When Shit Get Thick - Lyrics - Untold Story - Game

Title: When Shit Get Thick
Album: Untold Story
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Joseph Tom, Sean Montel Smith, Jayceon Taylor

Lyric:
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed?
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when The Game is comin', after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming

Now who in the runnin'? No one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin'
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors

It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours

Poppin' Crist' in the 6, like we drivin' through Mardi Gras
Thinkin' 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip and I let 'em all go
Like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick

When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

'Cause when shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistent like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war like United States soldiers

Lock tight and rock right like gray eight oz's
I'll be hittin' up spots in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over

We ball out cursin', yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin', grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings

Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin' known for gettin' off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle

When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

'Cause when shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it

I'm the ice holder makin' the cut, never breakin' 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat

You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We get low and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin' some 20 inch shoes and some

I'm in the widebody XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta holla the name
It's JT from the Fillmoe streets to CPT

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82f73fa33c420bfe3f52b3ae299e7f79

When... Get Thick - Lyrics - Game

Title: When... Get Thick
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Joseph Tom, Sean Montel Smith, Jayceon Taylor

Lyric:
Who really the best rapper since 'Pac got killed
I done answered that question when I copped my deal
Ask yourself when the Game is comin', after next summer
I predict my shit'll drop before the next Howard homecoming

Now who in the runnin', no one, ask the niggaz who want it
I got a four-fifth and it just like me, it stay gunnin'
Me and my niggaz stay blunted fogged up in the 600
Guilty as charged, blunts in the air, guns in the doors

It's written, Compton niggaz never run from the law
Plus we get Monopoly money with hotels and a board
So I'll never see a jail, and I'm allergic to bars
Can't sit behind 'em or drink at 'em, so we travel with ours

Poppin' Crist' in the 6, like we drivin' through Mardi Gras
Thinkin' 'bout beads and titties as I roll through the city
And I keep 16 in the clip, and I let 'em all go
Like the Lakers did Ellie, Atty and Nick, huh

When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, 'cause

When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

No garbage we smoke molta, move big cocoa
We off the train tracks like the great space coaster
We hit real big and consistant like Sam Sosa
Prepare for war, like United States soldiers

Lock tight and rock right like grey eight oz's
I'll be hittin' up spots, in them flip Range Rovers
Before you even try to play, foolish all over
Empty out yo' pockets, turn everything over

We ball out cursin' yeah we keep it the sickest
When we roll by the quads in them Z-66's
Big spittin', grip kitten, that big face greed
Always dirty never clean but we live like kings

Legendary like Sting, it's a history to follow
But not known for stingin' known for gettin' off hollows
Shoot me a glass of Remy, nah fuck it the whole bottle
And watch me act bad and take off, full throttle

When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent, cause

When shit get thick, niggaz start dyin'
Bodies pop up in dumpsters, mothers start cryin'
Payback come through violent, nigga
We hit blocks, bust shots, leave ya whole block silent

I'm from a batch where it ain't no cut, we all in
36 on a triple beam scale for meal
Duffle bag on my shoulder my route, through the back of the jet
To bag up baguettes and everybody know it

I'm the iceholder makin' the cut, never breakin' 'em up
My favorite color is rainbowed up
Ain't a coke dealer, but I got bricks for cheap
Hit the lab for a fo' day block, we got heat

You niggaz can't compete when I walk in the streets
We Get Low, and there's no idea with the info
It's a rule of thumb, let them dudes a come
I'm cruisin' some, 20 inch shoes and some

I'm in the wide body XM-5, all my snakes is live
We check your five, the spot where the tec dies
And everybody gotta Holla, the name
It's JT from the Fillmore streets to CPT

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21e0e0659c237c1b889e5e51b9d30d74

Pusha Man - Lyrics - Joe Budden - Joe Budden

Title: Pusha Man
Album: Joe Budden
Artist: Joe Budden
Composer(s): Joseph Kuleszynski, Joseph Budden

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

Lyric:
Say blood, heh, heh, what's happening?
What you mean, blood? I got what you need
(Pusha man nigga)
Go around this corner with me real quick
(Ohh)

(Fuck you thought?)
Oh shit, watch out for thug
(Pusha man)
Man, you got to be cool blood
Gotta feel you right here
Niggaz down for whatever

Everybody's so gangsta gangsta, tell me how you do it
Keep the facade that real when you not that real, that's real
The strip is hot so I don't hear my foes beefin'
That's tellin' me that I bought all these burners for no reason

Come, get me thug I walk with a mini teeny tiny eeny weeny snub
And real niggaz give me love
Besides, don't make me feel like you threaten my life God
(Why?)
I go and cop somethin' that only come with a Tripod
(And the)
Old school is puff puff, pass the spark up

And white kids got high, off of magic marker
Back when 40s was liquor, now shorties is bigger
(But now)
They wanna be down, y'all wannabe clowns, get a grip homes
Blastin' the tool, you out of character dude

You not a felon or rider, you a fellow subscriber
Who is you tellin' them lies to, don't push it to a limit
To mimic you benefiting to what, the gimmicks up, blah

When shit get thick, clips start to spit
(Pusha man)
Push work wait wet and dipstick
(Pusha man)
You need product, I'ma be there, con of the year

Fuck givin' my word, I solemnly swear
Swear to hold your fort, I solemnly swear
Keep a straight face in court, I said, "I solemnly swear"
It's pusha man incognito from the feds in the precinct
I solemnly swear to this game I pledge my allegiance

Uhh, it's killin' me soft, jokers is actin' like they really the boss
With a Milli Vanilli award 'cause they really a fraud
Milli's applaud if you ain't really my dawg
I crack Phillies with broads but now I'm sober

They don't feel me no more and G.P.s and V.I.P.s
I be O-T in D.C. with O-Zs so my time's up like O.C.
Uhh, when I hustle they thought that I went soft
'Cause y'all jerked them for the price, I took twenty percent off

I don't drive I like shotguns, never pulled L's
I like shotguns, hate .22's I like shotguns
Non-descrip's talkin' 'bout they got guns
Like tecs 4-5s and shotguns, really they never shot guns

Go 'head act like a gangsta claim to clap like a gangsta
It's all good fellas, now he rap like a gangsta
Hate me or love me, dap me or slug me
Scream, "Fuck me" but when things get ugly, I get gully

When shit get thick, clips start to spit
(Pusha man)
Push work wait wet and dipstick
(Pusha man)
You need product, I'ma be there, con of the year

Fuck givin' my word, I solemnly swear
Swear to hold your fort, I solemnly swear
Keep a straight face in court, I said, "I solemnly swear"
It's pusha man incognito from the feds in the precinct
I solemnly swear to this game I pledge my allegiance

Look, a cock nina should get me a hot beamer
Settin' up shop in the suburbs
I'm gettin' that white cream that Noxema
I'm good at duckin' the cops subpoena
Cats is shook when alone but come tough
When the cops are between us

Stash house was never empty, had the cracks on UP
Soprano came to see me, got barritoned UP
Had clientele crazy, every borough I hustled
Remember back in the day when you had to be thorough to hustle?

Cats hustle to feed they kin, now every combo
With a package to try to pitch for some sneakers and Timbs
Shit back in the day, niggaz looked at jail like school
Now new jacks is spittin' 'bout jail like it's cool
(Dawg)

That ain't gangsta, I don't believe that, you don't believe it yourself
Gangsta's real, gangsta speaks for itself
A lot of gangstas is lifers and they gone right now
So fag cats is screamin' gangsta, something's wrong right now

When shit get thick, clips start to spit
(Pusha man)
Push work wait wet and dipstick
(Pusha man)
You need product, I'ma be there, con of the year

Fuck givin' my word, I solemnly swear
Swear to hold your fort, I solemnly swear
Keep a straight face in court, I said, "I solemnly swear"
It's pusha man incognito from the feds in the precinct
I solemnly swear to this game I pledge my allegiance

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d158d97fb4b12fb3680299710a044d89

What Up - Lyrics - It Ain't Safe No More... - Busta Rhymes

Title: What Up
Album: It Ain't Safe No More...
Artist: Busta Rhymes
Composer(s): J Yancey, Trevor Smith

Lyric:
"It's new!"
Yeah! yeah, Busta bust down, flipmode now
I know what you all feel like doin'
Go 'head and crash your whip in the fuckin' wall
It's cool, niggaz, we gets busy

For sure, spit rogue, get more 'bout to kick in the door
Dick sore, split whores 'til they shit on the floor
Clique more sick from when you use to see us before
Shit, kill a nigga, quick, niggaz know my rapport
Keep workers on the strip that be ready for war
Brick I flip a little quicker if they shit in the store
Rip, maybe 'til they drop, and they shit in they drawers
Shit crazy when I pop, and I'm grippin' the four

Thick bitches in the spot, watch them strip for the sport
Spit vicious for the block, yeah we swingin' a torch
Stick niggaz for they shit, thank them for they support
Quick nigga, better quit snitchin' down at the court
Check track a little slick and try to go on my Forbes
Cause we stackin' like we rich, and we holdin' the fort
This time, we had to bring it, guess what we brought
The hottest shit to bang from L.A. to the streets of New York

All my people, get drunk, get high
Get money, get rich, get fly
Get stupid, get busy, get live
Jump all in your whip, turn the key and drive
Make a million yeah we gonna make about five
We speak the truth and we ain't talkin' no jive
I'm speakin' to the streets and everybody's with it
Once again you know we only come to get it

Ha, I stay wicked now I'm back on the strip
Like I went on a vacation and I'm back from my trip
Nuff radio rotation like I'm sailin' a ship
Or when the team circle the block, busy trailin' my clique
Truck packed full of niggaz with the strap and the whip
Get the gat out of the stash, put it back on my hip
Gat butt you in the face, split and fatten your lip
Blood hit the floor louder than the clap when it drip

I credit your name with bullets, read the back of the script
My victim's initials engraved on the back of the clip
Chicks love the way we roll, how the movement is thick
So official like my name's on the back of your bitch
Pay triple for the name on the back of the stitch
Name like the whole city now I'm changin' the pitch
Kick back kinda crazy when I'm holdin' the fifth
Think you nicer than the God, shit is only a myth

Grab ahold of the masses, I was born with a gift
Niggaz be runnin' they trap, throw 'em over the cliff
Thinkin' and drinkin' the Guinness, busy holdin' the spliff
Flippin' and shittin' on niggaz 'til we old and we stiff
I don't even drive whips, throw the shit on the lift
12 hours, one worker do the whole of the shift
I do the thing to make you open your mouth
And give you shit to bang the midwest and the rest of the south

All my people, get drunk, get high
Get money, get rich, get fly
Get stupid, get busy, get live
Jump all in your whip, turn the key and drive
Make a million yeah we gonna make about five
We speak the truth and we ain't talkin' no jive
I'm speakin' to the streets and everybody's with it
Once again you know we only come to get it

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1fec4ff4348f71eee917f5035d357992

Fuck The Ying Yang Twins - Lyrics - Ying Yang Twins

Title: Fuck The Ying Yang Twins
Artist: Ying Yang Twins
Composer(s): Eric Jackson, Deongelo Holmes, Michael Antoine Crooms

Lyric:
Hey, I went to school with them pussy ass niggas
They ain't worth shit
Man I remember when that nigga used to be ridin?
In that fucked up ass Pontiac

And that shit was goddamn sittin? outside
He had it posted up like that motherfucker was hard
That nigga ain't hard, that no hand ass nigga who he be runnin? with
That nigga aint shit neither, he was up at South Side

Big Boi poppin' 'cause he made that Bankhead Bounce shit
I almost slapped his punk ass one day in the lunch room
Then, goddamn I seen goddamn Eric's crippled ass
Walking down the street

Talkin? 'bout he need a ride, what kinda nigga need a ride?
They made whistle while you twurk and that's functionin?
Ain't these some hatin' ass niggas?
Now look at this shit

I asked that nigga to run me up the street
When he got that goddamn Impala
He said, "Nah", now that was some fucked up ass shit
Them ol? pussy ass niggas can suck my dick

A cold back motherfucker from the 6 zone
The same crippled motherfucker got picked on
Now I ain't never even really have shit, holmes
But a hard time and coal in my spit, holmes

Now I started rockin' shit that I wasn't with, holmes
Made some niggas label me a bitch, holmes
The only plan is im bout to get rich, holmes
If u don?t like what I'm sayin?, suck my dick, holmes

Poppin? pills 'til niggas droppin? and fallin? off the fuckin' block
Some niggas doin? good and some niggas on crack rocks
Some of these niggas make a betta livin? in the game
Some of these niggas may even try but it seems they can't

'Cause when they come down, they see this shit get hard
I know you try to be a man but that shit get hard
If you got it on your chest nigga speak your mind
In your ass get it wrong, you gonna meet by nine, nah

I remember when that nigga D-roc?s mama used to be candy lady
That nigga had to go come strait home from school
And could never go outside and play that lil' punk ass boy
I always told him he wasn't never gon' blow up in this shit

But he still wanna be in this shit
And he start runnin? with goddamn Kain
Like they were really gon' blow up bein? the Ying Yang Twins
Them ol? punk ass niggas

Bustas hustlas, nothin? else but bustas
Clustlas on a nigga pinky make 'em mug us
Grills, my squad conceal upon here
Klips, they gats conceal upon here

Off the river deep down with crip then be quiet
Known from the east to the fuckin? west side
Nigga down to ride 'cause I'm soldierfied
Never swallow my pride if you be chappin' my hide

Look nigga I'm gon' run your bone and try to get with
To put this shit in, now he shaken like a bitch
Fuck that shit, a nigga say he tryin' to sound like me
So I'm gon' bust you in the lip and then we stoppin' the freak

Now you?re at a low of words 'cause the cat
Got your tongue with the gat, got your mouth wide open
So who wanna, "Oh you think your The Don?"
That ain't so, now this real nigga done stepped in to let you fuckin? know

Hey, you remember that nigga Eric used to be walkin? tall
He walkin? tall, god he got 'em beat, he got them golds
He think his pockets swole
Them niggas still ain't got it goin? on

He walkin? around Capital Homes like a lil' punk ass boy
I used to give him his way all the time, he just loved talkin? shit
Now he think he walkin? tall
'Cause he goddamn made, 'Whistle While You Twurk'

Middle of the road ah, watch out for them rollas
Pimpin Glock, totas, thick like soldiers
If ya?ll aint ready, ya?ll gon' get it
You bitch ass niggas can't really fuck with it

Better watch out for them boys, steady creaping up on the map
Wherever I stop and rest, best believe I'm gon' to snap
We c?mon up with nothin' but hits now them niggas wanna hate us
We already on the top of that shit so them niggas can't break us

Drop you like a tree, sting you like a bee
You make me mad now I'm knockin? out your fuckin? teeth
We can take it to the streets, if you ready then its on
Beat you like your daddy then send your ass on

A dead man walkin?, a deaf nigga listenin?
A blind nigga lookin?, a crippled nigga flippin?
No leg nigga runnin?, a no hand nigga slap ya
That's some fucked up shit if no hand nigga slap ya

That nigga must be tellin? the truth 'cause he a no hand ass motherfucker
Tried to slap me with that motherfucker but he missed
I already knew that motherfucker wasn't shit when he first said that shit
That ol? punk ass boy

And then when that goddamn car Eric had broke down
Comin? down the street
That mother fucker just fell
That was some funny ass shit boy

Yeah, and then when we ran that punk ass nigga out from South Side?
And goddamn he ran straight up to his crib in the complete other alley
How come this motherfucker hadn't learned yet
That was some fucked up ass shit, it was funny though

It was funny to me 'cause this motherfucker think this other nigga
Gonna help him
And everybody started turnin? their back on him
I already knew he wasn't shit and he never gon' be shit
And he ain't never gon' mount to shit

Fuck the Ying Yang Twins, they ain't shit
They ain't ridin' on dubs, they ain't shit
They got them golds in their mouth, but they ain't shit
They ain't shit, they ain't shit

Fuck the Ying Yang Twins, they ain't shit
They ain't ridin' on dubs, they ain't shit
They got them golds in their mouth, but they ain't shit
They ain't shit, they ain't shit

Fuck the Ying Yang Twins, they ain't shit
They ain't ridin' on dubs, they ain't shit
They got them golds in their mouth, but they ain't shit
They ain't shit, they ain't shit

Fuck the Ying Yang Twins

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dd0ad64808bfc2e68c0b39736c901d0e

Land Of Tha Heartless - Lyrics - E. 1999 Eternal - Bone Thugs N Harmony

Title: Land Of Tha Heartless
Album: E. 1999 Eternal
Artist: Bone Thugs N Harmony
Composer(s): Bone D J U-Neek Kenny Mccloud

Lyric:
Don't niggas don't wanna start shit
Buck, buck to the bang
Sendin' bullets to the brain, nigga, yeah
A nigga that always at my city with me
Now, who was that nigga they put in the plastic?
Nigga that thought he could bang

That nigga's stuck, that nigga's blasted
They got my man from the Land
Never ran, I step with deadly men
If ya come a little bit closer, I can turn you into sand
Now follow me, now roll, stroll down to Cleveland

We thuggin', we theivin', we put it in deep
And the blood is seepin', got niggas in alleys
Fuck niggas in badges, we say bang
Eighty-eight through the ten-five
(And Clair)
St. Clair ain't shit to fuck with

Pumpin', Krayzie be bumpin', dumpin' the bloody body
Me never knew one that could flow with the tongue
We comin' to shoot up your posse
My niggas-they comin' up out the woods to get the goods

Krayzie be thug, and die, that's from comin' up in my hood
(Want to)
We killas, get a gat, pap, pap, clack back me gun
Bust one, they done, Cleveland is where we from
Hearts-thugs have none

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

Soon as I hit the scene, [unverified]
Feelin' for a pistol but I didn't have no gun
Come with original thugsta shit
I be flippin' it with me tongue
Nigga, Cleveland is the city where we come from

And I show them hoes up outta the Clair
That thugs don't run from none
Follow rip one, now, on and on
Them definitely got me back
And I'm throwin' up St. Clair thugsta niggas
With or without my gat

Forever be ready to pull out me
Murder tools East 99 style, fools
Me put it in mind on murderin' you
Followin' whenever me murderous trues

Niggas that claim to bang, bang
When it comes to slang thangs, they do
They know they cannot buck me
One of 'em sure to slug me

But they hope the thug I be, Bizzy
Better let 'em him be or they'll see
Nigga, hangin', swangin', never to miss
The Biz is me

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

Livin' in the land of the heartless
With a sawed-off pump, shootin' craps
Hand on my strap, roll thick, 'cause they jack
Runnin' up on the Bone, you needin' to be pap, pap

Soldier thugs be pumpin' them slugs
Defendin' they drugs, when they roll up
Niggas be creepin' up slow
Heavy packed with they gats
And try to pull a hold up but nigga, now hold on
Wanna test the Bone? The gauge is shown

Any is mind blown,
Lookin' down the barrel
Of this mausberg chrome to the dome
Bone, clack back me gauge in a rage
Copper take these here rocks, double glock

My pistols be pumpin' and buckin' out shots whenever
The trouble knocks, steadily hittin', me clean up
Get lit up for ready your soul to burn
And I blow your shit up, get 'em on the get up

'Cause niggas must learn, yearnin' to earn cheese
Ready to die, so niggas can't take these
Wantin' to clock G's, want to move keys
Not takin' a loss on my green leaves, please

East nine nine, crime finds mine
Strayin' on this road to hell
And prison walls, testin' balls
For the cause, gotta get that sale

And bailin', kickin' up mud, rollin'
I get with my thugs
Rippin' apart shit, so nigga, don't start shit
'Cause we kill in the Land of the Heartless, Die

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

High techs and khakis when jackin', sawed-off
There's really no place to run
Niggas get vicious with my click
'Cause even the bitches carry guns

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51dad8db4ee47bfd4495b86060d82aa0

Real Life In Rap - Lyrics - Joe Budden - Joe Budden

Title: Real Life In Rap
Album: Joe Budden
Artist: Joe Budden
Composer(s): D Lambert, Joe Budden, Joseph Kuleszynski, B Potter

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

Lyric:
I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?
I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?

Yea, you talk like them threats is real
A pine box, closed casket and mommy's black dress is real
I only spit what I live and I play my part, feds know
You just talkin' burners 'cause your A and R said so
Don't play the game like it's just a scrimmage
Don't think that what you hearin' is just a image
How your songs though? You never spent a day in the bing
Niggaz is movin' they mouths but they ain't sayin' a thing
Half y'all vets is heartless and rep regardless
Only time you seen a courtroom was pressin' charges
How you baggin' up white, but won't scrap in a fight?
Shit, c'mon man, shit ain't addin' up right
When shit's thick, whatchu gon' do with that pound
But real recognize real, you must be new in this town
All I'm hearin' is another nigga's life over tracks
And you, lames ain't willin' to lose your life over rap

I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?
I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?

Tired of hearin' 'bout you, rap dudes comin' with the guns
Never caught a body, had the smell comin' from the trunk
And I'm tired of hearin' 'bout your four's bust
While I was cuffed on a up north bus
Y'all fucked on a tour bus
All them stories 'bout you gettin' money with gangsters
Guess what? The shit is pretty funny to gangsters
I'm tired of hearin' 'bout that gat in your boot
'Cause when it's said and done
And you finished that rap in the booth, it's back to the truth
And your shit is glass thug and you never outside
'Cause youse a in the lab thug, youse a pen and pad thug
It sounds good, you ain't pushin' work in the projects
But you spittin' 'bout it when you work on your project
Clown answer back, y'all never seen the hammers flash
Just photo shoots when cameras flash
All I'm hearin' is another nigga's life over tracks
And you, lames ain't willin' to lose your life over rap

I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?
I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?

In direct beef between rappers, they be all thugs
See each other in the street and dap, it's all love
War stories ain't yours, about the pounds your man got
Only time you move bricks is when the soundscan drop
You ain't never cooked nothin' by that kitchen sink
And the only time you been behind bars, was fixin' a drink
You actin' a fool, got real life and rap confused
With them ten o'clock songs, you just rappin' the news
But I ain't mad atcha flow, he tryin to stack his dough
But everybody's a thug until them ratchets show
The same dudes that rap about it get stuck for all the one's
And if everybody's a killer, where the fuck is all the punks?
I hope you gettin' your loot, just remember
What you spit in the booth
There's other people that's livin' proof
Y'all cats with all the mouth, just stay in your lane
And pray that a real nucca don't decide to call you out

I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?
I hate y'all, dudes
That get real life and rap confused
Don't get it fucked up and don't get shot
Tryin' to be somethin' you're not
My niggaz want war, whatchu think you good for?

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2aefce2535207675f845817c71c8ee67

Can'T Fuck Wit - Lyrics - Murda Muzik - Mobb Deep

Title: Can'T Fuck Wit
Album: Murda Muzik
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Albert J Johnson, Kejuan W Muchita, Corey Todd Woods

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

Lyric:
Yeah, let it go, yo, that's right
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Oh, yeah, check it out, tell 'em, dunn

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

Yo, if I sat at wrote a verse for all the niggaz I hated
Most definitely, if not you, kill somebody belated
Sound foul with a subject, dunn, no women or kids
Dump you up under a bridge in a cardboard box

I'm like nothin' to do wit it, believe it or not
I'm washin' my hands to get bent with Henney or rock
Up in the rep, bangin' my chest off, pealin' my socks
Niggaz do it to death, I sleep with my 6 cocked

I can't rock, one sip, ya love it a lot
While you sleepin', I'm creapin' wit the intricate plot
'Cuz picture me up in the morgue, way before my time
Picture you tryin' to get me while I'm still tryin' to get mines

Asshole, have ya brain lookin' like Castro
Dunn, I heard you wanted me, be careful what you ask for
Bitch, if I buck you, damn short snitched
The nigga just mad' cuz he can't cop crisp

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
You really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

I observe the dread, winter time, big shot in my leg
Blood barrels, a big thick Benneton keg
Razor glass full, salute all Teflon, shoot wit the left arm
We sleepin' wit nukes, the blood is shed warm

High voltage guns, nuns wit jums in the gums
Razors, lazers, bulletproof blazers
Yo, remember what the team chanted
They bought the jewel from a don wit a king-sized hat on, slanted

Kangol wit Bentol, ya mental, mid war
Spill Hen' in the store, that's for the own'
Blaze wit a bent 4, yo these laws is yours
When we pour gasoline all in ya pours an' draws

So deceivin', flow speed change, lay him down, empty breathin'
Instead of these leaks, we leave the weak weapin'
'Operation Apparatus', spray shots through ya gray Stratus
Straight up status for maggots

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Ya really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Ya really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

Soldier boys stay on ya toes, be on ya P's an' Q's
Keep ya eyes bright comin' out ya buildin', Duke
You might bump into a bullet or stumble on ya death
Niggaz slumber, I put 'em in a deep coma

I keep guns 'cuz it's like that, you figure it out
I got an arson for niggaz tryin' to figure me out
You ain't a killa, you just talk more, runnin' ya mouth
Type of nigga, we'll stomp out an' bloody down

Look, we a Mobb for real, don't let the LPs twist it
Cut me a cheque 'cuz I don't talk business
Drop anthems worth millions an' spend millions
Take trips with my niggaz to the Keys on the weekends

Serious jewels, pissy off the fruits
Dunn, we move like the marines, move when we come through
Seduce bitches dizzy, half they friends an' they moms wanna hit me
Y'all know my stiggity

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

Y'all niggaz can't fuck wit the niggaz I fuck wit
Really don't wanna fuck wit niggaz I fuck wit
Y'all niggaz minor league in my eyes for real
Y'all niggaz wanna pop shit? See me when ya get a record deal

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a41e9fcb2db3bda7e2fd32514eba82c1

Lo Rida - Lyrics - I Don't Want You Back - Eamon

Title: Lo Rida
Album: I Don't Want You Back
Artist: Eamon
Composer(s): Mark Passy, Yared Williams, Eamon Doyle, Victor Noreaga Santiago

Lyric:
Yeah, it's like 2:30 in the mornin', just left the club
About to go to the after hour, after hour spot, ya gotta dig that
Over there, over there, ya know how we do it
Get my Lo Rida, hit some switches, yeah, yeah
Any highway from here to you, ya know what I mean?
We gonna ride Eamon, let's ride
Eamon, yeah, ya know what I'm sayin, let's ride, Lo Rida, come on

I take routes to ease my life and
There's no doubt I test my life, still I, I step back, step back
And let the feelin' take control, may be hard, may be soft
And what ya had might be lost
But I got to, got to not care what I'm goin through

The lovin' and the huggin'
The way I just can't stop buggin'
The feedin' and the schemin'
The way I get when I'm weaken

Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it
Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it

Yo, it's been sent to find my cost and you might think it's my loss
But I'm rollin', rollin', to the illest place I know
Eyes are wide, inside's hot and, nasty thoughts just won't stop
And I'm lovin', lovin', everythin' that ya do to me

The lovin' and the huggin'
The way I just can't stop buggin'
The feedin' and the schemin'
The way I get when I'm weaken

Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it
Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it

Ya see I never had a chick like this, we'd argue, she'd break out
Come back like this, she said she never had a pimp like this
And never seen a camouflage make like this
Suckin' that Lo Rida, we on that Cali side
I'm the insider, we buffin' takin' the valley ride

I'm a provider and stay high up from tiger shots
We played wrestle before, Nelsons and body shots
Oh, excited like we're, until we're "Gatti bots"
Look at her booty, man, got me on body watch

She got a leather trench on now, with nothin' under it
Just like when she on top and I'm under it
So I run with it, gotta have fun a bit, what?
Ain't nothin' like a hoe side, lo ride, new kicks, new whip
Sit safe, 05, nice eyes, thick thighs, boy, she make my skin rise

Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it
Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it

Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it
Lo Rida, can't get higher, all I gotta do now is calm that fire
Love makin', shit that I'm takin', can't get enough of it

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29a2fa2ba00fe159b795ce7a59337083

In The Nolia - Lyrics - Project English - Juvenile

Title: In The Nolia
Album: Project English
Artist: Juvenile
Composer(s): Terius Gray, Byron Thomas

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

Lyric:
Say Bubba, I'm glad you gave me the green light
So I can write some shit, for my hood and talk about the shit I see
You know what I'm sayin'? I've been waitin' for this chance to do this
And express my motherfuckin' self and still make fun at the shit
Y'all ready to do this?

You might get flipped in the Nolia
You might get water whipped in the Nolia
And niggaz is a trip in the Nolia
They be on some shit in the Nolia

Them hoes be twerkin' in the Nolia
Police be lurkin' in the Nolia
My pockets be hurtin' in the Nolia
You gotta be workin' in the Nolia

I hit my first bitch in the Nolia
I hit my first lick in the Nolia
I opened up shop in the Nolia
I damn near got popped in the Nolia

I be up in the cuts in the Nolia
Hemmin' them niggaz up in the Nolia
Oh yeah, we stick together in the Nolia
Down for whatever in the Nolia

Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me
Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me

Yeah, I was strugglin' in the Nolia
Came up on nothin' in the Nolia
Nigga was hustlin' in the Nolia
Junkies was rushin' in the Nolia

I done had fights in the Nolia
Damn near lost my life in the Nolia
We play the porch in the Nolia
We hang out in the courts in the Nolia

We be on the flight in the Nolia
We be up all night in the Nolia
I used to live in the Nolia
Ever since a kid in the Nolia

Nigga gettin' busted in the Nolia
Some niggaz can't be trusted in the Nolia
A nigga got jacked in the Nolia
Got stabbed in the back of the Nolia

Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me
Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me

Nigga shoot dice in the Nolia
We fuckin' nigga wifes in the Nolia
We always act our ass in the Nolia
We always have a splash in the Nolia

Oh yeah, we havin' wars in the Nolia
Shootin' at niggaz cars in the Nolia
We all go to ki's in the Nolia
We all wear soldieries in the Nolia

Dem hoes thick fine in the Nolia
We throw second lines in the Nolia
We got no cheap in the Nolia
Come and holla at my peeps in the Nolia

The shit don't ever stop in the Nolia
It's always pepper hot in the Nolia
We got a lot of thugs in the Nolia
But we got a lot of love in the Nolia

Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me
Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me
Magnolia my home and it's gon' always be
You get a trespassin' charge when you fuckin' with me

Uh, yeah, for my T.C. niggaz, my bootleg niggaz
This for my motherfuckin' 6th street niggaz
My La Salle street niggaz, yeah, my Belmont niggaz, yeah
My Magnolia niggaz

Fuck with us you gonna get fucked over nigga
For who? This one for my Magnolia niggaz
Fuck with us you gonna get fucked over nigga
Yeah, believe dat, I can't see it no other way

Uh, yeah, for my T.C. niggaz, my bootleg niggaz
This for my motherfuckin' 6th street niggaz
My La Salle street niggaz, yeah, my Belmont niggaz, yeah
My Magnolia niggaz

Fuck with us you gonna get fucked over nigga
For who? This one for my Magnolia niggaz
Fuck with us you gonna get fucked over nigga
Yeah, believe dat, I can't see it no other way

Uh, yeah, for my T.C. niggaz, my bootleg niggaz
This for my motherfuckin' 6th street niggaz
My La Salle street niggaz, yeah, my Belmont niggaz, yeah
My Magnolia niggaz

Fuck with us you gonna get fucked over nigga
For who? This one for my Magnolia niggaz
Fuck with us you gonna get fucked over nigga
Yeah, believe dat, I can't see it no other way

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f4247ffec694b363000fc18951ca2e1f

Da Ill Out - Lyrics - Redman

Title: Da Ill Out
Artist: Redman
Composer(s): Keith Murray, Reggie Noble, Jamal Phillips, Erick S. Sermon

Lyric:
Yo Reggie, I'm out
T-ree F Squad
Muddy Waters
Don't get it twisted, nigga

Aiyyo everybody in this motherfucker will get touched
Fuck such and such, I roll tight like handcuffs
Rock that ass to sleep with discrete techniques
I beez that, freak of the week like I made knee deep

Hold up, rotate around the solar, badder than cobra
Composure never sleeps, my stream pumps folgers
I'm sauteein MC's with fried rice up in the wok
Without the MSG and chopped celery

See, I made it, my flavor situated
From the nickel plated mic that's hot, to leave your brain inflated
Plus, I'm thick like quakers on papers
Bodacious MC's get turned to lower cases

Letterin' and the medicine, that I'm swallowin'
Get you hollerin', like Marvin Gaye when his father shot him
In the chest, I roll with two stacks of tecs
And mad niggaz and sess that I roll up in your rest

Mister fantastic's crafted, with no 52nd ass kick
When I'm blasted, my method magics get drastic
That you can't see with bifocals
Watchin' MC's go up and down like stock brokers

I leave your brains on tilt, with ill skills that's milk
That's rougher than jeans that Gloria Vander-bilt
I'm poppin' mad shit, plus I can back it
Your man'll be like, yo, get that dust off yo' jacket

It ain't a test or quiz that my squad can't win
Those who know the biz, know we wreck kids get biz
Y'all digest multiple stab wounds to the chest
And I copycat kill the rest, with no method to my madness

Plus the apparatus with the baddest
Determined to be the last man, standin' on the planet
Y'all get attached, like a blood-suckin' leech
When you fall into my rhythm of speech

Your hands get embraced with a touch of the bass
Head get wrapped up neck get throwin' in a neck brace
Rough rhyme mechanical, lyrical at it who?
Will ironically, chronically murder you and your crew

My directive, through where I live, is kinda primitive
See I get to the bottom of the problem and make shit give
Step in the jam, hooded and high, plastered the master
Cast to the masses grabs the mic
Ten dollar rappers is what L.O.D. goes after

To my squad, there's no matches, we bashes
Do photo flashes on all flavor s-classes
Bomb attack on wax, lyrical mini mac to your back
Tie you up, throw you in the act
A public figure, who walks around with a gin of jigger
'Cause I gives a fuck about another nigga, word up

Muddy waters, yo this is the way that my intro should go
Drunk slow funk flow for Reggie Noble
Fuck with me doe, Mally G doe it's not logic
Playin' that big shit get broke down microscopic

Freak it back keep the track ringin', with the bassline
It's major when you savor my flavor, can you taste mine
Face the nine I lace your spine with short fat pace
Around and round, avoidin' the time to put it down

Now's the time here yeah, clown where, pick a spot
Neutral grounds or not, we give a fuck, lick a shot
Gangsta, so called killin', cap peelin'
Playalistic, I mean is all that shit realistic

Play your cards God, black keep your hand held tight
Night fall might call your life, shit is trife
On these evil streets after dark
Niggaz gettin' sparked left and outlined in chalk

New day, this whole shit's twisted is it man
It's me bombin' on these niggaz shitlist and Mally G
Open your eyes to see, recognize who be a G
Hopin' to ride in the, industry with E

The villain's had it cause ahead, word up yeah
Killin my psychosomatic pattern mad, yeah
Y'all know, uhh, yeah, muddy waters
We out for nine-seven, word up, peace

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22325b5e688a77f34536995ccba96637

Real Gangstaz - Lyrics - Untold Story - Game

Title: Real Gangstaz
Album: Untold Story
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Joseph Tom, Jayceon Taylor

Lyric:
Real, real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real niggaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through
And ain't no denyin' that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin' in and out of white line, six, six double O
Two zeroes, I'm feelin' like the streets is mine

Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through
And ain't no, no denyin' that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin' in and out of white line, six, six double O
Two zeroes, I'm feelin' like the streets is mine

Y'all niggaz see me when I'm come through
And ain't no, no denyin' that them big, big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin' in and out of white line, six, six double O
Two zeroes, I'm feelin' like the streets is mine

Mines hustle, mucho dinero, heat's confined
See more fall guys than Foreman Ali combined
If there's beef, I'm releasin' mine
And I won't stop bustin' 'til them Escalade seats recline

The kid roll with a greasy nine, come through and blast
I return shots like Arthur Ashe
You do the math, ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein' sorry, it ain't nothin' but a gangsta party

Ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein' sorry, it ain't nothin' but a gangsta party
Ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein' sorry, it ain't nothin' but a gangsta party

And I'll make sure ain't a nigga survivin'
Shoot up the ambulance, make sure it ain't a nigga there to revive him
And the Game ain't tryin' to win, fuck the awards
So keep that little-ass horn, and that Neil Armstrong

Real, real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real, real niggaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Trust me dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
That'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin' I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
'Cause I weave through

Trust me dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
That'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin' I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
'Cause I weave through

Trust me dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
That'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin' I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
'Cause I weave through traffic in a roaster

But that don't stop the heater from bangin', or me comin' through
Droppin' all y'all niggaz with three in the chamber
Keep two mac-ten's when I'm rollin', one in the changer
One when I push the button's right next to the cup holder

Dog we can get this shit over, I got ten on the game
Let's say the Lee Harvey crack ya brain
Ain't gotta look over my shoulder, I'm good with the aim
Good with the handle and the bullet's good with the bloodstains

And the coroner's real good with that pickup
A-one good with the carpet cleaning, they can get the rest of that shit up
'Cause I kill like the hiccups, two at a time
Put you niggaz next to each other how I do 'em in line

Real, real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real niggaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Come through in a big boy, leave the bullshit at home
If beef cook then I'm bringin' the chrome
If I die then I'm leavin' a clone, but if I live
Through the drama one mo' time then them boys gotta dig

When I think about who shot me, I listen to Big
When I'm rhymin' on the road, I listen to Jig
Bump Nas off that purple, sittin' on the block
And when I'm loadin' up them clips, I listen to 'Pac

A semi with me like Eddie Murphy, got mo' guns
Than F A B O L O U S got jerseys
And you might get 'em all in the face when shit get thick
Make the back of your head look like Jerome Kearsey

And ain't nuttin' to do a drive by in the hood
We ain't even got survival, but I'm a still take that ride
Bet my drink on it, bet my main squeeze mink on it
Think this shit a joke? Bet the S-5 pink on it

Real, real gangstaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real, real niggaz stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few

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6c766af23847a0016b7f45d713895906

Rock Da Spot - Lyrics - Redman

Title: Rock Da Spot
Artist: Redman
Composer(s): Erick Sermon, Christopher Wallace, Tyrone Fyffe, Robert Kelly, G Mcdermott, P Smith, R Troutman, R Noble, Chris Martin, T Smith

Lyric:
Rock da spot
Rock da spot
Rock da spot

I'm the bomb, ringin' off all types alarms
My palms, be swift with the pen like Lynn Swann's
Aggravated assault, against an MC
Beat him down with the mic and all types of pedigrees
It's mad real in Da Bricks, plus I roll thick
You can quote this, I'm the Moby Dick of dopeness
Bitch, walk the walk if you talk the talk
I DK New Jerz, and DK-New York

I don't push a lot of vehicles, but I push a used one
With a tape deck, if it's feasible
Tell the truth, I don't own a Lex Coupe
But I get you souped when I rock respect due
I'sa nice nigga that wanna get diced
Slice the mic device like the body of Christ twice
E Double if you feel me hit me once, a breaker one, a breaker two
'Cause trouble to you family and friends

Let me cut the bullshit, just hand me yo ends
Got caught out there 'cause you a Mack without 10
Punch you in your chin
The rucker, bringer, live from Hell, but stay cooler than a double L
Turn a felony to a misdemeanor
Now the court subpeonaed me to get my act cleaner
Fuck that, still walk out holdin' my strap
Blunt, grabbin' my weiner

When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot

Now first of all I go for broke, check the third quarter note
I make you feel like your water broke
Can't tell whether male or female
I fucked up your frame well, the monogram can't tell
All aboard my balls, 'cause my dick don't got a lot of room
For the rest of y'all
Grab on my pubics, let my music take flight
Rock indo and out-do', dick run in and out yo'

Bitch, about nine inch up the clit
Can you feel me comin', yeah I usually make 'em shit
I shines MC's up for auction
So I can sell 'em on Saturday, Keith put the bat away
Let's lay in the cut, so we can break his whole anatomy down
And turn into an ass-kicking holiday

Word, I rolls with the Funklord
With more flavors than them motherfuckers on them Benetton billboards
He's bleeding get the gauze
He shoulda knew Def Squad crew is who I kill for
Push the clip in, slide the top back
Make sure it's off safety, in case he wanna counteract
Shit like that get me vexed
So I crack your ass like corn while your bitch crack my Beck's

When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
Rock da spot

Aiyyo, catch this picture, of me in the mixture
So you won't forget the, black Jack the Ripper
Sorceror offin' y'all with techniques
A universal lingo, with the odd speaks
Control more blacks than Harlem week, freak
Smokin' that leak at full peak
Peace to Greg Street, and underground radio technique
College radio, no I mack shit like Maceo

Yeah, the East Coast West Coast dick giver
I oughta be an alkie, the way I hit liver
Deliver, the milk to your door, real raw
Shit you never seen before
So when you come inside, and do the front
Watch the double-pump shotgun and please don't run
Relax your minds, let your conscious be free
And get money, and G's and roll these trees

When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
When I'm gonna [Incomprehensible] rock da spot
Rock da spot

This is DJ Saywhat, on this motherfucker
Comin' to you live from WFDS radio from da Brick City

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Troublesome - Lyrics - West Coast Resurrection - Game

Title: Troublesome
Album: West Coast Resurrection
Artist: Game
Composer(s): Joseph Marcelle Tom, Jayceon Terrell Taylor

Lyric:
Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Y'all niggaz see me when I come through
And ain't no denyin' that them big motherfuckers is twenty-five
Swayin' in and out of white line, six double, oh
Deuce zeroes, I'm feelin' like the streets is mine

Mines hustle, Mucho Dinero, heat's confined
See more fall guys than Foreman Ali combined
If there's beef, I'm releasin' mine
And I won't stop bustin' 'til them Escalade seats recline

The kid roll with a greasy nine, come through and blast
I return shots like Arthur Ashe
You do the math, ten shots, ten dead bodies
Fuck bein' sorry, it ain't nuthin' but a gangsta party

And I'll make sure ain't a nigga survivin'
Shoot up the ambulance, make sure it ain't a nigga there to revive him
And The Game ain't tryin' to win, fuck the awards
So, keep that little ass horn and that Neil Armstrong, nigga

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Trust me, dog, ain't shit you can put in your rap
That'll make you a gangsta, you a bitch and that's that
Niggaz thinkin' I retired my Chuck, put the gun back in the holsters
'Cause I weave through traffic in a roaster

But that don't stop the heater from bangin' or me comin' through
Droppin' all y'all niggaz with three in the chamber
Keep two mac-10's when I'm rollin', one in the changer
One when I push the button's right next to the cup holder

Dog, we can get this shit over, I got ten on The Game
Let's say that Lee Harvey crack ya brain
Ain't gotta look over my shoulder, I'm good with the aim
Good with the handle and the bullet's good with the bloodstains

And the corner's real good with that pickup
A1 good with the carpet cleaning, they can get the rest of that shit up
'Cause I kill like the hiccups, two at a time
Put you niggaz next to each other, how I do 'em in line

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Come through in a big boy, leave the bullshit at home
If beef cook, then I'm bringin' the chrome
If I die then I'm leavin' a clone but if I live
Through the drama one mo' time then them boys gotta dig

When I think about who shot me, I listen to Big
When I'm rhymin' on the road, I listen to Jig
Bump Nas off that purple, sittin' on the block
And when I'm loadin' up them clips, I listen to 'Pac

A semi with me like Eddie Murphy, got mo' guns
Than F A B O L O U S got jerseys
And you might get 'em all in the face when shit get thick
Make the back of your head look like Jerome Kearsey

And ain't nuthin' to do a drive by in the hood
We ain't even got survival but I'ma still take that ride
Bet my drink on it, bet my main squeeze mink on it
Think this shit a joke? Bet the S-5 pink on it

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

Real gangstas stand up, hold they dick
Bitch niggaz sit down to piss, what type of nigga is you?
I'm the type to pack a gat or few
Pull out and pop, simply 'cause I'm mad at you

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4a92a80200f0e35991fe7d0445f4e7f4

Crunk Inc. - Lyrics - Crime Mob - Crime Mob

Title: Crunk Inc.
Album: Crime Mob
Artist: Crime Mob
Composer(s): Venetia Lewis, Alphonce Smith, Chris Henderson, Jonathan Lewis

Lyric:
Ay, Crunk Incorporated, we ain't takin' nothin' this year
We comin' straight for you, we talkin' 'bout gettin' crunk, nigga
Fuck that shit you talkin nigga
When I see yo ass nigga, this how shit gon pop off
This how shit gon go down from here on out nigga
So we gotta tell ya'll niggas, to wake the fuck up
Cy co Black, let 'em know

Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'

Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'

Fuck that nonsense, nigga I'm outside
You got a problem wit my click, I'm outside
I got my gun and my motherfuckin' ride
We bussin' heads, so you bitches betta hide

Crunk to the mothafuckin' I.N.C.
Mike, Gray, Black and Killa behind me
Park in the street wit Crunk and A.D
So I dare that nigga to come and try me
Dare that nigga to walk my street
Watch me cock it back and let go
Comin' up popular, he's a fuck nigga
I'ma let his ass know, he ain't nuttin' but a ho

Fuck yo words, yo words don't mean shit, all that talkin' get yo ass hit
Beat yo bitch wit a baseball bat a-rata-tat-tat on yo ass real quick
This real shit and I don't play games, ATL be my domain
Creep yo cast and beat yo ass, so fuck that shit you talkin' mayne

Fuck that nonsense, nigga I'm outside
You got a problem wit my click, I'm outside
I got my gun and my motherfuckin' ride
We bussin' heads, so you bitches betta hide

Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'

Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'

Yeah, bitch fuck that shit that you talkin'
Go get yo clique and start walkin'
My crew too thick so get off me to fuck wit you I got whodi
Peepin' the scene, so don't test me, ho don't try me, I stay ready
Yo shirt gon' be, so damn heavy, I snipe yo ass like I'm Wesley
Got a problem, I solve, so ho let's take it outside
Revolver tucked in my pocket, I'm feelin' what in my ride
Bussin' heads is my specialty, one like me, you will never see
Ho you know I'm wit M.O.B, wanna buck? It's whatever G

Keep on poppin', I'ma show you just how deep we are
Ya'll niggas thank yall buck? We'll have ya'll seein' stars
You'll think you're touchin' Mars 'cause we some must asses
A second blastin' anywhere where there be shit talkin'
So do not get smart bitch 'cause here we runnin' thangs
Ain't got no time for lames, just 'bout that money, mayne
Just watch me spray some flames, get up, release some anger
I keep sixteen in the clip and one off in the chamber

Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'

Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'
Fuck that shit that you talkin'

Fuck that nonsense, nigga I'm outside
You got a problem wit my click, I'm outside
I got my gun and my motherfuckin' ride
We bussin' heads, so you bitches betta hide

What's up Aight
Aight, Aight
Aight, Aight
Aight, Aight
Aight, Aight

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977f68724b0d45c4f5ec88f53ff382fe