Whatta You Know - Lyrics - Unreleased & Revamped - Cypress Hill

Title: Whatta You Know
Album: Unreleased & Revamped
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Burt Bacharach, Hal David, Louis B-Real Freese, Larry Muggerud

Lyric:
Whatta you know?
Whatta you know?
Whatta you know?

Whatta you know? The nigga stole my dough
So I reached in the closet for the 4-4
(Whatta you know?)
Jus' hold on, just wait a minute it's gone
Along with my big bad nickel-plated

Whatta you know? The fucker took my phone
I still can't believe that he robbed my home
Whatta you know? I think he got to the herb
And the ferria, and the jewelery, and the Mossberg
Whatta you know? I can't find my keys to the 6-5

All the way live on D's
Whatta you know? I can't find my Rolex
With the 21 diamonds, shinin' on flecks
Whatta you know? When I find that mark-ass nigga
I'ma cut out his fuckin' heart

Whatta you know? I came up on this baller
For the dollar and the weed sack, and his impala
Whatta you think? When you can't trust your so-called homie
Like me, and you thought that you know me?

Whatta you feel? When you're lookin' in the closet
And the gat's gone, and so is your cellular phone?
Whatta you know? I took your loot and the jewels
With the Buddha and the laptop in the nickel-plated tool

Whatta you know? Now I run the show
With the phat pockets and the nigga's fly gold
Whatta you think? When you ass gets jacked
By a homie who was supposed to have your back?

Whatta you know? I'm rollin' in my zone
And I think I see the Puto who rigged my home
(Whatta you know?)
I got the glock in the glove, should I dump on the man

Leave him lying in the mud?
Whatta you know? he pulled out my 4-4
Now I got no choice, so I let it all flow
(Whatta you know?)

The motherfucker's all blastin' 4-5 equal
In time for some tractions
(Whatta you know?)
Slide action, no question forty-five

Slug is bad for your complexion
(Whatta you know?)
The Puto's cryin' like a bitch
Now the Puto's lyin' in a fuckin' ditch

(Whatta you know?)
You can't even trust your fuckin' best homeboy these days, homes
(Whatta you know?)
You got to sleep with one nine fuckin' open

(Whatta you know?)
Paybacks a motherfuckin' bitch'
(Whatta you know?)
That Puto should've watched his fuckin' back

Whatta you know?
Whatta you know?
Whatta you know?
Whatta you know?

Play the MP3 online for free!

381bd28392c0b25ee4739add4ec42653

Hot - Lyrics - Under Construction - Missy Elliott

Title: Hot
Album: Under Construction
Artist: Missy Elliott
Composer(s): Tim Mosley, Missy Elliott

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

Lyric:
This is an old school Missy exclusive

Look I ain't on no ra ra shit
You wanna test how far miss get
Me and Timothy's cars got kits
But we don't drive around tryin' to prove you shit

Everyone trying to be that bitch
But there can only be one bitch, make hits
I know I must make y'all sick
'Cause after I spit you beg to quit

I used to drive a six
And then I bought a Mercala Gold and sit
On the plush leather seats forget
And I have my own click, yes I must admit

And my ass is it
Misdemeanor have you seen her? I'm the best to get
And those who try to test this chick
Where they at right now? In peace restin' in

If you broke, just say you broke
'Cause all you blowin' up ya ass is some smoke
'Cause rich folks, we buy boats
And you's a bum broke nigga that's for sure

I know you broke, just say you broke
'Cause all you blowin' up ya ass is some smoke
'Cause rich folks, we buy boats
And you's a bum broke liar that's for sure

Yea boo, you know, you a joke
Wear a fake Rolex, call it a Ro
Actin' like you down with so and so
You whack on whack, bows I came to throw

I might just let you mop my floor
For my autograph take this flick to go
Cheese! Miss don't say no more
'Cause you know what I do and you know what I know

And I don't think so
You don't wanna lose a arm or elbow
If ya broke then just say so
'Cause the Bentley that you rentin', yo, it's just got to go

Back to the black man sto'
Along with ya weave cop a new Afro
Why you wanna make miss stoop so low?
But if you try to test me, I just check ya slow

If you broke, just say you broke
'Cause all you blowin' up ya ass is some smoke
'Cause rich folks, we buy boats
And you's a bum broke nigga that's for sure

I know you broke, just say you broke
'Cause all you blowin' up ya ass is some smoke
'Cause rich folks, we buy boats
And you's a bum broke liar that's for sure

In old school we used to call out names
But I ain't tryin' to give you no fame
My credit card gon' bring ya pain
To know your account just hold change

No need to wreck ya brains
Trying to see who Missy gon' slain
I roll solo, not with a gang
I don't carry guns, kick ass with a chain

Don't let me say it again
I don't carry guns, kick ass with a chain
Whatta! Like a Chinese man
Reverse it, you know what I'm sayin'?

If you broke, just say you broke
'Cause all you blowin' up ya ass is some smoke
'Cause rich folks, we buy boats
And you's a bum broke nigga that's for sure

I know you broke, just say you broke
'Cause all you blowin' up ya ass is some smoke
'Cause rich folks, we buy boats
And you's a bum broke liar that's for sure

{Dear Lord Almighty
I know when It's our time to go, it's our time to go
But when you come to carry us home
Do we not be entertainers any more?}

{Do we just rest in peace
Or do we go back to see our families' pain?
Do we not remember here on Earth
Or come back as a new person again?}

{I ask these questions
Will Aaliyah, Lisa, Tupac, Big Pun be our newest generation?
Because if so, like a Michael Jackson release
The whole world is anticipating}

{The cds fall and the soldiers come back
And get the crown they deserve
For giving us great music and great music
That will always be heard, we love you}

Play the MP3 online for free!

5b684ccc50cd787e43d6f07866bc7a05

Whatta Man - Lyrics - The Best Of En Vogue - En Vogue

Title: Whatta Man
Album: The Best Of En Vogue
Artist: En Vogue
Composer(s): Cheryl James, Herby Azor, Dave Crawford

Lyric:
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(You gotta say it again, now)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Yeah he's a mighty, mighty good man)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Yes, he is)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Oh uh yeah)

I wanna take a minute or two and give much respect due
To the man's that's made a difference in my world
And although most men are hoes, he flows on the down low
'Cuz I never heard about him with another girl
But I don't sweat it because it's just pathetic to let it
Get me involved in that he-said, she-said crowd

I know that ain't nobody perfect
I give props to those who deserve it
And believe me you all, he's worth it
So here's to the future 'cuz we got through the past
I finally found somebody that could make me laugh
You're so crazy, I think I wanna have your baby

Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Alright, yes he is)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Oh he's a mighty, mighty good man)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Ooh ooh you gotta say it again, now)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Oh uh yeah)

My man is smooth like Barry and his voice got base
A body like Arnold with a Denzel face
He's smart like a doctor with a real good rep
And when he comes home, he's relaxed with pep
He always got a gift for me every time I see him
A lotta snot nose, ex-flames couldn't be him

He never ran a corny line once to me yet
So I give him stuff that he'll never forget
He keeps me on cloud nine just like the temps
He's not a fake wanna be, tryin' to be a pimp
He dresses like a dapper don, but even in jeans
He's a God sent original, the man of my dreams

Yes, my man says he loves me, never says he loves me not
Not to rush me good and touch me in the right spot
See other guys that I've had, they've tried to play all the mac
But every time they tried, I've said, "That's not it"
But not this man, he's got the right potion
Baby, rub it down and make it smooth like lotion

Yeah the ritual, highway to heaven
From seven to seven, he's got me open like seven eleven
And yes, it's me that he's always choosin'
With him I'm never loosin' and he knows that my name is not Susan
He always has heavy conversation for the mind
Which means a lot to to me 'cuz good men are hard to find

Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(He's a mighty, mighty good man)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Alright, say it again now)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Uh oh oh)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Oh I said whatta mighty good man)

Know what I'm saying?
He's a mighty, mighty good man
Ya'll, ya'll don't hear me, now check him out

My man gives real lovin', that's why I call him killa
He's not a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am, he's a thrilla
He takes his time and does everything right
Knocks me out with one shot for the rest of the night
He's a real smooth brotha, never in a rush
And he gives me goose pimples with every single touch

Spends quality time with his kids when he can
Secure in his manhood 'cuz he's a real man
A lover and a fighter and he'll knock another out
Don't take him for a sucker 'cuz it's not what he's about
Every time I need him, he always got my back
Never disrespectful, 'cuz his momma taught him that

(I got a good man)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Uh, a mighty, mighty good man)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Yes, he is)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(Whatta mighty good man)
Whatta man, whatta man, whatta man, whatta mighty good man
(He's a mighty, mighty good man ya'll)

Whatta mighty, mighty good man ya'll, yeah
Whatta mighty good man
I'm breakin' down, I'm breakin' down one time

God, God
(Whatta man, whatta man)
God, God
(Whatta man, whatta man)
God, God
(Whatta man, whatta man)
God, God

Play the MP3 online for free!

40e1fe61908060200e68504e68e8c9d5

I'M Still #1 - Lyrics - Cypress Hill

Title: I'M Still #1
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Lawrence Parker

Lyric:
Funkmaster Flex, is down with us
KRS-One, he's down with us
The Wu-Tang Clan is down with us
Busta Rhymes you know he's down with us

Naughty and Fat Joe are down with us
The MAAD Circle are down with us
Def Squad, is down with us
[Unverified] DN's and Mike M [unverified] are down with us

Dr. Dre you know he's down with us
Julio G he's down with us
Sway and King Tech are down with us
Makin' funky music is a must I'm #1

People still takin' rappin' for a joke
A passing hope, or a phase with the rope
Sometime I choke and try to believe
When I get challenged by a million MC's

I try and tell them, we're all in this together
My album was raw, because no one would ever
Think like I think, or do what I do
I stole the show, then I leave without a clue

Whatta you think makes up Cypress Hill?
Concisive teaching, or very clear speaking
Ridiculous bass, aggravating treble
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid

Not by financial aid but the break of hits
'Causing me to take long trips
I'm the original, teacher of this type of style
Rockin' off beat with a smile or smirk

Or chuckle, yet some are not up to
Cypress Hill Posse, so I love to
Step in the jam and slam, I'm not Superman
'Cause anybody can

Or should be able, to rock a turntable
Grab the mic, plug it in and begin
But here's where the problem starts, no heart
Because of that, a lot of groups fell apart

Rap is still an art, and no one's from the old school
'Cause rap is still a brand new cool
I say no one from the old school 'cause rap on the whole
Isn't even twenty years old

Fifty years down the line, you can start this
'Cause we'll be the old school artists
And even in that time, I'll say a rhyme

A brand new style, ruthless and wild
Runnin' around, spendin' money havin' fun
'Cause even then, I'm still #1

Soul Assassin crew of course
Comes to express with styles galore
Ways of rhyming, old and new
Past and present, knock knock who is it?

A brand new style, time to change
People talk about me when they see me on stage
Live in action, guaranteed raw
I hang with the rich and I work for the poor

And after all you can say you saw
Cypress Hill, stompin' once more
I play it by ear, I love to steer
The fifty-seven Bel Air from here to there

I grab the beer, but not in the ride
'Cause I'm not stupid, I don't drink and drive
I'm not a beginner, amateur or local
My album is sellin', because of my vocals

You know what you need to learn?
Old school artists don't always burn
You're just another rapper whose had his turn
Now it's my turn, and I am concerned

About idiots, posing as kings
What are we here to rule, I thought we're 'sposed to sing
And if we are to sing, then let us begin to teach
Many of you are educated open your mouth and speak

A Cypress Hill soldier, is something like a total renegade
Except I don't steal, I rhyme to get paid
Airplanes flyin', overseas people dyin'
Politicians lyin', I'm tryin'

Not to escape, but hit the problem head-on
From bringin, out the truth in the song
So C H P short for Cypress Hill Production
Made a little noise 'cause the crew was sayin' somethin'

People have the nerve to take me for a gangsta
An ignorant one, somethin' closer to a prankster
Doin petty crimes goin' straight to penetentiary
But in the scale of crime that's really elementary

This beat is now compellin' me, to explain the silence
Why my last jam was so violent
It's simple, Cypress Hill will teach reality

No beatin' around the bush, straight up, just like my weed is free
So now you know, a poet's job is never done
But I'm never overworked, 'cause I'm still #1

MC Eiht, he's down with us
Big Boy and Ralph M are down with us
ReFugee Camp, is down with us
Khartoum and Vigga V are down with us

Call O' Da Wild is down with us
Psycho Realm, is down with us
Lifestyle Car Club is down with us
Makin' funky music is a must, I'm #1

Play the MP3 online for free!

4010896cb175ae91f4def74463356f0c

Kitty Kitty - Lyrics - 69 Boyz

Title: Kitty Kitty
Artist: 69 Boyz
Composer(s): Albert V Bryant

Lyric:
Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty
Aw, kitty kitty
(Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty)
I thought I saw a puddy tat

Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty
Aw, kitty kitty
(Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty)
I thought I saw a puddy tat

What you doin'?
Nuttin' hon', uhh, uhh, I'm just nuttin' hon'
What you doin'?
(Nuttin', hon', aww, honey hon')

What you doin'?
Nuttin' hon', uhh, uhh, I'm just nuttin' hon'
What you doin'?
(Nuttin', hon', aww, honey hon')

Like I said, the party ain't dead
These girls ain't even scared to give head

Girl, stop tryin' to be smooth
Make way for a brother to make the first move
You're tryin' to act nice and sweet
'Cause I know that you is a freak

So let a brother lick them paws
And run the tongue on the G string draws
And tease the kitty just a little
Then stick my pole in the middle

Before I hit, let me ask
Did the dogs done hit in the path
'Cause if they ain't got they shots
Then the kitty might not get got

They say it ain't got a bad bone
In any ol 'eyes, it's gold
So girl, don't act seditty
Just give a brother some of that kitty

Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty
Aw, kitty kitty
(Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty)
I thought I saw a puddy tat

What you doin'?
Nuttin' hon', uhh, uhh, I'm just nuttin' hon'
What you doin'?
(Nuttin', hon', aww, honey hon')

Like I said, the party ain't dead
All these chicken heads just scared!

Kitties is cool and all that
But I like the real big cats
See, a cat got a little more strength
So they can take a little more length

You gotta feed a kitty real slow
But a cat can take a little bit mo'
So lay on down on the silk
So you can get a bowl of this milk

Then let's do it like dogs
I wanna see ya climb the walls
And once I get in them guts
I'ma do that straight cat strut

So please don't make a brother beg
To get inbetween them legs
Come on girl, have some pity
And give a brother some of that kitty

True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat
True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat
True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat
True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat

Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty
Aw, kitty kitty
(Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty)
I thought I saw a puddy tat

Jack and Jill went up the hill
To fetch a pail of water
Jack came down, saidm "Thank you ma'am
But uh, you got change for a quarter?" Aow

Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey

Check it out
Lil' Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet
Eatin' a bowl of cream o' wheat
She gave me a show, whatta you know
That lil' hoe was a freak, aw

Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey

Check it
Little Jack Horner sat in the corner
Beggin' this girl all night
She said no, he said "Oh, you gon' come on down
And take a hike, baby"

Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey

Little Bo Peep lost her sheep
Eyes were full of tears
I think girl need her
Whoot, there it is, aow

Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey
Oh, baby, hey

True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat
True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat
True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat
True dat, true dat, true dat, true dat

Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty
Aw, kitty kitty
(Here kitty-kitty, here kitty-kitty-kitty)
I thought I saw a puddy tat

Play the MP3 online for free!

d5625715c4ed39d61585a9b92f2751cb

Two Cool Rock Chicks Listening To Neu - Lyrics - Sonic Youth

Title: Two Cool Rock Chicks Listening To Neu
Artist: Sonic Youth
Composer(s): Kim Althea Gordon, Thurston Joseph Moore, Lee M Ranaldo, Steve Shelley

Lyric:
That's what you should do, you should be Dinosaur's manager
Y'know Dinosaur has like ten managers
They don't have any other managers
They have like are you kidding? They have a manager in every city

It'd be such an easy job though to just tell them what to do, I think
Yeah but, it's like, they want you to do everything else
Like they're that kind of band like they don't wanna do anything

Yeah but that's easier to do everything than to just do some of it
It's easier y'know
That's true and have somebody else
And then have somebody else fuck up what you've done
By doing part of your job it's like easier just to do the whole thing

In some ways I think like somebody like Redd Kross
Would be easy to manage 'cause they'd just be so like
"Well, whatta we do now?"
And you just tell them and that would be it

They just wanna rock
Yeah right they don't wanna do anything
They just wanna be rock gods, y'know

So let's call J
Okay
Hello, is J there?
Oh um can you just tell him Kim and Susanne called
Okay, thank you, bye

Play the MP3 online for free!

f9d79c6fa5b472b7f2bcd5c829e281a3

Dedicated - Lyrics - Das Efx

Title: Dedicated
Artist: Das Efx
Composer(s): Klark Kent, Andre Weston, Willie Hines, Richard Steacker

Lyric:
Dedicated, dedicated
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Yo, well, if the honeys think I'm stuck up, I tell 'em shut the fuck up
And you can get'cha man, I bet a grand he gettin' broke up
So whatta, who wanna fuck around and get silly?
Really? We're on the road again just like Willie

Nelson, so what the hell son, no bore ya
Annoy ya when I spill the beans like lawyer
I saw ya, tried to pick my style, hit the balls
I guess you must be ready to die like Biggie Smalls

Diggity good heavens, it all started in the projects like the Evans
But fuck the good times, we packin' weapons
Want the fortune and the fame kid, you know the name, kid
Style reign, puttin' MC's through style change

And if you want me, then you got to come get me
I'm strictly fuckin' niggas up like 1 50
1, two rum shots chased precise
Two gun shots but it's sheisty, they wanna ice

Thinkin' I might beat the hurt, I'm not him
And I'm gon' get paid and fool like Rakim

Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Well, here I come, word, yo, this be my third release
I never let the honeys and the moneys get me geese, peace
To the crews payin' dues in the background
How my rap sound? Yo Boogie Banger, bring it back now

Niggas with the runnin' mile, your time's runnin' out
I make it happen, niggas slackin', son, they dumbin' out
Actin' fly, jack passed me by
Muah, you can kiss that black ass goodbye

No lie, see I fry your crew 'til they sizzle
Fizzle, you know the sewer style is in bizzle
Bull take a pull, lift your floor money pack
Backs before I put a whoopin' on that ass

Do not get the booze, split the L, stuff it well
Niggas bullshittin', wonder how the fuck it sell
Now dig it, me and my man, we came wit it
We stuffin' motherfuckers out the way and like Riddick

Admit it, I'm right to rough so tighten up
I'm audi for them niggas actin' rowdy, lightin' blunts, what?

Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated, dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated, dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated, dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

To all the niggas gettin' high
Dedicated to all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated to all the niggas runnin' game
Dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Dedicated to all the niggas gettin' high
To all the bitches actin' fly
Dedicated to all the niggas who on the game kid
Dedicated to all the chicks that do the same

Play the MP3 online for free!

5e756b784b84bbd4032729d4e85f446b

Rap Is Outta Control - Lyrics - Business As Usual - Epmd

Title: Rap Is Outta Control
Album: Business As Usual
Artist: Epmd
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Parrish J Smith

Lyric:
Tom J is in the house, rap is outta control
Tom J is in the house, rap is outta control
Rap is outta control, rap is outta control
Rap is outta control, rap is outta control
Rap is outta control

G, man, do I have the power like He-Man
To crack a wack MC's head, open like a pea can
Damn, my name should become Sam
But I prefer a grand royal for TheJam

I'm putting heads out, the guns I use to pump lead out
Hey son, I suggest that you head out
I total, cremate, strikin' mic flakes
I won't break, I make more nerds than a earthquake

Strong, got more strength than King Kong
I'm worldwide, I'm interviewed like Kaity Chung
I'm on now, live at twelve, it's so dope
All the way to four o'clock, there no soaps

I'm able to rock the mic nice and stable
It's a chance that you might see me on cable vision
Showtime or HBO with the flow
Gettin' more play than Rambo

Aiyyo, whatta you know, party people, rap is outta control
Rap is outta control, it's definitely, fuckin' outta control
Rap is outta control, rap is definitely outta control
It's outta control, rap is outta control

Straight from the underground, where universal beatdown is a mush
Yo, I stuck crab MC, E, too late, he got crushed
Was he a pop rap singer, R&B swinger
Faggot who jumped the gate and now you get the finger

In other words, it's absurd to try to get with
The brother from Brentwood, Long Island, nicknamed Swift Lip
I'm too smooth and yes, I groove to the Slam Track
Wit a Beck's in my right hand, left hand on Bozack

I moved on ya posse, first reaction was
"Oh shit, let's do that brother, hell no, why, he's too quick"
So dial 1-900-55-eat-shit
I pack a twelve shot nine mil and yes I still kick

What, ass like a jock, height 6'3" and stocky
Rap name not Balboa, so motherfuck Rocky
I'm the mainstream supreme, slamming like Aikeem the Dream
And yes sometimes it may seem that

Rap is outta control, rap is outta control
Sure dude, rap-rap-rap-rap-rap, for sure dude
Rap is outta control, yes, yes, y'all, yes, y'all
Yes, y'all, yes, y'all, kick it E

I stand tall, I won't fall, I recall, ha ha, your rhymes stall
When I bust caps, until they Kryptonite caps
I reign of steel, I swap bullets like that
I'm like, Superman, fly high way up in the sky
And if you try to shoot me down, clown
I won't die, I cremate

I hate, let's exterminate
Wait for a second, E, time to debate
As I take my fisherman hat off, there's no hat
For an MC on a trail of a mad comeback

Play the MP3 online for free!

1fe0413f3044ea8269db446cb7f9c51a

Bout My Business - Lyrics - R.U.L.E. - Ja Rule

Title: Bout My Business
Album: R.U.L.E.
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Raymond Grant, Jeffrey B Atkins, Simon Haseley, Irving Domingo Lorenzo, Richard Grant, Jeffrey Crocker, Tiheem Crocker, Ramel Gill

Lyric:
Yeah
Yeah, yeah, yo
I got a knack for pushin crack, and cookin raw coke
Fresh off the boat, no vest but I tote, and wear it like a coat
I'm starin through the scope, with one eye open and one shut
Zero in on the target, spark him and watch his head bust
Ain't shit to discuss, unless it's moneybags
Or the SK-8, drop Jag with funny tags
Homey laugh now but die later when the lead dump
And double barrel slugs like Elmer Fudd, I'm handsome

Some of your favorite rappers is flamin, I'm bangin things at them
They claim they gangster, lettin mens give brains to them
I aim the stainless, let the games begin
Bang bang dangerous, my gun gang famous
My hoes don't speak English, catch 'em at the foreign money exchange
New Armani leather in the Range
When you see my gang, tuck in your chain
We stuck in the game, we fuckin the same, bang

I'm bout my money and bout my business (bang!)
Shout out my niggaz en route to riches (bang!)
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!)
And we all gon' get away, all my niggaz say
I'm bout my money and bout my business (yeah!)
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!)
Gettin money and nigga it's insignificant (yeah! what?)
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say

It's back to business, stackin riches
If you, act suspicious, it's a Wrap like Reynolds
Black Continental, mac outta the window
Black's out of his mental, I black out with pistols
It ain't confidential, all the shit I been through
Now I'm gettin money and a mill' is essential
Bang bang, nigga, 'til the day we die
A tooth for a tooth and a eye for a eye

Nigga you know it's, business befo' pleasure, money over chicks
Dummies in the clip, nickel on my hip patrollin through the strip
Bet a stack, head crack, no rollin to the six
Scoop up my chips, then I split, with my beautiful bitch
Like Jada Pinkett Smith, for that paper I leave stinkin and stiff
Your pinky and wrist, and your necklace
Get removed nigga, my wolves is playin hardball
Leavin him bloody like a Pelican Bay yard brawl

I'm bout my money and bout my business (bang!)
Shout out my niggaz en route to riches (bang!)
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!)
And we all gon' get away, all my niggaz say
I'm bout my money and bout my business (yeah!)
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!)
Gettin money and nigga it's insignificant (yeah! what?)
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say

Who wanna know why I got so much beef with so many rappers?
Drama, it's the INC red rum spun backwards
Karma, is a muh'fucker watch your actions
Cause the clip to the max slips in bananas
I catch fire like matches {whew} then blow out
And the flyest crews goin the fastest
Pull up to the hottest club in New York, with my hazards on
No tags, I just drove it off the showroom floor
Straight cash, bout my paper, I'm on my gangster
Doin this shit for ten years, niggaz I'm major
Maybach and all that, same behavior
Money over bitches, bitches over strangers
Guns befo' bangers but bangers do
For niggaz that had enough and ain't got no clue
That they can get slayed, flex and get sprayed
And spin they head like yo' hottest DJ's, motherfuckers

I'm bout my money and bout my business (bang!)
Shout out my niggaz en route to riches (bang!)
I doubt we different, hustlers pitchin (bang!)
And we all gon' get away, all my niggaz say
I'm bout my money and bout my business (yeah!)
Whatta, bout my bitches who mouth is ridiculous (yeah!)
Gettin money and nigga it's insignificant (yeah! what?)
Always get your pay, I love it when I hear 'em say

I'm bout my money and bout my business

Play the MP3 online for free!

fef03a788657f2d277f2b281a872ddc1

Ray'S Rockhouse - Lyrics - Manhattan Transfer

Title: Ray'S Rockhouse
Artist: Manhattan Transfer
Composer(s): Ray Charles, Jon Hendricks

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

Lyric:
Ray's rock house, that's my joint
House of soul, git my point
We don't care what's your dues
Come in here, lose yo' blues

When trouble comes a-knockin'
Everything looks better while yo' rockin'
You don't notice trouble while yo' rockin'

Rock
Let's rock! That's what we're offerin' you
Let's rock! That's what we wanted to do
Let's rock! Rock all yo troubles away
Let's rock! Rock till the dawnin' of day
Let's rock! Rock house is ready to roll
Let's rock! Rock house is good fo the soul

Every Saturday night there's a scene
That's a part of the fun
Mrs. Tucker will enter the joint
In a search for her son

Every Saturday night he sneaks out
Leavin' her in the lurch
But she's lookin' to bring him on home
'Cause tomorrow is church

She really hates the rock house
She's sure the Devil is in control here
Nothin' but rock 'n' roll here

Lady who got a lotta rockin' to do
Swing, whatta yo waitin' for
We got plenty of soul for you

Everybody gotta loosen your hip
Do a few rolls, wait till yo' feel yo' back slip
Then yo rockin', rock!

Rock
Let's rock! That's what we're offerin' you
Let's rock! That's what we wanted to do
Let's rock! Rock all yo troubles away
Let's rock! Rock till the dawnin' of day
Let's rock! Rock house is ready to roll
Let's rock! Rock house is good fo the soul

Sisters of the flock house
Ain't got no business comin' to the rock house
All the people in here are all in to sin in here
Of this there's no doubt
That's why Miz' Tucker is pullin' Sam out

Rock
Let's rock! That's what we're offerin' you
Let's rock! That's what we wanted to do
Let's rock! Rock all yo troubles away
Let's rock! Rock till the dawnin' of day
Let's rock! Rock house is ready to roll
Let's rock! Rock house is good fo my soul

So good
Every day I go to rock
Every day

I feel good
Every day I go to rock
Every day

You know I go to rock
I go to roll, I go to rock
I go to rock, I go to roll
I go to rock, I go to roll

Every day I go to rock

Play the MP3 online for free!

2bf5d4771ddacd767e406e37d62e7815

Break Em' Off Some - Lyrics - Black Sunday - Cypress Hill

Title: Break Em' Off Some
Album: Black Sunday
Artist: Cypress Hill
Composer(s): Joe Zawinul, Louis Freeze, Larry Muggerud

Lyric:
This one goes out to all you punk motherfuckers out there
Yeah, eat a bowl of dick'up fools!
Do ya wanna get crazy?
Comin' atcha in '93!

Through the car swings
The firing pins go click
When I duck behind the trash bin
Ran out of ammo no doubt my gatt is dry like a fuckin' drought

Got to make my way home
Hit the gate and get my chrome goddamn this song
They got me cornered lemme just warn ya
I'll pull this trigga make your family mourn ya

Boo-hoo! Where ya gonna run to when I pull out the Scooby Do
Run let me break ya off some, hit the floor 'coz it ain't no fun
But here they come, they must wanna get done
No frontin' punk, I'll break ya off somethin!

Break 'em off some
Break 'em off some
Break 'em off some
Break 'em off some

What the fuck I'm rollin'?
In a Mack truck that's stolen, guess what I'm holdin'?
Ammo to bust my load still I'm easin' on down
The yellow brick road

Whatta ya know?
A pig in a plain brown wrapper, he wanna bring me down
I'll hit that corner, lemme just warn ya
I'll bring ya ass down, make ya family mourn ya

21 gun salute, trying to take my loot
Don't make me shoot
I'll hit my blunt and pass you a load
And punk, let me break ya of something

Break 'em off some
Break 'em off some

I got to roll with the self control
In the green tank when the shit unfolds
Hold up, I got it sewn up
Me and my niggas are about to blow up

Got the pigs on my tail
What they get is the hollow point shell, caught in the sail
Servin' my sentence, got my apprentice in the hood
But the nigga is senseless

Out on parole
Now the nigga has turned to my fold, now the punk gotta go
That punk got shady, wouldn't repay me
Let the punk know that ya still can't fade me
Maybe the fucker would stop
But nothin' would stop me from havin' to break 'em off something

Break 'em off some
Break 'em off some
Break 'em off some
...

Play the MP3 online for free!

0626c703dd4ee7d659974f1b34751593