Worldwide Gangstas - Lyrics - Pain Is Love - Ja Rule

Title: Worldwide Gangstas
Album: Pain Is Love
Artist: Ja Rule
Composer(s): Marcus Vest, Irving Lorenzo, S Sledge, Jeffrey Atkins, Raheem Gill, S Aurelius, Taheem Crocker, Marty Mitchell

Lyric:
Wassup Chi town
Yea
Murder Inc. back up in your area
On that gangsta shit you know
Connect worldwide
Worldwide gangsta shit
You nah what I mean?
Chi town to Miami
Houston to motherfuckin' L.A.
We connect nigger
Gangsta shit

Mother fuckers
You frontin' we comin' with heat niggas
Aiya fifteen's sweep up the street bigger
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
Guns make bigger niggas run
We squeeze triggers
(Ahh haa)
And leave niggas dead for the stacks
Slumped over, head in they lap

Yo, we constantly count cream in the crackhouse
Basically, we bangin' bitches back out
I feel like the last child
Throwin' bricks at a glasshouse
(Yeah)
Poppin' and puffin' till I pass out
(Ahh)

This gangsta shit is for all my youngs who flip birds
And hug the block
In club they pop cris and twist the bud, nigga what
We live it up, from Chi town to my town
(Ahh)
We diggin sluts, long dickin' in the guts

We just religious thugs, gangsta pimps
Hoes fall in love the way we throw this dick
The hummers on dubs look like tanks and shit
We came to stop the bank, don't blink be sick
(Oh)

Nigga all of our love is for the chips
And I don't chase hoes, just pesos and bricks
Nigga let me sum it up
Y'all niggas is dumb enough
Run on up, the guns we tuck, bust
Ashes to ashes, dust to dust

Holla at us, R O C K L A N D and I N C
With Boo and Gotti, Ferrari black and Cadillac tah
Nigga, we go hard

I'm loud when the shells pop
Still I sell rock
Got outta jail on bail, gettin' ready to plot
Yo I kidnap niggas
Then bitch smack niggas
Give me the crack nigga or get clap nigga
Nigga I ain't one of these rap niggas
I'm a big gat spitter
Bangin' and slangin' to be a rich ass nigga
Don't get tired in these streets
My nigga died in these streets
It's only one option, provide for these streets
My peeps out here so I ride with these streets
Spent weeks out here, grind on these streets
I know the deal out here
It's real out here
Got bitch bud murdered and I'm still out here
Rockland, Murder Inc. you get killed out here
Chi town, New York, blood spill out here
And thugs like me, still out here
Yeah you heard nigga, I'm still out here

A yo I ride up, lied up outta my mind
Black Cadillac truck nigga, loaded with nines
To my thugs on the block, holdin' them dimes
I got love on the block, look at my eyes
Rockland, Murder Inc. what the fuck you think?
Me and Gotti whole plan is to cover the streets
We don't wanna body you man, fuck the beef
We sell a lot of these grams, and clutch the heat
To many moves to be made, fake thug niggas
Get a few through they braids, I been plug nigga
It's rules to the game
Cats like me play not to lose in this game
You see this little nigga makin' moves in the range
I see you wack niggas still crusin' with lames
Get full nigga 'cause it's food to the brain
Rockland nigga spit fire and flames
Get it right nigga, we gangsta

Murder Inc. gets poppin' pills, clips
However you like it
Niggas get extorted, bitches get excited
Known to start riots, the rule and I N C
Got fedaraleighs watchin' me, the Y G and I G
Put it together family orientated
Through guns, drugs, and good relations
Real conversations, we call it real talk
And that shit spreads all the way from L.A. to New York
And I love talk, that's when you get to smash on niggas
Catch 'em in the dark spot and put the flash on niggas
Cameras, lights, action, go buck at the master
C's and past if when I die blow my ashes
Off the shores of Costa Rica, nigga to each is own
The rule ain't dyin' alone motherfuckers
Haha

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Can'T Nobody - Lyrics - Music & Me - Nate Dogg

Title: Can'T Nobody
Album: Music & Me
Artist: Nate Dogg
Composer(s): Ricardo Emmanu Brown Jr., Kevin Gilliam, Nathaniel Hale, Dorsey Wesley

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

Lyric:
Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?
Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?

Pistols and penitentiaries
Gangstas on a worldwide hunt for head huntin'
Spread dumpin' lead bustin'
Tell me, how you wanna be done?
It's so many thangs on these streets
Gang bang on these streets

Heat holders that hug wit slugs
And it's the thang to be either crips or bloods
Nate show these niggas how it was
And how nobody do it like we does 'cuz

Something about the West Coast
Makes me bang the beats
Something about the West Coast
Makes me run them streets

Something about the music
Makes me wanna sing
Something about this chronic
Knocks me off my feet
That's real chronic, baby

Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?
Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?

I know you never thought these niggas could be this good
We'd be bumpin' in your system from hood to hood
I know you never even thought, we would last this long
You were dead wrong

Homie this is Nate, he's a double O.G.
All up in the place, K U R U P T
Better ask your girl, "Why she starin' at me?"
Leave me alone

Calicos
We ready for the get down
You ready to have sit-down
Bitch nigga sit-down
Runnin' in and out ya house
Runnin' in and out ya spouse
Don't say shit or I'll be runnin' in and out your mouth

Gangstas get the party crackin'
Hit a land and get it crunk
Nate Dogg and Kurupt
Yeah nigga that's wassup

Now, I gotta show y'all
How the West Coast rock shit
Concoct and plot shit
Dogg pound oxes

Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?
Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?

D. P. G. C.
The greatest on this earth
Gangsta that was taught, shoot before you converse
Go against the grain and we convert to the worst
Take flight like eagles, puncture like needles

Touch him without even bein' present
The greatest on this earth, West Coast presents
'The Dogg Pound muthafuckin' gangsta nigga'
On all gold feet
Yeah, them all gold D's, we double O.G.'s

Something about the West Coast
Makes me bang the beats
Something about the West Coast
Makes me run them streets

Something about the music
Makes me wanna sing
Something about this chronic
Knocks me off my feet
That's real chronic, baby

Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?
Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?

Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?
Can't nobody
Do you like, we do?

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Get Down - Lyrics - God's Son - Nas

Title: Get Down
Album: God's Son
Artist: Nas
Composer(s): James Brown, Charles Bobbitt, Nasir Jones, Salaam Gibbs, Fred Wesley

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

Lyric:
Get, get, get down
Uh uh uh

New York streets where killers'll walk like Pistol Pete
And Pappy Mason, gave the young boys admiration
Prince from Queens and Fritz from Harlem
Street legends, the drugs kept the hood from starvin'
Pushin' cars, Nicky Barnes was the 70's
But there's a long list of high profile celebrities
Worldwide on the thorough side of things
Livest kings, some died, one guy, one time one day grabs me
As I'm about to blast heat
40 side of Vernon, I turned well he asked me
"Whatchu up to?, The cops gon' bust you"

I was a teen drunk off brew, stumbled I wondered
If God sent him, 'cause two squad cars entered the block
And looked at us, I ain't flinch when they watched
I took it upstairs, the bathroom mirror, brushed my hair
Starin' at a young disciple, I almost gave my life to what the dice do
Yeah man, throwin' them bones
Hopin' my ace get his case thrown
His girl ain't wait for him, she in the world straight hoein'
While he lookin' at centerfolds of pretty girls
Showin' they little cooch, gangstas don't die he's livin' proof

The D A who tried him was lyin'
A white dude, killed his mother durin' the case
Hung jury, now the D A is bein' replaced
Pre trial hearin' is over, it's real for the soldier
Walks in the courtroom, the look in his eyes is wild
Triple homicide, I sit in the back aisle
I wanna crack a smile when I see him
Throw up a fist for black power, 'cause all we want is his freedom
He grabbed a court officer's gun and started squeezin'
Then he grabbed the judge, screams out nobody leavin' everybody

Get down, get down, get down, get down
Get, get, get, get, ge-get, get, get, get down
(Everybody)
Get down, get down, get down, get down
Get, ge-get, get, get, get, get, get down

Some niggaz fuck they enemies in they ass when they catch 'em
Weird ass niggaz are dangerous, so don't test 'em
They make you, disappear, this a year that I won't forget
Sold CD's double platinum, met mo' execs
Southern niggaz, independent label, real killers
Know the business, ran Tennessee for years, now they chillin'
They had the coke game, somethin' crazy
Sold music out the trunk of they car, that shit amazed me
Put me onto heron blunts, sherm or somethin'
Took a puff, what the fuck, I turned to punch them

Southern niggaz ain't slow, nigga tried to play me
I left from around them dudes, they cool but they crazy
Now I'm back around the old school that raised me
New York gangstas, we loungin', out in L A see
A dude wrote my dawg from Pelican Bay
The letter say, "Nas, I got your back the fools don't play"
I rolled with some Crips down to a Crenshaw funeral
Never saw so many men slaughtered and I knew the ho responsible
The nigga still alive in a hospital
Midnight they crept in his room and shot the doctor too

See my cousin's in the game, thuggin' and things
He plugged me with a dame who was half Mexicano
Gave the ass up, I'm a mack daddy Soprano
She passed me the indigo, but the imbecile
Shoulda never tippy toed, thought my eyes were closed
Openin' the hotel room door, to let her goons in
But I moved in a manner, on some Jet Li shit
I let the hammers blow, wet three kids
See honey thought I had somethin' to do, with all the drama
'Cause I was with a crew, that had her people killed
Called up my cousin, told him I ain't fuckin' witchu
He responded cool, but told me out here this how motherfuckers

Get down, get down, get down, get down
Get, get, get, get, ge-get, get, get, get down
(Everybody)
Get down, get down, get down, get down
Get, ge-get, get, get, get, get, get down

All I really gotta say is that
If that's how our people gon' get down, how we ever gon' get up?
How we ever gon' get up if that's how we get down?
A shame when you ain't look at it
My folk is yo' folk, but we all kinfolk
Somebody gotta make a change

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fb0752347d3099382fc252b5cc472a02

Fly Away - Lyrics - Baby Aka The #1 Stunna

Title: Fly Away
Artist: Baby Aka The #1 Stunna
Composer(s): B Thomas, P Alexander, T Quaites

Lyric:
Hey, wassup pimp?
Birdman, mothafucker

The financial adviser of this get money game
It's Stunna, the big money man
So loosen up your strings 'cause you can get shot
The Crystal absolute is 'On The Rocks'

Ey nigga, I gotta stay, fly money
No baseball player, I got the a-ride money
I go to Jamaica, homie and ball like a dog
The leaf that sticky, homie and fog up the car

It's nothing to the icky, icky Harlem world sticky, sticky
Fifty, fifty, a gram raw cut dilly
Got minks on my body 'cause it costs too much
250 on the Bird had to frost me up

See, these gangstas, pimps and thugs make the world go round
Ride for uptown and till they lay you down
Birdman with them big chips
With the Bird Lady and the Benzes

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(Oh, it's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

So get your stock up, nigga, get our brains rapped right
The hood fucked up 'cause the nigga changed like
The Birdman Daddy keeps the bricks taped tight
A hundred of them things got my chips same night

Pull up in the Bentley with them skinny ass tires
Ice all over 'cause a nigga so fly
[Incomprehensible] and I'm doing what I'm doing
If them clubs gon' pop, I'm getting straight to 'em

Nothing on chain, I put them dubs on the thangs
Wipe a nigga down, bitch, give a nigga brains
Call a nigga changed, ma, wash a nigga range
Bird, baby, down with them Cardier frames

Gucci from head to toe and Stunna my name
Make winter weather and that's my thang
I'm iced up, nigga, smoke pounds of dro
And I'm labeled as a pimp and I mack a hoe, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(Fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today
I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it

It's the worldwide callin' and the boss of the ballin'
A hood rich, nigga, Money tall as all
The youngers of 20 cheerin' and nobody starvin'
Nobody borrowin' 'cause nobody starvin'

Ey ey, TQueezy, the dro man callin'
Get it in the jar, Jeff Pense is callin'
Buy ounce, buy pound, buy enough for the rounds by mouth
'Cause ya know how it's going down

Dro party with the Magnolia chicks
Smoke just fly, nobody givin' lips
They all on the floor 'cause the brains is flying
On the outside it's just them 20 inch tires

Bentley, Lexus, Lams and Vets
Them Ragtop, Guccis with the Smitt n Wess
Got the old school caddies and them new school too
Platinum mouth niggaz and them gold mouth too, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(It's the fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

The Birdman, bitch, coming to a city near you
Now how you luv that nigga, now I know what this is
You know what you need to do?
You need to look on the back of your CD cover

And get that sticker for the Mom Burberry G-nites
You want to come pick them up?
Come, pick them up on 6 and Magnolia and holla at ya boy c-ya?
You understand? And we gon' holla at ya another time, holla, biatch

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682a0994f9c80e0ade20e86dcca401b8

Fly Away - Lyrics - Birdman - Birdman

Title: Fly Away
Album: Birdman
Artist: Birdman
Composer(s): B Thomas, P Alexander, T Quaites

Lyric:
Hey, wassup pimp?
Birdman, mothafucker

The financial adviser of this get money game
It's Stunna, the big money man
So loosen up your strings 'cause you can get shot
The Crystal absolute is 'On The Rocks'

Ey nigga, I gotta stay, fly money
No baseball player, I got the a-ride money
I go to Jamaica, homie and ball like a dog
The leaf that sticky, homie and fog up the car

It's nothing to the icky, icky Harlem world sticky, sticky
Fifty, fifty, a gram raw cut dilly
Got minks on my body 'cause it costs too much
250 on the Bird had to frost me up

See, these gangstas, pimps and thugs make the world go round
Ride for uptown and till they lay you down
Birdman with them big chips
With the Bird Lady and the Benzes

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(Oh, it's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

So get your stock up, nigga, get our brains rapped right
The hood fucked up 'cause the nigga changed like
The Birdman Daddy keeps the bricks taped tight
A hundred of them things got my chips same night

Pull up in the Bentley with them skinny ass tires
Ice all over 'cause a nigga so fly
[Incomprehensible] and I'm doing what I'm doing
If them clubs gon' pop, I'm getting straight to 'em

Nothing on chain, I put them dubs on the thangs
Wipe a nigga down, bitch, give a nigga brains
Call a nigga changed, ma, wash a nigga range
Bird, baby, down with them Cardier frames

Gucci from head to toe and Stunna my name
Make winter weather and that's my thang
I'm iced up, nigga, smoke pounds of dro
And I'm labeled as a pimp and I mack a hoe, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(Fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today
I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it

It's the worldwide callin' and the boss of the ballin'
A hood rich, nigga, Money tall as all
The youngers of 20 cheerin' and nobody starvin'
Nobody borrowin' 'cause nobody starvin'

Ey ey, TQueezy, the dro man callin'
Get it in the jar, Jeff Pense is callin'
Buy ounce, buy pound, buy enough for the rounds by mouth
'Cause ya know how it's going down

Dro party with the Magnolia chicks
Smoke just fly, nobody givin' lips
They all on the floor 'cause the brains is flying
On the outside it's just them 20 inch tires

Bentley, Lexus, Lams and Vets
Them Ragtop, Guccis with the Smitt n Wess
Got the old school caddies and them new school too
Platinum mouth niggaz and them gold mouth too, biatch

(It's the fly away)
Fly, fly away
(It's the fly away)
Or you can hit the highway
That's the only way that we do it
Love when we do it

(It's fly away)
It's fly away, it's fly away
(Fly away, fly away)
'Cause we gon' get you high today

I know you wanna see how we do it
You know how we do it
(The fly away)
Fly, fly away

The Birdman, bitch, coming to a city near you
Now how you luv that nigga, now I know what this is
You know what you need to do?
You need to look on the back of your CD cover

And get that sticker for the Mom Burberry G-nites
You want to come pick them up?
Come, pick them up on 6 and Magnolia and holla at ya boy c-ya?
You understand? And we gon' holla at ya another time, holla, biatch

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