Tracks Similar To We Rollin'
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
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
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
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...
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
Creepin'
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
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, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
89
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Creepin'
CREEPIN'
CHORUS
Creepin' creepin' I'm part of the streets
And ima keep holdin' heat till im six feet deep
Preachin' preachin' I'm holdin' this beat
And ima keep the body rockin' from your head to your feet
Verse 1
I been so long on the street
I got scars where my soul used to be
From CP to LBC im a freak
And you can catch me by the side of the road
I make em scream make ya fall out ya jeans
'cause im a hood so clean in a '62
continental creep with a lean so mean
I can never be stopped even in dreams
Even fiends think about the way
I cook up the product I wont lie
I got devils pie piece of narcotics
And I been shot up getting caught up in the game
Do or die never wondered why
God gave me wings and ima fly
Can't keep my eyes dry when I think about
The drive by put my mans soul in the sky
One night in Bed-Sty
Ima keep on pushin keep on sellin my position
Im a blacktop magician
An attack dog im vicious
Im intelligent seditious
It's a dangerous condition
CHORUS
Try and touch me where im livin
'cause I know that I been givin gifts
im steady even with a fifth of Henny in me belly
im so gully I got Nelly yellin Hip Hop Hip Hop
don't stop undercover like Tupac
im makin' ya knees knock keep it all froze game caught
in a headlock sayin please don't stop
'til you reach the top and you got
5 lives to try make nothing different
and you get no independence
mind locked like 5th amendments
ima count you in attendance
only if you pay attention
I done told you I was st.john
Engine precision im dishin out the wishin
And im switchin what im hittin
Cause its serious
CHORUS
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...
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!
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
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!!!
Menace to Society
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:
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...
Lost My Mind
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Club, Cool, Cop Show, Crunk, Dark, Death, Dirty South, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Smooth, Sneaky, Southern, Street, Trippy, Urban, Vibe
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
92
Key:
D♯m/E♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Lost My Mind
LOST MY MIND
CHORUS
I done lost my mind lord can you help me find it
Get down down come and turn around (repeat)
VERSE
With the.44 come through the door get dough
Snatch ends like a fiend know what I mean
Serpentine dreams my whole team seen things
You wouldn't believe jail tat's on the sleeve
Smuggling drugs in cavities these thugs be jugglin'
Hustling talking about pimps with bricks in the back
Of the whip I think quick in my mind so sick
That they wanna lock me up give me medicine
Like im a veteran seeing things I hallucinate
About plates made of platinum and I flatten them with flows
And I love those hoes where my nose goes lead me to the rainbow
Pot 'o gold bend down touch ya toes
But ya cannot hear me though
I love playa haters im ya mind invader
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I lost my train of thought it jumped the tracks jump back
Semi-automatic in the hands of a lunatic
Spittin counterfeit mamuscripts im poundin fists
Reading all them lyin lips I used to say stack chips but its played out like space ships
Old like them flows don't they know im low pro
I sneak no doz on the way to poconos
Smoking those sticky elbows drinkin mickeys with a straw
Quick on the draw smoke pall malls climb walls stand tall
If you can even stand at all im so close to an overdose in Soho
Fond foes and I make em witness im takin care of business
Im writin up a hit list sofit this bullet proof vest real close to ya chest
I hold a dart against ya neck and make ya hold ya breath
My best friend my homepiece my man is death
No time left no time for them threats this time
Ima get mine ima drink mad wine in the summertime
Im alive like theres 5 minutes left
CHORUS
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
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
We Faded
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Club, Cool, Cop Show, Crunk, Dark, Death, Dirty South, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Smooth, Sneaky, Southern, Street, Trippy, Urban, Vibe
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
G♯m/A♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
We Faded
WE FADED
Chorus
We faded rollin in the escaladed
We faded rollin with them crunked up ladies
Verse 1
We rollin deep and we downright nasty
Eyes all crooked and the fashion is ashy
Smoking on foot long blunts
Pullin stunts in the backseat
Tags on the whip say '83
I got aluminum fronts and I walk like a pimp
When you see me comin lights dim
Talking to a Mexican say you love
Them puerto Ricans 100%
Im here to freak em out they stash
I don't give up the cash
Got a big old burner underneath the dash
Loaded with a quick clip and them big mouth
Big talk suckas don't say ish
But im cool like the pillows of them eskimoes
Got to pull down low to drop the ride I smash toes
Style on pro
Hands on froze
Hand me the microphone in a b-boy pose
Chorus
Verse 2
Laser scope jump rope move pounds of dope
Its pathetic how the product in the hood is narcotics
Spot it and I gotta get it glove that the hand fit
Faded like a flat top legit
We in the spot lookin downright classy
Mama come and ask me clean or he nasty
Comin with his team lookin mean and flashy
Aint got a minute to admit it im a gangsta
Getting rid of competition in the battle c'mon
Getting 6 figures for this song
I aint worried bout nothing cause im faded
Youre whole style and your flow is outdated
Keeping it on point I be lovin them ladies
Rollin in a black 600 mercedes
Swerving like Mel did in Malibu
Sippin on rum I aint no bum
Chorus
Pull em out toast and I bang bang it
Got nothing on the books
(mumbles)
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 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
Spillin' Blood
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Spillin' Blood
SPILLIN BLOOD
CHORUS
How much blood you gotta spill to make it stop
Cant be like big and pac dying for hip hop
VERSE 1
I found some inspiration when my heart started racin
Erasin the fact im patient shouldnta messed with the Haitians
Take a permanent vacation it only takes one word to be said
It only takes one word to be said it only takes cold steel to the head
It only takes a trigger finger to be pulled
It only takes one bullet to be dead
Foreign infiltrators debaters about the politics
We turn intelligence into some haters 'stead of college kids
A bitter pill to swallow people getting locked up
White kids black kids asian kids Dominicans
Diminishin an image used to be B-boys
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I wonder why some of the best die wild wild west style
Preachin' wisdom in the same breath talking guns
What could of become of some if they didn't die young
And dumb they'd make a phenomenon no bomb on rhamadan
And on Sundays we could rest no bullet proof vests
Call us what you want we just have to express these feelings
Of equality from off the chest
Now breathe conceive the world we weave
When we stop spillin blood then we start being free
We got a cerebellum for a reason
Time to turn the seasons when I make it to the top
Then I praise hip hop
CHORUS
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
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
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
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
Bring It On
Artist(s): Slur-P
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 33.34% / David Armitage (BMI) 33.33% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 33.33%
Publisher(s):
Tony Vose Music (BMI) 33.33% / Tech Styles Music (BMI) 33.33% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 33.34%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Alternative, Hip Hop, Indie, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Explicit Lyrics, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Promo, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Sports, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
85
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bring It On
BRING IT ON (Clean)
Man these little fools think they can step up and try to question my authority
Don't they know it's life or death out here in the city streets
Rockin' these gritty beats, please
Ill disease manifest in violent fantasies and tendencies to overreact attack and ransack villages the pillager like Ghengis Khan you relate the source of infinite hate that motivates a killer the shark the 24-7 hunter red eyes gleam search for the mark wak MC on pipe dream step to the cipher to sharpen my claws loosen some jaws give final rites say goodnight and send 'em home in a box my fight not I'm hyped ready for war check my arsenal and strap refresh ammo and head for the door want a firefight slide into the night a deadly shadow that could shift the stitch of the fates with one riff and unleash a massacre I'm blastin master assassin on the warpath can't hold back it's full blast comin ill to correct catch wreck and snap necks with some raw ass funk no need for special effects
Chorus:
Bring it on
You wanna play me
Think I'm crazy
I'm gonna show you
Blow you away
I can take anything you got
Shoot your shot wake up cause
I own this game
Lab explosion you're dozin I'm swingin for the balcony rows and your flows are stopping at your toes your sole projection you're clothes and watch chose to perfection grab the steel and your as real as 'its at a porno convention I outbox you one handed outfox at every twist and turn of my command of reckless abandon more shots landed your crew can't stand it watchin my underhanded tactics expose your need for more practice I'm sharp like cactus spikes light up the mike and rock block your weakness while I freak this hip hop true MC battle me and be left in memory or just forgotten as one more fate who's style is rotten you're a seed that never sprouted you never made the first stage when I engage I'm lethal as a twelve gauge at close range my battle axioms are razor sharp practice the dark arts I'll cut out your heart from the start your marked
Chorus
There's no escape from this reality just another casualty of combat better go back slow down your drum track in fact start from scratch cause your whole style is wak soundin like a Jack Kerowac crack flashback I react my instinct go for the throat I wanna hear you choke disappear in a cloud of my gun smoke <> hope defeated I'm top seated royally treated warnings should be headed true contenders needed I'll repeat it if I must stay weeded when I bust I outlast and outpace the enemy is crushed dust to dust ashes to ashes they all fall down retain my crown go down in history books and catch jealous looks take off my cape and dance around like godfather James Brown when you hear the funky sound you know its time to get down the mike burner bomb sparker drive the party insane so bring it on 'cause I own this game y'hear bring it to me
Chorus
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!!
The Game Is Over
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, Chaotic, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
95
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
The Game Is Over
THE GAME IS OVER
Lost and found six feet in the ground
If you don't pay attention gonna be locked down
The game is over
No busters no dust fast feet trust in the street
Plenty of possibilities in the life of a hustle
It was april 17 1985 my only street mission was to just stay alive
Thrived upon a game made people insane
Introduced by the same CIA who had made it that way
In the first damn place had to meet a money
Named school O.G. for a fee he could get you anything you need
Top speed hopped fences threw bricks saw tricks
Had a funny feeling in my gut that this was it
Believe I'll proceed to the next level devils
Had my situation twisted got to get lifted
Got to find the gifted put the money in
my palm son before you get rocked
Chorus
circle round the block just to get a different approach
if I hadn't done this wouldn't a seen the laser scope
back to proceeding with the feeling I was dealing with
I had to cross to Brooklyn cats got my back
but stopped dead in my tracks for some fiends wanted crack
I said get the hell away he said make my day
Had a split decision it's a scout no doubt must be other soldiers
Gunnin for me en route right about then schooly hit me up
The fiend got distracted threw him in the cut
Now I hopped the d train just to make it quick
All these fools on my trail got my head feeling sick
Now I just relax til I cover my tracks
Felt this tap on my shoulder didn't dare look back
Saw the kids reflection 22 my midsection
Didn't have a second so I dropped him quick
Chorus
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