Tracks Similar To Wiggle It Jiggle It
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!
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!
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
Hot In The Club
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 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, 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, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Hot In The Club
HOT IN THE CLUB
CHORUS
Hot in the club yeah
Up in the club little drugs little love
Make it shine from above drink a little henny
Move that fanny outstanding
Im inside while you still in line
VERSE 1
Im holding hands with this divine thing
I think she make my mind sing
Yo we in a see through bathroom
Quick lock the door
Never seen a body like that before
Make me want to run home write metaphors
See we been doin it in the club since 94
This is a hip hop stick up sick put ya hands up
Wave em in the air like ya just got out of lock up
We walk up with 50 bouncers look shifty
Get ya hands out ya pocket quick kid
I saw ya hide those little diamonds
When you see my eyes shinin
Straight from Long Island better not look at the god
Now smiling okay okay
CHORUS
Hot in the club a little drugs little love
Make it shine from above
Drink a little henny move that fanny outstanding
Im inside while you still in line
VERSE 2
Ok ok I didn't bring no AK
Time to pop a hundred dollar sparkles
Yo pour in the chambord
I drove the LamborGhini here
But I think im leavin with that little teeny here
She whisperin good things in my ear
Oh my god say it out loud it sounds scandalous
Throw me off balance like bad drugs
We aint mad thugs we just come here to party
I like to sip cognac I don't drink Bacardi
Speakin of which lets switch seats I got to roll up a philly
Let the club feel the heat spread ya legs out
Move that ass move ya feet
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!
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
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!!
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
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!!
Let's Ride
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Gypsy, Jail, Killer, Mean, Mid East, Middle Eastern Influence, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
140
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Let's Ride
LET'S RIDE
CHORUS
LET"S RIDE
Gotta hit the street – we packin' heat – we movin'
LET'S RIDE
Got the AK cocked, it's ready to pop – let's do it
LET'S ROLL
We comin' for ya – gunnin' for ya
So LET'S RIDE – Let's RIDE
VERSE 1
Gotta creep down the street when I hold the heat
Pop pop them drop them off of they feet
Ghetto chicks love it when I drop the beat
Tell em dirts done better hide the gun
Out on the stoop like what what
Officer ima have to duck
Straight out of luck better pass the buck
Aint nobody doin no gangsta ish
Im an educated thug I aint dangerous
Soon as popo done leave the spot
Better bet in a minute im cocked and locked
Hop in the whip 300 dropped
But it aint in my name if I get cold caught
Caught a bid once so I cant get dropped
It's a gangsta thing hit low when I swing
Got about 5 chicks waitin for that ring
Spend funny money like it aint no thing
Hook that cook that thing up
Better get blinged up
If you wanna ride with me
Gotta take control
Like an animal im on parole I don't pay the toll
Rolex on froze cuz I love them hoes
Made em arch they back as they touch they toes
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Got that dough betta bet we froze
Sippin on Veuve Cliquot you know
Cant mess with this in a 9 by 6
Shut them lips and it better be quick
2 holes in the chest start to switch
rap about it when I put it on the mix
make a hit stack bricks I am legit
I will click click then pow!
Chicks on the tip take one then flip
Out the back door when im done with it
Go to the show when they climb them poles
Better believe you wont get no dough
On the dance floor man out of control
On the blow when they pop the roll
Ak cocked so don't talk no mo
Smoke then roll nice and slow
Creepin up with he black tint windows
Better duck when you see me on the go
Yes yes get that get that fresh fresh
Hit that hit that hold the smoke
No beginner no choke
Roll up the dutch that's what I wrote
Ima pop the clutch I don't shoot no dope
Put a lazer scope on top of the do'
CHORUS
Verse 3
Blast ya gat ya off ya feet
I never rush im all low on the street
Keep it cool like luke cuz im ready to shoot
Lay down on the ground look what I found
Yeyo in the trunk man about a pound
I could flip that yo thats how I get down
Gotta get that dough then I pass it out
Gotta maintain without a doubt
Puff that puff that pass pass
Ruff that ruff that gas gas
Chalk it up then I cook it up
Rock it up up then I hook it up
Gotta get dirty bills man that's wussup
Pour a sip on the ground for the soldiers told ya
Puff that puff that pass pass
Ruff that ruff that gas gas
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
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
Drop From Below
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Blake Colie (ASCAP) 25% / Henry Benjamin (ASCAP) 25% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 25% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 25%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 25% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 75%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, 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, 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:
105
Key:
G♯m/A♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Drop From Below
DROP FROM BELOW
Verse 1
Yeah lets make that sound
Yes yes don't test don't test im alive 45s drop spin and the its hip hop
Yes yes don't stress don't stress keep it movin yall got no time to stop
Yes yes so fresh so fresh like a fine girls breath
Like that feelin in your chest yes yes don't test don't test
I'll be waitin in the bushes with the bullet proof vest (sike)
I don't shoot don't loot don't perpetrate
Keep it straight gully on the low like Watergate
Yes yes mess mess in the head
Never would I tell you id be better off dead
Im alive 45 drops spin and then its hip hop
Yes yes spit verse a make ya knees knock
No stress puff trees when the wind blows
No trees if you don't got ends though
Keep my head straight got no time to debate
North south east west rep state to state
Interconnected methods through the nebulous and
Clouds I drift check check check
Chorus
Drop from below freak walk city streets
Drop from below freak walk city streets
Verse 2
Yes yes bless bless we the best if I don't tell anyone
I wonder who will guess nonetheless fa me test
When we light up the jets I am what I am alchemical
Do what I do identical to my soul plentiful
Beats eats when fed new sun redemption
Seems that the air that I breathe filled with vitamins
Invite 'em in im tight im at the peak of my precipice
Twist white black backwoods in the back of whatever hood
Its all good welcome to my neighborhood
Drop state shift minus images diminishes swift perception
No question
Yeah lets make that sound yeah yeah lets MAKE THAT SOUND
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
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
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
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
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'
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!
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
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
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!!
Bump Bump Bump
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:
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, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
92
Key:
F♯m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bump Bump Bump
BUMP BUMP BUMP
CHORUS
Come on come on gimme a bump bump bump
Everybody in the club with the bump bump bump
We gonna get high yeah we gonna get it done
Come on come on and just bump bump bump
VERSE 1
You need a grown man like me white tee icey
Just to get the ladies play like a wifie
Only for one night see nike's pricey
I like them moves spicy don't act sheisty
Have you dropped spinnin in the middle of the room
Like whoops wow whered he go hear me on the radio
Top of this hip hop flip and we don't stop
See yall players playing like you got game
Maybe I look the same when I try to come up
But now you see my whole crew runnin big black trucks
Range rovers pimp like the hove would
Now you understand my hustling ways
I made good so keep it up pimp keep shakin little shorty
Keep it old school on the stoop drinkin 40's
Always keep my eyes peeled back drop authorities
Keep numbers flipped swiss bank its priority
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Walk with a little limp just talk a little bit
When beats bouncing in the club its legitimate
How you gonna look so smooth those moves so rude
Lets prove we could do this all night
One hand on my drink others feelin allright
Its so locked down its like critical
Get you back to the pad get physical
Smoke greens you aint seen aint typical
Keep it bumpin in the club like a ritual
Swing it back swing it close get them visuals
How you gonna sneak up freak up tilt cup back
Till you finish that glass of champagne high class thing
No need to be ashamed
You got what god gave ya make that brain insane
But anyway seen yesterday on the runway
Don't believe what they say no gun play
CHORUS
I aint come up in the club lookin for the right love
Gonna keep it tight body fittin like a glove
Sittin in VIP lookin from above
When you see me in the cut bump bump bump bump bump
CHORUS
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!!!!
Willing To Die
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 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:
92
Key:
A♯m/B♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Willing To Die
WILLING TO DIE
For the brothers at my side I'd be willin' to die
Getting high all the time I'd be willin' to die
We keep riding the streets me and my posse in crime
For what's left of my life I'd be willin' to die
I been dying to try see this look in my eye
First lesson in the street can't compete with me
Lookin' hard little gangsta making me look over my shoulder
Bumpin' a range rover with the bulletproof glass
Had to get that hook up some things in my past
Bound to catch up to me man I might not last
Makin suckas bleed lean out the window and blast
Don't try to sneak up man I think too fast
I hope they come undercover man I'll say self defense
Looking at my life I can't claim innocence
It came and it went much money been spent
Many wigs been bent back and twisted with the lethal
Times up game over ain't no sequel
Ain't no such thing as evil it's do or die
Gangsta hustler a piece of the pie
For the brothers at my side I'd be willin' to die
Getting high all the time I'd be willin' to die
We keep riding the streets me and my posse in crime
For what's left of my life I'd be willin' to die
Ever since I was a shorty on the corner drinking 40's
Clockin mathematics movin weight like an addict
Had my boys posted up stoop one and two
If some chickens walk by scoop two or one
Take out the back and then show em my gun
Ice around my neck make you blind from the sun
What kind a high you need? I'll let you try some son
So many enemies anyone could be one
Come and try if you wanna die
I'll make you wonder why
I ride if I wanna ride
Kill you by the bedside don't you see I'm dead right
See the one that make the lead fly down at midnight
Sneakin' up on suckas if you ain't got the cash
Say something son beat that ass with a flashlight
Run sucka run I'm the one with ammunition
Dumb sucka dumb you got the wrong intuition
For the brothers at my side I'd be willin' to die
Getting high all the time I'd be willin' to die
We keep riding the streets me and my posse in crime
For what's left of my life I'd be willin' to die
Come on and try
If you wanna die
Make you wonder why
I ride if I wanna ride
Kill you by the bedside
Don't you see I'm dead right
I'm the one that make the lead fly
Down at midnight
For the brothers at my side I'd be willin' to die
Getting high all the time I'd be willin' to die
We keep riding the streets me and my posse in crime
For what's left of my life I'd be willin' to die
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