Things In The Game Done Changed - Lyrics - Dave Hollister

Title: Things In The Game Done Changed
Artist: Dave Hollister
Composer(s): Durrell Babbs

Lyric:
Well, well, well
Alright yeah, said things
Good God almighty now

Now I done saing with the best damn thang
With the best of them in my life off the chain
With the best of them ain't none
The rest of them know let you know
(Things in the game done changed)

Well, I hope for a better life, I hope I can make it right
Mama prayed that one day I'd see the light
I was death for a while I'm much better now
(Things in the game done changed)

(Everybody saying to me)
It's a beautiful day to be alive
I hope you feel the same
(Said, I hope you feel the same)
When and out can adjust, it's a must so
Things in the game done changed

Quite a few of schools of my life
And ain't looking back
(Said ain't looking back now)
Good fellows, forever, paper chasing together
(Things in the game done changed)

If you with me say, yeah, can you feel me, yeah
Are all my ghetto people with me, yeah
It's better now, yeah, forever now, yeah

Things in the game

Play the MP3 online for free!

dcc04945bd8b160b9f311fea35be12e7

The Game - Lyrics - MTA2: Baptized In Dirty Water - David Banner

Title: The Game
Album: MTA2: Baptized In Dirty Water
Artist: David Banner
Composer(s): Lavell W Crump, Brad Jordan, Michael A Poye

Lyric:
I went to see a friend of mine the other day
Ya know what I'm talkin' 'bout?
She said, "Banner, you need to harmonize and hide"
Yeah, okay

But I asked her I was like, "How can a nigga be a fuckin' snitch?"
You don't even snitch on yo' fuckin' enemies, you coward-ass nigga
Kill those niggaz, I'm really, really high
Ain't no respect to the game no mo', niggaz is bitches

I done lost my love for the game
Shit'll never be the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
The streets got love for me

Might of lost my love for the game
Niggaz don't even act the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

I done lost my love for the game
Shit'll never be the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
The streets got love for me

Might of lost my love for the game
Niggaz don't even act the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

I hit the block before it's sunrise
I want to know where you bitch niggaz went and hide
Went to sleep, open my eyes then I realize
Time to serve 'em weak, clock her ass and mash out

Get ya cash out, why ya motherfuckers sleep and ya passed out
I'm in the hood tryin' to make a G before nine
Five thirty, took a break and I'm back on the grind
Four ten, put some Dro in the wind then

Let it go, 'cause ya know that a nigga gone
Tell she if a nigga get busted
Niggaz can't be trusted in the game, 'cause shit ain't the same
Motherfuckers want me to blow out they brain

Shit cocked and blast
Put some lead in a motherfucker fast
Never play wit a gun, if ya can't stop that
Or get that in ya motherfuckin' ass

I done lost my love for the game
Shit'll never be the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
The streets got love for me

Might of lost my love for the game
Niggaz don't even act the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

I done lost my love for the game
Shit'll never be the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
The streets got love for me

Might of lost my love for the game
Niggaz don't even act the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

Took a chance when I came in
Did my time if I got caught
If I lost, it was my fault
Took the blame for the whole thing

And it was the work, it was my walk
To do or double wit the plot then
Let a nigga fellin' boxed in
I was slangin' in my socks then

On the corner flippin' twenty's
Tryin' to turn 'em into fifty's
On the ten speed right in front of walk in
It's no hood where I came from

Where a nigga got his game from
Ain't nothin' changed, I'm the same one
To pull a strap out my backpack
Cock the hammer back
Duck and get ya brains hung

And shake the cop up when the block clear
'Cause the drama doesn't stop here
Gotta watch for ya own peers
Nigga damn near ain't knowin' who the fuck I am
And you ain't knowin' how I got here

See we don't speak and we don't do nothin'
It's on you if you slang things
Get your money, homie, maintain
Keep yo' motherfuckin' mouth shut, dawg
Or you'll get offset and this a cold game

And snitch-niggaz never last long
So snitch-niggaz get yo' ass on
A snitch-nigga get yo' mask on
Took the pledge on my own hand
Then killed a rose motherfucker in my last song

I done lost my love for the game
Shit'll never be the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
The streets got love for me

Might of lost my love for the game
Niggaz don't even act the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

I done lost my love for the game
Shit'll never be the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

Might of lost my love for the game
Niggaz don't even act the same
I'll never lose my love for the streets
'Cause the streets got love for me

I done lost, yeah

Play the MP3 online for free!

241d1e9d8b1c82a5b18defaff378745f

Same Ol' Dirty - Lyrics - Murphy Lee

Title: Same Ol' Dirty
Artist: Murphy Lee
Composer(s): Tohri Murphy Lee Harper, Waiel Yaghnam

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

Lyric:
When I first started back in 1989
I was trying to claim games, I was barely writing rhymes
I was 7 to 8, a little nigga with his head straight
Never got to school early, always went to bed late
Grew up with the older dudes, do what your brother do
It's just so he happen to rap, "Man you think you cool?"
Ali, was my motivator, rapper slash educator
Kept these boys dedicated mama like we better had made it

'Cuz my first name's paid, my last name bills
Even though I got a record deal I paid bills still
And everybody changed to sell us
I wish the fans would understand to accept us and just us
I know we blush on a well-equipped bus
And money we got enough, at least enough to not fuss
We still got stress like you
So in other words little dirty, we just like you, ya know

They thought he changed up since he came up
But he's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his game up 'cuz the fame stuck
But it's the same ol' Murphy
Might have switched his friends up since he done been up
'Cuz it's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his rims up on his Benz
But he's the same ol' Murphy

I know you ain't acting funny
My fans are like the police they be asking for me
Ask them do they know me they probably say "Who cares?"
Tell 'em I'm with Nelly they getta coming in pairs
The fame thing is the same thing as the Devil
People who see you never put on you on a hell of a level
I once wore scuffed up Air Force 2's
And this girl said, "That ain't Murphy Lee, look at his shoes"

See these kids are so smart recognize you from head start
They be like "I know that ain't you up in Wal-Mart"
Can't a brother buy his own drawers I'm not a star
I'm a grown ass boy I'm not staying the in car
But people gonna recognize, they know who you are
Well if they see me today, they gon' be cool tomorrow
'Cuz I'm a be at Circuit City buying DVD's
And hungry eating fries at your local Mickey D's

They thought he changed up since he came up
But he's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his game up 'cuz the fame stuck
But it's the same ol' Murphy
Might have switched his friends up since he done been up
'Cuz it's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his rims up on his Benz
But he's the same ol' Murphy

Yo, yo, I'm still the same dirty, dirty I still make mistakes
I know my birthday was the only day a dirty saw a cake
I'm humble like an African King, I appreciate things
Let me refer you on what's happening then
In '93, had an idea we really believed in
'94, '95 we began critiquing
In '96, I think we signed some bullshit
'97, yo we had the number one hit

'98, had to vacate to get our shit straight
Signed with Cool-to-love to get rid of one of the headaches
In '99, it's when them boys got signed
And if Nelly don't sell a record then it all goes down
0-0 thru 0-1 we weren't below no one
And no one could ever take from or want more done
0-2, Lunatics sold damn near 2
So in 0-3, we gon see what Murphy Lee gon do

They thought he changed up since he came up
But he's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his game up 'cuz the fame stuck
But it's the same ol' Murphy
Might have switched his friends up since he done been up
'Cuz it's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his rims up on his Benz
But he's the same ol' Murphy

They thought he changed up since he came up
But he's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his game up 'cuz the fame stuck
But it's the same ol' Murphy
Might have switched his friends up since he done been up
'Cuz it's the same ol' dirty
Might have switched his rims up on his Benz
But he's the same ol' Murphy Lee
Murphy Lee, Murphy Lee, Murphy Lee, yea yea

Play the MP3 online for free!

4c94ecf82f147658390deeabaa3b3dfc

Tang Clan - Windmill - Lyrics - The 8 Diagrams - Wu

Title: Tang Clan - Windmill
Album: The 8 Diagrams
Artist: Wu
Composer(s): Gary Grice, Robert F Diggs, Clifford Smith, Jason Hunter, Elgin Evander Turner, Corey Woods

Lyric:
(Make me yours)
He get out of line, break his fucking arm
You know how it go, word up
Ain't playing no games with these niggaz man
None at all, man, no more, none of that

Aiyyo, jump out the Acura, crazy heavy, what's popping?
Us locking the game, word to every hand on the lock men
Street gwop, everybody eats, sweep blocks
This is a message, ain't go no grams, we gon' beat box

Study like lessons, niggaz in the game biting the grain
You knowing where it came from, stop it
You thought we wasn't coming? You dumbing, you blunted again
Watch Lex get that dough out your pocket

Rhyme all 'pallegic can't nothing move when I rhyme
When I drop lines it's law out in Egypt
Love ups, don't need no batteries now, what?
The only niggaz that'll glow'll be us

Yo, throw me in Sin City, leave me with the vultures and bats
Then give me two weeks to bubble like Kim titties
Dirt Dog, we miss you, now it's time to murder the game
'Cuz if things change, you know it ain't against Wu

What am I supposed to say? Yeah
Somebody tell me what do I do
What am I supposed to say? Yeah

We keep it hot, keep the heat on the block
We never stop, drawing water up until it begin to drop
Raining with the patchwork of puzzles
That was written in the year of the dragon
More raw than you could ever imagine

How much of a great blessing to a rap city
Where the youth is organically fed
From the witty, unpredictable talent, natural game is lyrical
Analyze the picture, the portrait, the visual

A Cuban Link Chef cooks spaghetti that's untied
Ragu nigga whose tomatoes are sun dried
He gave y'all niggaz whiplash from bling bling
But my rhyme'll give you hot flash and mood swings

Math shed light on divine secrets then science leaked it
For the lower level creatures that can't peep it
I observe MCs, regardless from a neighboring world
Which is ten times the sharpness

What am I supposed to say? Yeah
Somebody tell me what do I do

Let the track wind and your mind flow free
Remain conscious on this ride to ya best ability
Infinity, back to the source of which it came
Energy, see it changed forms

Atoms being born, never ending
On and on and on and travel with me
Not trying to convince the pack that it's a fact
For those who can't adapt, I lived it, shitted it back
We have agreed

You'll feel the impact of the truth when I'll squeeze
The brain feels something pop, hip hop, locked in texts
Fat checks, fly whips, jewelry, chicks
Enough kicks, fitted crown, buttoned down

Underneath your white T lies the four pound
This is forty-five minutes of menacing
Dismantling any MC opponent stepping in the zone
Get your face blown

What am I supposed to say? Yeah
Somebody tell me what do I do

Observe the word, when I speak, it's the truth that's heard
True to the curb, Wu classic is the new birth
Spreading the blessing across seven continents
Arm of the trench, there's no form of defense

Entertainment, nine swords swing rapid
Check the techniques, first bow to The Abbott
Witty, unpredictable, gritty individual
Valid if it's actual, talent and it's natural

Game, rugged like the train, pump it in your vein
I and I, ride or die, under the name
W-U, the primary, your secondary
Definitely not necessary, the legendary

You printed the blueprints to do this shit
Moving the youth in the bricks
Spitting poison tipped darts that rip hearts
Through the chest when I manifest my sick art

Speaking my mind, fall in line when I spit mine
Still in my prime, still'll shine 'til it quit time
If this is a crime, find me guilty, I'm so sublime
So rapid with rhymes, same slacking is asanine

Revealing the truth, catching feelings, it's still the Wu
Gorilla the booth, body armored, I'm killa proof
In living proof, I'm the wittiest, unpredictable
Most talented rap motherfucker you ever listened to

I'm a hustler, I grind 'til my pack is done
Get a seed mad knowledge so they crack and run
Can't nobody fuck with me, I'm just too nice
Smack niggas in they head every time I write

Yo, I'm straight from Park Hill where the guns is popping
Where them little black kids do they grocery shopping
Go to school fucked up, it's Africa Island
We poor in the bricks but inside it's nothing but talent

Play the MP3 online for free!

bef0de6da14427646b9bff3e883e86a6

Who'S This? - Lyrics - Artifact

Title: Who'S This?
Artist: Artifact
Composer(s): Rahem Ross Brown, Shawn Mallory Jones, William E Williams

Lyric:
Who's this with the vocal pitch, I blitz
We be the top choice, moist, voice my script
Significant, different styles on instinct
Make sense, when rockin' rhymes over instruments

Known for the graf, although the crowd comes first
Activist, specialist of the ultimate verse
All subjects correct, image is the key
If you want your peers respect show versatility

Type strange, how the whole sound is rearranged
Changed, so many players entered in the game
But not these two, we past dues, smash crews
You ask what's the task slash we bringin' the news

Dialogue, strong, not your average cabbage
Savage on the mic while other crews can't manage
'Cause in these times the rhymes pay all things
Rent, bills plus your diamond pinky ring

Comin' from the Bricks, all mics we rip
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
With the fat penmanship for the championship
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Fat tracks, lyrics, New Jerus click
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
We comin' from the back with the ultimate blitz
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Holy Moses, I'ma come down like drug doses
With a voltage, 'cause I'm ready to shock whoever's closest
Bold enough to dismiss tricks, up in the mix
With my rhyme skit, bad with the ad-libs behind it

Time it, the rapper's precionist, ain't no dissin' us
It's just, another rap attack for your to discuss
It's us, fresh in the flesh, up in your session
Wildin' out like sex without protection

Right before your eyes I'ma rise up and size up
The status of the rappers while I sit in the back, smokin' my cabbage
Managin', not to get involved with the petty
We ever ready, cuttin' comp like a machete

Not the one to glorify guns, I'd rather drop it on the one
And make the funds for my late night weed runs
Dum dums, wanna do bids and start they static
They better ease back like Kraftmatic

Comin' from the Bricks, all mics we rip
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
With the fat penmanship for the championship
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Superficial rhymes on top for y'all to see
How we react on wax, DJ included exactly
Autographs in black books, dodgin' from the crooks
Don't recognize the stats, don't act for ill looks

But I keep a straight path like the subway stay
Underneath from deep in the depths of NJ
I be the one to get the job done, Tame One
Got funk like the Bop Gun, burnin' with the powers of a hot sun
Makin' my mark after dark like I'm a criminal
Break hard rocks to minerals like, ten star generals

Is it the way we slay the stages, that make these neighbors hate us
We fillin' up the pages with the game like Las Vegas
New Jersey native, ten minutes from the Money Makin'
Stay rooted with the Buddha like Jamaicans

Comin' from the Bricks, all mics we rip
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
With the fat penmanship for the championship
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Fat tracks, lyrics, New Jerus click
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
We comin' from the back with the ultimate blitz
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Comin' from the Bricks, all mics we rip
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
With the fat penmanship for the championship
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Fat tracks, lyrics, New Jerus click
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)
We comin' from the back with the ultimate blitz
(Who's this kickin' in your Benzi box crisp)

Who's this
Who's this
Who's this

Play the MP3 online for free!

39926cb5f2c4162d7705ee9ac1bfe72d

Shit Is Real Pt. Iii - Lyrics - Loyalty - Fat Joe

Title: Shit Is Real Pt. Iii
Album: Loyalty
Artist: Fat Joe
Composer(s): Joseph Cartagena, S Harris

Lyric:
Slow motion, baby
Tell you what I see through these eyes
All we do is speak the truth, yeah
Shit is realla then real, yeah
Shit is realla then real, ain't it?

My true niggas walk wit me, yeah
They ride wit me
Would you cook pies wit me now, ya heard?

Lord, I keep hollerin', I hope You listenin'
How come I'm still stressed an' even though the squad's glistenin'?
Why You had to take Pun, someone so young?
Had so much more to live for, as real as they come

Dead man can't talk
That's why You're hearin' one side of the story
But did they tell You how he provided for forty?
Family members, grandmas to shorties
Even my seeds ate off the big homie

How could You deceive Your kids like that
Make 'em believe they dad wasn't worth jack?
Listen to the facts as The Don pours his heart on this track
How could I just stand there an' not react?

An' I'm just about sick of all you sideline niggas
You know, do anythin' for the limelight niggas
I'm defendin' your honor, my brother from anotha Momma
I never thought I'd see the day they tried to send you [Incomprehensible]

Shit is realla then you think, man, you must not know
It takes a lot to walk a day in the life of Fat Joe
The place I'm from, MTV don't wanna film
Just a simple dice game will get a muthafucka killed

The ghetto ain't a place that you wanna take lightly
Same cat that'll spill you an' end up with your wifey
I've seen it all, that's why I've picked up the pen
To keep your boy from servin' life in the pen, ya heard?

Fuck the flu season, nowadays it's sue season
Can't even go to the clubs an' show my people love
'Coz soon as shit pop off an' niggas knuckle love
Niggas accusin' me of fuckin' 'em up

I'm like, "Hold up, ain't they supposed to be dogs?"
Part time live niggas, dabbelin' drugs
See a rapper think of a lucrative deal
But you'se a bitch if you choosin' to squeal

It's more than obvious, you don't know a thing about honor
But what goes around comes around, you'll soon learn about karma
As for me I stay being the realest
Admired by politicians, street thugs an' killers

I keep feedin' the street but the street feed back
Is that police tryna see Joe back in green slacks?
But never dat, see, I keep long money
An' if you lookin' for dat
You'll never see a cent from me, muthafucker

Shit is realla then you think, man, you must not know
It takes a lot to walk a day in the life of Fat Joe
The place I'm from, MTV don't wanna film
Just a simple dice game will get a muthafucka killed

The ghetto ain't a place that you wanna take lightly
Same cat that'll spill you an' end up with your wifey
I've seen it all, that's why I've picked up the pen
To keep your boy from servin' life in the pen, ya heard?

Yo, I stay grindin', everybody counted me out
Now I'm rewindin' in my summer beach house
If I'm not in the studio, I'm out on tour
Bustin' my ass to make my fans' future secure

Nowadays everybody want somethin' for nothin'
All of a sudden niggas talkin' like, "Joey be frontin'"
The hood screamin', ?Crack done changed, he don't holla?
I know now Big, 'Mo Money Mo Problems'

Jealousy's a muthafucka
Who'd a thought the same niggas you be feedin'
Be the muthafuckaz comin' for ya?
I'm not stressin', I was born a warrior
Plus I'm too big, too wise, too strong for ya

When it's all said an' done, I follow my dreams
Could have ended up dead or in jail given the scheme of things
To let you know I'm the reason you still walkin'
If I said somethin' it was me, not the liquor talkin', muthafucka

Shit is realla then you think, man, you must not know
It takes a lot to walk a day in the life of Fat Joe
The place I'm from, MTV don't wanna film
Just a simple dice game will get a muthafucka killed

The ghetto ain't a place that you wanna take lightly
Same cat that'll spill you an' end up with your wifey
I've seen it all, that's why I've picked up the pen
To keep your boy from servin' life in the pen, ya heard?

Play the MP3 online for free!

7806d4262dcdb3879e63f9510e879f69

Poor Lil Rich - Lyrics - Get Rich Or Die Tryin' - 50 Cent

Title: Poor Lil Rich
Album: Get Rich Or Die Tryin'
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): Curtis James Jackson, Michael J. Clervoix

Lyric:
I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, bow! What up homie?
My watch saying, "Hi shorty, we can be friends?"
My whip saying, "Quit playing bitch get in"
My earring saying, "We can hit the mall together"
Shorty, it's only right that we ball together
I'm into bigger things y'all niggaz y'all know my style
Ya wrist bling bling, my shit bling blow

My pinky ring talk it say, "50 I'm sick"
That's why these niggaz is on my dick
Some hate me, some love my hits
Flex my man, he gon' bump my shit
See I'm alive, man I really don't care
I tell them hoes whatever they wanna hear
You try and play me I'ma blaze it in
My chromes cost more than the crib ya Momma raised ya in

I was a poor nigga
Now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the fo' dot six nigga
In the backseat fondling ya bitch nigga

I was a poor nigga
Now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the fo' dot six nigga
In the backseat fondling ya bitch, nigga

New York niggaz, cocky niggaz like it's all good
Fuck around we crip, walking in the wrong hood
I'm fresh up out the slammer, I ain't no fucking bama
I'm from the wild whody, but I know country grammar
See me I get it crunk, niggaz go head and front
I go up out the trunk, come back, rollout I'm done
My money come in lumps, my pockets got the mumps
You see me sitting on dubs, that's why you mad chump?

Don't make me hit ya up, 50 cent will split ya up
I lay you down, them carnids will come and get ya up
See 50 play fa keeps, and 50 stay wit heat
I can't go commercial, they love me in the street
I'm real bloody man, the hood love me, man
Don't make me show up in ya crib like bro-man
Locked up in a pen, I still do my thing
C O screaming shut the fuck up in the pen

I was a poor nigga
Now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the fo' dot six nigga
In the backseat fondling ya bitch nigga

I was a poor nigga
Now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the fo' dot six nigga
In the backseat fondling ya bitch nigga

I'm in the Benz on Monday, the BM on Tuesday
Range on Wednesday, Thursday I'm in the hooptay
Porsche on Friday, I do things my way
Vipe or Vette, I tear up the highway
Shorty, she can tell ya about my dick game
But she don't know me, she only know my nickname
Left the hood and came back, damn shit changed
These young boys, they done got they own work man

I was a poor nigga
Now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the fo' dot six nigga
In the backseat fondling ya bitch nigga

I was a poor nigga
Now I'm a rich nigga
Getting paper now you can't tell me shit, nigga
You can find me in the fo' dot six nigga
In the backseat fondling ya bitch nigga

Play the MP3 online for free!

430992ecac4faf8bc49a7da7dcab7341

2 Glocks [U-Neek'S Remix] - Lyrics - The Collection: Vol. 2 - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: 2 Glocks [U-Neek'S Remix]
Album: The Collection: Vol. 2
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Steven Howse, Charles Scruggs, Jimmy Thomas, Bone Bryon Mccane, Stanley Howse, Anthony Henderson

Lyric:
Give it to 'em, bring your gun
Give it to 'em, bring your gun

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death, death
Fuck with the niggas with the guns
And you might get shot, get shot

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death death
You could be the first to feel the heat
To see how much we got, we got

I still be the thuggish ruggish nigga
Dressed in all black khakis, fatigues, and boots
Still don't give a fuck about the law
Still run with a pump in my car and fuck who you are

You're fucking with a couple of niggas that's really insane
I'm talking loco, crazy as hell, it ain't just a name
It's the game and we done loosened up a couple strings
And shook a couple of screws loose in my brain

Besides that, ain't nothin' changed
Look at me now I'm still a thug, nigga I still smoke bud
You know I still represent St. Clair wig split shit, nigga what?
This is Bone Thugs niggas

Thinkin' I told you but we put it down like that
And whoever we got to fuck up to prove that we do it
And keep on movin, guess who's back up in the house?
Original Cleveland Criminals

Niggas just send em subliminal messages
Like 'Murda, mo murder murder'
Never forgot where we come from
Watch how you move your tongue

'Cause I got niggas that's ready to jump off in your ass
And smash and crash, protect my niggas for combat
Leathaface at ya and on your ass like I was a heat seeker
Quickly the reaper peep you, sweep you off your feet in Cleveland

I be the smoothest little nigga you can meet me
But nigga you fuck with me then I'm a fuck with you
Introduce you to this heat, I sweep the street
When I draw down, let me hear you say, "Fuck the law now"

Rawest niggas in the town ready to thug and go down
Go pound for pound, nigga that's the motto
Let me see you throw them things and if it's real
Nigga keep it real show me your game

I'm sure gonna claim what the fuck is mine
My nigga I'll take it grab a player hater by the neck
Choke him out and try to break it
Gimme your money, drop them keys

It's a jack move bitch and since you haters ain't got no business
That's how we attack your shit
Nigga we'll smack your bitch in the middle of the Grammy
And the media might ban me, nigga this Mo Thug Family is for real

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death, death
Fuck with the niggas with the guns
And you might get shot, get shot

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death death
You could be the first to feel the heat
To see how much we got, we got

Pull it up, sit up, get up and count up your money
Before it all gets spent up and you wanna get rid of
A hood bitch with game and every bitch said I'm a good bitch
Fuckin' with the wood grain

Everybody still playin' that hood game quiet
Especially when it's tired
My environment ain't nothin' but niggas dieing
In them chemical fed injections in Jasper Texas

Split up these niggas off in different sections
Don't hate my message, destiny led to mimic
Chastity for my daughter wad up a niggas Sherm
And come listen to the sermon

Swervin' in my Suburban, lick it up with the bottle
But everybody know I got some problems
Had dreams of the Apollo
The fiends had faith in me, suckas wouldn't run

A nigga not insane, niggas still with me
Bone, somehow they turn up
Run up and get your sign
Run blindly, elevate through time nowhere to hide

Our dawgs finna haul off lead sawed-off head
Nigga you drippin' soakin' with bloody body be beggin' me
You know what you should've capped like 2 Pac with a glock
They're deadly, better not upset my thug mentality sucker

You know you done fucked up, don't you niggas?
Runnin' up blastin' gas craters
What the fuck you thought you saw with your head in the sky?
Could it be a bird or maybe it's even a plane for the untamed

Insane human only the Fifth Dawg
Fuck you thought motherfucker fame
For the fact the shit is a phat game
Going remain number one in the Land

Flesh, strangle the gang, bang bang, bang
I dropped five guards in the name of the Lord I say
Now how many times will I have to slay today?
Will I raise my guage? Oh God

How will I teach ya, but it's these tactics that he daily practice
They gonna let you don't have it?
Have it, runnin up you sons of bastards
Blast it, we sons of assassins

Match it, collecting more cash
That's true, you're feeling that
Niggas said all my babies get a million
Struggle with a villain, hit 'em with a venomous blow

I call on my mighty Archangel
Gonna surround my soul but go with the calico yo'
We the tightest you know Mo, the Mighty
Yes trues humbly united my family never divided

Desperado, Thug Line, Mo Thug, Millennium, Seventh Sign
For the FBI you wanna come test my enterprise?
Bitch you better go think twice and open up your motherfucking eyes
These niggas can't fuck with the fifth dawg finna parlay

Everyday stormin' your way you better lay low
So you might just duck when I buck guage
Can't you see my niggas having a ball all day
Since we having a ball all day, motherfuckers player hate

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death, death
Fuck with the niggas with the guns
And you might get shot, get shot

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death death
You could be the first to feel the heat
To see how much we got, we got

Play the MP3 online for free!

99d951a08483a3f412842a66676b1d93

2 Glocks - Lyrics - BTNHResurrection - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: 2 Glocks
Album: BTNHResurrection
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Steven Howse, Charles Scruggs, Jimmy Thomas, Bone Bryon Mccane, Stanley Howse, Anthony Henderson

Lyric:
Give it to 'em, bring your gun
Give it to 'em, bring your gun

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death, death
Fuck with the niggas with the guns
And you might get shot, get shot

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death death
You could be the first to feel the heat
To see how much we got, we got

I still be the thuggish ruggish nigga
Dressed in all black khakis, fatigues, and boots
Still don't give a fuck about the law
Still run with a pump in my car and fuck who you are

You're fucking with a couple of niggas that's really insane
I'm talking loco, crazy as hell, it ain't just a name
It's the game and we done loosened up a couple strings
And shook a couple of screws loose in my brain

Besides that, ain't nothin' changed
Look at me now I'm still a thug, nigga I still smoke bud
You know I still represent St. Clair wig split shit, nigga what?
This is Bone Thugs niggas

Thinkin' I told you but we put it down like that
And whoever we got to fuck up to prove that we do it
And keep on movin, guess who's back up in the house?
Original Cleveland Criminals

Niggas just send em subliminal messages
Like 'Murda, mo murder murder'
Never forgot where we come from
Watch how you move your tongue

'Cause I got niggas that's ready to jump off in your ass
And smash and crash, protect my niggas for combat
Leathaface at ya and on your ass like I was a heat seeker
Quickly the reaper peep you, sweep you off your feet in Cleveland

I be the smoothest little nigga you can meet me
But nigga you fuck with me then I'm a fuck with you
Introduce you to this heat, I sweep the street
When I draw down, let me hear you say, "Fuck the law now"

Rawest niggas in the town ready to thug and go down
Go pound for pound, nigga that's the motto
Let me see you throw them things and if it's real
Nigga keep it real show me your game

I'm sure gonna claim what the fuck is mine
My nigga I'll take it grab a player hater by the neck
Choke him out and try to break it
Gimme your money, drop them keys

It's a jack move bitch and since you haters ain't got no business
That's how we attack your shit
Nigga we'll smack your bitch in the middle of the Grammy
And the media might ban me, nigga this Mo Thug Family is for real

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death, death
Fuck with the niggas with the guns
And you might get shot, get shot

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death death
You could be the first to feel the heat
To see how much we got, we got

Pull it up, sit up, get up and count up your money
Before it all gets spent up and you wanna get rid of
A hood bitch with game and every bitch said I'm a good bitch
Fuckin' with the wood grain

Everybody still playin' that hood game quiet
Especially when it's tired
My environment ain't nothin' but niggas dieing
In them chemical fed injections in Jasper Texas

Split up these niggas off in different sections
Don't hate my message, destiny led to mimic
Chastity for my daughter wad up a niggas Sherm
And come listen to the sermon

Swervin' in my Suburban, lick it up with the bottle
But everybody know I got some problems
Had dreams of the Apollo
The fiends had faith in me, suckas wouldn't run

A nigga not insane, niggas still with me
Bone, somehow they turn up
Run up and get your sign
Run blindly, elevate through time nowhere to hide

Our dawgs finna haul off lead sawed-off head
Nigga you drippin' soakin' with bloody body be beggin' me
You know what you should've capped like 2 Pac with a glock
They're deadly, better not upset my thug mentality sucker

You know you done fucked up, don't you niggas?
Runnin' up blastin' gas craters
What the fuck you thought you saw with your head in the sky?
Could it be a bird or maybe it's even a plane for the untamed

Insane human only the Fifth Dawg
Fuck you thought motherfucker fame
For the fact the shit is a phat game
Going remain number one in the Land

Flesh, strangle the gang, bang bang, bang
I dropped five guards in the name of the Lord I say
Now how many times will I have to slay today?
Will I raise my guage? Oh God

How will I teach ya, but it's these tactics that he daily practice
They gonna let you don't have it?
Have it, runnin up you sons of bastards
Blast it, we sons of assassins

Match it, collecting more cash
That's true, you're feeling that
Niggas said all my babies get a million
Struggle with a villain, hit 'em with a venomous blow

I call on my mighty Archangel
Gonna surround my soul but go with the calico yo'
We the tightest you know Mo, the Mighty
Yes trues humbly united my family never divided

Desperado, Thug Line, Mo Thug, Millennium, Seventh Sign
For the FBI you wanna come test my enterprise?
Bitch you better go think twice and open up your motherfucking eyes
These niggas can't fuck with the fifth dawg finna parlay

Everyday stormin' your way you better lay low
So you might just duck when I buck guage
Can't you see my niggas having a ball all day
Since we having a ball all day, motherfuckers player hate

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death, death
Fuck with the niggas with the guns
And you might get shot, get shot

Get cha gun, get cha gun, did you kill 'em all?
To death, death death
You could be the first to feel the heat
To see how much we got, we got

Play the MP3 online for free!

3326807b0cdffe9464e9c80e10291e07

Change Up - Lyrics - From Nothin' to Somethin' - Fabolous

Title: Change Up
Album: From Nothin' to Somethin'
Artist: Fabolous
Composer(s): John David Jackson, Aliaune Thiam

Lyric:
Konvict, Konvict
We never change over here
Street Fam, Konvict

If I?m your man and you?re my man
You ain?t gotta worry 'bout where we stand
But you cross the man, you force my hand
And changin' who I am ain?t part of my plan
'Cuz I will not change up, no
Said, I will not change up, no

Now I don?t know if I should hug 'em or slug 'em now
And I don?t know if I should cap 'em or dap 'em now
But I know that it?s feelin' funny now
Maybe it?s 'cuz I?m gettin' this money now

You see, things ain?t the same
I said, things ain?t the same
No, things ain?t the same
And I know I ain?t changed

Yo, I make the money but don?t let it make me
So even if I go broke, nigga, you couldn?t break me
Watch how long it take me to jump back on my feet
Quick as when the barrells jump back on the heat

Y'all don?t wanna see me jump back in the streets
So be happy that I ride through slumped back in the seats
Bein? broke is a joke, I never found it funny
That?s why I count my blessings as much as I count my money

If I?m your man and you?re my man
You ain?t gotta worry 'bout where we stand
But you cross the man, you force my hand
And changin' who I am ain?t part of my plan
'Cuz I will not change up, no
I said, I will not change up, no

Some niggas change when they get change
Funny when they get money
Switch when they get rich, stray when they got paid
Hah, but I stresses you to holla
'Cuz they never made bullet proof vesses outta dollars

We never change, this is us every day
I call them boys up, they gon' bust every day
They ride high like them Cus' Chevrolets
Like old wax and Kane lookin' for his cousin killas

I got a dozen killas for niggas who doesn?t feel us
I changed for a reason but homie, it wasn?t scrilla
They can?t say that nothing change but my clothes
Oh, I?m lyin', I do change up my hoes

I pitch game, you should see the change up I throws
Ain?t gotta get 'em to ring to get 'em to swing
I?m a team player, if I win, then we won
They gon' put us all in the Hall of Fame when we done

If I?m your man and you?re my man
You ain?t gotta worry 'bout where we stand
But you cross the man, you force my hand
And changin' who I am ain?t part of my plan
'Cuz I will not change up, no
Said, I will not change up, no

Now I don?t know if I should hug 'em or slug 'em now
And I don?t know if I should cap 'em or dap 'em now
But I know that it?s feelin' funny now
Maybe it?s 'cuz I?m gettin' this money now

You see, things ain?t the same
I said, things ain?t the same
No, things ain?t the same
And I know I ain?t changed

Money can?t buy happiness but it?s a damn good down payment
I don?t talk much, feel like I?m around agents
The game ain?t what it used to be
I?m the same but these lames ain?t used to me

Them other niggas be full of they selves
Get money and disappear, try to pull a Chappelle
Well, I ain?t hidin', I?m ridin', I ain?t duckin', I?m buckin'
I ain?t hangin', I?m bangin', I ain?t runnin', I?m gunnin'

If I?m your man and you?re man
You ain?t gotta worry 'bout where we stand
But you cross the man, you force my hand
And changin' who I am ain?t part of my plan
'Cuz I will not change up, no
I said, I will not change up, no

Now I don?t know if I should hug 'em or slug em now
And I don?t know if I should cap 'em or dap 'em now
But I know that it?s feelin' funny now
Maybe it?s 'cuz I?m gettin' this money now

You see, things ain?t the same
I said, things ain?t the same
No, things ain?t the same
And I know I ain?t changed

Play the MP3 online for free!

85bc1d21415f2def408672bf0be4b4ba

Welcome To The South - Lyrics - The Ultimate Victory - Chamillionaire

Title: Welcome To The South
Album: The Ultimate Victory
Artist: Chamillionaire
Composer(s): Daniel Andrew Johnson, Hakeem T. Seriki, Chad L. Butler

Lyric:
Welcome to the South
Try to criticize us for how we live
And go do the same thangs that we just did

Better watch your mouth
Try to criticize us for how we spit
Then say you respect the money that we get

Welcome to the South
Must you criticize everythin' we did
Then expect at us to never even trip?

We more than grills and candy paint
So be careful what you say
'Cause we might just throw it right back in your face
Better watch your mouth

Across the globe I hear the hate
The same whispers from state to state
If you didn't say it then this ain't for you
Don't worry 'bout it 'cause you can't relate

Before you by me, then you criticize me
While you beside me, let's get it straight
'Cause you remind me of the kid beside me
Same rapper that you say you hate

Wanna criticize then fine
Say the South?s got simple rhymes
Every time I travel I'm
In the backyard that act just like mine

Same grind just different times
I know things done changed a lil'
Used to show our grills and they be like, "Eww"
Nowadays all say, "That's ill?

I remember when a major label
Wouldn't even come pay a visit
Used to say they have love for us but
They was blowin' them suspect kisses

Now you watch and we see you plot
And you can't act like we ain't suspicious
Shootin' slugs, just shoot at us
But when you bust your thang it misses

I ain't even much trippin'
'Cause I'm the man where I'm residin'
So I'm decidin' where I'm residin'
So never tolerate domestic violence

I know you'd rather me just relax
And sit back in silence
But I'm the owner, not just a client
So the South is what I stay advertisin'

Welcome to the South
Try to criticize us for how we live
And go do the same thangs that we just did

Better watch your mouth
Try to criticize us for how we spit
Then say you respect the money that we get

Welcome to the South
Must you criticize everything we did
Then expect at us to never even trip?

We more than grills and candy paint
So be careful what you say
'Cause we might just throw it right back in your face
Better watch your mouth

Don't knock the swagger, don't knock the swagger
Then turn around and be a swagger-jacker
If you a man then you should be a man
Don't walk around without a Adam's apple

We was lookin' at it from a distance
But we wasn't trippin' 'cause it had to happen
Styrofoam cup and a Snapple
And you actin' like you been a fan of rappin'

If you was hatin' or participatin'
When you saw us up and never slidin' through
You and everybody else that did it
It applied to them and it applied to you

You actin' like somebody made you say it
Took your hand and then applied the glue
Turn around and gave the mic to you
And now you end up lookin' like a fool

Can't polly us, come follow us
And that's the reason I'm in the lead
The rest of y'all are some bench warmers
And gettin' mad 'cause I'm in the lead

I'm switchin' speeds, don't get fatigued
Y'all behind the line, y'all chasin' me
Y'all finna see my energy
So ya get off my back and let a playa breathe

I won't lie and act like
That I'm the one supportin' everythang
Like Southern rappers ain't never lame
Like some of these boys don't eff up the game

Most of us do our thang
And the rest of 'em leave my ears in pain
But that's him and he sure ain't me
So don't look at us like we all the same

Welcome to the South
Try to criticize us for how we live
And go do the same thangs that we just did

Better watch your mouth
Try to criticize us for how we spit
Then say you respect the money that we get

Welcome to the South
Must you criticize everything we did
Then expect at us to never even trip?

We more than grills and candy paint
So be careful what you say
'Cause we might just throw it right back in your face
Better watch your mouth

Southside candy rider, never been a socializer
Flyin' high, work grinder, knock your gal, you can't find her
She was sittin' on butter, hun'ned thousand under her ass
I was workin' the wood circle, smokin' candy, mashin' on the gas

I can't be you, I can't do you, I just do me, if you ain't
Been where I been then you can't, be who I be if you ain't
Seen what I seen and you can't, see what I see
I put the bricks in the road, there was slab on it wasn't free

Been a legend in the Douth since the year 9-3
'Pocket full of stones' menace to society
The hard in the cars, chromey fo's, not D's
Now everybody pimpin' and they all got ki?s

Please, you work for UPS
They say they smokin' dro but all I keep smellin' is cress
I roll with the best, '92, me and Screw in the Lexus
I might not be nothin' to you but I'm the s*** in that Texas

Welcome to the South

Play the MP3 online for free!

4363f041e7ccd1bc2074c07a39e491c1

In Da Club - Lyrics - Get Rich Or Die Tryin' - 50 Cent

Title: In Da Club
Album: Get Rich Or Die Tryin'
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): Curtis Jackson, Michael Elizondo, Andre Young

Lyric:
Go, go, go, go, go, go

Go shawty, it's your birthday
We gonna party like it's your birthday
We gon' sip Bacardi like it's your birthday
And you know we don't give a fuck, it's not your birthday

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love
So come gimme a hug, if you're into gettin' rubbed

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love
So come gimme a hug, if you're into gettin' rubbed

When I pull up out front, you see the Benz on dubs
When I roll 20 deep, it's 20 knives in the club
Niggaz heard I fuck with Dre, now they wanna show me love
When you sell like Eminem, and the hoes, they wanna fuck

But homie ain't nuttin' changed hoes down, G's up
I see Xzibit in the cut, hey nigga roll that weed up
If you watch how I move, you'll mistake me for a player or pimp
Been hit wit a few shells but I don't walk wit a limp

In the hood, in L.A. they sayin,"50 you hot"
They like me, I want them to love me like they love Pac
But holla in New York them niggaz'll tell ya, I'm loco
And the plan is to put the rap game in a choke hold

I'm fully focused man, my money on my mind
Got a mill' out the deal and I'm still on the grind
Now shawty said she feelin' my style, she feelin' my flow
Her girlfriend willin' to get bi and they ready to go

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love
So come gimme a hug, if you're into gettin' rubbed

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love
So come gimme a hug, if you're into gettin' rubbed

My flow, my show brought me the dough
That bought me all my fancy things
My crib, my cars, my pools, my jewels
Look nigga, I done came up, and I ain't changed

And you should love it, way more then you hate it
Nigga, you mad? I thought that you'd be happy I made it
I'm that cat by the bar toastin' to the good life
You that faggot-ass nigga tryin' to pull me back, right?

When my joint get to pumpin' in the club it's on
I wink my eye at ya bitch, if she smiles she's gone
If the roof on fire, let the motherfucker burn
If you talkin about money, homie, I ain't concerned

I'ma tell you what Banks told me 'cause go 'head switch the style up
If the niggaz hate then let 'em hate then watch the money pile up
Or we can go upside your head wit a bottle of bub
They know where we fuckin' be

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love
So come gimme a hug, if you're into gettin' rubbed

You can find me in the club, bottle full of bub
Look mami, I got the X if you into takin' drugs
I'm into havin' sex, I ain't into makin' love
So come gimme a hug, if you're into gettin' rubbed

Don't try to act like you don't know where we be neither nigga
We in the club all the time nigga, it's about to pop off nigga
G-Unit

Play the MP3 online for free!

e9999e1468f0905350d4a5c8e4330dec

L.A. - Lyrics - Murs

Title: L.A.
Artist: Murs
Composer(s): Nick Carter, Patrick Douthit

Lyric:
I'm from L dot A dot California hot
Days got shade let me take you 'round the way
Lot of out-of-towners can't handle this city
Where you wear the wrong color and it can get tricky

But that was eighty-six and, things done changed
We a lot mo' evolved with the way that we bang
Not the rips and the dawgs, man the smog might kill ya
But you ain't gotta worry if you stayin' north of Wilshire

Don't be scared of Crenshaw, the Slausson super-mall
Or Earl's Hot Dogs man you gotta do it y'all, c'mon
Come to the hood where we do the most good
Magic Johnson be ownin' everything like he should

Lynnwood, Long Beach, Hawthorne, Gardena
From the towers in Watts, to the hills of Alta Dena
The home of the traffic and that gangbang culture
And I hope the way we do the damn thang don't insult ya

I'm from L.A. ah, Southern California
Fool the West coast, where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do every thang with a bang
And everybody wanna know, what set you claim

I'm from L.A. ah, Southern California
Fool the West coast, where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do every thang with a bang
And everybody wanna know, what set you claim

The land where the six-fo's, hop up and get low
Your favorite rapper gettin' jacked for more than his sick flows
Home of the pornos, we mess up award shows
The weather's always warm so the women wear short clothes

Our beaches ain't the cleanest but the ah, is the greenest
And we got the blonde bombshells and sick Latinas
Then mix in the dark-skinned light-skinned sisters
Where you never have to wear your triple goose on Christmas

You can miss us with the blizzards and the winters
The hurricanes unless it's in some glasses with some actresses
Perfect frame, silicone or real it don't matter if she paid for it
Every single trend you can probably thank L.A. for it

Bandanas, facelifts, quick trips to Vegas
White t-shirt, Chuck Taylors or them K-Swiss
Poplockin', Crip walkin', chronic blunts, G-Funk
A place that everybody hate, but you gotta see once

I'm from L.A. ah, Southern California
Fool the West coast, where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do every thang with a bang
And everybody wanna know, what set you claim

I'm from L.A. ah, Southern California
Fool the West coast, where everybody is somebody
And the game is fame, do every thang with a bang
And everybody wanna know, what set you claim, set you claim

Play the MP3 online for free!

38284eb98b715a7f8e9dafaf6a92900d

Q.U. Hectic - Lyrics - The Infamous - Mobb Deep

Title: Q.U. Hectic
Album: The Infamous
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Albert Johnson, Kejuan Waliek Muchita, Tony Smalios

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

Lyric:
Fuck it kid, what up Queens in this motherfucker?
(Tell you I'm bangin' tonight kid)
(Yo Shorty got a fattie right there)
Queens bridge in the house, aiyyo word up

Aiyyo Ty yo Ty c'mere Son
What up Boo? Can I buy you a drink or sumpin' Boo?)
What up what up? Where Twins and them at yo?
(The fattie's bangin')

I don't know, I think Twins laid up
(Damn)
Aiyyo Son gimme two Hennessey
Son I want two Hennessey's yo
Straight yo, word up man

Aiyyo what up with them Queens niggaz man!
Hey, fuck you, what? What the fuck, what?
Think they killers or somethin' man
Ay fuck you money, what up kid

I open my eyes to the streets where I was raised as a man
And learned to use my hands for protection
In scuffles, throw all my blows in doubles
I'm coming from Queens motherfucker carrying guns in couples

And wilding, a Q-U soldier
From Lefrak to Rockaway back to Queens bridge
Black it's only crack sales makin' niggaz act like that
Back in the days we could scrap, now you lay on your back

As things changed with time I traded in my knuckles for a Mac-10
And rather live the life of crime
With my Bed-Stuy connection connected in two
It's live Boo start shit too wild for you

Peace to, Beasley, Forty-P get down
And when you outta town represent your ground
Them niggaz bleed just like us so show em where we come from
Queens, leavin' niggaz done Son

The Mobb gets hectic
Shit is for real up in Queens we get hectic
Shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Shit is for real we abouts to get hectic

As we sling on the corners like we always do
Son get that loot quick, spending dough like I never had shit
I'm living large pushin' luxury cars
Though that shit is outta reach, anybody in my wake gets scarred

Permanently bed-ridden
And if you're pussy, then motherfucker get in where you fit in
As I walk around the streets
Son I got mad beef, I'ma blast you before you blast me

That's my philosophy 'cause nowadays you gotta be relentless
Grab my Mac and slap a nigga senseless
Don't try to play me if you do you better D.O.A. me
Son I got em shook grab a little baby for shields

You got drama run for shelter for real
Pour some beer for the ill ain't no time to chill
Hit 'em up 'cause I'm quick to erupt like this
Wet 'em up with the Mac scratch em off my list

Show 'em, the real meaning of drama you never had it
Till you bumped heads with the Havoc
Ain't nuttin' soft or sweat, I lift you off your feet
When I cock back the heat, whole crews retreat

Ain't nothing soft or sweet, I lift you off your feet
When I cock back the heat whole crews retreat

We gets hectic
Shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Shit is for real we abouts to get hectic

Everything is real inside my mind, these days
You can't make it if you ain't affiliated with crime
A lifetime of street living
Throughout the beef I've accumulated many slugs have been given

But wilding ain't the way to be living
You're only gonna end up bloody on a floor shivering
Or locked up, caught inside the beast
Meanwhile on the street saying no more peace

My man, Sto-Bo, kid hold your own
In a cell locked down not far from home
And at the same time on the outside I'm representing
Still packin' heat make you cowards keep stepping

Getting high, it's cause of the lye, I can't lie
I could move the crowd poppin' slugs in the sky
Why come around if you afraid of what's over here
My man Havoc put the bug in my ear

On the real, for real, but wait it gets realer
Real like an innocent child that turn killer
It's thing like that that only makes things iller
And makin' cream doin' sticks if you ain't a drug dealer

It's only facts coming out of my mouth feeds
As far as I can see these streets is getting sour
Q, U, too much drama to get into
And niggaz regret when they begin to

Regardless of your name or what you been through
Pause for a second, open your eyes and think dude
Life ain't the game that it seems to be
Fuck a fantasy I'm leaving in reality

Caught up in this untouchable mentality
Hit you up bad, make you loose a few calories
I need to slow down, movin' through life at a high speed
Watchin' all the slow runners pass by me

I can see through you, due to, my Queens education
Speaking in behalf of this drug-game nation
The Foundation, the Queens nation

Up in Queens, shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Word up Shaolin, shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Word up kid, the B.K., the shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Know what I'm sayin'?
(No doubt)

And Manhattan, shit is for real we abouts to get hectic
Up in the Bronx we abouts to get hectic
Word up, know what I'm sayin'? The whole world kid
Shit is over dead, Mobb Deep say party uh
Know what I'm sayin'? Party uh

Play the MP3 online for free!

b64df4b824848bd6d7e3c67cb0f310c7

Bad Boy This, Bad Boy That - Lyrics - Bad Boy'S Da Band

Title: Bad Boy This, Bad Boy That
Artist: Bad Boy'S Da Band
Composer(s): Lynese Wiley, Tony Dofat, Lloyd Mathis, Rodney Hill, Freddrick Watson

Lyric:
Bad Boy, baby
We the last standin' check the records
Check the score
Da Band, the next generation of bad motherfucker, come on

Yo, I'm back and I'm hittin' 'em hard
Tits don't sag, I don't need no push-up bra
Bitch you mad, Babs got a brand new car
Drop top in the hood, I'm the ghetto superstar
Breathe, pop bottles and roll up weed
Bab's strong arm bitches, like I'm Hercules
You got a problem, come see the girl, I'll solve'em
Big belly bitches we starve 'em

Niggas in the hood, we rob 'em, whenever they flossin'
Better tuck in ya chain bitch and keep on walkin'
You a thug, why you keep on talkin', let's get it crackin'
Get a bitch stomped out in the club, I make it happen
I got this, Diddy done let me out
Hot chick, spit sick when I open my mouth

All I hear is Bad Boy this and Bad Boy that
(My year, now so you girls betta leave)
This Bad Boy will beat you down, wit a baseball bat
(Me and my people comin' and we rollin' six deep)

I'ma changed man, since I made the band
Nobody, gave a damn, no one gave a hand
Made man, made the band, wave ya hands
Rocks in the watch, I think I'm 'bout to blaze the band
Elliot Ness, you know I'm here to save the land
Don't try to lie and say the liquor is what made you ran
Go somewhere, and be a maintenance man, a janitor
Dog don't blame me, blame ya manager

Keep ya hands out my pockets nigga
Franchise like I play for the Rockets nigga
'Who Shot Ya', 'Biggie Smalls', Tupac ya nigga
'Ready to Die', 'All Eyes' on the project nigga
You stocky, I put somethin' in ya biceps niggaz
I can't help it, I'm a violent nigga, silence

All I hear is Bad Boy this and Bad Boy that
(But you fuckin' wit the wildest nigga)
This Bad Boy will beat you down wit a baseball bat
(That chain, fugazy, you ain't stylin' nigga)

There he go, hoppin' out the G5 Wagon
G-coated, Ree's, Baud's and Tee's swaggin'
Runnin' game on ya bitch, ya boy's a pimp
I need a bitch wit no type of common sense, that about it
If you bout it then throw it up
Got that fire and you ready to light it, then tote it up
Now that's gangsta, don't make me spank ya
You, run in that water now ya life is in danger

Ride wit the underworld, that keep bangers
Niggas that be off that frail, them beef bringers
Picture a nigga tryin' to carry me
It won't happen, I won't let you niggaz worry me
I'ma stay thugged out till they bury me
When they do, I can't wait to see Barry B

All I hear is Bad Boy this and Bad Boy that
(I'ma Dirty South nigga from the dirty streets)
Bad Boy will beat you down wit a baseball bat because
(Get crunk, get buck, get the fuck off ya feet)

Best believe these dudes ain't never kill nuthin'
I'm Fred, you want him dead, put some bullets in his coffin
Lord forgive me, but these niggaz is playin' wit the boss man
You don't wanna get in the trunk, you gettin' tossed in
I'm the type you squeeze tight, and you bring your cousin'
Man homeboy that's y'all man

Man I got it all planned, Diddy fathered the game
I'm 'Bad', but not a 'Boy', I got a part of his name
And homie, I see you slippin', then it's off wit ya chain
Yo head, harder than wood then I'm sawin' yo brain
A Don, I mean what I say, and I say what I mean
I eat, shit, and sleep yeah, I lay wit them things
Bad Boy wit Universal, so don't play wit the team

Bad Boy, so don't play wit the team
Bad Boy, so don't play wit the team
Bad Boy, so don't play wit the team

Da Band, Da Band, Da Band, 2003
Fire, fire, Too Hot For T.V.
Too hot to hold in the headphones this time
Too hot to hold to cold to fold, come on, and now
Give my man Diddy the throne, and don't play wit the king
I'm here baby, Miami, Choppa City, Babs, Sara, Dylan, Ness
Fire, yeah, and we won't stop
Da Band, fire, yeah

Play the MP3 online for free!

d25bf8b7364275fdd7c0b82763302d7e