Z - Streets Is Talking - Lyrics - The Dynasty: Roc La Familia 2000 - Jay

Title: Z - Streets Is Talking
Album: The Dynasty: Roc La Familia 2000
Artist: Jay
Composer(s): Shawn Carter, Dwight Grant, Justin Smith

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Lyric:
Is he a blood? Is he a crip?
Is he that? Is he this?
Did he do it? You know uhh
Look

If I shoot you I'm brainless
Different toilet, same shit and I'm sick of explainin' this
I'm waitin' on arraignment my nigga is the plantiff
Yeah I know what you thinkin' fucked up ain't it?

I shoulda known better and I planned to
But dog they be takin' me out of my zone like a nigga with a handle
I sat back and watched it put the gats back in the closet
That's what I tied my hands like an Iraqi hostage

Let niggas take shots at me no response
I just flip and pop my collar like the fons
You give a nigga a foot he'll take you one step beyond
He'll try to play you twice the third time is the charm

You wanna conversate with the writer of the Quran
Or old testament don't test him then
I know what y'all thinkin' dick, pause
Your future's my past I've been here before

I know when you're schemin' I feel when you ply
And I got mental vision, intuition
I know where you goin' I read your mind's navigational system
Everybody whisperin' pers-pers-pers-perspirin'

When the streets is talkin' niggas is gossipin'
Bitches all in your shit what's the cause of it?
I need to know

You see me with a bodyguard that means police is watchin'
And I only use his waist to keep my glock in
But when shit goes down you know who's doin' the poppin'
And if you don't know guess who's doin' the droppin'

S dot again y'all got him in a bad mood
Bad move that's bad news
How many times have I got to prove?
How many loved ones have you got to lose?

Before you realize that it's probably true
Whatever Jigga say Jigga probably do
Shit I paid my dues I made the news
I came in the door for dolo blazed the crews

And the streets say"Jigga can't go back home"
You know when I heard that when I was back home
I'm comfortable dog Brooklyn to Rome
On any Martin Luther don't part with your future

Don't ever question if I got the heart to shoot ya
The answer is simply too dark for the user
And as a snot-nose they said that "He got flows"
But will he be able to drop those before the cops close in?

'For the shots froze him and he's dead and gone
From what the block has spoken my God
Everybody stressin' who's his baby's moms?
Who he got pregnant? Let me tell you ahh

Nigga streets is talkin' niggaz is gossipin'
Bitches all in your shit what's the cause of it?
I need to know

When the, streets is talkin' niggas is gossipin'
Bitches all in your shit what's the cause of it?
I need to know

I seen my first murder in the hall if you must know
I lost my pops when I was eleven twelve years old
He's probably somewhere where the liquor is takin' it's toll
But I ain't mad at you dad holla at your lad

I grew up pushin' snowflake to niggas that was pro-base
The stress'll take a young nigga give him a old face
All I did was smoke joke think and drink
Cop came they complained front row watch game

I seen niggas before me with a chance to write they own script
Slip up and change the story
I seen young niggas go out in a blaze of glory
Before reachin' puberty scared a nigga truthfully

I took trips with so much shit in the whip
That if the cops pulled us over the dog'd get sick, sniff
Smell me nigga, the real me nigga, minus the rumors
Holla if you feel me nigga

The streets is not only watchin' but they talkin' now
Shit they got me circlin' the block before I'm parkin' now
Don't get it twisted I ain't bitchin' I'm just cautious now
Sub under the parka extra cartridge now

Hit his click sig up you fell at it you're dense
I get word to the street like Bell Atlantic Express
I feel the vibes and I hear the rumors
But fuck it I'm still alive and I'm still in jumaa I know stafallah

Niggas wanna press me put my back to the wall
But pressure bust pipes I know I spat to y'all
To know me is to love me you see me, can't be me hate this
Fuck you I got guns like Neo in 'Matrix'

Cross the family think Mac's sweet like Cairo
Or soft like play doh get knocked off like Fredo Corleone
They find you with a hole in your dome
I roll with niggas that'll follow you and go to your home

Thought you ball
But nigga you fall to my defense
Catch you while you reachin'
Clip you then I cross you then I'm leavin

Apply full court pressure
Like four-four get you out of here, pull pressure
To the trigger bullets fly in three's
You forever rest under bullshit, dirt lies and leaves

I do bullshit
Dirt tell lies then leave
Look in my eyes
Realize it's beans

Niggas wanna despise the team
Till I play head coach and straight up divide they team
Trade they man for some pies and a couple of things
Till the bullet ahh motherfuckers yeah

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270b1639acfa64e2891532e3ccc53352

Ya'Meen - Lyrics - 4:21...the Day After - Method Man

Title: Ya'Meen
Album: 4:21...the Day After
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): Kenneth Ifill, David Styles, Josh Joergensen, Joseph Anthony Cartagena, Clifford Smith, D Klein

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

Lyric:
Yo, I'm 'bout to hit you with this ya'meen
On top of the ya'meen, with a lil' bit of ya'meen mixed in
Ya'meen? Yeah, yeah, yo

How should I get it started, f*** it, just get it started?
These trash talking artists is nothing, n****z is garbage
When Meth strike his target, leave it dearly departed
His flow is clearly the hardest, y'all gon' feel me regardless

Might break a promise but never breaking the code
Some get popped and call for they mamma, when the drama unfolds
My block, hot as a sauna, n**** w*** u* a** j***
C**** deals on every corner, fiends wanna foam you with soap

And, if life's a b****, then I bet she bitter and cold
Every time she thinking I fold, seven figures get sold
Meth, all in your chest or inhale it all in your nose
Cops don't know about this Method but smell it all in his clothes

Yup, I'm still intact, how real is that, I'm back
With enough, fits a million, to figure vanilla wraps up
New York, New York, Rock Tube socks and Timberlands
'Cause hip hop ain't feeling them flip-flops, they feminine

I'm the one shot dealing, one shot killing it
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me
(Ya'meen, ya'meen)
Yeah, if you not for squealing and for spilling the
(Ya'meen)

The streets is watching the apple rotten like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me
(Ya'meen, ya'meen)
Yeah, if you get it popping or get to popping 'em
(Ya'meen)

You know the haters diss you, let's deal with bigger issues
You know New York is dying after all the shit we been through
And we done lost B.I.G., we done lost Pun
Homey, you can't live, gotta go and get them g***

You know the hammers'll lose your cabbage, them dudes do damage
Send Zulu Nation through Reaganomics, we move them package
We pushing rain pain, gotta go and get that money
Y'all going, "Hey, hey", but don't that pen look lovely

You must not know who y'all n****z is f***ing with
I can take life n** just for the f*** of it
Crack's crazy, that n****'ll smack babies
Clap ladies for yackin' you gon' catch shady

Call it a mass shower, the way them hollow's drizzle
Mr. Potato Head, you know them things can't miss you
The Average Joe, with an average flow
Me and Meth bringing back New York, n****

I'm the one shot dealing, one shot killing it
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me
(Ya'meen, ya'meen)
Yeah, if you not for squealing and for spilling the
(Ya'meen)

The streets is watching the apple rotten like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me
(Ya'meen, ya'meen)
Yeah, if you get it popping or get to popping 'em
(Ya'meen)

You don't like me, you can get what's right above the testicles
S.P., turn your top five into vegetables
You don't believe me, get 'em all in a room
And the next five, I plan to getting all of them soon

Y'all can meet me at the table that's round or get ya place in the ground
That's what you get when you facing me, clown
Who got the crown, I'm piss on it now while you wearing it
Nobody nicer than Ghost, I ain't hearing it

Been Nike Airing it, white tee out
Stick-up kid season when the dice be out
I'm a thug or star investing in living, n****z sippin' soup
Ghost rapper, knocking out your icey mouth

N****z in the East wanna unite, not me
If you ain't sayin' I'm the best, you ain't come to be right
Know what I mean? If you don't, then you not of being
Your four-four, knock little pieces off of your spleen, n****

I'm the one shot dealing, one shot killing it
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, it's the top billing, the block feeling like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me
(Ya'meen, ya'meen)
Yeah, if you not for squealing and for spilling the
(Ya'meen)

The streets is watching the apple rotten like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, plus the B.B. hot and the towers dropping like
(Ya'meen)
Yeah, f*** with me, yeah, f*** with me
(Ya'meen, ya'meen)
Yeah, if you get it popping or get to popping 'em
(Ya'meen)

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8b33b3ffc04c457f71611f1481916e30

Ghetto Stories - Lyrics - Presents G.H.E.T.T.O Stories - Swizz Beatz

Title: Ghetto Stories
Album: Presents G.H.E.T.T.O Stories
Artist: Swizz Beatz
Composer(s): James Seawood, Sekou Davis, R Keller, Kasseem Dean

Lyric:
Ruff Ryders
1, 2, 1, 2
Full Surface
Ghetto stories
Yeah yeah
Swizz Beatz makin' it happen
Listen what the fuck I gotta say
I'm not a rapper, dog

I'm from the hood
I love the hood
I rep the hood
Lived in the hood
Started on the grind
Started with a nine
Motherfucker, I had to earn mine

A lot of niggas hatin'
A lot of niggas watching
A lot of niggas plotting
A lot of hearts stopping

I'm banging with the beats
I'm banging with the streets
I'm banging with the heat
S to the double
I to the double Z
Niggas look at me
Want no trouble B

I'm just minding my business
Making money, stacking chips
Just minding my business
You can catch me in a 360L or [Incomprehensible]
Going down to Pasadena

The rubber will peel
Your head will peel
Your bitches will squeal
That's when these hoes dying
Cause if I'm in court, guaranteed I'm lying
Fuckers, I had to get my business right
Had to get my money right
Had to get my label right

You can hate all you want
I'm here forever
Swizz Beatz part, whatever
I'm here forever, bitch
I'm the monster, get it all right
Me and my niggas is dogs
And we guaranteed to bite

Inf gon' pop ya
Cross gon' pop ya
Waah gon' pop ya
Dogs gon' stop ya

We working out the building
I started the beats, coming up out of the building
Nigga, 2E and the building 700
The Bronx Tenements, where I came up
Ain't nothing funny playa
For this money, these niggas is hungry, playa

That's right, I love the hood
Respect the hood
Support the hood
Lived in the hood
This is Swiss talking
This is Swiss rocking
Mother fucking thug nigga
Up and New Yorking

We love the hood
We run the hood
We own the hood
Fuck what you sayin' dog
You got a problem we gon' solve 'em
You got beef we gon' bed that
You got lead we gon' pop that
I got heat I'ma rock that
Motherfucking radio stations I drop that

I'm the one that had ten songs
At one time on the countdown
Get your mind right
Y'all fuckers thought I bounced forever
Y'all niggas better get together or whatever

I got beats galore
I got beats that'll blow off your project doors
Beats that'll flip over your Bentley X-R's
Beats that'll make niggas ready for wars
Beats for deaf, beats for blind
Beats that'll make a thug nigga wanna cock his nine, oh

Y'all niggas ain't hard to find
Y'all niggas ain't out your mind, fuckers
We love the hood
From the hood
In the hood
Swizz Beatz and I'm here for good

This is my ghetto story
This is my ghetto story
This is my ghetto story
Oh, my God!

Inf gon' pop ya
Waah gon' pop ya
Cross gon' stop ya
Dogs gon stop ya

Listen, doing this here
Y'all niggas know this, we doing this here
Beyotch

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f39bc38fc10b44a3e07a984f7da735d9

Everything - Lyrics - 4:21...the Day After - Method Man

Title: Everything
Album: 4:21...the Day After
Artist: Method Man
Composer(s): P. Charles, Clifford Smith, R Bean, J. Hunter

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

Lyric:
Yeah, yeah, I love Math
Yeah, yo, yo

Y'all ain't never stopping the kid, why y'all knocking the King?
Would ya like a shot of liquor or like a shot to the rib?
Plus you stay on top of they grills, stay on top of they biz
Thinking n****z plotting on hairs, think they not when they is

This is Staten Island gully, you dig? It's getting ugly
And I ain't found a court that can judge me, the block love me
Like nines to the side of the skully, popping they top
I'd rather pop bubbly, one for B.I.G. and one for Pac

N****, trust me, I'm hot as they get, like Al Green
Getting hit by a pot of them grits, yo, nahmeen?
Y'all don't really want no parts of this, soon as a n****
Start shining, n****z start some s***, my guard lit

Like a boss, head n**** in charge, get in these drawers
Fitted, nine inches bigger than yours
This Meth dude got that food and he serving it raw
Told you before, I bring the pain and now I'm hurting them, pa
Hurting them, pa

Up from the 36, back on that bulls***
Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip
Staten Island's the Borough, Park Hill, we still click
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run s***

Up from the 36, back on that bulls***
Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip
Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run s***

Aiyo, you f***ing with some capital G's, Allah Math
Street life, Meth Man, plus the Masta and me
Soldier I, make it happen, indeed, my sick gift
Had the highest paid h**, get it cracking for free

Worldwide still trapped in the P's, Pioneers
Like the twenty inch woofers that's in back of the V
Leave ya brain, like you spazzing on E
It don't matter who you happen to be, nothing swagger like he

Keep a dirty cop close, never talk with no feds
Tear the roof off the mother, right along with ya head
And I ain't talk unless she talking bout bread
You would swear that I'm rocking New Balance, how I'm walking the ledge

Son, I'm just a little off of the edge as I stalk
The mean streets for paused types callers are read
Killa Hill where the warriors bred, I'm a Resident
Patient, it's gonna take more than the meds

Up from the 36, back on that bulls***
Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip
Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run s***

Up from the 36, back on that bulls***
Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip
Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run s***

Special invited guest, I came to put the rumors to rest
Rip the rest of the slugs through your chest
Put the chest to the back of your vest
Trap your packet, take the money and jet

N****z posted, but you posing no threat
Punk, you p**** like the opposite sex
Front, see how many shots you will get
I'm not asking, I'm demanding respect

I'm just a man to respect
Watch your step, son, your funeral's next
Street life is the man in the flesh, I got one hand on your neck
The other hand is attached to the tech

Your next move could mean life or death
Make move, take baby steps
Hold that thought, n****, save your breath
We hold courts in the streets we rep
For Cash Rule and we came to collect, c*** s*****

Up from the 36, back on that bulls***
Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip
Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run s***

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281af1debd6ff5aec782e594c440e8af

Ain'T Nothing Like Pimpin' - Lyrics - Cocktails - Too $Hort

Title: Ain'T Nothing Like Pimpin'
Album: Cocktails
Artist: Too $Hort
Composer(s): Eric Breed, Ramon Russell Gooden, Stuart Jordan, Pee Wee Todd Anthony Shaw, Shorty

Lyric:
Ain't nuthin like pimpin just let it roll
Mother fucking shit god damn asshole
Ain't nuthin like pimpin just don't quit
Mother fuck you damn shithead bitch

My diamonds and the Lex say it's time to flow
Wonder how I got rich, they say I rhyme too slow, so
I'm from the "O" I for what I know
And like I told your ass before you can fuck my hoe
I ride nuthin but vogues, ain't hittin no switches
Top down in my Caddy just me and my bitches
With a Ziplock bag full of green weed
I roll it all up 'cause I'm a fiend in need
Of some dank smoke all up in my chest
Dangerous Crew got the bomb, we don't smoke that stress
'Cause we getting funky on album 9
I smoked a few joints bitch now I'm fine
Studio's in a cloud
Smelling kind of loud
Nuthin like pimpin
Nigga fuck Bill Clinton
Make me the mother fucking president
I'll make the White House a hoe house and all the pimps, To just
Set up shops like they do in Vegas
Legalize pimpin for all the playa's
Puttin fine ass bitches in the streets and the hood
Every year a nigga trade for a new Fleetwood
You know I'm rollin, I can't be faking
I come through and all your hoes I'm taking
You know I'm rolling, don't do no simpin
I'm an Oaktown playa ain't nuthin like pimpin
Ain't nuthin like the pimp game you should know
Never love a bitch or a hoe
You fell in love with her though trying to get in them pants
And the next thing ya know your baby momma's a tramp
Don't get mad now nigga want to shove the bitch
'Cause a year ago, you know, you loved the bitch
Now your stomache's upset and your feelings are hurt
She gotcha looking like an old banana peel in the dirt
Bitch, slipped up and hit your ass for a lick
Talking that mother fucking baby shit
You'z a punk ass nigga can't you see
Thatz the difference between niggas like you and me
I got bitches, on my mind
It's been like that for a real long time
I know the way them hoes take your cash
They let you fuck and make you pay up fast
Trick nigga, why you wanna be like that
Let them try for lent bitches take your fat ass stack
Couldn't tell them hoes nuthin but the punk in you
'Cause they already know what they want from you
Big bank, Ben Franklin, do the bitch just fine
She'll be taking all of yours and can't fuck with mine
I'm the M to the A to the C and K
All you playa hating niggas shouldn't be that way

There ain't nuthin like pimpin just let it roll
Mother fucking shit god damn asshole
Ain't nuthin like pimping just don't quit
Mother fuck you damn shit head bitch

Lights, camera, action, cut
Hollywood look out the bitch is coming up
She took acting classes 'bout to be on her way
On a Greyhound bus from home to L.A
She said it wouldn't take long to make it to the top
A few auditions land a job
I was down in L.A., hit the club for a drink
I'm a player ass nigga tell me what do ya think
I walked up to the bitch in my clean ass suit
And I told her, I've been watching you
I peeped you out from the bar
You must be a model or a movie star
She said "No, but that's my dream
To see my face on the movie screen"
I tell ya nothing but game came out my mouth
She was talking 'bout agents, I was turning her out
I said "Listen real close to what I'm saying
All you need is meyou don't need no agent"
I'm a pimp ass nigga and the game don't stop
"All you gotta do is fuck a few big shots
Cause if you can't do that, they're going to hold ya back"
She was sucking up the game, down to do all that
She said "Short baby, I ain't no simp"
But the nigga in the suit ain't nuthin but a pimp
And all them white guys you had sex with
They weren't big shots, they were nothing but tricks
She came to me and said it just won't last
I looked, and I laughed, and I kicked her ass
'Cause all she wanted was the fame
But you can't get shit when you don't have game

Guerilla pimpin just let it roll
Mother fucking shit god damn asshole
Guerilla pimps just don't quit
I say mother fuck you damn shithead bitch

Ain't nuthin like pimpin now you know
I want a bitch thats an everyday hoe
Just a Beyotch

There ain't nuthin like pimp now you know
I want a bitch thats a top notch hoe
Just a Beyotch

Mother fuck you damn shithead bitch

Ain't nuthin like pimpin now you know
I want a bitch thats an everyday hoe
Just a Beyotch

Mother fucking shit god damn asshole

There ain't nuthin like pimping now you know
I want a bitch thats an everyday hoe
Just a Beyotch

Say mother fuck you damn shithead beyatch

Mmm Mmm Mmmmmm

Mother fucking shit god damn asshole

Nuthin but a pimp

Mother fuck you damn shithead bitch

Short Dogg ain't nuthin but a pimp

Mother fucking shit god damn asshole

Cuss words. Mother fuck you damn shithead beyotch

Nuthin like pimpin now you know
Ain't nuthin like pimpin so now you know

Beyotch

There ain't nothing like pimpin now you know

Ain't nuthin like pimping damn shithead bitch
Ain't nuthin like pimpin so now you know

There ain't nothing like pimping god damn asshole

Ah

That's it nigga, there is no more. Life is

Thatz deep. Yeah. That right. There ain't nothing like a bitch
Ain't nothing like a mother fucking, BITCH
You, nasty, once a month bleeding mother fucking nasty ass mother fuck it
(Takes a deep breath)
BITCH, I hate your mother fucking ass. You mother fucking Beeeeeeyoooootch
BeyotchAnd your momma too. Fuck all yall. Hahahaha

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057b29417cd70e2e2c8e2ea158a28695

52 - 47 Emcees (Interlude) - Lyrics - Kj

Title: 52 - 47 Emcees (Interlude)
Artist: Kj
Composer(s): Jonah Sorrentino

Lyric:
Let me busta a rhyme tell a story like Slick Rick
And put a sermon like Eric in ya ear like a qtip
Now it's common sense that Ja Rules
But I'm a tell you about Jesus who's the leader of the new school

You thinking you's cool you emcees is lost boys
Got no cash money you juvenile like some hot boys
I drop noise when I let the sound blast
And tell Big Boy Andre about Jesus Christ the outcast
Here's the deal I feel it's now time to be real
Christ died on Calvary not on Cypress Hill

It don't matter even if you're slim or if you're shady
Jay Hova reigns supreme but his name ain't Jay Z
And it's most defenite the mobb was deep
That hung the Son of man who died just to bring back the lost sheep
On all streets all peeps naughty by nature
Whether you biggie or small you can know the living Savior now

Let me take you back to the old school
And tell you about the fresh prince of peace now who just cold rules
We keep it nice and smooth Rakim like Eric B
And run D Emcees to show our biz like AG
See I'm down with two live crews full of fat boys
And even though we young Emcees now we can't avoid
The one who ever lasts reigns as the Lamb slain
Just for you and I Jesus went to the house of pain

You can be the black sheep but Christ reigns supreme
Drink ya ice tea with some vanilla ice cream
Don't matter to me be the public enemy
He'll still make your sin disappear like he's Whodini
In this biz I put his name on the Markie
That's why I'm calling out these names when I Emcee

Check it now you can bounce with me
No limit to my God like master P
What audacity it's quite Ludacris actually
To think you could trick your daddy
God the Father sees everything naturally
You can't fool Him I'm like woah Nelly
He'll put bone thugs back in harmony
It ain't hard to see just what He's done for me

I knew a guy named Bubba who'd spark the place
He was little like Wayne and had a scarface
But now this cat done changed his ways
Talking how he's saved from amazing grace
Understand that Christ had to see murder
So you and I when we die live forever
East south or old school flavor
47 Emcees is how I hit ya

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42dce76764fa3c72c2dc6b7d985b8ea8

Here We Go (J.D. Remix) - Lyrics - Can't Stay Away - Too $Hort

Title: Here We Go (J.D. Remix)
Album: Can't Stay Away
Artist: Too $Hort
Composer(s): Diamond D Todd Shaw, Donald Byrd, Shawn Carter, Harry Wayne Casey, Richard Raymond Finch, Joseph Kirkland

Lyric:
We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

Twist the lime on the corona, grab my crime diploma
Then head to the block, to pull up five in the mona
Shit, I need to chrome up, become a home owner
Look, life's a bitch but I'm on her

I almost cracked this, no more hustling backwards
Up the ave I zip, nigga trying to have shit
I'm your average, ghetto nigga turned maverick
You'd never, said to a nigga, "Whatever for the cash, I'm with"

I don't have step, I leave it in you're averix
Then shoot it it the air, whatever I have left
Outlaw, simply, I out draw y'all
Whether clubs or the street, I out ball y'all

Niggas ain't ready, I doubt all y'all
Fly ass niggas, I reroute all y'all
If it ain't for the paper, I don't show my face up
Make a bet, I turn the ace up, Short and Jay, what?

I never stop making money, don't give 'em no slack
Drinking dirty motherfuckers 'til a hoe come back
With my scratch, bitch, I was born to mack
To uphold the pimping, I was sworn to that

I hear a lot of shit talking when I listen to rap
Only a few MC's get to hang that plaque
On the wall rappers ball but they don't live phat
Nigga, I doubt if you go gold or platinum

What we do has only been mastered by a few
I take a half a million tapes, sell 'em straight to you
All that shit niggas talking, just cant be real
I don't need a record deal, I need eighteen wheels

I roll right up in the hood, I got tapes for sale
Bitches running in their house, they can't wait to tell
Somebody, she got a new Too Short tape
And he's spitting pimp game with his homeboy, Jay

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

Now, here they come again, the gold diggas trying to get paid
Wanna trick the rich old niggas, trying to get laid
She'll suck his dick as soon as she meet him
Don't have to sell a body for me I don't need her

To turn tricks for me, how much you cost, bitch?
I'm all about large bank deposits
On and off the mic, I always set trends
Either you see me with hoes or I'm rolling with pimps

Brook land to Oakland, I keep smokin'
Jay-Z and short dog at these hoes again
The kinda niggas that'll take a square bitch around the corner
Put this pimp game on her

I don't fuck with broke hoes and I don't trick
But I'll still rub my big ass dick on her clit
Get her hooked, wanna be mine, I need some money
If she ain't kicking in all the time she don't want me

Hoes, flows, money, cars
Y'all wannabe stars, can't fuck with none of these bars
This is real nigga rap, we can spit it through the mic
And you can feel niggas scratch, and sell a mil if that

So real, when we drop this shit, it's in trouble
When I guess the pair, you gotta ship it double
I'm the independent phenom, y'all miniature dons
Wannabe jigga, pops styles and Hennessey richa'

When I die, leave my canopy richa'
I put it down hard ever since I entered the pit'cha
Can fuck with me for records to the recreational cent'a
I got it wrapped, y'all, from the Grammy's to the back park

Short dog, y'all, what you thought, y'all? Oakland, B K, New york y'all
Be the voice for the streets we supply for years
And go platinum on our most quiet years

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

Play the MP3 online for free!

aed3dbe04dfbcccf6ca22c8eada92990

Here We Go (Lil' Jon Remix) - Lyrics - Can't Stay Away - Too $Hort

Title: Here We Go (Lil' Jon Remix)
Album: Can't Stay Away
Artist: Too $Hort
Composer(s): Diamond D Todd Shaw, Donald Byrd, Shawn Carter, Harry Wayne Casey, Richard Raymond Finch, Joseph Kirkland

Lyric:
We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

Twist the lime on the corona, grab my crime diploma
Then head to the block, to pull up five in the mona
Shit, I need to chrome up, become a home owner
Look, life's a bitch but I'm on her

I almost cracked this, no more hustling backwards
Up the ave I zip, nigga trying to have shit
I'm your average, ghetto nigga turned maverick
You'd never, said to a nigga, "Whatever for the cash, I'm with"

I don't have step, I leave it in you're averix
Then shoot it it the air, whatever I have left
Outlaw, simply, I out draw y'all
Whether clubs or the street, I out ball y'all

Niggas ain't ready, I doubt all y'all
Fly ass niggas, I reroute all y'all
If it ain't for the paper, I don't show my face up
Make a bet, I turn the ace up, Short and Jay, what?

I never stop making money, don't give 'em no slack
Drinking dirty motherfuckers 'til a hoe come back
With my scratch, bitch, I was born to mack
To uphold the pimping, I was sworn to that

I hear a lot of shit talking when I listen to rap
Only a few MC's get to hang that plaque
On the wall rappers ball but they don't live phat
Nigga, I doubt if you go gold or platinum

What we do has only been mastered by a few
I take a half a million tapes, sell 'em straight to you
All that shit niggas talking, just cant be real
I don't need a record deal, I need eighteen wheels

I roll right up in the hood, I got tapes for sale
Bitches running in their house, they can't wait to tell
Somebody, she got a new Too Short tape
And he's spitting pimp game with his homeboy, Jay

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

Now, here they come again, the gold diggas trying to get paid
Wanna trick the rich old niggas, trying to get laid
She'll suck his dick as soon as she meet him
Don't have to sell a body for me I don't need her

To turn tricks for me, how much you cost, bitch?
I'm all about large bank deposits
On and off the mic, I always set trends
Either you see me with hoes or I'm rolling with pimps

Brook land to Oakland, I keep smokin'
Jay-Z and short dog at these hoes again
The kinda niggas that'll take a square bitch around the corner
Put this pimp game on her

I don't fuck with broke hoes and I don't trick
But I'll still rub my big ass dick on her clit
Get her hooked, wanna be mine, I need some money
If she ain't kicking in all the time she don't want me

Hoes, flows, money, cars
Y'all wannabe stars, can't fuck with none of these bars
This is real nigga rap, we can spit it through the mic
And you can feel niggas scratch, and sell a mil if that

So real, when we drop this shit, it's in trouble
When I guess the pair, you gotta ship it double
I'm the independent phenom, y'all miniature dons
Wannabe jigga, pops styles and Hennessey richa'

When I die, leave my canopy richa'
I put it down hard ever since I entered the pit'cha
Can fuck with me for records to the recreational cent'a
I got it wrapped, y'all, from the Grammy's to the back park

Short dog, y'all, what you thought, y'all? Oakland, B K, New york y'all
Be the voice for the streets we supply for years
And go platinum on our most quiet years

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

We talk shit 'cause we are the shit
Never looked back since we started it
When y'all want heat, we provide it, ride it
'Til the wheels fall of, shaking 'em all off

Six figure niggas with it, over did it, spit it
In ways that'll cause a rush
Keeping your face in a state of disgust
Hating but still trying to be like us

Play the MP3 online for free!

a9b508836439988893747eddab1ce1e4