Said you can?t go on without me, y?all
Now everybody get your hands up
Now everybody get your hands up

Mo' stuntin?, mo' frontin?
How you gettin' it, homie? Show sum'n
You could ask about him, he go hard
With dat A M E X Negro card

Last time I was seen in a strip club Rain
I hurricane Katrina da strip club
May I say I made away
Stay fly till the day I fade away

Hey, I prey, I stay out of a hater?s way
Lemme play like A.I. just get to da point
Lemme hear him say I when he spit to the joint
You gonna hear it spray when I get to the joint

And a blind man could see dat the n*** wit Fab
Is gonna come like them dudes
Came for Tony at the Babylon
Rapid fire, do you know a rappa flyer? The L O S O, I guess no

Yep, I?m back stuntin?, yep, I?m back frontin?
Yep, I?m somebody who made somethin' outta nothin?
Yep, I know you see somethin? dat you wantin?
It?s just somethin' about me, you can?t go without me, y?all

Said you can?t go on without me, y?all
Said you can?t go on without me, y?all
Now everybody get your hands up
Now everybody get your hands up

Mo' winin?, mo' dinin?
Girls slow winin?, gangstas throw signs in
I can?t help that the chain is so shinin?
Dat this s*** on my wrist is just co-signin?

They don?t search us, they know we got the flamers
Still let us slide through the door like Craimer
I believe in God but my true religion
Is stuffin? big faces down in these True Religions

We everywhere, you ain?t neva there
New Coupes, shoes shine like patented leather Airs
Pushin? sum'n, we ain?t got our names on
Two ?07?s, neither one of us is James Bond

We in da VIP?s wit da big names
Fendi aviator shades wit the big frames
The streets is watchin?, hood is lookin?
Brooklyn?s back, well, look at how good I?m lookin?

Yep, I?m back stuntin?, yep, I?m back frontin?
Yep, I?m somebody who made somethin' outta nothin?
Yep, I know you see somethin? dat you wantin?
It?s just somethin' about me, you can?t go without me, y?all

Said you can?t go on without me, y?all
Said you can?t go on without me, y?all
Now everybody get your hands up
Now everybody get your hands up

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bd48604673014eaeaccae8134d8b45fb