G-$tack
The collaboration of Don Reynolds and Bob Mair, G-$tack's old-school reality rap sound has been a favorite of underground hip-hop fans since the early aughts. Not unlike their contemporary St. John, G-$tack's following gained momentum after their songs were heard on hit TV shows such as Prison Break, The Wire, Dexter, Entourage, and many more. Mair's prolific and versatile skill as producer and co-composer forms the foundation on which the hard-hitting poetry and powerful voice of Reynolds solidly stands—and stands the test of time.
Contact: [email protected]
A Date With Angels
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chill, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
A Date With Angels
A DATE WITH ANGELS
Time is running out, I feel it slippin' away
time is running out, I see it in my dreams every night
I can't get away from it
Chorus
It's getting' hard to stay alive
The streets are full of blood tonight
An' everything is down to fate
You can't go back 'cos it's too late
Now brother's gone and mama's cryin'
Seems like everybody's dyin'
I know they're comin' for me
But I'm not ready – for a date with angels
A date with angels – a date with angels
Verse 1
I see death around the corner
I can't delete it
The Vision repeats over and over
There's no reprieve.. Click!!
Another round in the chamber...OOOOh!
Everytime I make a move
I feel my burning fuse
See the homey's over there creepin'?
The last two nights they been trying to catch a brother sleepin'
Didn't see 'em?
Na, I ain't tripping
That's why no matter where I go I keep the clip in
With the safety off
They tryin' to pick me off
They say I'm off
But I ain't never been soft
The game 'a make you go crazy
The hood's full 'a wannabe gangstas
Or they tryna be Jay Z
I only did it cause it pays me
Had an exit plan
But now I can't see SQUEEZE!
Cause I'm tired of runnin'
Dog I know it's comin'
I see death around the corner!
Repeat Chorus
She was 13 and I was 22
Used to holla at her when she went to school
She was enthralled with the streetlife
As a G I kept my knot right
Kept the product for them pipes
Told youngin' "Get ya mind right shortie. Betta stay out these streets!"
"Cause messin' wit' 'da street life
It'll get you caught up
Hunger combined with jealousy It'll get you buck Bucked!
Like you never was
You a Pup!
There's Killas out here and they don't give a What!!
She didn't listen man she did her thang
Two weeks ago they found her and her Thuggy slain!
Repeat Chorus
Army Of One
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Army, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
84
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Army Of One
ARMY OF ONE
Chorus:
I'm an Army of One
I don't trust nothin' but the end of my gun
When I'm in da hood, boy ya better run
Or ya gonna hafta answer to an Army of One
Ya better stand down or you'll be six feet under
Ya think ya own the streets well you ain't seen this mutha
I don't need no G to help me get it done
Cuz I'm an Army of One, yeah I'm an Army of One
Look at my grill
Betta grab ya shield
Or kryptonite tonight
Cuz I'm gonna drill
As soon as I see you
I'm a aim for ya dome
Precisely, boy I'm nice – Please!
I'm sqeezin' my chrome
Bl....att just like that
You in the parking lot of the club writhin' on ya back
And I ain't worried about a case
If they can't see ya face
And ya hands is missin'
After they deep sea fish ya!
Dey like to Rah Rah wit dat Blah Blah
Boy you'll mess around I'll have you screamin for ya Mama
We can pop tha trunk
If you wanna get crunk
Ya cover's blown crony
Dog, I know you a punk
I do my dirt on my own
I'm a rider solo playa- decide I'm sendin' you home
I bang on site
And when the time is right
You'll see me comin' up ya block
You in the danger zone tonight
Repeat Chorus
I got mo gunz
Chronic smoke in my lungs
I want you I won't stop until the task is done
We can tear the club up so what you got a crew
I'll take you sissies out when I pull these duel
Glock.45's as ya runnin' ya lips
It becomes real clear
When I unzip these clips
Give me all ya loot
Give me ya shoes
What u lookin' at sucka
Fool, run ya jewels
What happed to all that barkin' man
Y'all was laughin'
Runnin' round the club it was kinda bafflin'
Cause you know how I do my thing
Them tramps in ya ear had you gassed
So much drama I'll bring
Keep my head on a swivel
Smoke some weed- a little 'gnac
In da middle of the night
The last sound you heard was CRACK!!
No prints
No murder weapon
Roll one, Relax
A day in the life of a real G wearin' all black!
Repeat Chorus
Get caught up in ya hype
Playa please believe
When tha cutlass bends the corner
Dog, I'm aimed to squeeze
Automatic filled ya attic
Now you anesthes'd
Did you think when you started the static
You'd end up RIP'd
Now they pourin' out the liquor
Sad remembrances
Family devastated
Shoulda checked yo sentences
You don't wanna rumble homey
All bravados crumble homey
When you act like you don't know me
I'm a leave ya family lonely!
Repeat Chorus
Beat the Street
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
87
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Beat the Street
BEAT THE STREET
This is a message to all those soldiers
To all those grindin' in the streets
As you live life as a roller- your time is over
Quicker than a camera's flash- as it floats past
I wonder what kind of questions are asked
Did you take your life for granted?
I hope he wasn't too hard on judgment
Cause I understand it
It's just the way it was
Anybody from my hood- I don't care who you might meet
At some time or another, they was probably sparkin' heat
Hard to survive but I refuse to fold
Me and Manny was jumped when we was 8 yrs old
And now he's leavin'- But I hope to God he rest-in-peace
I wonder when will this nonsense cease
I realize that my life's on lease
The World's rotated and my game's grown thicker
I'm ten years older and I'm tired of holding triggers
I don't know how I'm gonna do it – But I'm a find a way!!
Cause life as a thug is a waste ( I know now I gotta....)
Chorus:
BEAT THE STREET
KICK IT HARD IN THE FACE
CUZ IT'S UP TO ME
TO TURN THIS LIFE AROUND
FOR THE DEAD I GRIEVE
BUT I'M STILL ALIVE
I BEAT THE STREET
I CAN TAKE THE HEAT
BEAT THE STREET
KICK IT HARD IN THE HEAD
IT'S HOW IT HAS TO BE
TO TURN THIS LIFE AROUND
I DON'T NEED TO BLEED
TO BE A GANGSTA G
I BEAT THE STREET
I BEAT THE STREET
To all the past thug hustlas, bless the dead
It's time to re-arrange what's inside my head
I'm only 18 better late than never
Instead of searchin' for umbrellas
It's time to change the weather – I'm tired of rainin'
I'm gonna use my brain
I've never been a stupid brotha
This may be last chance to save my mother
So if I gotta hold a steady job
Anything to keep from robbin'
Duckin' 9mm bullets and crime plottin'
I ain't takin' no more Pen(itentiary) chances
It's gonna be hard to look past the gangsta glances
But I ain't leavin' the hood
Today, I pledge to apply myself
Stop duckin the law because it's all good
I'm a chase them legal stacks
You hear the rumors I left the street
Tell 'em it's a fact (I don't care what they think)
I'm a take control of my life
'tho' I proudly wear my stripes
I've turned the corner and I ain't looking back
Chorus 2X
I'M LOOKIN' INSIDE
I'M LOOKIN OUTSIDE
THIS LIFE IS ALL MINE
IT'S ALL MINE
Chorus
Before I Die
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
93
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Before I Die
BEFORE I DIE
CHORUS:
Before I die I'm gonna beat the street
Gonna take my toll on society
Settle all my debts wit my enemies
Before I die, Before I die
Back in the joint yall know my name
Hard core killa that's my claim to fame
All props to me I'm gonna own this game
Before I die, Before I die
This is my warning and I won't repeat it
Try to cross me and You'll end up deleted
You rockin jewels, flashin tools
Give me all ya loot and take this lashin fool!
Man they just don't listen
Wifey looked up and him and his car was missin
You betta understand
It gets crucial, blow
The back of ya cranium
Take you man out, bro
I-Don't-Think-You-Realize
How quickly it could end
Can't get your hands untied
Blindfolded in my basement
With my gat in ya face
Its getting crowded in these streets
I guess I'll make some space
I always go for broke
you though you was a G
Take my position? Nope!
Politicians in my hand
I'm supplyin' dope..Blastin
Have you in the street dancing Loc!
It's really best stay out my way
Cold-blooded Killa I don't play
CHORUS
Give it up or you'll be spittin' up
In da middle of the street you can't believe ya luck
I know you own the liquor store's been here for years
I'm tryna say you got a new partner dear
Tha whole hood kicks in
I'm always on my grind
And I don't want no friends
I creep through the fog with ease
5 minutes after smokin' you
I'm home smokin' on some trees
It's Rough!
The street game's a risk but I love the drama
Some suckas end up missin'
When I pull heat
Put you on your knees
Make your last prayer
Crack a smile and squeeze
Boy you don't really want it
I'm livin it fo' real
E'ry day a wad of money
I'm collectin bills packin steel
Nobody thinks of testing
Cause they know I'll peel
It's really best stay out my way
Take you out man, I don't play
CHORUS
You don't wanna feel da pain
I run these streets
Kill my enemies
Everybody knows my name
This is my hood
It's all good
I'm the ruler of the game
Livin the street life
The street life
Being A Playa
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, Chill, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Laid Back, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
A♯m/B♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Being A Playa
Being A Playa
Intro
I'm the playa of all playas
Wherever I am
Da ladies know what's up
U haters do to
So I'm a keep doin what I do
And Doing who I do
It's P Unit G
Chorus
BEIN' A PLAYA IS A WAY OF LIFE
UP ON TOP (&) OUT ALL NIGHT
SHAWTY WANT A TASTE OF A REAL G
COME ON DOWN & BE A PLAYA WIT ME
1st Verse
I got pros in every area code
WIDE LOAD
P.I.M.P.
I keep 'em out of they clothes
Love or Hate it
I'm Don Dada
Pick her up... "look ma.. you talk a lotta"
Slow Down, I know I speak greasy
U know how us G's be
Whether I'm in da Benz or da coupe
Girl I stay freezy
On top of my game
You know the name
It's P unit all day mayne
I'm rippin through frames
All flavors
Chocolate, Almonds, Vanilla Swirls
When I'm in da club I'm chased by all the girls
Whether they wear straight hair or they rockin' curls
Wit' dis Magic Stick
The ladies love to lick like Shirl
Well I met her just last week outside ya boutique
Pulled up there was a group of dames she took a peek
I saw it in her eyes
And wit' them caramel thighs
I had to give it to her
Now don't act surprised
(I'm a playa baby you know me!!)
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Let me tell all of you wanna be playas a little somethin'
If you really like them big fat rumps for pumpin'
It's a breeze and you can keep ya cheese
Playa peep the steez!!
I stay clean, I'm lean, carry stacks of green
And I keep a deeper bench than any NBA team
Some like tha bouncin'
Others like it on they back
They fiend for the monster
I like to call him Shaq
Takes up a lot of space
Unstoppable in the lane
If the game gets tight
He can cause you pain
Big Popi, the main ingredient
Lubricates the fold
Even though my rims is gold
And my wrists stay cold
They gets no dough
But they like to step in the Rolls
Take of they G strings
Then I curl up they toes
Some had visions of a pay day
Others just like to lay me
They caught up in the fortune and fame
So I'm a play 'em mayne!!
Outro
Being a playa is a way of life
I can't help it
They just keep coming at me
Constantly
They know who we be
I give 'em a little taste of the wild side
I'll pop the champagne wit 'em
Show 'em a little bit of the good life
But really they just like to keep this thang up in 'em
And I oblige
You know... I'm Here to Serve (w/ laughter)
It's a hard life
But somebody's gotta do it
P.P.P.P. P UNIT!!!!
Blunt
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Explicit Lyrics, Gang, Gangsta, Getting High, Ghetto, Guns, Marijuana, Mean, Ominous, Party, Pot, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Stoned, Stoner, Street, Urban, Weed
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
90
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Blunt
Blunt
Chorus
We drinkin wine till we insane
Then we poppin down something gonna fry your brain
Hit the table and we sniff up the cocaine
Then we kick it all back with da blunt, da blunt blunt
Repeat 1x
1st Verse
Me and the homies we run the streets from dusk till dawn
Party and pump we pimpin every night its on
We stay wit da greenery playa put it in the air
Rollin by the cops smoking homey we don't care
Six soldiers deep and every gangsta got his own pound
Got some chickens that like to blow
Spread it all around
Sprinkle some on Mr. Willy baby put it in her mouth
Dropped her back around the corner
She was cussin and poutin
But you know how we do it's a P Unit thang
The pimpin they get from me is from the top of the game
Get em high and then we toss em in packs leave em in fits
Everybody around this town knows our parties are it
We're the baddest of the bunch
Nobody even closer
This is Ghetto Fantasy Island
tub
Man this is the kind of night me and homies love
It's a wild scene boy, playa anything goes
Weed smoking homey ladies quick to come out their clothes
They'll do anything for it people humpin
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
You'd think I was Tony Montana look at all of this snow
Looks like Christmas on the table
Comes in a constant flow
Stay cool we stay full of them chemicals
Don't be a fool P Unit rules we give it to you gals
Smoking all day the coke got my heart racing' fo sho
Six breezies all satisfied another ready to go
The homies kicked back chillin telling old war stories
I'm peepin the scene while they revel back in their glory
The blunt's got em talking
Blow got the honies stalkin
A little white lightning get tha bras and panties poppin
So much wild stuff happenin too much for the average
It'll fry your brain
Sometimes it's hard to manage
Kick back wit da blunt blunt
Puff a blunt blunt
I know you're enjoying yourself no need to front front
Out of all the city crews we got the baddest groupie broads
They like the power and money
We only give em blow and rods
Repeat Chorus
Mr. Pork I'm the hoster
Everywhere
They just wanna have a good time
Kick a private affair
We ballin out of control the Unit doin it right
Come party with us I promise you'll be as high as a kite
There's 2 in back homey waitin aiminz to please
Drop her a ball she'll give it to you wet butt up on her knees
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
Smoke....
Smoke....
Smoke....
Smoke....
2nd Verse
The room is full of purple haze and towers of powder
We in the penthouse tower
Hit both broads in an hour
Man it's 4 a.m. and we been up around 22
She wanna bang on the balcony
Hot crack with a view
The penthouse is smokin'
People snortin China White
The unit's been known to drop 50G's in a night
It really don't matter we're a full service crew
We provide you the experience
Dog u know how we do
20 bikini booties bouncing all up in da
Repeat Vamp
Booty Shakin'
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Gypsy, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mid East, Middle Eastern Influence, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
96
Key:
G
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Booty Shakin'
Booty Shakin'
Chorus
Get ya booty shakin'
Drop ya A to Floor
Shake ya Money Maker
Till I'm ready to Blow
Repeat 1X
Verse 1
Shake it, shake it, shake it
But baby don't break it, break it, break it
Oh my God I love to see you naked
I can't take it
Ya' let me put my hands on ya hips and now I'm snake bit
You need to quit
Make me wanna strip
I can imagine both our bodies drippin'
When I watch ya' booty dip I'm trippin'
Schemin' on how I'm gonna slip in
Make ya hips bend
I'm behind ticklin'
Ya pearl
Wit my stick in
We both grinnin'
The room's spinnin'
You know what you do
How you do
When you do that thang
Make me wanna buy you a rang!
Duckin my gang
The way you make my thang sang
I'd win a grammy category sprung
Got me in shower hung waitin' to plunge
Girl you da' one!
Uh Oooooh!
Homey there she go
Twirlin' on the danceflo'
Wit a rump deluxe
U see why I'm always in the cut smashin' it up?
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
Girl it ain't fair how you do that there
Everybody starin'
Wit dem tight pants dat you wearin', ya chil'ren
Had to be fun to make
I'm dreamin' of missionary nights grippin' dem cakes
For goodness sakes
Could you give a young brotha a break
Better yet, give a brotha a taste
Put ya lips on my face wit haste!
Let me fill up ya space
Undeniably you one of the greats, what would it take?
I appreciate ya!
U got every dude sittin' up in da club
Wit da bitter beer face
But you know they scrubs
Yet you showin' me love
Let's raise up
We can do it in the tub
Hot oil body rubs
Shake it, shake it
Wherever you move, I'll take it, take it!
Girl you ain't heard?
I can run a thousand miles
Especially when I'm runnin'.... FROGGYSTYLE!!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
"Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump"
I love the way ya booty's shakin' baby!
"Bump Bump, Bump, Bump"
You drivin' me crazy girl
"Bump, Bump"
Ya' waist is thin
Wit dem nice thick thighs
You can forget all dem other guys
You know dem chump's little willies won't fly!
Bullet To The Brain
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
97
Key:
A♯m/B♭m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bullet To The Brain
Bullet to tha Brain
1st Verse
I'm tired of the game
I'm going insane
I feel the reaper stalkin'
I'm the one to blame
30 years servin', killin', and robbin'
Now I'm looking in the mirror
My trigga' finger's throbbin'
What can I do- there's nowhere to run
I got no education
For the love of the gun
I gave up on my future
Fathers save your sons
Cause my mother did her best
She couldn't save me from
Blood in me from the other half of the Tree
My Great Grand, Grand, and my Pops was G's
My first words was "Daddy"
Second one was "Freeze!!!"
I'm disgusted wit my life
Dog it's hard to breathe ('cuz)
Chorus
It's gonna make me go insane
Gotta put a bullet to tha brain
It's gonna make me go insane
Gotta put a bullet to that brain
Like a dog passed his prime
Ain't no use, time to die
It's gonna make me go insane
Gotta put a bullet to tha brain
2nd Verse
I ran the gang
I killed for fame
Caused havoc on tha streets
Made 'em fear my name
You looked at me wrong
You'd get 2 in da brain
Now I look up and all I see's the same
Things that I did
Passed on to kids
Not even the dey teens
Pullin' 10 year bids
They looked up to me
And I convincingly
Led 'em all down the road to catastrophe
I knew one day that I would have to pay
For what I did to 'em
It's my casket day
I can feel it all around
I can hear the sound
Payback is a mutha
The game's claimed another
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Too much to drink
Too much to smoke
A rat infested spot
No contacts for coke
A gangsta passed his prime
Wit' no love or hope
I'm in a daze
Lookin' for someone to choke
I've tried everything
Tryna kill da pain
I've loaded up da bullets
Man I'm going insane
I'm running outta time
No better days for me
Just dark nights
A street life casualty
Got the.45- one in da chamber
Tremblin', Overdosin' on anger
I'm hearin' voices this is too much pressure
All I see is bloodstains
From a bullet to my brain
Repeat Chorus
Cocked And Loaded
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
116
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Cocked And Loaded
Cocked & Loaded
Chorus
Come on come on - I'm cocked and loaded
Come on come on - I'm cocked and loaded
Don't keep me waitin' - - I'm 'bout to explode
I'm cocked and loaded - -cocked and loaded
Repeat 1X
Verse 1
I see you want me lady
Girl I'll rock you crazy
Girl you know I love you so bootyliscious
Mesmerize wit a walk so viscous, delicious
Top of my wish list
You see dese bills so crispy
Ain't seen you in a while- You Miss Me?
U know what I wanna do
And I know you wanna do it too baby!
You saw me roll up in the black best
'member when I put those hickies on your chest
I remember how we used to do
'member when came home from schoo'- when you came through!
Then I blew your back out
And then you blew my brains out
Girl you looking so good tonight
Let's take the same route
Me and you face down on the couch
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
Ooooh! It's still like dat?
Still like it when I grip dat fat?
I gotta big bone to bury
That Brazilian on them lips is down right scary
Still taste like honey
It's all hot, drop, pop, stop running!
I know it feels real good!
Bite ya lip when you grip
Take this wood
You so grown and creamy
Had to grab ya hair
Moaning, Screaming
10 minutes in, both beaming
It's steaming
An hour later, I'm leaning
An hour later, know what I'm thinking?
I'm COCKED AGAIN AND TWEAKING!
Let me move it side-to-side, in-and-out, find ya G-spot
Tap it till it's LEAKING!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
I'm comin' in the back do'
Gonna give it to you like you really want it baby
I'm comin' in the back do'
Gonna give it to you like you really want it baby
There's sweat drippin on the flo'
It's so Hot in here
It's so Hot
I'm comin' in the back do'
It's so Hot in Here
Don't Stop
Don't Stop
Don't Stop
Don't Stop
I'm so cocked!
Dirty Money
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Mean, Money, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
82
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Dirty Money
Dirty Money
Chorus
Dirty Money makes the world go round
Y'all love the benjamins I toss on the ground
Dirty Money drives a dog insane
I gotta fist full of paper, It's all bloodstained
Repeat 1x
Verse 1
It's cold out here
Two minutes on my block you taste the atmosphere
It's sour on your lips
The back of ya throat's real dry
Ya stomach's turnin' over
An hour later you cry
We keep it gulley loved one
We don't care about nothin'
Preoccupied with our ones
Keep our adversaries starin' down the barrel of a gun
Rich, poor, young, old, they can all get some!!
Bridge1
"For the Money"
Choppin' rocks
Weed lacin'
You hussla?
Catch you slippin' put 'dese bullets in ya face
"I don't know"
Who made the rules of the game
Beirut or the Block, home it's all the same
"If you can't take it"
Stay of the streets for real
It's not a game dog
It's too late to get to talkin'
When I run up in ya spot wit' da Mac Milli
If you don't act right
"Somebody's blood I'm spilling!"
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
As the world rotates on its sideways axis
I'm sideways creepin' in the hog with the black Smith & Wesson
My victims never know, I keep 'em guessin'
Lookin' for some work?
Homey don't stress it!
I keep the pounds of weed
My white 'ill make ya nose bleed
Cut it wit da bakin' soda
Flood the streets
I'm sellin' mo guns than Walmart
Got a room full of ammunition
Throwin' 'em like darts you tarts
Bridge 2
"For the Money"
Duckin' cops
Enemy chasin'
You a sucka
Catch you slippin' put 'dese bullets in ya face
"I don't know"
Who made the rules of the game
I'm the bully of the block, yeah you know my name
"If you can't take it"
Stay of the streets for real
It's not a game dog
It's too late to get to talkin'
When I run up in ya spot wit' da Mac Milli
Betta open up the safe
Or I'm gonna start peeling!
Repeat Chorus
Bridge 3
Adlibs
"Oooh Oooh"
I don't care what it takes
I'm a make my paper
Thug life ain't easy
"Oooh Oooh"
I'm always tryna raise the stakes
Never hesitate to grab the gauge and rampage
Repeat Chorus
Down in the Hood
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
C♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Down in the Hood
Down in the Hood
Intro
It's a little rough down in our hood. Sometimes you don't even know (space) if you gonn' make it through the next day. You know, we down here don' what we gotta do to survive (space).
Whatever it takes (space). It's do or die (space)
When you ain't got nothin' (space), you do what you gotta do!!!
Chorus
Down in the Hood
We comin'
Down in the Hood
We gunnin'
Down in the Hood
We hangin, Roll out hit the street
We bangin
Repeat 1X
1st Verse
More smokin' & croakin' down in the hood
Know folks don died floating like a bloc a wood
We choose to chop & chop and
Move it block to block
Seen a little money now we just can stop- What?
Lookin' like ya wanna run up... Look like ya not
Think you gonna rob me
That's how a playa gets shot
I was bummy wit da homie just yesterday,
Moved a bundle on the humble- stacked
Now I'm on my way!!
Partnas on the streets loc'in-up
Everybody's fingers on a trigga'
dey might erupt
Fiends on da hunt schemin'- comin' by the spot
I keep a AR under the couch
What would you do if you were hot?
I keep unloadin' the glock
Dis is 4 block!
Gang descendant
I've been shown a lot
How to rock cane
Blow a brain
Rollin? Call my main
Foes I fold 'em
Team a killas
Now the streets know my name
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Two on the corner, six on the 4th floor
All da covers is rovin' knowin' it won't go
Tell all the fellas, tell all dey chickens dat don't know
If they need da dough and down for a trip
Den here we go!!
Dey bugged da celly so get wit me
Feel da heat split it
Pour it down the drain
Twenty strong and we sic wit it
We up'd the grimeyness during my reign
Yall sheep in this jungle, ya fallin'
And I'm Orangutan
Check the po(lice) file
She Used to be a queen
Now she a hooker
Saw her wit' a cop just chillin' for five minutes
if they book her
And it get back she get to talkin'
den I'll have to cook her
Playin' checkers when its chess boy I'll have to rook her
Locked & Cocked cause up in dese streets is BIG BEEF
No telling what they'll do behind a pipe and some coca leaf
But if you wanna get loose lips messin wit my grip
They'll probably find ya body in ya wip - DON'T PLAY WIT' ME!!!
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Soldiers we roll wit da 44 nixin'
all da phonies in da mix while we on our mission
Lbs. of work up in tha mo- bags is glistenin'
From Vaseline
When da phone ring
Da feds' listenin'
I'm up to da challenge. My foes quick ta dump
Young crooks dey wanna move up
Da lure of a buck
My head up on a swivel since a brotha blew up
Cause where we grew up
Ya girl a pump two in ya gut
Vamp
In my hood
It's life or death
These streets don't play
Down in da hood it's do-or-die
Make a bad move and you can lose your life
Repeat
Feel The Pain
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Pain, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
G♯m/A♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Feel The Pain
Feel the Pain
Chorus
Yeah You're gonna feel the pain
You'll never be the same, Yeah
You're gonna feel the pain
You won't believe it
When you feel it
You're gonna feel the pain
You ain't never gonna be the same,
You're gonna feel the pain, Yeah
You won't believe it
When you feel it
1st Verse
You won't believe the pain (pause)
Full-time felon yall know my name, I slang
Quick to bang
I control a gang (pause)
Of rowdy-thug-gangstas
All united, we slang
More greens and coke than a little bit
Step outta line
We'll smoke you
Give the cops the fits
Bold, intemperate bro, so I get
Mo money than 'em all
Squeeze for the hell of it
Raised to hold heat
Thrived on seedy blocks
The game is all in me mayne
I can't stop
If I get the drop on you
I'm blastin', few
Survive a confrontation
Stop the beggin- your threw!
(long pause)
Of Newports in da pen
Make you fade to black
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
You don't want to cross me
I'll make you feel da pain
Feel da pain
Talkin' a lot being flossy
I'll put 2 in ya brain
You don't want to test me
You don't want to cross me
Don't want to feel my reign
I'm insane
I'm insane
Love to bang
It's all over if I want you mayne
Repeat Chorus
In the middle of the street ya shake
Boy I'll rock your world
Like a violent quake
Stopped my cross-town rivals movin major weight
I'm servin all you suckas
I ain't givin no breaks
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
I'll go blow for blow
Rivalries fo' sho; (pause)
Ended violently over drugs and dough
(pause)
You really didn't want confrontation yo
Cause I'm a killa for real
You've been shot befo'
(long pause)
I guess the message didn't sink in, and I guard my rep
I'm looking for homey- watch ya step
I was husslin' while you slept
Hit you five times, heard your mother wept
My side gangstas are the craziest
Homicides when des guns are blazin its (pause)
Real in da field
A'ready made a mil (pause)
Blew a mil, I'm still rakin' major scrill
(For Real?) (pause)
I'm really not playin' dude
Your eyes is shifty
If ya break my rules
You'll disappear quicker than a carton pack
Get It Done
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
91
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Get It Done
GET IT DONE
Pledge allegiance to the grimy, I love it, I get it done
Decide to take the hit out on you- no where to run
Once I get that blunt smoke deep up in my lungs Boy
I'm meditatin' on mutilatin' den grab my gunz
I'm feared on these streets, cold killa, quick trigga
I'm never hesitatin', forsaken, the deal sealer
Controllin' my terrain
Stay in da lanes
Put 2 to ya brain
Against da grain
Da realest G in that game
On sight
Son I'll light you up like a pimple
When u cornered creep up on ya
In da mornin'
Then I say goodnight
Catch you slippin' in my danger zone
It's major drama for ya mama
When I send you home
Her child is gone
Chorus
If I come for you, you won't hear a sound
I'll creep upon on you slow
Then I'll lay you down
If ya smart, tell ya homies I don't play around
I'm bad for ya health, Boy don't mess wit me
(I'm Gunnin'!!)
6-2 Chiseled Physique
Lost my daddy when I was 2
Ma couldn't handle me
At 11 O.G. homies had me hold da heat
And I found that I liked bustin'
It's my specialty
On the regular I was buckin' and them chumps was duckin'
I enjoyed puttin' fear in dey eyes and over nothin'
Cause I'm cold like that, I love my gat
I'm a legendary cap peela
Check my stats
Ladies screamin' "What's Happenin?"
When da villain gets to clappin'
Then it's chaos in the streets
Homicides for weeks
Daddy brings that drama
Playa you can wear your body armor
BAD KARMA is my name
You can't escape the pain
If I come for you, you won't hear a sound
I'll creep upon on you slow
Then I'll lay you down
If ya smart, tell ya homies I don't play around
I'm bad for ya health, Boy don't mess wit me
(Keep Runnin')
Hey duke ain't that somethin'
2 weeks ago you was bumpin' ya gums like you was dumpin'
Now half tha blood in ya body's on the street and clumpin'
Ya homies in da back of they 'Lac
They heads is slumpin'
Screamed like some ladies
When da pump was pumpin'
A mercenary 'till hell freeze
It's bad luck when I am on your tail
Your ship will sailed
I've never bailed
No witnesses were left to tell
Surgical with a.45 or.38
Or an AK shell a send u swiftly to your wake
If it's your fate
Caught in tha wrath of a psychopath
333 X 2 – Homey you do the math!
Git A Move On
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Old School, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
110
Key:
D♯m/E♭m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Git A Move On
GIT A MOVE ON
Now it's time to run (Blood be pumpin’)
And the deed is done (Feet be jumpin’)
Put the petal to floor
We betta get gone
Let's get a move on
The bullets be flyin' (Bump bump bump)
And The homies be dyin' (Buh bump bump bump)
We'll do what we gotta do
Yeah yeah, let's get a move on
If you ever cross me
I swear to God it'd take Condalesce
And a whole Army SWAT Team
When you started the beef
Did you think it could get worse
Boy you a'ready lost ya teeth
We knuck when we buck
But that wasn't enough
You had to show ya pannies
When I called ya bluff
You know who you messin' wit'
I gotta sick clique
Underestimate the grit
Ya get ya wig split quick
I'm just plain mean
I love conflict
You betta' think about it cause when we hit
It's like a 2-ton boulder crashin' down on you
Quick to bend ya block
Run through your whole crew
9's and AK's spittin' out the back of the Lex
Double up on ya vest
'Fore ya try to flex
I gotta mean team
A pump as big as Texas
You see my grill homey
Guess what's next (it's all over playa)
Now it's time to run (Blood be pumpin’)
And the deed is done (Feet be jumpin’)
Put the petal to floor
We betta get gone
Let's get a move on
The bullets be flyin' (Bump bump bump)
And The homies be dyin' (Buh bump bump bump)
We'll do what we gotta do
Yeah yeah, let's get a move on
All you suckas be fakin' mayne
Watch a few movies
Then ya claim a gang
You ain't never seen a G as real as me
Ya get ta runnin' when these gats bang
It gets wild in these streets
Homicides for weeks
You betta watch what you sow
Cause when we creep
In a flash
You on ya back
As your blood seeps
In the gutter wit' da trash homey
R.I.P. you don't know me
So boy what you lookin' at
So you slang a couple trees
And you flash a gat
I don't give a damn
I slang weed and crack
But more important
I got two guns as big as Shaq
Wit' some bullets wit' your name on 'em
You need a taste?
I saw ya eyes as I leaned out da same Brougham
When I caught ya brother slangin' on my street
Lobbed a volley
Knocked him off his feet
You two shall meet
Now it's time to run (Blood be pumpin’)
And the deed is done (Feet be jumpin’)
Put the petal to floor
We betta get gone
Let's get a move on
The bullets be flyin' (Bump bump bump)
And The homies be dyin' (Buh bump bump bump)
We'll do what we gotta do
Yeah yeah, let's get a move on
When you see me keep runnin'
Keep runnin'
We gunnin'
If you cross me we comin'
We commin'
I'm dumpin'
When you see me keep runnin'
Keep runnin'
We gunnin'
If you cross me we comin'
We commin'
I'm dumpin'
Going Up Going Down
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Entertainment News, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Party, Prison, Radio, Sexy, South Central, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Twerk, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
132
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Going Up Going Down
GOIN' UP GOIN' DOWN
Chorus
Goin' up – goin' down
Booty movin' all around
Git it lef, git it right
Grab a little piece 'n' hold it tite
Goin' up – goin' down
Booty movin' all around
Flash a fitty – watch her go
She's a nasty little HO.....
She goin' up -- she goin' down
She goin' up -- she goin' down
Verse 1
I know where I'd like to sit ya
Baddest B in da club and I gotta get wit ya
In da middle of the dance flo' prancin'
All da goons at the bar knockin' Hen shots glancin'
Let me tell you what I wanna do
Grab ya hips from the back- Booty Bouncin' Boo
Up and Down, Left to Right
I can see you wanna pop that thang tonight!
Drop it low and LOWER
Move it faster SLOWER
Baby freak dat beat petite, so sweet; don't mess wit me
I'll blow your back to the front- I'm out!
I'm back! Jigglin' 'til you shout
You got me reelin'
I'm feeling
Have you without a doubt...
Chorus
Verse 2
Gimme' sometin' I can work wit' shorty
"Snap your G-string?"..Ooh my Lordy!
Ya twistin', windin', 'n shakin'
Dem cheeks vibratin' then brakin'
I can see you wanna set dat suga free
No need'n fakin'
We can take a weekend make a motion picture
While we're makin'
Dem ooh! Aah! Sounds
You on my stripper pole sliddin' down
Onion so soft 'n supple
Frustrated?
Give me a couple
Suck sessions
Baby I'm guessin'
Got da buns? I'm a dog
Baby no stressin'
Come on we'll work it out
Have you without a doubt
Chorus
Bridge
We could speed in the Phantom down the highway
Bet I beat that bottom if you swing it my way
Plenty-inch cigar
Get it off so mean if you let me squeeze
Wanna take you home
Mami, I'm Papi
Shorty bend dem knees!!
Goodbye
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
92
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Goodbye
Goodbye
Hook
Goodbye
You crossed the line
Cold facts, it's the very last time
It's over, please
Get on your knees
And say goodbye, say goodbye
Repeat 1X
1st Verse
Goodbye, It'll be a long winter
When wifey gets the news, I'll make sure to send her
A dozen black roses to commemorate
When a sucka comes to me then tries to play me late
I slid you fifty grand
Now you messin' with my money yo
I told you from the gate I'm quickly bitter and unstable
When it comes to dealin' wit 'em and they don't pay me mine
I find boxes that can fit em, watch their bravados decline
There's no fists
It's 4-5th's
Silenced with no prints
Tha lab kit's negative and there's no snitches
You can believe me not
It's a quick way to become the foundation of a parking lot
And for some reason (pause)
I see a lot of asphalt if your future (You hear what I'm sayin')
I'm a use you to send a message to the block
Let 'em know Mr. Grimm ain't playin' ( I got to get you!!)
Repeat Hook
2nd Verse
Goodbye
Are you cryin'?
Last night I heard you was braggin'
Don't deny it
Take it like a man, quit ya' whinin' and snifflin'
You took it too far, it's beyond a butt whippin'
Right now, I know you wish you could begin again
I thought you knew the street game
It's hard to win it when
You think you gotta crew but you're really on your own
I ain't worried about your bodyguards – they was on loan
See they owed me money
It didn't take much
I got people so close to you
Boy you could'a been touched
But I wanted to look you straight in your eyes
So you could see the glimmer on my face
As your life expired
Why you play me phony
You know me homey
If I just let you take my money
I'd be broke and lonely
And I can't have that
So whether friend or foe
You cross me in these streets you better know... (I'm coming for you!!)
Repeat Hook
3rd Verse
Are there any last words you would like to say
U betta man-up and accept your fate
Cause its over, done, your chapter's finally closed
Out of all the paths to travel
This is the road you chose
Don't blame me, its basic street philosophy
Rule #1, paragraph three
you take a gangsta's money
And you try to slide
You can run it's just a matter of time!!!
Repeat Hook 2X
Vamp
Don't play with my money, money
Oh no
Cause I'm a come for you, I've got to
I run these streets, I've gotta feed my crew
Hard Time
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Hard Time, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Hard Time
Hard Time
Chorus
It's hard time we're doing
Yeah the clock is hardly moving
But I'll take this life of ruin
Instead of being back on the streets
I'm here with my brothers
Livin in a world like to other
Doing 25 'til the end
This is hard time
Hard time
1st Verse
I had to rob & kill
Showed meticulous skill
w/ terrorist occupations
I imposed my will
On the weak and the strong
Partied all night long
After slangin' crack
And cappin enemies in throngs
I enjoyed the street life
It gave me everything I needed
Money, cars, and broads
Understandings with the law
Death- when I decreed it
You was gone with zeal
Got caught wit' steel
Out of town kickin it
Behind the wheel for real
Officer smelled weed in the air
Traced the bullets back, two merks, I caught a pair
(pause)
of 25 year-to-life sentences
(pause)
shadows
(long pause)
Apply the pressure when they break
Give it up, it's all mine, it's too late
(pause)
It's my show I can handle the grind
Me and homies handle thangs
Doin' HARD TIME!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
I'm still gone grind
I'm doing hard time
Hard time
What's yours is mine
This is hard time
Hard time
You better watch you do
You doing hard time
You're all mine
Me and my crew
It's our time
Doing hard timeapplied my street life
Now I'm entrenched in here!!
The price you have to pay - a life of crime
Got the homeys in here I'm doing hard time
These are the cards I've dealt and I ain't looking back
Cause in here they still fear me
I'm the king of the pack
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
(pulled)... It's still the street life
Everything's the same, the cell-block-is-the corner
People scheme for fame
(pause)
You might get stuck
Riots, nights erupt
Slip in the weight room
And get hockey-pucked
Try-to-pay-me-late
I Snatch they dinner plates
Wifey sends the monthly letter
Man, I take they cake
These punks know
I set-it-off fo' sho'
Me and the homes run da spot
Keep a steady flow
Of product circulatin'
I'm a gangsta bro
(pause)
Pay the guards, but I'm realizin' though
Get a chance they'll take-you-out-quick
There's always enemies lurkin' in da
How We Do It
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Entertainment News, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Clown Dancing, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
95
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
How We Do It
HOW WE DO IT
Double back when we bubble thru a subtle crack
No Indian givin' yet livin' wit the soul to stack
Mo o's up in the kitchen
Moe doe up in the stove flippin
Hustle thru sleep wit little intermission
Payin dues, stand tall
Wit my heat at intention – That's how we doit
Don't try to hold me homie
You want the key to the city?
Ya best vote for me
Originality wit a style so atrocious
See when we bang from them hip holster
Count on one to get it done wit no one closer – follow that
Now swallow back before we T.K.O. ya
Caught slippin on my street
It was nice to know ya
I tried to told ya
I Stay with a stack
Watch ya girl, I'm a mack
The homies took ya corner
I know you want it back
Betta stay wit ya chickens
Picken a fight with me
I creep up on ya leave hat swiss cheesed
Please believe...
Chorus
THAT'S HOW WE DO IT
WE PLAY FOR KEEPS NOBODY SLEEPS
THAT'S HOW WE DO IT
CAN'T TAKE US DOWN WE OWN THIS TOWN
THAT'S HOW WE DO IT
ONE ON ONE WE GET IT DONE
THAT'S HOW WE DO IT
THAT'S HOW WE DO IT
Don't get confused by my baby face
Betta bail when the nickel nine hangs from the waist
Understand
Me and my man known as the neighborhood bakers
Boy we clock so much cake
You aughta call us Pillsbury
Got bills buried around the planet
Deal us under handed
It 'ill get wild in these streets
Pursue the loot
Deadly when we shoot
Come creepin through our hood wit' no excuse
Boy we'll twist your wig back
Crooked cops try to break us down
Snitches try to sell info
But they're never found
We the don's of the streets
All minor figures get ta hittin' corners when we come around
We keep the team winnin'
Keep the rims spinnin'
On a pearl white hog with the homies wearin linen
Gotta mayor's daughter in the back seat
Choppin game with the gang
Headed to the spot
For some late night sinnin' (YOU CAN"T TOUCH US! )
Repeat Chorus
Breakdown
Repeat Chorus
It's Gettin' Nasty
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Guitar, Horns, Piano, Slide Guitar, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
97
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
Chorus
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty in Here
We Gettin' Nasty
We Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty in Here
1st Verse
A brotha finally made to the weekend
I need a few freaks
It's been two weeks
Poured me a glass of Hen
And now we rollin', chokin' on dat Bluegrass
Puff and Pass boy!!!
Don't play with me
Dey been workin' me
Time to let my hair down
Now I'm pagin Chief
I know it's goin' down
"Where da broadies be?"
" I heard it's goin' down at Suga T's majorly!"
Please, be the right one baby!
All a playa need is one right laday
And a sack of dat Supa Kill
Lick a couple suckas, and peel, hit the motel
"Fool, get out the way!"
Now my boss is pagin' 911
"Not today"
Tonight I'm flying free
I'm on a Nasty Mission, Nasty Girls, Nasty No Inhibitions
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Ooh I'm likin' this
Caught that herbal mist outside the backdoor
It's lookin' dangerous
Gave the codeword
She looked at my man and let us in
Homey's to the left dice jigglin'
Hold up dog, let me break these brothas
I'm causin' problems wit dey baby's mothers
I don't know what could be goin' on inside dey heads
Instead of buyin' diapers, "Dummies, give me dat bread!!"
Looked to the right, spotted baby in red
She licked her lips, rubbed her hips, and led
Me down a flight of stairs to a private room
She whispered in my ear "My name is Doo Yu Soon"
Are you serious
Her rump was so trunk, I was curious
I don't know where we was 'bout to go
But if she wanna get nasty, man I'm ready fo'sho'
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
So I'm on the couch and she's straddlin' me
A pretty pink thong on, I grabbed dem cheeks
Then she started doin' dat dirty dancin'
Flirtin' and jerkin',unzipped my pants man!
Ol' Girl, you doin' it
Anything I got, baby you could get
She put it in her hand and started massagin'
My stick was wider than a three-car-garage, then
She grabbed my hand
Gently put my fingers in her promised land
It was gushing, soon I was pushing
I had to pound her tooshing
And I soaked her bushing
Repeat Chorus
I Will Rise
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / G.E. Stinson (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Echo Hawk Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Electronic
Subcategories:
Alternative, Electronica, Hip Hop, Indie, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Dark, Downtempo, Druggy, Empowerment, Hopeful, Hypnotic, Introspective, Moody, Overcoming, Poetic, Rising Above, Spoken Word, Struggle, Trip Hop, Trippy
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
84
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
I Will Rise
I Will Rise (Common I'm Never!)
Chorus
Common I'm never
Whatever the weather
I will rise
I will rise
I will rise
Look into my eyes
Whatever the weather
Common I'm Never
I will rise
I will rise
Let me wipe the tears from ya eyes
Verse 1
Verbal assaults
Lord please accept my apologies
The exigencies of my faults
Cause brain waves take massive hits
Full clips of
Aural pain makes me wanna flip
Everything to gain to my disdain
Hopelessness flashes
But I will rise up from the ashes
You can pour them on the seas
I'm having vivid dreams of eternal peace treaties
Lord I'm resting on your knees
Please help me please
You see
My heart is pure
Look over there
I can see the sun shinin'
Cycles of birth false ideologies unwindin'
I swear I will keep grindin'
On and on and on and on
Life-forces through my nostrils flame a grace beyond
Time
We will all survives
Because we all never die
Believe it and it will be
Knock and ye shall find
The forever follower's creed Yep!
Make peace with your every step
Cruise effortlessly but never be effortless
Ja rest in peace
Resolve to always be at your best
Come on we can do it
There's nothing to it
Everyday I'm screamin'
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
So cold so cold
I'm 23
Why do I feel so old sold
But everybody's afraid to claim their boldness
Endowed in a birthright's kiss
Listen to the message in wind
Let the solar kiss
Invigorate your wishes
Forget the near misses
The hollow disses
March the lonely march
Drink though you've always been parched
Quench it!
Everyday double fisted even though
I don't wanna be
Can we just love compassionately
Isn't that the way it's supposed to be
Or is it just me
Come on we can do it
It's nothing to it
Come on we can do it
There's nothing to it
See it, it's not that far
Peace is not just a destiny for long lost never seen unbelievably far stars
It's an inheritance of ours
All these bars testify to an untold truth in our modern age
But now it must be spoken
It's our duty to contain the rage
Before it engulfs
That's why I'm pleadin'
Repeat Chorus
Verse 3
See
We had everything to gain
Nothing to lose
Possibilities endless a lifetime imbued
With joy harmony and plentiful ness
Common ground with the brethren
Days no longer filled with lustful jest
Is the joke on you?
Or we? Or me?
Who's the best?
Can we pass the test?
I'm prayin' mournfully yes
Let's just
Keep it movin'
Creator blesses
Legs crossed head to the sky
Be like the water in the river, a glass, in every blood cell in your chest
Until we reach our crest
And disappear into our beginning home
Free to bless a child
Rejoice the prodigal son's return from his roam
Move to the light
Move to the light
That's what we are
Keep the ending of our beginning in sight
Everything always been
That's right!
That's why I'm screamin'
Repeat Chorus
Menace to Society
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Menace to Society
MENACE TO SOCIETY
Raw dealer Quick from the hip
See the wrong gang dead eye
Lapse, leave you in the ditch
You can't win I
Kill for the thrill peal ya cap brain dent up
In da hood they know I control the crime center
Rollin' wit two clips- want ya life?
Spot ya pull clap bring the funk you die
Hot lead for a dish make a wish
With a smile Mr. End give you wings to flie- What!!
Young gunnas makin' moves take everything they own
Kidnap'em take a long ride
Ki's flipped, I move zips, get da fiends so high
Dey all hooked brain fried roamin zombie eyed
Out to get ya when the dollas come from all points
Ballin' other-side-of-towners try to set up shot
Choke 'em tear off dey joints
Conquer plunder your village and smoke trees
Cold villain to my heart trick please
'til Hell freeze..
Chorus:
Got blood on my hands
I got time to kill
I'm a Menace to Society
I'm a Menace to Society
Godzilla Think you gonna clean up da hood you gone give up
A row full of hoes for da dough
Dey buns bend up
Fire in ya veins China White
The raw venda
Rubbed the wrong way put ya in a tall blenda
Live above ya head grab the gat
Leave a bloody scene I don't care where you at
Or if ya mama's there wit ya
When these hollow points hit ya
Curtain's fallin 'n I ain't lookin' back
Slow you roll put me in a bad mood
I'll give you pain ear-to-ear grab-a-gear like I was O.J.
No tears, No fears
Few peers
Loose lips eighty sixed
Beat the murder wrap I don't play
Dey plot behind my back but they don't really want it
I get close stick ya wit my favorite knife
Ya cousin's blood stains still on it
All ya contraband seized
Bring you to ya knees
Major crime sprees 'til they bury me I'm a G!
Chorus
Sell drugs to ya nieces
Politicians follow my dolla and I'm a beast it's a
Fact if you ask about crime up in da east
My name rings loud
Haters pout
Without a doubt I'll tear ya hood to pieces
Nada thing hide ya team if I bend ya block
Leanin' out da caddi wit da double barrel shot cocked
On high grad bud
Always up to no good
Flaunt the law, man I just can't stop
I got major...
Play For Keeps
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Play For Keeps
Play For Keeps
Chorus
I play 4 keeps
Don't mess with me
Better get out of my face
I'm the winner G
I own the street
Ain't gonna lose
Digging a plot
Gonna put you down six feet
Repeat 1X
1st Verse
I took ten shots, think you can roast da Dog!!
I keep the gat cocked creepin through the fog
Sneak up on ya like a shadow when we crawl
And leave ya leakin'
And ya mama screamin' dat I'm wrong
Ghetto reaper
Black Cape
Dog, I'm sinister
Nobody pull me off the task 'till its done
And I stay taxin' and I'm warnin' you all
My meat I like raw
Walkin' these streets you showin' ya gall
To think you could ball
If daddy's lookin' who ya gone call
Cause when I seen ya pull the 44 den BLAWWW!!!
I live above the law
I meant to throw her through the window, see..
It ain't about the green
Boy I'm a MEAN FIEND
Last week a new crew wit keys
They rolled around here flashy
Think they gonna bling bling
But I think not!!
Cause when dey came around my way
I jacked 'em den I cracked 'em
Cause ya boy don't play!!!
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
0:06:00 ya hopin' ya don't choke
Ya spot me floatin' through ya yard chokin' da smoke
You wanna run for some shelta but come up shote wit my dope
I come descendin' like I was wearin' a cloke
There's no where to runna when I swoop down on ya
Go for a collar left right stroke and you a gonna
Cause there's no roller
Shoot straighter
No greater
Darth Vader
If I walk through ya door
It's see-ya-later
I'm gonna shoot it it's ya turn to die
And let ya body rot
We known to peel on spot
That's how I keep a knot
Get ta duckin' when you see me
I'm 1 or 4 or 5 major villains on these streets
With chrome gleamin'
Cold deamon
Ol' gold leanin'
Head the toe tag team and I'm schemin'
Center of da scene
And We don't duck da law
187
You stepped on
And we da raw
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Now I told you young dummies once
I'm a killa toe to fro
Grindin' all 12 months
While(space) I soldier servin' grief
Ya smoke to much
You want my flow stopped
Handle mine homicide end up chalkin when I touch ya
Done(space)
Fool and you can get ta shuckin' and duckin'
Quit son
It won't save you
Young peela
The hood don dada
And I'm willin' wit ya girl
If you think you comin' for my green
I'll rock ya world
All the street brawlers
Is green as my top dolla
Wit all the yay I'm movin'
I'm ballin'
I'm rotweiller
Fa sho' bet I load and lock bite ya neck (space)
You a ho
G's give cuz much respect
Cause I...
Playin' Dirty
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
85
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Playin' Dirty
PLAYIN' DIRTY
Chorus
Playin' Dirty
When we ridin'
Playin' Dirty
When we clubbin'
Playin' Dirty
We be comin'
Playin' Dirty
C'mon
Verse 1
Po-Po's always tryna catch us ridin' dirty
What's up derty?
It's time to flip this birdie
Columbian stacks in the safe
We tryna make a bundle add the bakin'soda to it den you shake it
After you chop and separate it
You' ridin' dubs thru the town
Let the suckas hate it!
Associates in every state
But be careful cause the streets is watchin' all the money that you make, wait!!
We Bossin'
Don't get it twisted when we flossin'
We'll take it to the mats
We love to hear the sounds of the muzzle crack
Boy you don't want that
We'll pop the trunk and twist your cap back
We countin' money like the NASDAQ – it's too much
We keep the baddest broads – for two months
We been lounging down by the water in San Drope
Rubbin' on big booties
That's how big boys play hey!
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
When it's mission time
There ain't a lot of barkin'
We get on our grind
A couple blunts we get to sparkin'
Our intelligence is better than the CIA
Assets watchin' your everymove, everyday
When it's time to launch the attack
I carry the MAC
Budda got the AK and we both wearin' black
We creep real slow
Before you know it
You feeling like you floatin'- the world receding below, it's
Not a dream
Boy you've passed away
My motto's "Best ya pull it, instead of taking a bullet!"
So you little rat punks get it straight
We the grimiest click no mistake
Homey take ya time and get ya weight up
You tryna come for mine?
Have you lost your mind?
Betta ask somebody,boy I run this city
Another young G gone what a pity!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
GUNS!
We got mo guns than a little bit
DRUGS!
We move it in and out, boy we flip a grip!
WAR!
If you really want to test our menace
All I gotta do is give 'em the word- you' finished!
GUNS!
We got mo guns than a little bit
DRUGS!
We move it in and out, boy we flip a grip!
WAR!
If you really want to test our menace
We'll wipe y'all all out it's a dirty business!
Repeat Chorus
Police Goin' Down
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (ASCAP) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1980s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Arrest, Back Alley, Barrio, Boastful, Boom Box, Chaos, City, Club, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Death, Drinking, Drive By, Drugs, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Hard, Jail, Killer, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, Night Club, Old School, Police, Prison, Rebellion, Retro, Revolt, Revolution, Riot, Scary, Shooting, Street, Swagger, Thug, Tough, Urban, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synthesizer
BPM:
96
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Police Goin' Down
Police Goin' Down
Chorus
Police goin' down
They gonna feel my pain
I hear a siren
It's makin' me insane
Police goin' down
Cause killin' brothas gotta stop
Let's ride
Gonna find me a cop
Let's ride
Gonna find me a cop
Verse 1
Why we always funkin wit da boys in blue?
Them cowards always come around harrassin' duke
Make me wanna grab the sawed-off and bust
They betta wear dey vests
Because in guns we trust
We great the triple K's wit da AK's
Homey's on da roof pot shottin' e'ry day Aye Aye!
Punk police protect our neighborhood?
Wit dey boots on our necks
Boy I wish dey would
Try to Rodney King me
See me on TV
Face down 8 cops
When I gave up at Freeze!
But a young brotha's life means next to nothin'
To these donut eatin' chumps
They can think we bluffin'
Whether blood or cuzin'
It's our time for huntin'
Let me tell you wick-wack rollers some'n
We tired of shakedowns and brutality
We'll protect and serve ourselves you da enemy
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
The ghetto bird's roamin'
I can hear the shots
As here dey come again
Terrorizin' the block
Who gave dese leeches the authority
To steal our civil rights keep us on our knees
If I'm chillin' on da corner- with the gang injunction
I'm in an orange suite
It takes a lot of gumption
To treat a whole race
Like dey caught a case
I know dem cowards love it
It's all on day face
It's terror on the streets
Yet they screamin' peace
There'll never be peace wit the blitzkrieg police
They'll run up in ya house and start sprayin' bullets
A no-knock search made my grandma pull it
Poorly executed rip on an informant's tip
Wadn't no drugs in her house
She was 86
When dey finally hit the news that night on CNN
I smell a cover-up
Dem boyz is at again!
Repeat Chorus
Verse 3
Undercover police
The harassment won't cease
I know dey tryna get me
That's why I tote heat
When da cops is comin'
Hollow-points we dumpin'
I'm tryna leave 'em front seat of da car slumpin'
You gotta understand the pain
400 years of pillagin'
Slavin' wit no gains
We tired of eatin' dirt
Plenty bills but no work
You can call it what you wanna
They dirty! – The Truth Hurts
Repeat Chorus
Pour Another Round
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 50% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 50%
Publisher(s):
Tony Vose Music (BMI) 50% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Club, Dance, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Bar, Bling, Club, Cocky, Crazy, Crunk, Dance Floor, Dirty South, Drinking, Drop, Freewheeling, Fun, Grind, Intense, Late Night, Models, Party, Rager, Raucous, Rowdy, Shots, Sleazy, Swagger, VIP, Vodka, Wild
Instruments:
Bass, Synths
BPM:
98
Key:
D♯m/E♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Pour Another Round
Drunk, drunk
Everybody doin' shots
Pour another round!
Public Gangsta #1
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drug Deal, Drug Dealer, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
84
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Public Gangsta #1
Public Gangsta 1
Chorus
It's all over the news - wanted dead or alive
But they forgot only the strong survive
My reign of terror has just begun
I'm Public Gangsta number one
They can't catch me - they'll always fail
I'll never spend the rest of my life in jail
My reign of terror has just begun
I'm Public Gangsta number one!
1st Verse
I'm a drug sellin larcenists
End up on my list I promise you I'll twist
Bullet holes burnin'
The police squad squirmin'
They look at me as vermin
Keep they stomachs churnin
Homey, I'm goin for mine
All my ladies work the corner
Man I'm on the grind
Cause untimely demises
I'm deeply despised
They wanna see my end
I see the look in dey eyes
It's a war out here and I control an army
Of predicate felons
It's so alarming
Sellin ki's and trees
I do what I please
It takes a certified G to bring a city to its knees
I don't care
You don't like boy then say somethin'
SAY SOMETHIN!
DO SOMETHIN!
I ain't chest thumpin'
I fill body bags fo real
My.9's my only friend
Man I love my steel
Be careful what you say
Just stay out my way
Have you duckin and divin' as my AK sprays
Run-up
If I'm lookin for you son
You betta carry ya gun
I'm Public Gangsta #1
Vamp
They'll never
They'll never
They'll never take me
I'm a keep on slangin these rocks mayne!
They'll never
They'll never
They'll never catch me
I'm a keep terrorizin' these streets mayne!
If they ever
They ever
They ever catch me
I'm a shoot anything that moves mayne!
I don't care what they say
They'll never take me back
They'll never see me fry
I ain't afraid to die!!
I run these streets
At night I creep
The boss of the bosses
Dog I never sleep
No words to say
No compromise – I'll spray
Get caught up in my biz
You've seen ya last day
You betta pray!
Run-Up
I do it for fun
I always carry my gun
I'm Public Gangsta #1
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
They'll never take me back alive
I got 2 strikes
Spent half my life deprived
Man I'm cheefin' in my 'Lac
Slangin lb's of crack
Addin' bills to my stack
Houses full of sacks
Neighborhood stores have to pay me fo sho
The baby G's don't test me
They already know
I catch a 3rd strike I'm done
So I'm no the one
Creep up on ya slow and collapse ya lung
When the pump gets ta pumpin' everybody gets ta jumpin'
2 a.m. rollin' and my beats is bumpin'
Run-up
I'll never run
I'm a real G
I love the street life
Boy ya feel me!
'til my last breath
I'll be squeezin' my gun
I'm Public Gangsta #1
Rub-A-Dub
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
86
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Rub-A-Dub
Rub-A-Dub
CHORUS
We go wild go wild - gonna do it supa freaky style
In the front back hot crack hump awhile
We pop the bub in the tub give it up
Gonna do the rub-a-dub, the rub-a-dub
When I'm up in da club
I like to Rub-A-Dub
Head straight to the bar, I'm blazed
I sip on some bub - I'm known
So all the honeys wanna give me some love
Every weekend G it's the same - It's never enough
10" inch long - They know they can't go wrong wit a thug
They know I plug - Lady's hollerin', Dog- I hammer the rug!!
It don't matter, cause any spot we in
We gon' win- Oooh!! Go head girl show me some skin
There it is!! Here we go!! Baby twerk your skirt
You may the perfect little somethin' to take back for some work
Hit the VIP- Give me some head – Get in her head
It's brains and money homey - Me, I don't need a bed
I like the way you girlin'
Crushed ice in your mouth
Slurp up on my nuts
This what's life's about
Turn around, let me hit it from back
It's wild in the club
Freakin' all night caught up in a Rub-A-Dub
It gets wild in the club
CHORUS
Repeat Pre Verse
Bounce baby's bouncing like a '64
I'm goin' for mine
Her but up off the floor
She got more bump than a little
Throw it back at me
This Magnum is aimed to please
I know it's hard to breath
I know they told I was thunderin'
Up in them walls
That's the only reason you back here
In a skirt with no draws
I'll give you what you need Girl
I stroke it mean
Dat crack hot, wet, tight
I can see the steam
I'm a P.I.M.P from a unit full of scrilla stackers
Don't leave your girl around me
Cause I'm a have to mack her
After about 10 minutes
We'll be in the back of the club
Trees in the air
Doin' all kind of freeky stuff
Like this one here
When I first saw here I knew she was a winner
Damn baby you freaky
She hit me with the sit and spinner
She said she want it on her face
I had to oblige
Pulled out gave her a taste
Shot the goo in her eyes
It gets wild in the club
So after the ep(isode), it's back to the bar
The rest of the ladie wanna do me
Just because I'm a star
I saw honey whisper somethin' to her girlfriend- her eye's lit up
She stepped away – now she wanna get stuck
She('s) lucky, cause I can last for hours
Keep goin' and goin'
Energizer bunny
All these broads is knowin'
That's what when she got the back
She shot a nod to the stairs
Next thing you know - Oooh!!
Baby girl drop
Hold it right there
Sit it on my lap
Damn its soft and wet!!
Turnover, spread them cheeks wide open
As wide as they can get
You're my second Private Dancer
And I'm enjoying the show
You can let your hair down
Let all your juices flow
She's moanin' - Man, I'm groanin'
The intensities growin'
Her crack is hot as a stove
And we both knowin
I'm only a couple bumps
From blowin' it out
I pulled out
She took monster out the Magnum
And made me put it in her mouth
Man it gets wild in the club!!!
Skin Flick
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1970s, Disco, Funk, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Soul
Keywords:
Bar, City, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Dance, Downtown, Ghetto, Guns, Jail, New York, Party, Porn, Sex Flick, Sexy, Streets
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer, Wah Wah Guitar
BPM:
95
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Spread the Word
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer, Tabla
BPM:
90
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Spread the Word
SPREAD THE WORD
Spread the word judgment day'll soon be coming
If you a wanksta pack your bags and be running
I'm numba one, G, you'll never be nuthin'
That's the way it is
Spread the Word I'm the one that's gonna getcha
Like a dog I'm gonna hunt and fetch ya
You'll live to see another day if I let ya
Spread the Word
200 Proof G, criminal, lethal, get that picture
Run soon before I'm gonna get ya
Die A rack-a-homicides
Cold Killa Evil proven gunna
On the move I'm dead eye
Ride for a fee
Don't matter you can flee
A long future for ya I don't see
Try to move above me, ya team ain't movin' nothin'
Come through leave you wit a tattered squad
I ain't bluffin'
It's my city
On my word you can go
Strip ya pride I'm blastin betta hit da floor
Guards, buck 'em grab the money hit the road
Before I go put two in ya dome I have no soul
Mind blown
Gangsta you respect or ya gone
Dolla fiend, Terrorist
I don't care if I'm wrong
Killa bee watch my stang!
I'm insane
If I bring the ruckus you ain't gonna do a damn thang!!
Repeat Chorus
Movin' major Ki's pimp ya gal evil fire breathin' heathin'
Only an evn'n schemin' for ya green then
Hi! I'm just stopping by
Ransack it
Some empty bags I'm packin'
Drugs and money stackin'
Die for my gang
Let the shotties rang
A bounty on you if ya movin' rock cane
Move in my hood you'll leave ya baby G's searchin
For ya missin' body parts you didn't see me lurkin'
Dog it's a pity
It ain't like you don't know
You did some time man you know how I roll
Gats pump soon as I walk in ya door
Back to da hood with all the cheddar we stole
And hit a bowl
Too cold
Had to do it to remind all my foes
A gangsta's daily regimen
I stay on my toes
Now you gone
What a shame
It's not a game
I'm makin' major devastation if my gats sang
Repeat Chorus
Spread the word
This is my last warning to you cowards
You don't wanna have to see me
Cause when you see me
You know what's about to go down
This Is A Raid
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Old School, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Raid, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
92
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
This Is A Raid
This is a Raid
Chorus
This is a raid - git your hands up
Just stay in your place an' keep your mouth shut
This is a raid - git your hands up
Better stay in your place an' keep your mouth shut
Everybody freeze - everybody freeze
1st Verse
While you was rollin' flashy out wit' ya crew
While yaw was sellin' bricks I was watchin' you
You made a name
But you know the game
You sellin' in my hood
I gotta get ya mayne!!
Look, I'm a G for real
I own cops, crack shops, plenty of steel
I can't let you ride up in my hood
And sell major rocks like its all good (pause)
I've been settin' this trap for months
Make it difficult we'll have to clap
For once,
Do what's in ya best interests dude
If ya make a wrong move homeboy ya throughRepeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Young G you know how these streets be
Homicides, back knives, arm robberies
Take it like a man
Son you chose this life
I did it cause I can
You was livin' trife
You think cause you was out here mini-ballin'
Than you could avoid the wrath of me
Boy quit ya stallin'
Give me all dem bricks
Give me all ya chips
We takin' all ya wips
And we'll be back if you get loose lips
Hurry up, oh ya boy's bein' lazy
He had to try me now his eyes is all glazed see
I love my pump
I'm quick to dump
Better keeps ya hands up
We some riders chump!!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
Put ya hands up
We grindin'
No whinin'
We ridin'
Ya getting' stuck up
Stop cryin'
Or ya dyin'
No lyin'
Repeat Vamp 2x
Repeat Chorus
This Is My Block
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1970s, Entertainment News, Funk, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Soul
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Funky, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Porn, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sex Flick, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
95
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
This Is My Block
THIS IS MY BLOCK
Chorus
This is my block – this is my block
The rock ain't gon' stop
This place is hot y'all – Ho ------
Verse 1
Posted up chokin'
On some Indo green
Stacked up in the back
Too many Stacks
I'm mean
These streets is the King's streets
It seems
Everyone or two years I have to make 'em lean
Hit 'em with tha machines
If you run the block
Heavy Handed Means!
Greasy
Enough cake to make your wake come quicker than a sun beam
Run up on you with the Fo' leave ya leaking
Pulling capers and I'm squeezing
It's Pleasing!
Yeah you nippy but I'm FREEZING
Fully automatic cracks
Now yo' whole family's weeping
Stop ya madness young dudes
I'm a veteran killa
Servin' 22 blocks
On every corner I'm the major dealer
Only 19 when I wrapped a Milla
You taking over the flow? Stop it will ya!
Ya pocket's thin? Boy I feel ya
But is it worth eating steel bullet dinners?
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
We get it poppin'
What you talkin' bout dude?
You up in da club..
Chump, I own the club
You see how all they' eyes is glued
On my section roped off it's a thug reunion
We tucked with our tools.. Send
Them Bunnies over it's time for pattin' pannies
More throats in action in the back than the Grammys
Everybody on the floor throwin' 'bows and two-steppin'
I'm not a DJ but I make lean back when I'm pepperin'
No stressing
Mo weapons
Than the American
Airforce and you the Taliban
I'm the worst
I'm the HEAT man
I keep grams
Kilo'd up
Grands in rubber bands
Understand Fam?
Cold-hearted G and I don't give a damn
Yeah they saw what happened
But they won't take the stand
Everybody give respect
Cousin, I'm the man!
Taxin', Clappin', It's crackin'
That's why I'm rappin'
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
Watch yo' back!
No matter what you do
Dog I'm watching you
You betta' watch yo' back!
I got eyes on every corner, plenty guns to shoot
Homey don't get smacked!
I'll treat you like my hoes if you disrespect
Make me grab the Tech
Or maybe grab ya neck!
Homey watch yo' back
You'll pay a heavy debt
Watch yo' back!
No matter what you do
Dog I'm watching you
You betta' watch yo' back!
I got eyes on every corner, plenty guns to shoot
Homey don't get smacked!
I'll treat you like my hoes if you disrespect
Make me grab the Tech
Or maybe grab ya neck!
Them slugs is hot
Homey, This is My Block!!
This Is War
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
78
Key:
Fm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
This Is War
This Is War
Chorus
This is war - Better watch your back, sucker
It's the end of the world as you know it
This is war - It's gonna be a bad mutha
It's Armageddon, boy, we gonna show ya
This is war - This is war
Intro Break
This is War!!... You should'a never let it come to this!!
1st Verse
You'll never catch me sleepin'
A sawed-off when I'm creepin'
Heartbreakin' to ya mama when it sink in
Because 'a all ya barkin'
And the major drama you started
Her favorite baby boy is soon her dearly departed
You bustas know we run these streets
In da pen a 1000 men wit evil grins we even drop da police
Now you suckas messed around and took food off my kids table
So you've made me resurrect an old fable
I'm tha Big BAD WOLF!!
And I have to bring your house down
I command a crew of killas
We don't play around
We pack mo' gats and tear drop tats
Serve and collectin' stacks
Exterminatin you rats
Don't Trip..... We keep an arsenal for our foes
......Spittin' mini missles through car doors in droves
Couldn't a made a worse mistake when you messed with me
It's all good for ya hood it's a CATASTROPHE!!!
Repeat Chorus
2nd Intro Break
You could a never imagined The destruction and chaos I'm a bring!!!
2nd Verse
You never contemplated what you were in for
Sent Juli, Pac, and BETA
Blew up ya corner store
Molotoved ya favorite restaurant and peppered ya car
Snatched ya baby's mama
Sent her earlobe back in a jar
I had to get ya cousins and ya brotha up in da joint
My soldiers sharpened their shanks dat night
And gave 'em the point
Cut 'em up durin' a riot
Wit nowhere to go
Homey you know the game
You reap what you sow
Now ya body guards is missin'
Ya major shipments missin'
All ya streets is burnin'
PayBACK and now you're wishin'
Dat you'd just played ya position
Lurkin' behind white teeth
Wanted to take my seat
But can you take this heat?
Now all ya people's duckin'
When dese AK rounds is lickin'
Ya top soldier's chicken
and ya corner boys is strippin'
We bring hard knocks
We gon' bend you blocks
'Til u meet my 2 gats cocked
Boy this war won't stop!!!
Repeat Chorus
Statement
Your world as you know it has come to an end
It don't matter how long it takes
I'm gonna destroy everything you care about
Everything you've built
Everything thing you thought you owned... IS MINE!!
There's nowhere to run
Nowhere to hide!!
Three Strikes U Out
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
96
Key:
G
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Three Strikes U Out
THREE STRIKES U OUT
Chorus
One, Two, Three Strikes U Out!
Verse 1
Bread Winner
Dope Getter
No betta'
U betta'
Go getta'
Kevlar Sweater
If you think you gonna test my neezies?
Please these rounds 'll come whistlin' by like a freezing breeze
Ya breezy 'll be left without her baby's Deezy
Wit' ya grandmother on her knees pleading weakly!
You don't want it
Don't do it
It's a loser son
Ya plan 'll have me leanin' out the window dumpin'
Don't let ya mouth get you into something
You never could imagine
It ain't worth the funkin'
I stay heated
Don't make me make you eat it homey
The O.G. told me just to hussle it up
Be ready to bust!!
Too many thugs plottin' on my paper
I get that feelin'
I'll just take her... Ya Mom! Ya Girl!
Can't afford expensive friction
My twin Nines 'll have ya head in the wind twistin'!
Repeat Chorus
Looked up
Couldn't duck
Quick enough
It's tough tryna hussle me? What?
I keep the Quality connected
But if you disrespect
I'll let 'em fly free
"On your knees!"
So many casualties
You little wannabees
It's really best you be easy!
Don't believe fat meat's greasy?
When I turn da corner of ya block in black
Keed, me with three patnas and the AK Straps
Perhaps,
You'll remember the jewel
Blessed ya but you chose to ignore the schoolin'
Second strike homey and I wish you much luck
Believe me! The drama's so beneath me
Discreetly, I'm a end it all
Come and get it all
After all
You don't want to brawl
Mayhem 'til they all crawl!
That's a real Thug anthem
There ain't no talkin'
We just clap 'em!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't want it!
You don't want it with me
I'm a G for real
You don't really want it
You don't want it
You don't really want it
Ventilate ya brains
Burn ya house & peel!
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't want it!
I know one thing, my heart ain't pumping
Koolaid, you minimum wage
Boy, wit' dis gauge
Come on out ya house!
It'll be ya last mistake Hey!
We Be Comin'
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
93
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
We Be Comin'
WE BE COMIN'
Game's over when we creep up on ya
We known from BK back to California
We into body baggin' when we ride
No need to talk about it you decide
It's a quarter to six and in the mornin' you still here
We up in ya mix
I done had it
It don't matter what the reason
I don't care what you say
The day we meet again I'll blow your ass away
Two guns to spit a tickin' time bomb
A crew of killas, Loc'd
Patrol like we in Vietnam
Rabid pits, we won't quit- sick
Get the word we headed to yo hood you better ring the alarm
Dog we ain't we playin'
We peel caps for kicks
Smash you whole clique you trip so don't slip
Send 'em on a mission just because you wouldn't listen
You'll be floatin' down the river wit' ya vitals missin'
We be comin'
You better watch your back
It don't matter where you at
Cause when I see you it's on
I know about you dog, you think you sneakin'
You cross the line, it's on, we'll leave you leakin'
And all dat posturin' I know you shook
Claim you a gangsta, dog I wrote the book
Sooner or later get ta realizin'
When we on da hunt there ain't no comprimisin'
Yall it? What when you all hit!!
For livin' lifes a' sin
You've seen ya end if
We cut off supplies encircle yo camp
Women and children is screamin' and yo shirts is damp
Clear the arena when the bangas start to clap
Yesterday you tried ta smile
Wanna give me some dap, PLEASE!!
We own these streets you livin' on a lease
Time to take you to the vet and let you rest in peace
Don't you know, you messin' wit tha #1 gunnas
Ya days are numbered baby boy
There's no where to run cause...
We Rollin'
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
94
Key:
A♯m/B♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
We Rollin'
We Rollin'
Intro
I don't know how many times I have to tell you cowards.
Hook
We Rollin'
Step aside when we on the street
We Rollin'
Watch what you say, cause we pack heat
We Rollin'
So if you wanna come get at the dog
Get at me dog!! Anytime, we can set it off!!
We Rollin'
Step aside when we on the street
We Rollin'
Watch what you say, cause we pack heat
We Rollin'
So if you wanna come get at the dog
Get at me dog!!
Anytime, we can set it off!!
1st Verse
Listen
I done lived my whole life in these streets
14 years old with nothin' to eat
No where to sleep
I had to learn to ride for mine
Rain or shine
I was grindin' back when U was in yo crib reclinin'
You could never feel my pain!!!
Nobody's ever seen a smile on my face – it's not a game!!!
So if you ever think you wanna come get at the dog- GET AT ME DOG!!!
We gutta livin' – We KEEP IT RAW!!
'Dis street life ain't nothing like what you see on TV
U seen a couple movies now you think you wanna be me
YOU COULD NEVER BE ME! (note: stacked with reverb)
Stay blowin' on trees
Don't get it twisted dog, I love to bleed!!
You hard, go head ignore this warning and bend my block
You dealin' wit a guerilla – a life full of hard knocks
Better think twice when it cross ya mind
Just remember
You puttin' ya life on da line!! Cause we...
Repeat Hook
2nd Verse
Ya got everybody in da hood talkin'
Whenever U ready to walk you talk Playa...
Be about it, but I doubt it
(I STAY 20 DEEP!!!)
So many soldiers in my squad
I promise that within a week I'll have you losin' sleep
Run thru ya, den put two to ya
Take a ride through yo hood
They'll say they never knew ya
I'll be holdin the paper you foldin'
I never chose to be the Don of the streets
Playa, I was CHOSEN!!!
You'll be wishin you could rewind tha clock
They always wanna pull me back and I was tryin to stop
So many pretenders I'm 'a lose my mind (pause)
Watch yo step young dummy Cause U runnin' outta time!!
Yea I know you punk ass family from around the way
I dealt with yo brother way back in tha day
I served him I don't wanna have to serve you too
I'm thru talkin' chump
DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO! (Cause I'll be...)
Repeat Hook
Vamp (Sung)
Life if is so hard on my block
Stay grindin' all that time
Streets stay hot
How many times I gotta tell ya
We don't play
Hold heat
Stay grimey all day
Repeat 4X with adlibs entering on 2X
What I Am
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
1990s, Action, Hard Core Rap, Hard Rock, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rap Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Angry, Arrest, Barrio, Boastful, Bragger, Chaos, City, Compton, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energy, Frat Party, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Loot, Mean, Mug Shot, Ominous, Outrage, Prison, Rage, Rape, Riot, Scary, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Struggle, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Cowbell, Drums, Guitar, Percussion
BPM:
88
Key:
F♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What I Am
Been bangin' since I was seven
A lost hope
Put on some Dickey's and picked up a.44
A flame thrower, feeling no jokes
I opened up on my veins and nearly overdosed
No Similac suckin' young hoodie's buckin'
Hold fully automatics I'm a semi-nut and
I cede nothing cause livin wit no dough
If you comin' soft ya slippin' it's a no no I'll lay you low
Cause I am
Huntin' for the folks that slick slicky
Punk if you don't I bury slow lames sickly
You hopin' I'll go, set you free, can't without the keys
I'ma end the matter wit the magazine make ya peace.
What I am is what I am
So you wanna little peace of me
What I am is what I am
I'ma show you how it's gonna be
Please forgive me when we settle the sco'...so street
My mortal enemy has taken my soul my life's overtaken
For my minds seekin'
No sleep, my brain's leakin'
When I tried giving up the fangs cut deep and rough
I'm feelin' stuck, I'm a soldier forsaken seekin' lovin'
I'm dreaming holding the trigger with 9 killers dumpin'
I strayed wrong, chasin' mo dough, robbin' and peelin' I'm cold bottled up, my domino's falling slow!
Now take a look at ya! When seein' mo' figures in dollar-takes the mo' we lie!
And all the sorrows keep my criminal insane karma comin'.
When it comes a callin' and I fall who's going wit' me now?
There's no fakin', there's no more "take-a-knee"
Walkin' the stroll so meekly
Singin' a song so sickening
Too many blunts you won't wake up
You're only weakening
Thickest one- we sickin' 'em
Then I'll hook you up to mega watts and make you think again
Rotten to the core
I spit and now you know
Don't wanna push me son, fo' sho' end the scenario
Arms-fitted an I'm so quick wit' it
If you balk gonna walk that talk; don't want that chalk; you smerk- I'll wreck it! Cause I
What Mo
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
81
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What Mo
What Mo'
Chorus
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
(Come on) Yeah take it take it
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
Shut ya mouth boy
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
(Come on) Yeah take it take it
What mo you got
What mo you got
What mo
1st Verse
I don't know what you on but boy it got you stupid
Got ya whole family grievin' for thinkin' you can do it
Manana clouded ya mind- it come in clear when u HIT
They should a told ya well before ya shot, but ya blew it!
Come for my loot you been in pre-school-boy-I'm college
I pull too quick
.44 and 9 rounds spit
Man I sleep with a loaded gun
I stay on one
Tried to pull the caper now ya hangin' from a rope DONE!
I pump..pump..
2 a day chump
Hood king kill a rat
Pen tats That's wass up
Ya M.O. way too old
I know you dude
I movin' major weight across the interstate and you
Want my rep but you a fool
I jacked your mules
Come in ya hood, spit, and lift ya money and ya jewels
I'm bona fide you moldin'
Hate to have to hit ya wife
I know you know we meet again
I'll have to end ya life
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
So you wanna come get papa cool it's been tried before
I'm the one you wanna even the score
Hit my row you know I'm bustin' 'fore you get in tha door
Wanna be a gangsta but you just can't handle the gore
In a six foot pit
You and all the busters you come with
I'm gonna bury after my chrome Desert Eagle split ya dome quick
The beef's stopped after the tooly pop
Now the word around the block
Is yall pull and clap
Would a been clear to you
If you
Thought through
You would lose
Thought you'd bring da blues
To a do or die killa crew
Chose to test me and I blew my fuse
Left you in a coma
Livin' on a prayer
You'll never pull through
The mean green is the main thing
That get you youngstas hankering
I'll spank dat ass
Notorious the pain I bring
Always holdin' heat
The ruler of the block
Never scared
And I'll take anything you got
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Don dada keep 'em dizzy
You wanna come and peel me
I'm a G you a sizzy
Hit the don, no one can, FEEL ME!
Son, I felt your plot ya eyes revealed ya envy
Top flight on ya comers hit list
Now yall all think ya can end me
Cause me and my folks hooked up
Wit lbs. of coke cooked up
But ya telegraphed the punch so we struck
My gats bucked long and lit ya up like a December night (space)
Braggin to all ya folks, on dope, thinkin' u'd see me die
But I'm
Lean, Mean
Love to bleed
Bad Seed
Different Breed
Top rank and undefeated
Boy you can't touch me
What You Lookin' At
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What You Lookin' At
What u Lookin at?
Chorus
What you lookin' at - boy you better watch yourself - leave with your health
What you lookin' at - you ain't never seen a G. before, now that's for sure
Yeah what you lookin' at - time's up, better turn and run - feel my gun
Yeah what you lookin' at - what you lookin' at
1st Verse
What you lookin' at fool
I'm hot tempered and I'm cruel
Have you duckin' mini missles as they spittin' out my tool
I'm not the one you wanna mess wit'
You can get lit
I'm the one they come to
When they want gangstas hit
A cold-hearted savage
Doing much damage
If you ever try to cross
I'll fry you up like cabbage
Boy I'm way too sick
Roll wit' a grimy clique
I decide I'm coming for you
I won't quit...
..Until
You hide or peel
Or you eat some steel
You playin' but I'm an old school G for real
Roll wit' a.44
Soon as I hit tha do'
They all get ta scatterin'
They already know
That I'm a killa man and I don't play
If you like ya livin' homey
Stay out my way
Savor revenge and I ain't got no love
Got a collection on my wall of G's mauled and stuffed
I carry major stacks
Won't hesitate to clap
Blow out ya back, Dog
Who you lookin' at?
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Dog, you must be crazy
Thinkin' you gon' play me
Cause I'm kinda chubby and my eyes a little lazy
I've dealt with cats like you before
Twist ya wig back and jack ya 'Lac
Outside the corner store
In broad daylight
Somehow no witness though
You shoulda listened to 'em
Boy they told you so
I should wear a black cape
Look at all this yellow tape
I got tha munchies off these herbs and you look like yellow cake
I told you boy don't mess wit' me
Specialize in kidnappin', grand larceny
Cross me then ya done
I always carry my gun
You hate the street life
Man I do it for fun
You see me boy it's best you duck
I'm the one to bring tha blues
Homey that's wassup!
A 10 megaton bomb waiting to erupt
A cold-hearted demon
I don't give a (What!!!)
Like to wear black
Love to blast and scrap
I'll put you on ya back
Can you handle that?
Repeat Chorus
What you lookin' at
My nickel-plated nine?
Boy you don't want that
You gonna mess around and get ya scull cracked
E'ry time you in my zone
I'm smellin' kit-kat
Playa get back
I'm movin' major keys
This ain't no rivalry
You mean nothing to me dog
You'll be a casualty
Of a misguided ego and a thirst for fame
There was 19 before you and yaw all was lameAll you heard was a crack
Then all you saw was black
You shoulda thought of who you was mean muggin' at
You never met a G as raw as me
Take bums like you out constantly
Repeat Chorus
Wiggle It Jiggle It
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Wiggle It Jiggle It
WIGGLE IT JIGGLE IT
CHORUS
I love it when you wiggle it and jiggle it
U know I gotta get it
Oooh girl you making me horny
Tonight it's me and you shorty
I love it when they wigglin' and jigglin'
U know I wanna get it !
Can I get next to you hottie?
Rub hot oil all on yo' body?
VERSE 1
Hold up wait a minute
There some pieces up in the party
Time to get up in it
I like it when you move ya hips nice and slowly
Diamonds up in the bevel blind
I'm flashin' the Roly
Hey, Oooh!
Please excuse me mama
U lookin' good tonight
Me no want no drama
Move weight
Yeah I'm known in the Burroughs
Flip the stash 5 times a week
Made thorough
Whassup? Whatup Hun!
You seen me at the bar with a stack of hunds
All dem other dudes steady bumpin dey gums
You heard about the flow
Now you think I'm the one?
Only if you gonna gimme some lung!
Wit' ice cubes, let my brothers bounce on your tongue
You so petite
I'm tryna creep
What can I say?
Can I kiss ya booty dimples today?
CHORUS
VERSE 2
100 proof
The way you move dat thang
Baby you the truth
Ya need some new moves?
Suga, I could coach ya
I tried to told ya
Get tha picta
Mi la vida loca hey!
Da kitty's hot
Actin' like it's not
Now you got me on the flo'
Drop it like it's hot
Let me touch it
We can make it easy
Hit da coast in something pleasing breezy
Stop
Let me hold dem buns
Baby oil dem cheeks
We could have some fun
Roll around the suite
Episodes discreet
I'd like to break a sweat
Dancin' off our feet hey!
Come on, Come on
Get it, Get it
You worked to get me open
Baby you done did it!
You so petite
I'm tryna creep
Let's lose da clothes
Let me get it while you touchin' ya toes woo!!
BRIDGE
The way you move dat A@!
I'm feenin' for ya
-Move it for mami hey-
I'm checkin' for you
Nothin I won't do
The way you move that thang
I'm waitin' for ya
-move it for mami hey-
Girl you so lovely
Won't you just come with me!
CHORUS
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