Yellow Dirt - Lyrics - Seals And Crofts

Title: Yellow Dirt
Artist: Seals And Crofts
Composer(s): Darrell Crofts, James Seals

Lyric:
He gets up every morning
And he lights upon the floor
He migrates to the washroom
And he opens up the door

The whiskers on his chin tells him
He's in, and then
Through the paste and the soap
Sees an image without hope

He's a broom of a fellow
An oddity in parenthesis
So infected with disease of yellow dirt
Down in his soul

He usually spends his spare time
Counting hairs upon his arm
The ants upon the cupboard
To his thinking add their charm

He never starts to notice
That his shoes are full of lead
He's dead, through cough labored breathing
He is seething

He's a sandwich of a fellow
An all spread personality
So infected with disease of yellow dirt
Down in his soul

Last night a thousand stars were his
To mold like clay, and so
In one split seconds anger
He did reach and take a hold

He saw himself a captain way
Off in some kissin' situation
That would have made his father proud
He laughs out loud

He conceals the hurt, he reveals the dirt
The yellow dirt down in his soul
The yellow dirt down in his soul
The yellow dirt down in his soul
The yellow dirt down in his soul

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60bcd50cc5486cd9b30f718840f9611d

Yellow Brick Road - Lyrics - Luniz

Title: Yellow Brick Road
Artist: Luniz
Composer(s): Jerold Jr Ellis, Joseph Johnson, Garrick Husband

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Lyric:
Eh, eh, eh, yo mama got a long ass throat, when she drink milk
By the time it get to her stomach it's spoiled
Where you get that cream from man?
The ice cream man, man, that nigga ain't no muthafuckin' joke

Hold on, hold on, close the blinds, 'cause
'Cause the neighbors are lookin'
What? Nigga let's get busy man, I'm ready to hit this big shit man
You know what I'm sayin', this is big, big
Get that kid outta here

Whoa, the kids, man get the kids outta here
Close the door, 'cause they gonna tell on us
Eh, I'm blazin' this up fo tha ice cream man nigga
Uh, uh, uh, yeah

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

This shit is to be to let go, so welcome to the ghetto
Got no love from my moms an pops
Had to creep an caulk heat wit my fellows

Niggaz from the Big O, always down to scuffle
Had the hustle from the get go
An' didn't no, body, give a fuck about Jerold
Not when I had hella dirt an lint in my dried up ass curl

Hit the dice game, hurled off the night train
So hang that four-fifth at my brain
If you want me to do the right thang
Ever since my eyes open, I musta really sell dope in

The 6-9 Village of East Oakland, hopin', my dad would come back
But that fool vamp, now my mama spend the checks
On woozy's an the food stamps

That's why my ass was pumpin' gas, an shootin' craps
So I can make me some rootin'-tootin' scratch
No dap from the school hoes, now why did I cut school
Fuck school, 'cause me didn't have no school clothes

I had to go, hook up, a book up, now I'm a crook up
On the late night posted, slangin' cakes like Hostess
Sumthin' ferocious, mo candy than Reese Pieces
Fo human species, that wanna swap fo TVs an VCs

I'm ready, like Heav D, nuttin' but love fo ya
Fedi dubbs fo ya, the only nigga would glove fo ya
It's me, the ice creamery
So weasel down the Yellow Brick Road while I fold the greenery

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

You wonder why, I became the ice cream man
'Cause I knocked straight hands
But niggaz on my block didn't understand
That I was born to be a factor

If roses what I play, to get paid, then don't fade
But first give a nigga props, fo ditchin' cops
I couldn't work, so I knew a nigga couldn't stop

Slangin' mo yay than the next man
If I come up, don't get mad
Just give a pound to let the best stand

'Cause I done tried gettin' twenty off a note
I been there, slangin' fo the next nigga still broke
He flippin' shit, but you ain't, you fuck around an crumble
Then you come up short on yo bundle

An plus the dope fiends be gafflin', rolled out all yo scratch
You broke, so you whips up a dangle batch
To get enough to cop a zip, I'm stackin' up my grip
Got my 380 out so I don't slip

I need some real folks to come up, niggaz wit some guts
Plots an set up shop, wit Dru an Yuk
My lick mates, 100 percent hustlaz, games an heists
Quick to lick a niggaz house on bikes

Twice the game, bigga the endin', endin' rules
Much shit, an tucked tens is what I'm sendin' fools
I goes through all shit, to lick a ball bitch
To law shit, and then I'm off wit the Lootchie

My game is ready to be sold
I got my stripes fo followin' the Yellow Brick Road

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

Now I'm the ice cream man, bitch
Don't you see the man sittin' on gold ones
Dishin' off half, zips, an whole ones, no one
Could stop the Operation Stackola
A black soldier slangin' crack only fo scratchola

I told ya, I do it to fold ya, straight over nighter
Then flag the driver down wit my flash lighter
He speak, "Please G, please don't say no to me
Fo the cream, I dream, I fiend like Jodeci"

Notice he had a G ready to spend it, splendid
Got my shit so I won't get apprehended
Once again it's on, I gets my bail on
Weasel down the Yellow Brick Road wit hoes an my mail on

I chops cream, seems like the whole block is holdin' now
Broke my triple beam, 'cause the whole scene is rollin' now
Hope I can get to break it down an hold thangs, wit my luck
Num an Yuk, wit gold thangs on the ice cream truck

Nut up wit nuthin's, stroll down the Yellow Brick Road
Quick to lick fo some paper to fold, stole my whole load
What you want a nigga to get hurt fo?
My operation don't include spendin' on the turf hoe

The quickest nigga to finish, I cruise some
Can't be too dumb, sewed up the block, where you from?
So float on, an roll on, an understand, easin' down the road
It's the ice cream man

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

It's the ice cream man
Bitch don't you hear the music
I got the shit fiends holla if you wanna use it

It's the ice cream man
Biatch

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08b9175ceeaca8c6ac5d4f37a938284d

Corvette Bummer - Lyrics - Loser - Beck

Title: Corvette Bummer
Album: Loser
Artist: Beck
Composer(s): Beck Hansen

Lyric:
All my days I had moldy bread
Robot brains and the flying airplanes
Hollowed out and filled with dust
Rocking like a hurricane under the rug

Bored to the core on a sunken boat
A worn out candle and a plastic coat
A ziploc bag, a pelican bone
A perfect, stupid, cardboard reject

Overfed, electric comatose
Riding in the air, invisible socks
A broken blanket, flaming sawdust
Waking up in the shadow of a piece of dirt

Gonna fly like a dog, gonna leap right out the wall
Gonna walk around this town with a can of whiskey
Gonna run like a bird, gonna roll out in the dirt
Gonna run around this town with a phone machine

Yellow cat laying flat on the road
Molten lead shooting out the ground
Tinfoil witch burning under the bridge
Flap your wings and leap out the window

Put a glass eye in the eyes of God
Nuke the kids, Polaroid cupcake
Take it to the limit, new wave biscuit
Camouflage gimmick, wimp out like never before

Gonna jump like a flag, gonna burn like a pig
Gonna flap around and pass out on the kitchen floor
Gonna crawl like a rock, gonna dance like a worm
Gonna take my shoes right off and smell my socks

Fly like a squirrel, gonna swim like a chicken
Gonna weedwack a plate of noodles in the afternoon
Gonna melt like a weasel, gonna fry like a kid

Gonna get my walkie talkie, and some mustard
And some mayonnaise, and a mermaid
And some macaroni, bricks and some telephone wires
And phone machines and a fax machine and a

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cee5af23b1801c513875b1d6b09b99fa

Stroker'S Theme - Lyrics - Charlie Daniels Band

Title: Stroker'S Theme
Artist: Charlie Daniels Band
Composer(s): C Daniels

Lyric:
Stroker Ace was born to race he had a mean streak two feet wide
A son of a gun with a taste for fun and more than his share of pride
Take a dirt road curve with a devils nerve make a car dance across the mud
Haulin? shine was his regular line till the track got in his blood

Was a real hot shot and he bragged a lot, but man that fool could drive
'Cause he loved the feel of the steering wheel
And the girls with bedroom eyes
And in a race of time or a bar room fight, Ol? Stroker stole the show
A back stretch blazer, a real hell raiser and a racetrack Romeo

Mama lock your daughters up that vile bunch is back in town
And them little girls get frisky when they hear that race car sound
They?re bringing out the yellow flag, somebody?s brakes have failed
There?s an alsike on the inside and a wreck along the rail
You?d better stand on it Stroker 'cause a bandit?s on your tail

It?s a dynamite joy for a country boy when he hears them engines moan
But you?ve gotta hang tough when it gets real rough
When you?re out there on your own 'cause they?ll push you down
They?ll knock you down, they?ll shove you up against the wall
And you always know when the engine blows that a man can?t win ?em all

You can push that car just a little too far any Sunday afternoon
And if you?d break your neck in some damn fool wreck
They?d forget about you soon
But Ol? Stroker Ace was born to race and it?s worth all the trying
Just the dirt champagne in the victory lane and to hear that concrete whine

Stroker get your dander up this ain't no time to laugh
You?ve got to make the lap up if you?re gonna take that checkered flag
Number 10 is closin? in to even up the score
It?s time to wave bye bye and put the pedal on the floor
You?d better stand on it Stroker 'cause your blowin? off their doors

Blow their doors off Stroker
Stand on it, son
Ah, you good lookin? devil you

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317fe9b69e9d6bea9d84907d6e94dfe2

Killa Kali - Lyrics - Celly Cel

Title: Killa Kali
Artist: Celly Cel
Composer(s): Kenneth Darnell Franklin, Marceles Mccarver

Lyric:
Good evening
Welcome to channel 187 Murder 1 News
Tonight we focus on the city of Vallejo in the state of California
Where five black men were found dead at the water front
From various gunshot wounds
This brings the homicide rate in the state of California
To one of the highest in the nation
And is now known to you as Killa Kali

The state of California niggas call it Killa Kali
Murder weapons in the river bodies found in the alleys
Bring the yellow tape, body bags gettin' zipped up
Heads blown off wit', they insides ripped up
Mobile phones flipped up, factors callin' shots
Bitch made niggas, it's some real niggas on the block
'Cuz every hood got a trigga happy nigga
That don't give a fuck about puttin' two in your liver
But how you figure you can do dirt and stay clean

Niggas like that get pronounced dead on the scene
Ain't no winnin' teams 'cuz everybody taken losses in they hood
Reminiscin' on they niggas, man, I wish I could
Bring back the homies that I lost up in that funk season
Gotta check myself or let that alcohol be the reason
So I just poor a little liquor on the concrete
For my dead homies and the ones who ain't gone see the streets
Locked up with the rest of the locs

But whatever the reason my folks are walkin' the yard
Or gettin' they guts, some tryin' to make it home but I think
They safer in that pin 'cuz niggas on gin be lettin' them Mack 10's
Bust 32 times and niggas who ain't in it gettin' shot by
Standards on the block, smokin' like bomb, fools given up they cell
Gettin' sideways leaven them T-shirts, soakin' wet
Retaliation is a must
So now you know them niggas you was funkin' wit'
Gone be at yo do so, keep yo hand on yo nina in the valley
Or get dumped in the alley, fuckin' around in Killa Kali

Mothers on they knees
Wit' tears in they eyes, why?
('Cuz Killa Kali is the state of the drive by)

Mothers on they knees
Wit' tears in they eyes, why?
('Cuz Killa Kali is the state of the drive by)

It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Buddahba
It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Buck, buck

It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Budduhba
It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Buck, buck

The killin's on, ain't even safe when you at home
Whatever dirt you do gone follow you until you gone
So pack ya chrome and handle your own
'Cuz potnas tend to run
Walked in the party 10 deep and only left wit' one
Real nigga on your team but you know how it is
Can't even trust them niggas that you knew since you was kids
It ain't no thang, I let them niggas have it to

Bitch up and I switch up on that ass before I blast you
And fools better watch them hoes in they mix
Seen them choosen and you bid on that set up for a
Six foot ditch with your family in front of you
So many niggas slip, that's how they slide a bitch up under you
I wonder whose the next nigga to catch a bullet for sex nigga
Thought you was cock until they chopped you
With them tecs nigga, I think the game is on its last leg

Trigga happy niggas wit' no heart, it ain't no used to be
For your life 'cuz out here they quick to take they own
Snortin' that Peruvian on Hennessey you know they gone
Can't tell a nigga shit in the 9-5
All about they scrilla doin' niggas in on the side
Bellin' through yo hood buckin' fools down
Gettin' caught, slippin' with they mutherfuckin' pants down
Sleep with one eye open in the valley
'Cuz everything you love'll get smoked up in killa kali

Mothers on they knees
Wit' tears in they eyes, why?
('Cuz Killa Kali is the state of the drive by)

Mothers on they knees
Wit' tears in they eyes, why?
('Cuz Killa Kali is the state of the drive by)

It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Buddahba
It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Buck, buck

It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Budduhba
It's Killa Kali, it's Killa Kali
Buck, buck

California niggas be plottin' on fools
Jackin' mutherfuckers for them daytons
And leave that ol' school sittin' on with yo face in the dash
Two in the back of yo head, rip yo pockets of then laugh
Then you got them fools on the track pullin' out glocks
Pistol whippin' niggas till they drop
Reach in they draws and take they rocks
They money, they rings and they chains

Without a skimask on but can't complain
It's all in the game
Follow one of them ballers to they residence
Tyin' niggas up, lookin' for them dead presidents
It's for the money
You know the scratch but now we call it scrilla
It turned them Kali niggas into straight killas
Set trippin' on a daily basis

Vietnam ain't shit on what a nigga in the hood faces
1-8-7 case, cop into a lesser charge
Three strikes hit you with that L
Lock behind bars, bellin' wit' a strap
Punks seem like it's waitin'
To catch a nigga slippin' or get killed over conversation

Fuckin' wit' bitch will get you killed quick
Niggas let they hoes mow down they homies on the real beitch
Fools come to Kali thinkin' club med
Caught up in the cross fire when them sets bump heads
Keep yo hand on ya nina in the valley
Or everything you love'll get smoked up in Killa Kali

Mothers on they knees
Wit' tears in they eyes, why?
('Cuz Killa Kali is the state of the drive by)

Mothers on they knees
Wit' tears in they eyes, why?
('Cuz Killa Kali is the state of the drive by)

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675363dcd165fb9e39e03f5d002f12c4

Don'T Push Me (Featlloyd Banks Of G Unit &Amp; Eminem) - Lyrics - Get Rich Or Die Trying - 50 Cent

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Get Rich To This - Lyrics - Goodie Mob

Title: Get Rich To This
Artist: Goodie Mob
Composer(s): Rico R Wade, Antwan Patton, Jamahr Williams, Thomas Decarlo Burton, Willie Edward Knighton, Raymon Ameer Murray, Patrick L Brown, Cameron Gipp, Robert Terrance Barnett

Lyric:
We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Hey hey hey hey!
(Get rich to this)
We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Say say say say!
(Get rich to this)

It'll be all slippery, slick wid it automatically?
I'm the shit wid it, I'm psyched out, Sic-Wid-It
Like E-40 and The Click wid it
He sucker MC better know about it
I make your girlfriend hoe about it
I make a muh'fucka know about it

Somebody better tell him cock it back, hit a lick wid it
Keep it workin' drop a brick wid it
Off the block, serve a nig wid it, whip a brand new whip wid it
Apartment flow, you ain't know?
Look here lil' girl it come equipped wid it
She freaky deaky lick her lips wid it, she thick thick wid it

Jump, stump, twist wid it
Make 'em, make 'em, make 'em scrap wid it
Tear da club up, champagne campaign wid it
Party people do your thang wid it
I get to it y'all, I get the funds then I split wid it
A natural born money maker nitty-grit wid it ha? I get rich y'all

We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Hey hey hey hey!
(Get rich to this)
We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Say say say say!
(Get rich to this)

Ha boy, I done bought D's wid dis
Big 'bout-it Benz car keys wid dis
Condos in the Cancun summer breeze wid dis
And you know, doin' good fo' sho'
I'm gettin' rich too hollerin' out Calhoun know nigga
Nickeled and dimed and did dirt for dis
Do a show and sweat up my good shirt for dis
Snap back to toast I'll have to hurt for dis
So when I get me a lil' bit I'm a wear my shit

And if I lose it, I ain't gon' cry about it
I ain't no dummy God damn it I ain't about to die about it
But fuck wid me though, I'll let a few fly about it
Don't test me boy, because I about it!
So I'm the major money maker, mother fuck these niggaz
Keep yo' eyes on amounts, accounts and some bankers
Get high, get fly, 'til you get it, gettin' by
Don't switch get krunk get drunk get rich

From the bottom to the top now it's hot; keepin' it heated
People about to see they chasin' after cash in the ass
Suckers crash on the blast from the past
Goodie Mo.B. Backbone and OutKast
Whatchu think this was, black?
Take your sorry ass watch me blow, turnin' my lyrics in the flow
This is how it go, and it go, perfect picture paintin'
Million dollar hold in the Cascade, in the shade
Well I see gon' get paid to dis, and find a wife to dis
I'm 'bout to cut, like a knife to dis
And find dat, and find dat, top top, we get rich to dis, yeah!

We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Say say say say!
(Get rich to this)

The Goodie they call me, they wanted a player to bust to this
I'm takin' this thing, slow slow motion just can't rush with this
We all in the family, what have we, I think we done found a freak hoe
People all in my wallet hopin' to frolic we gon' see hoe
Just hold up, you know my pockets swoll up
I'm a let you suck my dick to meet your quota
And you're fine, kinda shorter
But I made this money before you got a Toyota and Explorer

And when I'm off in the mall gettin' fresh, I'm gon' ignore ya
Look at the earrings, the gold chains, the diamonds around my neck piece
The leather suede snake Elizabeth all up on my left B
Hoe look at all these emeralds and these rubies and my gold teeth
Thinkin' a nigga spiritual tryin' to build but you don't know me
See there's more than meets the ear so we can ball that's if we chose to
Move back I'm droppin' the top and yes it's mine and gal it's new too

Sign yo' grill wid dis
Canary yellow bowlin' ball silk drawers wid dis
Crushed velvet diamond cut, y'all get wreck wid dis

Tonight, Gipp get woozy
Might step outside and might catch me a floozie
Some loozy double-stitched hoochie
Y'all chase records while we chase coochie

The realest Down South hot two, in your face like kabuki
Get krunk, don't be no lame brain top bank head
Props, I'm prayin' wid dis

Boys on the ave, flood shots to dis
Girls in the club flirt out to dis
State your name baby and get rich to dis

We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Say say say say!
(Get rich to this)

We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)
We do a hundred on the highways
(Get rich to this)
Thank God for Friday's
(Get rich to this)
Hey hey hey hey!
(Get rich to this)
We peel out sideways
(Get rich to this)

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3bbe345aa8b2b9007e0c5ad4012ac4ae

9 Milli Bros. - Lyrics - Fishscale - Ghostface Killah

Title: 9 Milli Bros.
Album: Fishscale
Artist: Ghostface Killah
Composer(s): Dennis Coles, R. Diggs, D. Dumile, G. Grice, L. Hawkins, D. Hills, J. Hunter, R. Jones, C. Smith, D. Thompson, E. Turner, C. Woods

Lyric:
Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon
The Chef, the Inspektah Deck
M-E-T-H-O-D the B-O-B-B
(The Man)

Straight up, Masta Killa, the GZA
The Genius, it's the Ol' D-d-dirty Bastard
One, two, one, two
(Killer Beats)
Turn it up, turn it up
The headphones, turn it up

Yo, you hear me?
(Yeah, whut up Toney?)
W'sup Don' Don'
(All the way up)
You know how we do
(Let's get this paper together)
You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh, huh
(That's right, c'mon nigga)
That's as far as it goes?

Sound about to go off on some real live
Wu shit, uh, huh
(WTC, Ghost-face)
Lemme give y'all the bullshit
Hook for y'all niggas, check it out

The burners in the stash, we about the cash
We got females that got it like that
The golden child's that bone the crowd
See niggas in the place that bit my style

Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers
Wu-Tang got the answer
'Cuz if I had a chance to do it again
I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh

Y'all be nice to the crack heads, everybody listen up
I shot one of my bitches, the hoe ain't trick enough
Word life to big screen Don, tapping dust-bones out
With star-writers like I fucked Celine Dion

Stuck everything that's the God's honest beyond
We airin' niggas out that's the type shit that we on
Official Wu-Tang head-banger
Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka

Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part
Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks
Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose
Yellow suede one matching hat with the gray gun

Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up
We all wore down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'
Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on
Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'

Two of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves
Front on react and sippin' Cognac so relax dude
Know I'm with these cracks dude

Yo, one, two
Yo, Dirt McGirt, solid tone smith with fifth shots
Lick shots, leave your head like a Shaolin monk with six dots
Brooklyn, zoo, zoo
Brooklyn, zoo, zoo

It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor
Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma
Eat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage
My whole crew's fresh out the bars

Diggler, a.k.a The Cab Driver
Drop him off in the middle of fire
Dirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land
Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand

I remember in the elevator we was playin' corners
Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us
Staten's where the war is
Where the court system's running out of warrants
Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus

For real I can't call it
You see I love Lucy 'cuz she Lawless
She's exactly like that 10304 is
Snitch niggas swallow your tongue
Already know the island I'm from
And y'all don't want no problems with them

We got a history, full of lightning victories
Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery
Long vision, from giants in every way
Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day

From the East to the Ville, from the West to the hills
Incredible rhymes, encouraging skills
From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous
They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance

MCs start fleeing in flocks
Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock
We grindin', down to the bone my name grounded in stone
I'm Mr Violence we loungin' with Chrome
Mr Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome
Shining like a hundred thousand in stones

Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero
160, my song, we throwin' elbows
The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings
Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens

Yeah we wild like rock stars who smash guitars
Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost
It's no joke, iron coat, rifle with a scope
One toke, brains float, shot to the throat

Before the smoke hit, witness the killing
Southern crime scene, body on the block
Eyes open from the shock of being popped in the neck
Yet he's still hella lit cigarette between his fingers
Danger when you step into the chamber with the master
Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cuz I have ta

The rat pack is back from the Island of Stat'
Leave you cursed us 'cuz you worship the gat
The first one to snap drunk off your Smirnoff
Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss

Handcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodore
See it's pure, let it rain pearly ounces
Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers
You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast
That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash

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Don'T Push Me - Lyrics - Get Rich Or Die Tryin' - 50 Cent

Title: Don'T Push Me
Album: Get Rich Or Die Tryin'
Artist: 50 Cent
Composer(s): F Perren, Curtis Jackson, Christopher Lloyd, L Resto

Lyric:
I need you to pray for me and
I need you to care for me and
I need you to want me to win
I need to know where I'm heading 'cause I know where I've been
Flows, bones, crushing it's nothing
I come up with something
Come through your strip, fronting, stunting
It's something you want, 745 chrome spinning
Haters hate that I'm winning

Man I've been hot from the beginning
Motherfuckers aim at the kid, control your jealousy
'Cause I can't control my temper, I'm fitting to catch a felony
Pistol in hand homie, I'm down to get it popping
Once I squeeze the first shot
No I ain't stopping till my clip is empty
I'm simply not that nigga you should try your luck with
Fuck with, hollow-tip shells struck with your bones broke
Gun smoking, still locing, what nigga
Lay your ass down paramedics get you up feeling

Right now I'm on the edge
So don't push me
I aim straight for your head
So don't push me
Fill your ass up with lead
So don't push me
I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Right now I'm on the edge
So don't push me
I aim straight for your head
So don't push me
Fill your ass up with lead
So don't push me
I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

I cross my bigger nigga and I didn't cry
To young to understand, the consequences of man
Living a lie, I gotta get that money
I'll be damned if If I'm bummy
Gotta watch my back around these niggas
'Cause they fronting twenty years
Of watching my Mama's tears
Got me heated, heavily weeded

Smoking that bomb 'cause I need it
These niggas don't want me balling, they want me bury
Thrown in the dirt, from shots flurry
Laying with bugs under my shirt
I got plans to hop up in that Hummer
'Cause I'mma stunner, I sit back and wonder
When them angels gon' call my number
Under, my chest is a heart of a lion

I ain't lying, bounty hunters got me flying
With my iron, high as a giant
I'm running from nothing, my stomach is touching
What I'm clutching, to give you more then a concussion
End of discussion
My blood is colder, so I'm bolder
And it's either soda
Hood on my my shoulder
Looking in the mirror, I see a soldier

Right now I'm on the edge
So don't push me
I aim straight for your head
So don't push me
Fill your ass up with lead
So don't push me
I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Right now I'm on the edge
So don't push me
I aim straight for your head
So don't push me
Fill your ass up with lead
So don't push me
I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

These are my ideas, this is my sweat and tears
This is shit that I solved with my balls, my ears
This is me who's gotta be, what you see on TV
What you hear on C.D., what appears easy
Man these teenie boppers see me on these magazine covers
In these beanies and these rags, living fantasies
Fronting like it's all fun and games
Till they shoot 'em up bang

Then you see brains hang and you see we ain't playing
Ain't saying we ain't laying down at night and ain't praying
I bully my way in this game, man I'm done playing
Man I'm done saying that I'm done playing
I'mma start laying any of these motherfucking cocksuckers
There's no way I'mma back down, like a goddamn coward
I can't, how would I look as man bowing to his knees
Like the mad cow disease, let somebody lash out at me
And not lash back out at 'em, please

Oh, whoa, yo, ho, hold up, oh no, not me
Not Marshall, you wanna see Marshall?
I'll show you Marshall, I try to show you art
Put you just pick it apart, so I see I have to start
Showing you fuckin' old farts a whole other side
I wanted to not show you, so you know you're not dealing with
Some fuckin' marshmallow, little soft yellow
Punk pussy, who's heart's Jello, 'cause

Right now I'm on the edge
So don't push me
I aim straight for your head
So don't push me
Fill your ass up with lead
So don't push me
I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Right now I'm on the edge
So don't push me
I aim straight for your head
So don't push me
Fill your ass up with lead
So don't push me
I got something for your ass, keep thinking I'm pussy

Shady aftermath nigga, G-Unit
Rap juggernauts of this shit, we takin' over

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2d94b4260c5cb6b0f20ba6201e623abf

Hurt Niggas - Lyrics - Infamy - Mobb Deep

Title: Hurt Niggas
Album: Infamy
Artist: Mobb Deep
Composer(s): Kejuan Muchita, Albert Johnson, J Williams, T Perry

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

Lyric:
I'll noose ya'll and push ya'll off the edge
I'm like Ray Benzino 'cause how I hang men
I got a big caliber gun inside of my Timb
So I can explode on any mothafucka that grin
Trust me, it's not like that, it's not what you thought
You'll be like, "P shot me and bounced in the Porsche"
On some real live Mobb shit, Columbo, the Cappo
I pop niggas, leave the gun right there, I got gloves

Stop niggas from frontin', leave 'em real fucked up
I drop niggas thats runnin', shoot 'em in they back dun
Coward ass nigga poppin' all that shit
And when them things popped out you on some Michael Johnson shit
Fuck that, hammer that nigga to the earth
Wanna cross me? You niggas gotta pay that toll first
And I got change for all that million dollar shit
And these slugs'll be the only reason niggas be hollarin'

Turn this shit up, pump this shit up
The DJ mothafuckas burn this shit up
We hurt niggas
Twirl that shit up, burn that shit up
Don't make me have the Nine spit up
I gives a fid-uck, I hurt niggas

I'm tired of tellin' niggas how the fuck I feel
You know the steel 'll put them niggas to sleep like Benedryl
These trash ass rappers and they fagot ass friends
Talkin' like the bitches, walk around like they Men
Niggas like ya'll don't get no respect
This is Hav', I die once, ya'll niggas die a Thousand deaths
Cowards, you tryin' too hard to be 'bout it
You know them niggas that be fake be the ones to shout it

Talkin' this and that, but check
Turn around and get robbed in they own projects
Might as well be rappin' on stage for them
Bitches be baggin' you 'cause you the one feminine
The sound of these guns got 'em shook, it's a rap
You could see the yellow stripe runnin' clear down they back
And let that nigga find out where you live at
And then blow that mothafuckin' piece of shit off the map

Whattup son? Dun, surprise nigga, thats how we pop up on 'em
You off point you die in your sleep, thats the moral
Nigga, you know we get our contraband in
It's smokin' that dangerous, you know we got bangers
You know I'm dead real, I don't know what you was thinkin'
I'm all over the street, you better stay creepin'
I shoot niggas fair ones, I'll box you dun
You'll be six feet in that dirt, I'll stop your run

Turn this shit up, pump this shit up
The DJ mothafuckas burn this shit up
We hurt niggas
Twirl that shit up, burn that shit up
Don't make me have the Nine spit up
I gives a fid-uck, I hurt niggas

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d134344e8bed5c210fef03bd33ff8c35

Sugarfoot - Lyrics - The Wallflowers - The Wallflowers

Title: Sugarfoot
Album: The Wallflowers
Artist: The Wallflowers
Composer(s): Jakob Dylan

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

Lyric:
Sugarfoot's got two hands
Just as long as he can see
One hand in the birdfeed
And a hand in the apple tree

He stands in line, just a little behind
A yellow moon that hangs
He's all tangled and he broke his sticks on the links
Of his own chain gang

You oughta see this home that he own
It's like a box of jewelry
He's got his own church bell
And his bed, it lays in a gallery

And all the colors they shine like flames
Coming in through the window pane
They end up getting checked over twice
For the reds of someone's veins

It's so cold and blown all apart
It's so cold and needing of a heart

He stands alone on the top of his home
Where all the blue birds flown
Sucks in on his cheeks and he cries
As he moans through a saxophone

He reaches high with his hands in the sky
Puts his fingers right into the storm
Always one to stand under the moon
And blow on his own horn

And anyone with anything has already begun to think
That somebody down there knows
Just how he sat down on his knees in the dirt
And buried someone's rainbow

It's so cold and blown all apart
It's so cold and needing of a heart

It's so cold and blown all apart
It's so cold and needing of a heart

Well, I know you ain't my enemy
The only one's inside of me, he's killing me getting free
I hear he wants my head with an old ice pick
And fix me up on a stick

An' all I've ever got to be is everything I wanna be
And Sugarfoot disagrees
He still stands tall underneath that apple tree
Man, he's still watching me

His chain gang is tryin' to pull me down
Like the birds and the fireflies
They shoot arrows up into the skies
And they burn all the feathers dry

Well, he only wants to fill his belly up
With rocks till it hurts, then he stops
Well, he don't know what to do with love
If it don't fill his belly to the top

It's so cold and blown all apart
It's so cold and needing of a heart

It's so cold and blown all apart
It's so cold and needing of a heart

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Aish Tamid - Lyrics - Live at Stubb's: Austin, TX 2/19/05 [LIVE] - Matisyahu

Title: Aish Tamid
Album: Live at Stubb's: Austin, TX 2/19/05 [LIVE]
Artist: Matisyahu
Composer(s): Matthew Miller, Josh Werner

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

Lyric:
The place lays phased like a warrior slayed
Engraved into the space with his sword still raised
Layers of charcoal sprayed through hallways
Praise relays off the walls echoin' always

Dirt covered earth lays beneath my rib cage
Givin' birth to overgrowth invadin' on to path ways
Burnt out trees cover streets where children once played
Sown seeds decay through sacred steppin' stones in disarray

Where the alter used to be placed
Interchanged for bloodstains
Sunrays illuminate smoke filled haze
Trace of incense, scents of sacrifice stayed

Aish Tamid eternally, fire burns continuously
Wondering where you've been, won't you come on home to me?
Aish Tamid eternally, a fire burns continuously
Wondering where you've been, won't you, won't you come to me?

Flashback, patches of grass growin' wild in fact
Cracked walls burnt black like a kingdom sacked
Memories like artifacts attacked yet still intact
Melodies wrapped in glass shatter with the impact

Air interminglin', ringin' with the singin'
Of songs once sung, flung, hung into the rafters
Catastrophe struck, the sound stuck, disaster plastered
The aftermath a blasted buildin' still standin'

Like a starved man fasting the skies expandin'
Clouds passin', dust particles dancin' in broken bars of light
Streamin' from a shaft slashed into the ceilin'
Shh, you could feel the ground breathin'

Aish Tamid eternally, fire burns continuously
Wondering where you've been, won't you come on home to me?
Aish Tamid eternally, a fire burns continuously
Wondering where you've been, won't you, won't you come to me?

Daughter of Zion is lyin' cryin' in the mist
Mornin' light slips in siftin' through the darkness
Like a mornin' wife reminisce
Having visions of her long gone prince

Memory drips, rain drops tip
Towin' emptiness
Intermixed with tears
Like fears left unfixed

Walls worn thin, frozen fortress
Like dawn waitin' for a day that got skipped
Like a life gone wrong wanderin' wilderness
Lovesick stripped abyss [Incomprehensible] once luscious

Aish Tamid eternally, fire burns continuously
Wondering where you've been, won't you come on home to me?
Aish Tamid eternally, a fire burns continuously
Wondering where you've been, won't you, won't you come to me?

Paint the scene, so you can see city pickin' up speed
On a bench 14th street, taxis streamin' yellow streaks
Spears piercing through my ears, you could hear the traffic speak
Jack hammers drill smackin' through the sizzling concrete

Windowsills spilling tangled telephone wires
Signs sparking neon lights flashin' like wildfire
My insides rise, I start to feel paralyzed
Let out a sigh, a melody blew by like an ancient war cry

Sunlight hit the trees, it really caught my eye
Glistenin', listenin' to the breeze
Dancin' through the trees, freeze
The city goes in slow motion like a dream

I'm left empty like a temple turned into a fox den
Bus fumes drippin', spittin' into city summer sun
Siftin' through the ash
Dimly lit vision listenin'

To the hiss liftin' off a nighttime ocean
Shim, shim, shimmerin', singein' hair on my skin
Whispering where ya been?
Glim, glim, glimmerin'

From amidst the darkness set sail with the softness
Breeze travelin' across the seas arisen from within Mt. Zion
Wind comin' in, pickin' up momentum
Cuttin' crisply through the darkness ridin' on a rhythm

A rollercoaster sizzlin'
Twistin' down the mountain
Rippin' rocket ship explodin' like a fountain
Overflowin', spillin' through the courtyard of Jerusalem

Uncoverin' debris, liftin' up the fallen arisen within'
To reach the yiddin
Even in Manhattan, exposed Menorah
Glowin' in the shadows of destruction

Trailblazin' through affliction
Brushin' off the branches
Golden standin' strong, flames dancin'
Like a lion roarin', risin' out of nothin'

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7877683740b8801969653ef8b5b7babb

Eastside Ryders - Lyrics - Ruff Ryders

Title: Eastside Ryders
Artist: Ruff Ryders
Composer(s): David Styles, K Spillman, T Davis, P Lawrence

Lyric:
Eastsider
Ruff Ryder
Yeah yeah yeah yeah
Like this, like this, like that, like that
Like this, like this, like that, like that, like that

Who run these streets? Love thug beats?
Ruff spoken, guns speak, blood leak
Lug heat for the threat not protection
Not a question, busta tests I got rest 'em

Catch 'em slippin', in the hood or the mall
You ain't strapped, we can scrap, I'm good with the Doggs
Fuck talkin', chuck walkin' in my khakis
Rag swangin', gang bangin' nigga brang it at me

Eastsider, Ruff Ryder loved by the masses
We the niggas holla out the set when we blastin'
Insane 20 gang, anything killa
Tracy Davis, hair raises, Goldie loc the stealer

Gang lock down, we can't stop now
Get in the way of villain and tray spray hot rounds
Suckas chose thuggin' as a last resort, ain't that a bitch?
Here we do this shit for sport this crip

We ridaz, keep the heat beside us
Better not try us, touch ya like midas
Ruff Rydaz, ride with Eastsidaz
Bustaz bow down to crown, the Royal Highness

Well, we gonna take your raps, and gats, stacks and sacks
Dippin' with the Jags and 'Lacs
Eastsidaz roll with Ruff Rydaz
Try to step aside us or get right behind us

When I die, fuck a moment of silence, this is Holiday
Gangsta rap gunnin' and havin' moments of violence
It's an Eastsider, Ruff Ryder thing, Why you mad at me?
Holdin' on an AK, puffin' on some Cali weed

Streets is my girl, asked her to marry me
Yellow and purple ears, tryin' to see Shaq's salary
D-Block Gang, Ruff Ryder mafia
Make sure the bullets hit you 'cause I stand on top of ya

Bounce like I'm hydrolics
And I got niggaz in the hood that would shoot you over nine dollars
Asked if I'm a gang member? Fuck nah, I'm a gang leader
Boss to the boss and I bang heaters

And you don't wanna see my arm jerk
'Cause the work I put on your face is bound to make your mom hurt
And this one is for my Cali niggaz
Eastsiders, Ruff Ryders and you can die in an ally niggaz

We ridaz, keep the heat beside us
Better not try us, touch ya like midas
Ruff Rydaz, ride with Eastsidaz
Bustaz bow down to crown, the Royal Highness

Well, we gonna take your raps, and gats, stacks and sacks
Dippin' with the Jags and 'Lacs
Eastsidaz roll with Ruff Rydaz
Try to step aside us or get right behind us

I never write raps like a song can make me
Trick off my money and let these bitches break me
'Cause I'm a cold piece of gold, dickies saggin' in the dirt
Sellin' my double knucks, to enhance my work

Nigga Q keep it pimpin', I'm 'a keep it crippin'
Me and dip dippin', Dogg tha police trippin'
I'm an Eastside Ryde or die nigga
And I believe you fools are some quick to lie niggaz

Sippin' on sans call me lil bit
A down to earth brother, gang bangin' and rappin'
Fake blow joes not hoppin' lo-lo's
I'm tired of you bustaz and fake CO's

You can ask Deal Dogg, motherfuckin' scoop
We done rounded up the homies and the front line troops
Look 'cause, this game don't give me my cheese
I'm 'a shit down your throat, with tricks up my sleeve

We ridaz, keep the heat beside us
Better not try us, touch ya like midas
Ruff Rydaz, ride with Eastsidaz
Bustaz bow down to crown, the Royal Highness

Well, we gonna take your raps, and gats, stacks and sacks
Dippin' with the Jags and 'Lacs
Eastsidaz roll with Ruff Rydaz
Try to step aside us or get right behind us

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553aff13f796616d43c4926e034cb126

Gun Slinger - Lyrics - B.G.

Title: Gun Slinger
Artist: B.G.
Composer(s): Christopher Dorsey, Byron Thomas

Lyric:
I got 'em all from revolver semi-automatics, automatics
Grenades, assault rifles run up, I'll letcha have it
When it comes to guns, I'm one of the best
Get a few to the head, then a few to the chest

I've been ridin' puttin' bitch-niggas six in the dirt
At a young age hopped off the porch puttin' in work
I'm a soldier fuck with me don't say I ain't told ya
I'll catch ya with your drawers down and fuck over ya

Blues your dog and letcha know I don't play
Have your family grievin', singin', 'Amazin' Grace'
And whoever call theyself comin' out there with ya
I'ma up, cock, and knock the brains out that nigga

Bustin' heads ain't nothin' to me I've been doin' it
And if you're smart you don't want trouble with me
If you want it, believe I ain't gon' hesitate to bring it
I'll politely put that thing in my hand and just sling it

I'm a gun slinger, consider me a home wrecker
I'm a gun slinger they label me as a dome checker
I'm a gun slinger, consider me a home wrecker
I'm a gun slinger they label me as a dome checker

Nigga, I swear, you don't want me to go off
'Cause when I go off, believe, nigga, I'ma show off
Your head definitely gon' get blowed off
I have no conscience at all I continue to get my roll on

Murder, murder, kill, kill: that's all I know
Hustle 'til mornin' and get the dope, man: that's all I know
I was raised in the streets, bitch taught that g shit
I was told, nigga [unverified] knock him off his feet quick

Remember I was seven, put my hands on my first weapon
Daddy taught me how to pop a clip in a Mack-11
Ever since that, I fell in love with guns
Saved my allowance for a month and got me one

My cousin taught me how to shoot a nine, and it was on
Nigga made me feel played, I had to upset his home
Now, if you want drama, I don't hesitate to bring it
I up that AK-47 and start to sling it

I'm a gun slinger, consider me a home wrecker
I'm a gun slinger they label me as a dome checker
I'm a gun slinger, consider me a home wrecker
I'm a gun slinger they label me as a dome checker

When it's on my mind, I'm ready for whatever, nigga
I'ma take this beef straight to another level, nigga
Your sister just got married, I shoot-up her reception, nigga
Whack your clique one by one 'til no one left in it, nigga

Spot the car movin' slow with no lights, tryin' to creep
That's me, and I'm there to tear down the whole street
B.G. don't play no games, I'm 'bout sprayin'
When you see me, all you gon' see is flucka-flucka-flame!

Brains on the ground yellow tape all around
People sayin', "That had to be a nigga from uptown"
When I'm lose, I'm lose when I'm strapped, I'ma use it
'Cause I ain't gon' have that in my hand and don't shoot it

I'ma abuse it bust hollows like cupid bust arrows
I only put hollow tips in my barrel
You wanna battle nigga, I'ma bring noise
I got to show ya I'm a original hot boy, and a

Gun slinger, consider me a home wrecker
I'm a gun slinger, label me as a dome checker
I'm a gun slinger, consider me a home wrecker
I'm a gun slinger, label me as a dome checker

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57bfb122c8a46d98940dd1932b6b4df0

Ya Slippin' - Lyrics - Boogie Down Productions

Title: Ya Slippin'
Artist: Boogie Down Productions
Composer(s): Lawrence Krsone Parker

Lyric:
(Yo man, these people around here in '87 just slippin-dough, you know what
I'm sayin? Boogie Down Productions not slippin-dough, so hold ya hands-you
Know what I'm sayin? (word) Yo! What's goin' on? Mr. Magic-you know what
Happened? He slipped on us-he die. Pumpin KISS FM, we rock. To my man DJ
Red Alert- we chillin' (word). Yo man! Yo do, heard about, man, this shit
About this kid-Wearin' the, ah, Jerry Curls, man. Word up! He was slippin'
Yo dough, word up, word up. He had a yellow coat on, but no description was
Given)

Now what you just heard, people, was a little kickin
But let me tell you this while the clock is still tickin
This is the warning, known as the caution
Do not attempt to dis 'cause you'll soften
Just like a pillow, or better yet a mattress
You can't match this style or attack this
While I'm telling you, write on schedule
Fuck with K-R-S and I'll bury you
Deep in the dirt, or sand with a shovel
No fight, no scurry, or scuffle, just muffle
Total domination on stage
Kris is the name, 22 is the age
Those who wanna battle, I know who you are
You got a little girl, you drive a little car
You come into the place with that look on your face
Before you ran the mile, you lost the race
So assume you're doomed when you step in the room
I'll be the witch and you'll be the broom
I'll ride you, guide you into the concrete
I'll slide you to a funky beat
So what do we have here?
A sucka in fear
I snatched your heart
Put it way up on the chart
At ten you're fucked
At nine you suck
At eight you're a sucker
At seven-a mothafucka
At six you're slapped
At five you're just wacked
At four you're lost
At three, you're just soft
At two you're an ass
At one, you're a dick
But before you slip, I'll whip
'Cause homeboy, ya slippin'

(Yo get my slip on, I'm chillin on. A long time, ya see me slip on, crop D
And I'll slip on, everybody-I slip on. Sayin? I'll come back if I miss you
Sayin?)

I understand that music calms the savage beast
But keep in mind that I compose my music piece by piece
First a bass, a snare
A little cut over there
I add my name K-R-S
And the shit becomes fresh
I ask Moe and ICU for their thoughts
Layin' down a power play all the suckas are tought
One again, the tactics of original arts
We're gettin' payed to the end 'cause we were down from the start
We're known as Boogie Down Productions, ain't no B-boy stance
Gauranteed to make ya dance, if you give us a chance
We're goin' off and of course all ya suckas are lost
You wanna hear a fresh rhyme? You've come to the source
Because I'm the type of guy who's not put up on a pedestal
Run my rhyme on time and on schedule
One after another, another to the next
Can't rhyme when you're tense, or your muscles won't flex
Check your larynx
It may get lower havin' sex
Or may get higher
When bustin' as a liar
These are the things I teach so be tought
To me you're kinda short, how many battles have you fought?
If you come up with a number, notebook, or list
It just doesn't matter, you can still get dissed
I'm bringin' back that ol' New York rap
That gets you jacked while you're hands still clap
It's funny
Just dissin' you I can make money
But noone's tippin'
My message is simple Ya' slippin

(They slippin'-dough-1987-they spippin', but we goin' all the way to the top
Man (word)-you know what I'm sayin? To my brother KRS-1, you're large, I'm
Sayin, large-everytime, man, large. They're slippin')

E-N-O, S-R-K
When you go through other albums, you're sure to say
Goddam! They all seem to sound alike
Till you hear the crew standin' over in the light
Showing, glowing, on the top growing
The lyrics keep flowing and flowing and just flowing
Just like a river, or better yet a stream
I'm proud to be down with the winning team
So don't ever in your life even think about an arguement
Cuz you'll get walked on like carpet
We'll pick you up, and dust you off
Stamp BDP on you're head and you're off
But you won't even change that to say instead
I'm down cuz I got a BDP on my head
So just before you inherit that ass kicking
I suggest you wake right up cuz ya slippin'
(Yo! They slippin'-dough, they slippin'-dough, they slippin'-word up

Word up
I
Don't care no more, man, I'm commin' out of the shell-dough, they
Slippin'
Man. B-boy Records, Magic, yo all the time they slippin-ya know what
I'm
Saying? This other kid-I don't know what his name is, but you know
What time
It is. (WORD UP!) He's slippin' too (everybody). Slippin', and
Everytime
He do somethin', he's slippin'. Slippin'.)

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237f8a3bf77fa472311e65db5c09915b

Everything I Love - Lyrics - Press Play - Diddy

Title: Everything I Love
Album: Press Play
Artist: Diddy
Composer(s): Sean Combs, Thomas Decarlo Callaway, Leroy V Watson, Nasir Jones, Kanye Omari West

Lyric:
The world at my sneakers
Gold pieces molded with Jesus features
Give streets the fever
From the way I spit the Ether

Came on the scene at 19, a gritty fiefa
For money, power, respect, get it by any means
A New Yorker, slick talker, walk like a brick flipper
Decimal doctor, multiply to get richer

I'm a entrepreneur, I'm the heart of the city
I'm a part of the sewers, I'm the honorable Diddy
I taste the dirt in my sweat, that's from the Harlem struggle
All in my swagger, that's the reason why I got my hustle

I got the highest stature, Miami diamond flasher
I got you caught in the most flyest and stylish rapture
My signature next to Christopher Wallace, get it honest
My first album through to him, that was my biggest project

Now I'm the illest known to walk like the illest soldier
And when I smoke, only roll up with the illest doja
You sit and mail it over my venom, a killer cobra
It's Harlem, U.S.A., I diddy bop and shop with Oprah

Nigga, what?
From my voice I'm killin' 'em
I shed my blood
About everything I love

Am still a eye blacker, open handed, face the palm smacker
Goods strapper, cat stacker, good wood packer
Tear up the Dom P wrappers faster
Platinum Patron splasher, fuck Cris, spit atcha

I call it rich ignorant laughter
Black American Express card all gray now
It's scratched up from constant usage
Girl kidnapper, pop tags off tags

Poppa makin' monster music
And still I Cosa Nostra
Big roaster, skin cola
Girl, when I send for ya, bring friends, wontcha?

I'm from the '80s, N.Y.C., 5 percent of culture
Breeze through with that old school blue [Incomprehensible]
Wrist glowin', ho-in', fly off in a Boeing
Slide off with your ho and spend six figures on her

My persona, Sean John, unforgivable cologne
Coppin' the biggest diamonds, makes me sorta bi-polar
Ferrari to Phantom, vehicles for high rollers
The studded chain around my neck, it makes the night colder

Nigga, what?
From my voice I'm killin' 'em
I shed my blood
About everything I love

The Queens Crypt keeper, Mets hat rocker
Pretty bitch slobber, Ex-robber, heister, my own life biographer
Pants saggin', Bentley whippin', Summer Jam stopper
Tim Chuck wearin', Cranapple vodka, then I spray choppers

A doctor in the jungles of Haiti made me
Draped in paisley bandannas, suits with Adam Stacey
Cigar like Dick Tracy, it's dark, I get spacey
Alcohol and laced weed, that was part of my '80s

The Cartier conciergeries be near me
Canary yellow cuts in my pinky yearly
Liz Taylor tried to juxt me
'Coz I keep it green like the other side of Bill Bixby

When he gets mean
Think fast before I blast hoes Like Grassino
Went from scraggly old clothes
To the illest fashion and realest rappin'

Pablo back on the scene, won't roll back up with green
Strictly paper cruisin' through the strip in Vegas
Two of New York's biggest, niggaz, y'all used to hate us
But now you love us, Nas and Diddy, power hustlers

Nigga, what?
From my voice I'm killin' 'em
I shed my blood
About everything I love

It's on everything I love, man
It's on everything I love
It's on everything I love, man

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