Showing posts with label G. Show all posts
Showing posts with label G. Show all posts

Thursday, March 15, 2012

Eminem feat. 50 Cent, G-Unit - Bump Heads Lyrics

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Lyrics to Eminem feat. 50 Cent, G-Unit - Bump Heads




[50 Cent]
Yeah, Shady, Hahahaha
G G G G G G G G-Unit

[Eminem]
Here we go again

[50 Cent]
Does it make you mad when I switch my flow?
You can't understand how I get my dough
50 Cent I'm on fire cause Shady said so
I'm on fire

Everybody's in a rush try to get the throne
I just get on the track and try to set the tone
I ain't tryna use nobody as a steppin stone
But don't compare me
I'm better off jus' left alone
And I ain't even tryna go there wit record sales
I'm just tryna keep it humble and respect myself
Say what up, keep steppin, and just rep D-12
Keep my nose clean, stay away from weapons, jail
And livin wreckless
But if you go check my belt
You may see something else I used to protect myself
A vest, to stop a Rueger and deflect the shells
And send 'em back at you faster than they left the barrel
And I don't even carry guns no more, I don't got to
Got undercover cops that'll legally pop you
And I done seen a lot of people cross the line
But this motherfucker Ja musta lost his mind
That X, got him thinkin' he was DMX
Then he switched to 'Pac now he's tryna be him next
So which one are you? X, Luther, Pac or Michael
Juss keep singin' the same song, recycled
We'd all much rather get along and fight you
Me and Hailie danced to your songs we liked you
And you don't really wanna step inside no mic booth
C'mon now, you know the white boy'll bite you
I hurt your pride dawg and you know I don't like to
But I will if I have to, with syllable after syllable I just slap you
Killin' you fasta than you poppin' pill afta little pill of them tabs of that shit you on

But if you want it you got it you'd bump this shit too, if we ain't diss you on it
But if we lock horns we can charge harder than Busta
We bump heads wit any motherfucker that wants to
So whats the, deal where was all the tough talk?
When I walked up to you like, Ja what up dawg?
How come you didn't say you had a problem then?
When you was standin' there wit all your men, we coulda solved this then
I'ma grown man dawg come holla
All you did was slap hands, smile and swallow,
another one of them little X pills in front of me
And tell me 50 Cent was everything you wanna be come on

[50 Cent]
[Chorus]
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me
You, talk an' you soon will see
You don't wanna bump heads with me
I know you don't want it with me
You, talk an' you soon you will see
You know you don't want it with me

[Tony Yayo]
You couldn't son me if my father helped you
My punchlines is hot, my bars'll melt you
Ja you Stuart Little, shells'll lift you
Every other week I'm buyin a new pistol
I clap at your ass with this chrome 38
And put six thru your hats of seven 3/8
Irv you ain't Suge Knight, you should shook night
I put my knife in ya wind pipe and freeze ya on the turnpike
You know and I know who took ya chain
You got robbed two times so ya ass is lame
I'm down to die for this shit all I need is bail
You betta stick to tha movies with Steven Seigel, bitch

[50 Cent]
[Chorus]
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me
You, talk an' you soon will see
You don't wanna bump heads with me
I know you don't want it with me
You, talk an' you soon you will see
You know you don't want it with me

[Lloyd Banks]
Fuck that I'm miles away
And these industry niggas startin' to get outta hand
I'ma find your whereabouts by stompin' 'em out ya man
Tellin' New York, even in Compton they understand
I'm on the block where you was raised doin' chocolate out tha game an'...
They see me more pop a boy for icey cuz I could
Shootin' guns for money you probably forgot your way around the hood
Bitch when you paranoid it's hard to make a song
Now you want it wit' us, half your artists got to make a point
Every magazine I own your on your knees takin' prayer picture
And you ain't even got shot yet, you scared bitches
You don't know nuttin' about what pain is sucka
I'll put your ass to the ground like a train conductor, muh'fucker

[50 Cent]
[Chorus]
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me.
You, talk an' you soon will see
You don't wanna bump heads with me.
I know you don't want it with me
You, talk an' you soon you will see
You know you don't want it with me.

[Tony Yayo]
Yeah nigga yeah
Shady Aftermath G-Unit
Fuck you think they call us G Unit for
Cause we move units uhha
Don't think we ain't billin you for this motherfucking studio time
A matter a fact keep call it a 50 we'll call it even...
more lyrics on: http://lyrical-dew.blogspot.com/


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Saturday, February 11, 2012

Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Stoned Lyrics

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Song Title: Stoned
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Stoned



[Intro]
Ha! This dem Ferrari Boyz - catch up!
BURR! Catch up! Catch up!

[Gucci Mane]
She stoned, she stoned, she gone off that Patron
I gave that bitch a hundred dollars just to leave me 'lone
Tell the waitress bring mo' bottles up cause she can keep the chaser
Lil' momma switchin by my section she want me to chase her (NOPE)
Wasted on moscato, but I'm losin my patience
I'm tellin her come go with me but all her homegirls hatin (FUCK 'EM)
Like Fred Flintstone, I'm a rolling stone (STONE)
My best friend is Barney so you know I'm rollin strong (STRONG)
Shawty in the zone, dress with the thong
Every nigga in the club tryin to take her home (GUCCI)
Shawty in the zone, dress with the thong
And every player in the club tryin to take her home (Gucci)

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
Ay let's get stoned (stoned) I'm so stoned
Like Fred Flintstone, I got a partner named Barney
and he keep me in the zone, the whole club stoned
The whole world stoned, and tonight we 'bout to party
like we just came home; ay let's get stoned (stoned)
Like Fred Flintstone, I got a partner named Barney
and he keep me in the zone, the whole club stoned
The whole world stoned, tonight we 'bout to party like we just came home

[Waka Flocka Flame]
Put your blunts in air, hookahs in the air
Put your lighter in the air if you tryin to get stoned
Tonight I'm puttin on, I swear to God I'll survive
Bitch I am that high! Yes I am stoned
Drinkin on Obama, it's rainin white liquor
Gucci pass the dutches, I don't do no Swishers
Rock yellow stones, rock red stones
Bitch my money long, poppin pills and blowin strong
I'm a 'Stone Cold' flexer, Steve Austin (stunner)
Every concert man I'm gone (flex) stoned
In my zone hater leave me alone, be gone
Bird chains in the air - screamin as I yell....

[Chorus]

[Waka Flocka Flame]
When you hear this song
The crowd gon' be jumpin up and down
Screamin I'm stoned! (I'm stoned!)
White Remy Martin can't drink Patron
Lost my keys I can't even make it home!

[Gucci Mane]
E'rybody in here gone, all my homeboys stoned
My dogs just came home, ball like the Georgia Dome
Thinkin - it's back on, drinkin - that there Patron
It's over, I'm loaded, we toasted, we grown !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Wooh Da Kid - Suicide Homicide Lyrics

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Song Title: Suicide Homicide
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Wooh Da Kid
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Wooh Da Kid - Suicide Homicide



[Waka Flocka Flame]
You decide, tuck in yo' pride
I ain't waitin, I ain't got no patience
Raised by the Grove, I ain't got an education
24/7 shorty, fuck a vacation
Wak's a real nigga, why you goin to the station?
Damn D-Mars why these fuck niggaz hatin?
Can't replace, why God had to fake 'em?
Free my nigga Moe, 25 he facin
Lafayette, Grove Street, that's my nation
Hoes on point, never losin concentration
New black 'rarri got a nigga tryin race it
Fresh 'fro, gives a simple wave to the Haitians
Silver rotation got a nigga on point
Haste with the case, when the shit gon' stop?
Run up on me click click click pop
(Pop pop pop pop) Pop, many body drop
I'm the Brick Squad crop, the crowd real Waka Flock'
Man you rag, dude you go hard (what else?)
I am Brick Squad, crowd yell out SQUAD (and)
I'm livin it, hell I'm only scared of God

[Chorus]
S-suicide paint (den) suicide rims (kill 'em)
Suicide loud, I got them suicide friends (stankin)
Suicide bitches they'll kill for a nigga (ugh)
Call it suicide, run up on me fuck nigga (pussy)
Homicide purp (den) homicide vert' (kill 'em)
Homicide yo' ass and put yo' ass on a shirt (stankin)
Homicide ice, homicide life (ugh)
Homicide yo' kids and yo' motherfuckin wife (GUCCI!)

[Gucci Mane]
I'ma rich man sparkin, a rich man coughin
Dead man walkin, dead man talkin
I'm the man with the grams, get your bags, get your weight
Call me baker man, cuse I can bake a cake (it's Gucci)
Drop top 'rarri, called the headless horseman.
Cooking up babies, call the shit abortions
Roamin through the 6 like a motherfukin orphan.....
Like Vick I killed your road dawg and put him in a coffin
When it's on again, grab a tote again, no pad or pen, I gotta win
BSM and 1017, my whole Squad be goin in
Suicide is a homicide, I smoke so much my brain is fried
(Ferrari Boyz) and Ferrari toys, pullin up lookin like the Gotti boys !

[Chorus]

[Wooh Da Kid]
Doors go up, we just call it suicide
I ain't playin, I'm just prayin it's a homicide
It's 1017 that means it's time for BSM
Bread to win, that's on Pop, Joe the Boss, and Bim
Test what? Test that, test this...
Your bet your real lab rat I'll let her test dick
Running with the (Cannon), I ain't talkin (Nick)
I put 7 on your chest like M dot Vick
Murder, nigga, murder, nigga
Real short fuse, I hurt a, nigga
Wood Da Kid, Wooh Da, King
I'm married to my strap and I don't need a ring !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - So Many Things Lyrics

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Song Title: So Many Things
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - So Many Things



[Verse 1 - Waka Flocka Flame]
She don't want liquor, she just want wine
She just my kind: long hair, fat behind
They say we're intertwined, we belong together
In the club throwing money up, changing weather
G's on my sweater, all I get is cheddar
Money go-getters: Waka Flocka and 2 Timez
Gucci - sup, I said to the Haitians
Waddup Luchi. Free my nigga Zoe
40K for a show. Practice what I preach
Shawty Mane that's all I know
Triple cup styrofoam's got me walking slow
I'm smoking on reefer, me Gucci and Wiz Khalifa !

[Hook - Gucci Mane]
Smoking on reefer, make a bitch out
And leave her. Comment trough a speaker
Grind in my 2-seater
Cause I got a fleet-a
Send em work like it ain't a leak-a
I practice what I preach-a
If you ain't got a game, I could teach ya !

[Verse 2 - Gucci Mane]
I got a murder charge now for the tracks I murdered
Like a nigga turned around, I'm going back to work
Got a smirk on my face cause I smoke the purp
Gucci boy, now they doing a search
And I ain't been lame, but tame your dame
Cause you should be ashamed how she's off the chain
I'm insane in the brain like Saddam Hussain
I got a brink of extra change of this extra 'caine
It's crazy, Dwayne just counting strange
Me and Waka Flocka Flame on a private plane
With 2 bad ass bitches, bout to run a train
Like an organ donor, baby loan the brain

[Hook - Gucci Mane]
Smoking on reefer, make a bitch out
And leave her....speaker
Grind in my 2-seater
Cause I got a fleet-a
Send em work like it ain't a leak-a
I practice what I preach-a
If you ain't got a game, I could teach ya !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Titi Boy aka 2 Chains - Mud Musik Lyrics

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Song Title: Mud Musik
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Titi Boy aka 2 Chains
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Titi Boy aka 2 Chains - Mud Musik



[Intro]
Ughh, Flocka! Gucci! 'Rarri, Boyz!
Ay Tity Boi what's happenin mane?
We turnt up mane, shout to the whole city mane
Uhh, uhh, uhh (Brick Squad monopoly)

[Waka Flocka Flame]
Half a pint in my two liter, I just slow sip
This that mud drank, my 'rarri go hard in the paint
Pulled up dancin right, hopped out flexin ice
Niggaz'll give they life, just to live my life
Bitches yellin loud, walkin through the crowd
With a triple cup (po' po' po' me up)
'burry game clique, flags in the sky
Walkin through the God I swear to God I'm in the sky
Astronaut high, I'm that guy
Stacks on stacks, racks on racks
I keep mud on standby
Got some real niggaz that you cain't even stand by

[Chorus]
I just slow sip (po' po' po' me up)
Styrofoam cup (tri-tri-triple cup)
This that mud drank, fo' ounces and a one liter
This that mud drank, half a pint in my two liter
(Po' po' po' me up) styrofoam (tripled up)
(Po' po' po' me up) styrofoam (tripled up)
This that mud music, this that mud drank
Styrofroam cup (tri-tri-triple cup)

[Gucci Mane]
Styrofoam cup we po'n up, Gucci, Flock', blowin up
We so fuckin up, all our foes they be duckin us
I'm a jack boy, you a jackass
You must dress in the dark with yo' tacky ass!
I'm Big Gucci, cool guap'
Got 80 grand in my khaki pants
Tity's on the scene, yeah that's my team
BSM yeah that's my scene
I'm a millionaire, that's reality
You want a mill' that's a fuckin dream
I'm on mine, got two nines
Throw my watch in the air to let time fly
I'm DUI, I'm too high
You heard that young nigga I'm too fly
Thugged out young nigga I'm 'bout my bread
Don't want no pussy girl givin me head
We ain't even gotta stop to use the bed
Ay-ain't no need to fuck up the spread
I'm drinkin, I'm thinkin
All the real niggaz we linkin
My Brick Squad all be down on hangin
Sippin lean done got me famous, Gucci!

[Chorus]

[Tity Boi]
Yeah, mud, mud, Gucci!
This that kickstand, campaign
Over they head like an airplane
Brang yo' gurl to the club 'round me !
and my niggaz then she fail game
2 Chainz, I'm too much
Every time I fuck I get two nuts
Every time you see me I'm with two sluts
I ain't in or out 'less the Coogi cut
Promethazine, contraband
Told them folks we a country band !
Brick Squad, duffle bag
Bunch of knucklehead niggaz sayin "Fuck the feds"
My bread long like Subway, Louis' on, unlazered
And I ain't talkin money when I hit you with this one caper
I need two mo', two liters !
I got bass like two speakers !
It must be (Do or Die)
cause these niggaz out here "Po' Pimpin"
All we doin is slow sippin
I be on that codeine
I got fo' zips
'Bout to po' it on this ice cream, ughh!



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Slim Dunkin - She Be Puttin' On Lyrics

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Song Title: She Be Puttin' On
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Slim Dunkin
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Slim Dunkin - She Be Puttin' On



She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She pay her own bills cause she got her own money
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She pay her own bills cause she got her own money
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing !

My girl independent
Bitches all in her business?
Pink on the back of her boyshorts
Bought everything she own
Love it when she smile and moan
Encore how she groan
Ask around the hood, she known
One of a type she can’t be cloned
“No hands” for her ringtone
“Hard in the paint” her theme song
That's my gutta chick
Man I love that bitch
The way she look and moan
When she taking it
And don’t mind McDonald’s
Ain’t no bougie bitch
When I wake up
Breakfast on the table,
One rolled up
Sprayed upon the table?
Baby ‘po up
Drinking out of the “a” cup
Pass the syrup
I’m finna fuck this food up

She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She pay her own bills cause she got her own money
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She pay her own bills cause she got her own money
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing

Now she’s stuntin', she’s going in,
These hoes can't tell her nothing
She came home in a trench coat
And under it was nothing
I'm so curious, it's serious,
My car so fast and furious
But she'll drive a man delirious
I hope all y'all hearing this
She's got swag of a top model
Curves like a coke bottle
She know I go full throttle
I’m walking with a slight wobble
Got choppas like I’m Big Papa
I’m Big Gucci, you a cock blocker
These True Religion not the knock off
My camera chain is an eye problem
Imma stunt stunt a bill on a half a mil’
Ice crem Gucci Mane, can I live?
Chick knows I got a rubber dick
You know what gone in 60 secs is?
A movie, I’m being me
Just cooling and my DVD
And my BVDs are so I-C-E
Y to the G-U-C-C-I !

She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She pay her own bills cause she got her own money
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She pay her own bills cause she got her own money
She got a car, a job, a swag, she stuntin'
She the type don’t never ever ask for nothing...!



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - PacMan Lyrics

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Song Title: PacMan
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - PacMan



[Intro]
Yeahhhhhhh!!!
It's Gucci (Flocka) Flocka!!
(BRR) Ferrari Boyz in the building
Vrooom vroom vroom vroom vroom vroom
Catch up!!

[Chorus 2X: Gucci Mane]
Everybody know I got a sack man
I got the whole hood shoppin when the pack in
You never mix business, with new friends
All black Benz, you can call it Pac-Man

[Waka Flocka Flame]
25 to 10, 9 and the fo'-five on me (pop pop pop pop)
I don't need no co-D, do it by my lonely
(CB4) gangsters, man they so (Gusto)
24/7 all I do is hustle
Old folks in the hood call me demon.
Triple cup styrofoam, I sip lean man.
Straight slow slippin, man my finger itchy
I been rappin for three years man I need a mission
Young boys on that Grove Street man they trappin hard
Hit the club, 50 deep, fuck a bodyguard
They say Waka Flocka, always startin riots
Get money good, motherfuck a dyin!

[Chorus]

[Gucci Mane]
I'm the Pac-Man, but it's not Adam Jones
Bitch it's Gucci Mane, double cup my styrofoam
I'm on it like I want it, I make you think your house was on it.
I got blocks, plus everybody in here want it.
Me and Wak' Flock', come from the block, straight drop a whole block.
Chop it up then serve the block, call it hip-hop !
Pac-Man with bags of loud and bags of kush I'm bankin
I just got, 'bout 50 in, and I broke 'em down to onions
I'm servin, or splurgin, you snitchin, you workin
I drop off, on purpose, yo' cook-ups, are worthless
I'm searchin, who's lurkin, you jerkin, I'm turfin
I just got the pack in, so call me to purchase !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Rocko - In My Business Lyrics

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Song Title: In My Business
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Rocko
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. Rocko - In My Business



[Intro/Chorus]
Yeah I stay busy, stay out my business
Cause I ride Benzes, ay that's my business
See all my lenses, are dark blue tinted
Cause I don't LIKE people in my business
In my business, I run my business
If ain't 'bout business, then I'm not listenin
In my business, I run my business
If ain't 'bout business, then I'm not listenin

[Gucci Mane]
If it ain't 'bout paper, there ain't no convo
See I ride scrapers, and y'all ride Volvos
But that's my M.O., I go where you won't go
I smoke what you cain't smoke, I'm rich and you're flat broke
See I'm not a blogger, and I'm not a jogger
I'm more like a mobster, just call me a baller
A Chevy Impala, sittin on them 40 O's
I got a lot of things but I owe 'em to Sergio
Gucci's a hustler, and he got clientele
Always got somethin to sell, just pullin your coattail
You hate me then oh well, I checked out a hotel
But now I get fan mail, my game at a stansstill
I checked out a hotel, you hate me then oh well
But now I get fan mail, my game at a standstill
Go spin like a windmill, I lower than windshield
See I got a good deal, but know what the hood feel

[Chorus]

[Waka Flocka Flame]
All I know, I'm one real nigga (Flocka)
Grew up 'round robberies and drug dealers
Dutches no Swishers, I'm the new God Fisher
Can't be Nino Brown cause that fuck nigga snitchin
Catch me on the Grove, chillin where it count
It's not just metaphors, pussy nigga you don't trap
Why they in my business? My name rang bells all through prison...
They run up in my house cause they heard a nigga pitchin
Bitch that's my decision! Why you worryin 'bout me?
24 years old, I'm a fuckin O.G. !
Riveralde in this bitch, young and rich, macaroni bitch
Two-door 6 B watch me shift, touchdown ref get off my dick
Middle finger when I see the (folk) fuck police
I got your salary hangin off my neckpiece
And to every nigga don't like me may you rest in piece
When I die label me a motherfuckin beast !

[Chorus]

[Rocko]
Uhh uhh, they goin for 30, just sold 20
Got pajamas on, and I still feel like money
(This what I do!) Tied this down, my new hoes 20
The Beemer made me look 30, the Benz on 20's
Hell she talkin businee and lookin for it, you got any?
The L stash smash well hurry hurry bring plenty
(Bring it all) The full truck gank came we hungry in the streets
This dry town ain't rained for weeks
I'm still posted in the paint, try and stay on my pivot
I might travel in a minute, they better hurry and send it
(I'ma come get it) We independent, you talkin business nigga I'm listenin
A couple of commisary digits nigga to talk business !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Ferrari Boyz Lyrics

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Song Title: Ferrari Boyz
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Ferrari Boyz



[Gucci Mane]
I'm in the yellow thang, on the expressway
That bitch so nasty it might give a bitch road rage
Get out my lane - Ferrari Boyz
You see the chain - So Icey boys
I'm ridin in a mansion, but I don't think I'm fancy
But I cut the blinker on and my diamonds dancin
Once upon a time, a little while ago
There was a nigga in a 'rarri with a pretty yellow hoe
Got my head held up, cause I think I'm handsome
As the media portrayin me as Charles Manson
And I coulda bought a Phantom, road here four deeper
But I'd rather pull up solo in the yellow two-seater....
Gucci!

[Chorus 4X: Gucci Mane]
Get out my lane! Ferrari Boyz!
You see the chain - So Icey boys!

[Waka Flocka Flame]
Riding in the 'rarri same color as Bacardi
She don't like me shawty man she like my car
Damn near wanna fuck my chain, damn near wanna fuck my name
Wanna bust every nigga in the clique I claim
Deep-dish rims ain't no offsets mane
That's how me and Gucci Mane came
Iced out poppin shit, drunk switchin lanes
I rock bandanas like Santana, screamin out "Who want some anna?"
Made a million off my words, they in love with my country grammar
That's the antenna, cause these rap nigga careers got static in it
I'm a walkin meal ticket, just wait a minute
Bank account got commas in it, all black 'rarri know the llamas in it
I hear them talkin gangsta shit but I know they lame as hell
One thing I ain't gon' do, pussy nigga you scared of jail
My name ring bells, my engine loud as hell
Shit, my 'rarri cost about 230 bails !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Break Her Lyrics

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Song Title: Break Her
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Break Her



[Intro]
Brick Squad monopoly (ugh)
You know I'ma break her
Bitch come and choose up!
I just be on hard mayne
Me and old Gucci Mane

[Waka Flocka Flame]
Shhh, be quit, shhh, be quiet
She talkin like you wired, her ass think she hired
Take you to a place real private
Vick you down and let you suck my private
I have no feelings - I'm a cold hearted nigga
You might catch me wit'cha sister, autograph my picture
I won't never kiss her, pills weed and some liquor
He might fuck 'round the liquor, I'm gon' get her Visa
You know I'ma break her, I don't hear no cake bruh
Send her out get cake bruh, bitch be back by 8 uhh
Sunshine my money maker, TT that's my down bitch
CC got real loose from that, you would give shawty a stupid check

[Chorus]
You know I'ma break her
Bitch come and choose up!
I done stepped my game up
Got a house outta her
She done bought me rings bruh
Got a chain outta her
I just pimp hard mayne
Me and old Gucci Mane !

[Gucci Mane]
Break-a-Bitch College, sugar pimp knowledge
Skeet in her mouth and the bitch just swallowed
Give her guidelines and the slut just followed [2X]
I'm on mine, I gots to grind, my rhyme for a reason....
Yo sis is a streetwalker, workin procedures
Baby bought me this, baby bought me that
Gave me a brick and I turned it to crack
Make me wanna fuck her, gotta come back
Lil' short thang with a ass so fast
Menages, massages, she too wild, no flaugin
She choose up, I po' up, I'm two up, she bobbin
I'm a nuisance, no nonsense.
I'm a monster, no conscience.
No option, who want it? Haters get left, unconscious
Grind in the 'rarri every day like a Chevy
Smoke so heavy that the dub man smell me
Used to let a boy named Luke get to me
In the club drunk got to fightin already !



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Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka Flame feat. Slim Dunkin - Too Loyal Lyrics

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Song Title: Too Loyal
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane Waka Flocka Flame feat. Slim Dunkin
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka Flame feat. Slim Dunkin - Too Loyal



[Intro: Gucci Mane]
Mr. Zone 6'er, rock two pistols (BOW) [2x]
Fucked three sisters, iced out crystals
Mi-Mr. Zone 6'er, Mi-Mr. Zoner 6'er

[Gucci Mane]
I'm too hood, I'm too turnt (turnt)
Ain't been an hour and a quarter pound burnt
Mr. Zone 6'er, rock two pistols (BOW)!
Fucked three sisters, iced out crystals
Tell you like you wanna know, iced out shorty
Got a glow, blue block party, and you better know (POW)!
Fuckin bitches every show, one for the cheese
Two for the ki's, three's for the P's, go for the O.G.'s
I'm so sleaze I hit your main squeeze (geah)!
Rollin on 30's, like you rollin on D's (wow)!
It beez Gucci Goo-Wop!
In the South top Beemer that's convertible top!

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I'm too fuckin loyal; you too fuckin spoiled
Bitch I'm gone off that hard, Brick Squad we barred
Them boys are high [3X]
We ballin out [3X] - I'm too fuckin loyal

[Waka Flocka Flame]
They said I'm steamin, I'm bubblin, from the fire up
You got loud better fire it up
Call me a one-hit wonder I'll switch my flow up
Drop "No Hands" with Roscoe Dash, now I've blowin up
I'm (ballin out) everywhere you see me is money on the ground
'Caine one bleaches me, in for a pound (flags)
Higher than a motherfucker I smoked 'bout a pound
I love to throw hundreds screamin stripper bitch drown!
Girls all around me run me down
I drink, go bomb, ... me round
Pants down, Brick Squad we the shit
Waka Flocka Flame the 2011 ...Mitch !

[Chorus]

[Slim Dunkin]
Brick Squad young'n
Catch me with a groupie chick, I be on my groupie shit
Hotel, motel, try and shoot a groupie flick
Bang bang, skeet skeet, Sturdy Pete, blew the crib
Dumped out the flag fuck, coolin with the stewardess
Hoe like OH MY GOD, look in my garage!
This ain't no facade, sleepwalkin on them bars
I got me on free, link get me the Z
Red Bull give me wings, pit be robbin ching
Money I'ma get to it, neckpiece, igloo it
Shoot a hundred bet a hundred crapped out and redo it
It ain't nuttin to a boss nigga, put down
I'm so fuckin loyal Gucci tellin me to sit down !



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Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Young Niggas Lyrics

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Song Title: Young Niggas
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka Flame
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane,Waka Flocka Flame - Young Niggas



[Chorus: Gucci]
My pants saggin low like a young nigga
I'm twistin up the drough like a young nigga
I am in the club thirty deep like a young nigga
I'm still in the streets like a young nigga
Like a young nigga this one is for the young niggas
Where ya from nigga this ones for the young niggas [repeat]

[Verse: Gucci]
Yeah most my niggas rob they ain't gotta job
I got a couple young niggas that'll take the charge
So I don't bring a bodyguard I bring my entourage
Stop the track pause... R.I.P. to Camoflouge
I am about to pull my yellow 'rarri out the car garage
I got some young niggas that'll hide your body parts

[Verse: Flocka]
Twistin fingers in the club I'm a young nigga
Got them old niggas sayin I love that young nigga
Your whole click buyin shots y'all some broke niggas
Pants saggin, flag hangin I'm a young nigga
In the car strapped up with them guns nigga
We shootin at the police just for fun nigga

[Chorus: Gucci]
Yeah most my niggas rob they ain't gotta job
I got a couple young niggas that'll take the charge
So I don't bring a bodyguard I bring my entourage
Stop the track pause... R.I.P. to Camoflouge
I am about to pull my yellow 'rarri out the car garage
I got some young niggas that'll hide your body parts!

[Verse: Flocka]
Ray Charles vision screamin wheres the competetion?
Lot of rappers on the corner man they swag missing
I'm on that young nigga shit, shiesty ass niggas at my shows run for bricks
Gucci said I'm going hard Flocka on this shit
Old school swag got these hoes on my dick
I'm allowed to pick I'm like which girl to get?
Pulled up on some onset yellow and black whip
I'm on my Wiz Khalifa shit, I don't do no papers
Fresh up on them papers, haters catch the vapours
Shoes alligator I'm talkin about Jordans
She ain't got enough swag shawtay can't afford em'!!!

[Chorus: Gucci]
My pants saggin low like a young nigga
I'm twistin up the drough like a young nigga
I am in the club thirty deep like a young nigga
I'm still in the streets like a young nigga
This one is for the young niggers
Where ya from nigga this ones for the young niggas!!!



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Gucci Mane ,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. YG Hootie - 15th And The 1st Lyrics

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Song Title: 15th And The 1st
Singer/Band: Gucci Mane, Waka Flocka Flame, feat. YG Hootie
Album: Ferrari Boyz (2011)



Lyrics to Gucci Mane ,Waka Flocka Flame, feat. YG Hootie - 15th And The 1st



[Intro]
Uhh, uhh
Ayy Guc' Mane, we good right now man
Get money good man

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
It's a white girl in town - name is Cocaine
It's some dirty birds in town - Gucci Mane & Waka Flame
We fly in, on buy-in, say you got more birds? You lyin
You tryin and lyin, you boys ain't supplyin
I pitch like Nolan Ryan, got cocallina flyin
My partners stick up kids, duct tape rope they gon' tie in
In the bushes they lyed in all night that's my word
By the end of the mornin they left with them birds
And I'm gone off that purp', and I'm slurrin my words
I swerved in my Benz, bangin my 4G's on the curb
The lean, the herb, pay me like the first
You cross Brick Squad, get hurt
I got work - Gucci

[Chorus]
My homeboys will get you, pay you on the 33rd
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hundreds I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st
Two pints of lean'll have me slurrin on my words
Undertaker car, triple black drop bird
Stomach full of money, so hundreds I'ma burp
All the hoods love us like the 15th and the 1st

[Verse 2: Waka Flocka Flame]
Five grand for a head shot
Boy don't be no Flintstone and get yo' (Bedrocked), nigga!
Triple red drop, offsets through the parkin lot
Where I'm from, young niggaz shootin at the cops
Where I'm from, they fakin
My hood right side, nigga, green flaggin
Lay yo' ass down if you do too much braggin
Three case, four Glocks, nigga that's swaggin, ughh!!!
Penalized, then goes the Packer-Man
What'cha hell, you would think it was a cracker-man
I don't know 'em bah-bah-bah-bah-back'em man
Fuck 'em den! Throw my stash in the club that there'll do
Every girl gettin past you
Send an ambulance on that ass I want that rent due
Robbin every nigga that ain't Hit Squad, Blood or Piru
FLOCKA!!!!

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: YG Hootie]
Half a million dollar jewelry like "Fuck that bird!"
Niggaz screamin they want beef, I'm like (Roger That)!
My album didn't sell, so I'm layin niggaz down
Shootin every nigga, that burst leaves a fuckin frown
Forty carats on my bracelet, my Polo black
Niggaz talkin like they want beef, I'm wantin that
Seven grams in the Swisher, I'm gon' solo that
Ridin around with my strap like "Where they at?"
All these rap niggaz hold up, stole my Philly hat
You will never be a legend like the Gucci Mane
You will never be turnt up like my partner Flock'
You niggaz hoes I run your block when them choppers chop !



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Friday, February 10, 2012

The Game feat. Kendrick Lamar - The City Lyrics

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Song Title: The City
Singer/Band: The Game feat. Kendrick Lamar
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game feat. Kendrick Lamar - The City



[Verse 1: Game]
Tell them muthafuckas I'm forever paid
California king, wrestle gators in the Everglades
Drive up out that muthafuckin swamp in the Escalade
So before you put that Red rag in your pocket
I wanna see your fuckin resume
Started off on Ground Zero, then I start to levitate
Rip rappers a new asshole: I never hesitate
Dre beats on, smoking that chronic just to meditate
I'm a give em hurricanes until another Levee break
You niggas is featherweights, I'm Aftermath's heavyweight
Now Dre's weapon of mass destruction is 'bout to detonate
When a nigga?, shit, I was selling weight
Now a nigga's selling millions, now it's time to celebrate
Performing in front of millions, nigga, every race
64 in the '64, now watch the Chevy scrape
4th album, no 5 mics? Then let em hate
But I'm not stopping til I'm the king in every state

[Hook: Kendrick Lamar]
Recognize my life, ridicule my fights
Give me fuel for the fire burning when I yearn these lights
In the midst of the hieroglyphs my fingertips start to write
Familiar with cartwright, cause I wrote that shot, I'm a raging bull
When the? drops. My record, I'm a wreck it, even if my record don't pop
I'm a tie your neck on a Downtown building
Let the? behind me tell em they can find me
In the dark with the ghetto children
Look at my heard, nigga fuck your feelings
This is me!

[Verse 2: Game]
I'm sick of motherfuckers talking about "the West died"
Can't you hear my heart beating?
That's the motherfuckin West side, you test me, you test God
I'm his son, insane songs, you come at me
Then I can split you with this Tommy gun
You won't have time to run, I'm from the Compton slums
And that's how the West ride
I'm from the city where 2 of the best died
Rest in peace to both of em, spit like I'm the ghost of em
Damn, I said I spit like I'm the ghost of em
Name your top 10, I'm harder than the most of em
Matter of fact, shorten your list nigga, top 5
Game, Biggie, Hov, prolly Pac, Nas
No particular order, bet a mil that I slaughter
Serve niggas, give a fuck what you ordered
How dare you niggas pop fly when I'm the nigga
Sold 5 mil out the gate and numbers do not lie

[Hook: Kendrick Lamar]

[Verse 3: Game]
I gave you the Documentary, shit was a classic
Gave you Doctor's Advocate, you ripped it out the package
Came with LAX, since critics said it was average
I was stressed the fuck out, torn between Aftermath and
Geffen, Interscope, now I got you in the scope
Spill the red ink on the paper, it's like my pen is broke
And this is what you all been waiting for
I'm the lost angel knocking on Satan's door....
What the fuck y'all take me for?
I love you cause you hate me more
I'm Kobe on the Lakers floor, except I give you 84
Shake you like Haiti's floor
Walk up on you like "what's going on baby boy? "
Shocks in that Mercedes door
Either I'm crazy, or the black Slim Shady, or
That be the reason that Baby said he would pay me more
But I still owe Jimmy one more album
The best the West has ever seen - no disrespect to Calvin !

[Hook: Kendrick Lamar]

[Verse 4: Kendrick Lamar]
And I wear? on my shoulder
Soldier, like a lieutenant, and the coupe tinted
Got pulled over, Johnny always lock a nigga down
Knowing damn well we don't wanna see the box like Manny Pacquiao
Little nigga Mayweather size, ride like Pac
And his? is now a radar....
Til the federal come through and raid ours
Reminiscing on the LA Raiders
Was in my home, snapback fitted on my uncle's dome
And I don't condone dickriding, I'm addicted to
Westsiding, living in a city where the skinny niggas die
And the semi bullets fly, but it turn me to a lion
Trying, and I mean that shit
Game came through, put the city on his back
I was in the city, a nigga has seen that shit
"Compton! ", a nigga gotta scream that shit
Never went commercial, Never T.V. screened that shit
Can't block or screen that shit, now everybody seen that shit !



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The Game - The Good, The Bad, The Ugly Lyrics

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Song Title: The Good, The Bad, The Ugly
Singer/Band: The Game
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game - The Good, The Bad, The Ugly



Yo you can keep asking them fuckin questions all fuckin day man
I told you what- I told you what the fuck happened man
Told your partner the same thing man, how long a nigga gotta stay here?

[Verse 1]
There was money on the table with the bricks
I was in the living room feeling on this bitch
Heard my car alarm goin off on my 6
So my dogs start barkin and some niggas hit the fence
So I take my dick out this bitch mouth and walked to the window
Pull the blinds down and took one hit of the Endo
You niggas ain't doin shit, but stealin my neighbors rims so
Walked back to the couch and told the bitch to bend over
That's what I'm rolling with....
Nah I ain't shit and I ain't snitching on nobody
Yea that's my .45, but it ain't got no bodies
And 2 dead niggas? Them is nobody....
They should've torched em, and you wouldn't had no bodies
I mean look at these pictures, just so sloppy
Couldn't have been me, I do my shit like John Gotti
Feed the nigga to the sharks after dark
Man fuck this shit I thought I told y'all
There was money on the table by the bricks
I was at the kitchen table choppin up some shit
Listenin to Jeezy and I heard a little (speeding car)
So I turned the radio down and cocked my 4 Fif, oh shit..
Am I hit? Nah just a hole in my Jordan fitted
So I turn down all the lights and cock my 4 Fif
Seen some niggas jump in they escalade and that was it
How much longer I gotta stay in this muthafucka?
Let me get a cigarette, I don't even smoke but shit y'all got a nigga stressed
I gotta stay in this muthafucka until I confess?
Shit, y'all bitches better get some rest
Cus it'll be a cold day in Miami....
Before I snitch on myself or the hood, you understand me?
Ya I fuck with the Bulls but I ain't Sammy
Niggas run around the hood singin.. They should get a Grammy
And you two muthafuckas should get an Oscar
With this good cop bad cop shit.. Take me to process
Cus I don't eat breakfast with no pigs
I watched First 48 so fuck your 25 years
No evidence, no big. I don't know who split them niggas' wigs
Already told y'all, there was money on the table with the bricks
I was walkin to bathroom to take a shit
Then I heard my dogs barkin, there's some noise by the fence
So I ran to my room and reached for the 4 Fif
Then I seen three niggas by my back door
Looked out the bathroom window and seen two more
So I reached for my chopper and some clips out the drawer
Guess I had to welcome niggas to the gun store !



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The Game feat. E-40 & Big Boi - Speakers On Blast Lyrics

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Song Title: Speakers On Blast
Singer/Band: The Game feat. E-40 & Big Boi
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game feat. E-40 & Big Boi - Speakers On Blast



It's not usual, the game be, all up on some South shit
Straight West Coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, Blood out" shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, bird in the couch shit
The mad rapper, Oscar the Grouch shit
Except when I'm hopping out of cans, I'm pulling out shit
Dippin' the 4 though, double X 3-D Polo
If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin logo
Your last shit was so-so, you should sign to Jermaine
I've been hard since I was solo
Niggas feel my pain, I make it rain without the strippers
Go against the grain, and put your shit back like some clippers
I bang and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can tell I'm getting money the way that glass house is sitting
I mash out the strip then like Nas when I'm dippin
Feeling like God's Son, the way that It Was Written

[Hook:]
Them boys want they music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask
Cause I got another ounce up in the stash
Them boys want they music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't even ask
Cause I take 2 hits, and then I pass

[Game:]
I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker chill in the car
Feelin' like Missy, why you all up in my grill
They must know that I got bird stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the Armor All while it's sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes that pray on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats they be on showin' college hill
For real, I think my first album sold 5 mil'
And you say to yourself "He's broke"
Well how the hell am I ballin', like Spalding
I did a couple of movies, now agents calling and calling
Can't get to the phone right now cause balls is all in this bitch mouth
When did we start taking these tricks out?
Now she gon' run her big mouth and tell her girlfriend
You had her all up in the wind
Blowing yo cheese on Louie Vuitton, and now that bitch is in the wind
And after the next draft, she gon' start that cycle again
How you claimin' that bitch when she with him?
Come again cause...

[Hook]

[Big Boi:]
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you tell me where my dick's at?
Come order ghetto, head hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the lightning that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me mass of, cause I run the plantation and I'm whooping niggas asses
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses that were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or come face to face with total devastation
My mojo is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, that means I'm gone
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and club songs
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are phoning home
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' loaned out like books
A castle full of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do anything for money, I bet misleading the village...

[Hook]

[E-40:]
Not from New England, but I pack a patriot
Not from Atlanta, but I got the cater
Not from Chicago, but I'm a bear.
I'm a bay area nigga, 49er, Raider.
I'm about my bread man, I ain't no sucker
Now these bitch ass niggas soft as table butter
I'm about my riches, magazines, street hustler
You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older brothers
But I used to flee through that yellow white
Sellin' that shit below the retail price
I'm a rare breed like the bike club, get it right
Desperado like Tori Amos, shout out to dynamite
I got my red cup, and some green
What kind of green you smoking pimp? Blue dream
My nigga let my hit that there hemp, do your thing
How many woofers in your trunk? 4 15s....



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The Game - Ricky Lyrics

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Song Title: Ricky
Singer/Band: The Game
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game - Ricky



"Shit! Rick!
C'mon man! "

"Ricky! "
"Help me! Help me! Somebody, help me! "
"Ricky, Ricky! "
"Ricky! "

[Verse 1:]
Blood of a slave, heart of a giant
Had to leave Aftermath, Dre said I was too defiant
That was five years ago, look how fast it go
Destroyin' Interscope, shot myself like Plaxico
But fuck that, blaze one, where the matches yo?
Hit the freeway and see how fast the Aston go
Roll the window down, clip off the ashes so
You can see all my diamonds and how much cash I blow
How many bitches I fuck, how many cars I drive
How many goons I got, count 'em and they all outside
Niggas try to shut me up like Malcom
But standin' in the window caine smoking was the outcome
Sometimes I get a little stressed and pop a Valium
Hit Hollywood late night and knock down a stallion
So niggas think twice about my medallion or
You'll hear Cuba Gooding yelling "Ricky! "
My nostalgia is one hundred percent Compton and zero percent snitch
Park a Bentley and the Phantom on blocks while I use the bitch
Made the Cincinnati fitted more famous than Griffey did
And just to think, several years ago they tried to split his wig
Two to the chest, struck his heart, one hit his rib...
Then I blacked out, like a movie, all I could hear...

[Verse 2:]
Feelin' all fucked up, woke up to a doctor
All I could think about, was that the cops took my weed and my choppers
They want me to sing, like Sinatra, I told the detective
Get this clear like Belvedere vodka.
Them five shots created a monster.
Hell's Kitchen comin' straight out of Compton
I seen Boyz in the Hood, Morris Chestnut was a actor
2Pac was the real life "Ricky! "
Then they shot down the nigga that shot him, I swear to God
If I'm lying then Compton is New York and I'm Rakim
I'm from where niggas get murdered over stock rims
And punched in the jaw just for a cocked brim
Nobody mama let the cops in, we ain't got no options
Wanted to be a boxer, but I was boxed in
Then my grandmother house went up for auction
And that's what killed her, I'm goin' back to buy the block then
Too many niggas locked in, dig up Cochran and defend all my niggas
With they faith under stockings, rather face God then 25 with no options
If Compton ain't the murder capital, we in the top ten
Drive by with our face painted, like a clown
With a tre-pound, forty shells bouncin' off the ground
This how my living room sound, when my brother got shot down....



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The Game feat. Lil Wayne - Red Nation Lyrics

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Song Title: Red Nation
Singer/Band: Dr. Dre and The Game feat. Lil Wayne
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game feat. Lil Wayne - Red Nation



[Game - Verse 1]
Throw your motherfucking Cincinnati hats in the sky
Nigga don't ask why
Red laces in and out of them Air Max '95's
I, walk on the moon, flow hotter than June
Any nigga want drama I kick up a sand dune
Peace to my man 'Tune for giving his man room
Now we hittin' switches to the Spring Break, Cancun
Get it, nah forget it, SuWoo I live it
Made the letter B more famous than a Red Sox fitted
But that was suicide, I don't live in Judah's eyes
Half of these rappers weren't trappin' when I was choppin' the do or die
Suge had me in, I went Puffy like Zab Judah eye
Dre called, told my baby momma "won't you decide"
She chose Doc, first day I pulled dude aside like its Aftermath for life
And all I do is ride
Before I turn on 'em I kill Satan and stick my red flag in the ground
It's Red Nation!!!

[Lil Wayne]
Now Blood the fuck up
Everyday's a gamble motherfucker, tough luck
And we gonna fuck the World til that bitch bust nuts
I can't tell ya whats good, but I can tell ya whats, what
And that's, B's up, hoes down
Lookin' in the mirror, I'm no where to be found
Blood, I'm a dog, call me a blood hound
Throwin' blood in the air, leave blood on the ground

[Game - Verse 2]
Niggas'll trade their soul to be Drake or J. Cole
Live and die for this shit, word to Tupac Shakur's halo
One blood, plural, nigga I'm spendin' Euro's
Ferrari got an ice cream paint job, Dorrough
I'm up out the hood, where they pull guns on you like
Come up out ya hood, it ain't never all good
We roll up in backwoods, nigga get to actin' stupid
Get thrown in the back woods
Los Angeles, home of the scandalous
Pimp, hoes and gamblers
98 degrees on Christmas
Nigga we rollin' cannabis
Swisha sweet ain't it, I told her I'm Charles Louboutin
The bitch fainted, pulled her panties down, stain it
That's my Chi-lingo, yeah I'm bi-lingual
Ball by myself, nigga Ochocinco
Dancing with the stars, bullets and fast cars
And everybody bleed out here, word to God

[Lil Wayne]
Now Blood the fuck up
Everyday's a gamble motherfucker, tough luck
And we gonna fuck the World til the bitch bust nuts
I can't tell ya whats good, but I can tell ya whats, what
And that's, B's up, hoes down
Lookin' in the mirror, I know where to be found
Blood, I'm a dog, call me a blood hound
Throwin' blood in the air, leave blood on the ground

[Game - Verse 3]
Russia got a Red Flag
US got Red Stripes
Last train to Paris, round the World in these red Nikes
Che Guevara of the New Era, test me
Louieville slugger, you'll get buried in my new era
Got that natty on, tighter than a magnum
Walk in the club saggin' with a .38 magnum
Red Ralph Laurens, the double R sittin' on a hill like Lauren
Her and the car foreign
Got my red Dre Beats on, tryna put my peeps on.
And I keep it hood like this Phantom is a Nissan.
Where my nigga Jim Jones at?
Roll up the weed son, so many bloods in Compton had to get a NYC song
And while I'm out here, I might as well go shopping
And put this new bad bitch I got her some red bottoms
And all these hatin' ass niggas want me dead
Cause I'm Malcolm X before he turned Muslim, RED !

[Lil Wayne]
Now Blood the fuck up
Everyday's a gamble motherfucker, tough luck
And we gonna fuck the World til the bitch bust nuts
I can't tell ya whats good, but I can tell ya whats, what
And that's, B's up, hoes down.
Lookin' in the mirror, I know where to be found
Blood, I'm a dog, call me a blood hound
Throwin' blood in the air, leave blood on the ground....



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The Game feat. Chris Brown - Pot Of Gold Lyrics

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Song Title: Pot Of Gold
Singer/Band: The Game feat. Chris Brown
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game feat. Chris Brown - Pot Of Gold



All the spotlight is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days when life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold (whoa whoa),
In search of the pot of gold.

[Verse 1:]
There's a mother out there right now,
About to have the next LeBron,
Searchin' for a pot of gold like a leprechaun,
They say death comes in threes, whose next in line?
And I just lost a best friend for the second time,
Now I'm on a quest to find peace,
Still gotta carry my piece and soo-woo when it's reppin' time,
Ya'll don't understand, I'm misunderstood,
Give Interscope 2 more albums then I’m done for good,
Sold 10 million records ain't leave the hood,
It's a cold world everybody need a hood,
And everybody doin' time stay headstrong,
You still gotta chance to live,
Even though you're dead wrong.

[Chorus:]
All the spotlight is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days when life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold (whoa whoa)
In search of the pot of gold

[Verse 2:]
Sometimes I try to do good but I just can't be,
It's hard to get myself to do things that ain't me,
And ya'll should thank me,
But my haters busy tryna send me home early but you can't New Orleans Saint me.
I ain't a saint B, I ain't a god God,
I ain't an angel neither but I try hard ya'll,
I'm lightin' up for all my soldiers at war,
As I sit back and watch the ashes on my cigar fall,
Wayne just came home, and tip back on the yard dog,
Guess Pujols ain't the only one playin’ hard ball.

[Chorus:]
All the spotlight is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days when life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold (whoa whoa) !
In search of the pot of gold....

[Chris Brown:]
See the thing about all of us is
You know just what we bout

All the spotlight is not for me,
I close my eyes and imagine I'm home,
I miss the days when life was simple,
But if I never tried to follow that rainbow,
In search of the pot of gold (whoa whoa) !
In search of the pot of gold....



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The Game feat. Nelly Furtado - Mama Knows Lyrics

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Song Title: Mama Knows
Singer/Band: The Game feat. Nelly Furtado
Album: The R.E.D. Album (2011)



Lyrics to The Game feat. Nelly Furtado - Mama Knows



[Verse 1: Game]
Mama told me stay away from them niggas
Mama told me she had a K for them niggas
Mama told me she go to pay for them niggas
While my grandmother told me that she would pray for them niggas
They just young black and ignorant
Lusting over models and the Benjamins
Got the game twisted like (what?) licorice
When I was rocking lottos moving packs in front of McDonalds
She was looking for me, pulled up in that Old El Dorado
I was running around with Chase, chasing new black wheels
Why would I do that still? That's what got 2Pac killed...
But I use that still cause I won't do that deal
Screw the muzzle in potatoes of that new Mac Mill
What did I learn? Nothing
My papa smoking sherm blunts and
Beating on my moms like her head was a percussion
Tat! Tat! My.45 knocking on your window
She said there would be days like this, Pharrell, drop the instrumental

[Pharrell:]
Yezzir...

[Hook: Nelly Furtado]
I know I must go and I don't know my way
Still don't know where we all came from

[Verse 2: Game]
Crack a Swisher, crack a 5th up
Hennessy pouring like Niagara Falls
Used to watch Magic, he showed me how to ball
Moms working late night, to get a plate right
Had some older brothers, all we did was smoke and play-fight
Wish I could go back to them days cause streets don't play right
Some niggas hard, other niggas was the Kid N Play type
Didn't stop me from pretending I was Apollo from Rocky
Working on my dip-game, now nobody wanna box me
Pick and choose, stick and move
So many dudes ended up in sleeping bags on late-night news
But not my mama's song, going around the hood serving customers
She yapping in my ear, but it's louder than the muffler...
What I didn't listen to, I wish I would've trusted her
Wish I had a shovel, be digging both of my brothers up
Like "here hug em ma, one last time"
Put a chain on both of them niggas, they get one last shine....

[Hook: Nelly Furtado]

[Verse 3: Game]
Put your block down, recognize a king cause it's my town
Word to my mother you can throw up your rock now
Got off the beef shit cause I ain't tryna see my mama in all-black
Right there, crying over hard facts
Now she gotta turn in all her cars and get her house back
Never! She carried me for 9 months so she can have whatever
Plus she taught me how to shoot Berettas, told me that I'd be a king
So RIP to Coretta, if you don't understand that
Then refer to my letter, while I sprinkle...
Niggas with platinum, from my last album
Got the check, so I signed on the X like Malcolm
Riding through the hood, you hating niggas like "how come? "
That niggas Game got it, heard he selling talcum
Either way, hey playboy, check it, this is the outcome
You might not like it, but my mama psychic
Why you niggas twisted like the top of a Sidekick?



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