Tracks Similar To Don't Mean Nothin'
Just Hang
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Dino Soldo (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Brandino Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1990s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Hang, High, Laid Back, Mean, Ominous, Pot, Prison, Relax, Scary, Stoner, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
91
Key:
F♯/G♭
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Just Hang
JUST HANG
Laid back thinking chillin in the Lincoln
On the brink of vexin' but I shouldn't be stressing
All of this existence is a blessin confessin
To my many women in the back seat sinkin'
Into separate dreams roll up smoking the conduit
Spliff lit ill admit if it's a gift it should beget a
Righteous destiny smokin session come with blessings
Too many troops with too many youths trying to get loot
Who do dem shoot cant discuss discussion
It's a dangerous transgression
Just hang
Cause it aint no thing
Scandalous can handle just its own exist a vandalous
Contagious way of operating ignorance in angeles
Forget it find the fit and just lay back and just get lit
Kid its far too close to overdose no one to trust only boast
One particular way of thinking sink in sunshine state of liquid slow
My tempo down to beats complete as you and me could only be
In this a free delicious breathing only competing with the airs
Of existence this is just a persistence of magnetical realizations
Super evident and existential in the mentals climb a mountain
Exponentially each and every day hey
Chill relax and just lay back
Repeat
Chorus
RAST
Bang Shoot Shoot
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:
Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Laid Back, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
80
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bang Shoot Shoot
BANG SHOOT SHOOT
Bang shoot shoot
Insomniac smoking crack
Bang shoot shoot
Cold hard fact, can't look back
Bang shoot shoot
Drive by twice, deny 'em life
Bang, shoot shoot, bang
Bang whistle whistle pistol make a missile
Seem obsolete I'm hard on the street
Hot as heat to compete complete
Sliding newborn clips into the dips
I call my honey beat rhythm I call livin'
Cause I get my hustle fitfully
Respect no checks straight chips then sex
Yes stack 'em straight to the ceiling of my safe my fate
Is adrenaline complete as I keep my feet movin'
On the sidewalks with chalk outlines
Of loud talking individuals ain't gonna get residuals
The digital code set from my man just jetted
I wetted this one kid just to turn my first bid
Nailed on the coffin now I'm coughin' from puffin on the L
In hell I reside
Bang shoot shoot
Insomniac smoking crack
Bang shoot shoot
Cold hard fact can't look back
Bang shoot shoot
Drive by twice deny 'em life
Bang, shoot shoot, bang
No pride just ride to the east side
Away from the west side
You best hide I made my mind up
Keep the supposition put in position make some friction
127th back eleventh I got the freak freak juice
to let ya loose ya want proof? I got suits in the trunk
any size you want might have a hole in 'em mama please don't cry
do or die in the dungeon of the devil as I'm lungin'
at the level just to keep my head swiveled to the left
now turn to the right night seems to ignite verbal dynamite
I might pull a smoke mission listen render renditionless
Division come from fusion no illusion I'm the chosen one
Bang shoot shoot
Insomniac smoking crack
Bang shoot shoot
Cold hard fact can't look back
Bang shoot shoot
Drive by twice deny 'em life
Bang, shoot shoot, bang
Return of the Hustla'
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, California, Chill, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Girls, Guns, Hustler, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Smooth, Sneaky, Street, Strip Club, Urban, Vibe, West Coast
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
F♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Return of the Hustla'
RETURN OF THE HUSTLA
CHORUS
Back on the street back holdin' heat
Back rollin deep claiming 213
It's the return of the hustla
VERSE 1
Time to shuffle my steps as I shuffle the deck
I could inspect get rep or just pop pop with the TEK
In the soft top I forget did you plan to get wet
Did ya wanna throw ya set up on sunset in the 'vette
When I happened to jet step pop you cant forget
With ya last breath last scream caught up in ya chest
What they didn't tell ya this is the wild wild west
Never smoke stress only chronic up in this
They'll put ya to the test hustla gangsta flip bricks
Doin' dirty ish at the hit of a switch caught up in the mix
Now ya doin 2 to 6 what happened to the clique?
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Now its time to smoke reflect get checks and some respect
By the same fools wanted you hangin by the neck
Now its kiss kiss and pound pound the sound comin'
From every speaker every truck in every town
The sound gets drowned out the moment you found out
The snakes in the grass made a pass for your cash
In a suit and a moustache it's the same game different name
Gotta be a hustla every single buster gets turned into dust
I don't trust much people I see evil it sucks out ya soul
In the whole wide world ya know and im ready to blow
Sky high head to toe I feel it and peel it back skin contact
With the gat strapped ready to scrap im an attack cat
Catch that fever head to the receiver messages come in
Like the vestiges of an age old sedative meditative
CHORUS
Gangsta Heaven
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:
Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Laid Back, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
93
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Gangsta Heaven
GANGSTA HEAVEN
CHORUS
If I go to heaven
Let a gangsta lead
Cant always hit eleven seen a gangsta bleed
I didnt want to go but now I know that theres a gangsta heaven
A gangsta heaven
VERSE 1
We could all go to hell
Or heaven who can tell
Round one ring the bell
Late at night smoke was coming
From the alley that's right it was sign
Of a visible click in the midst of hits
That's critical cause if my man wasn't smoked up
Probably wouldn't a gotten loc'd up choked up in the cut
Thought I smelled something funny in the air that night
So we bounce vehicular the ounce particularly sticky
Underneath the seat one hand on the wheel
One hand on my heat been too long on the street
To not know my enemy I keep em close and tell em jokes
And make em think im funny
The only thing I had on my mind was the money
But I shoulda known wed rolled alone
For way too long way too long
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Seems like my feet always stuck in concrete
I seen the Mafioso drop a kid from a hundred feet
If you wanna play the game you might go insane
Too much talk makes dick a plain jane
What if I never make it back to my old stoop
What if I don't last till they call me old school
Im picturing a place with a smile on my face
Always thugs rollin trees and theres always a breeze
Aint no memories no death no destruction
Just blessed out crissed out let me make my introduction
Im popacapalotiguess I don't digress
You either catch rep or catch slugs in the chest
Whats better whats worse red sweater in the hearse
Heard you callin nurse wonder who get here first
Then the clouds dispersed and I was up in the heavens
CHORUS
The chosen few get to go
You know my soul told me so
(repeat)
CHORUS
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
A Date With Angels
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chill, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
A Date With Angels
A DATE WITH ANGELS
Time is running out, I feel it slippin' away
time is running out, I see it in my dreams every night
I can't get away from it
Chorus
It's getting' hard to stay alive
The streets are full of blood tonight
An' everything is down to fate
You can't go back 'cos it's too late
Now brother's gone and mama's cryin'
Seems like everybody's dyin'
I know they're comin' for me
But I'm not ready – for a date with angels
A date with angels – a date with angels
Verse 1
I see death around the corner
I can't delete it
The Vision repeats over and over
There's no reprieve.. Click!!
Another round in the chamber...OOOOh!
Everytime I make a move
I feel my burning fuse
See the homey's over there creepin'?
The last two nights they been trying to catch a brother sleepin'
Didn't see 'em?
Na, I ain't tripping
That's why no matter where I go I keep the clip in
With the safety off
They tryin' to pick me off
They say I'm off
But I ain't never been soft
The game 'a make you go crazy
The hood's full 'a wannabe gangstas
Or they tryna be Jay Z
I only did it cause it pays me
Had an exit plan
But now I can't see SQUEEZE!
Cause I'm tired of runnin'
Dog I know it's comin'
I see death around the corner!
Repeat Chorus
She was 13 and I was 22
Used to holla at her when she went to school
She was enthralled with the streetlife
As a G I kept my knot right
Kept the product for them pipes
Told youngin' "Get ya mind right shortie. Betta stay out these streets!"
"Cause messin' wit' 'da street life
It'll get you caught up
Hunger combined with jealousy It'll get you buck Bucked!
Like you never was
You a Pup!
There's Killas out here and they don't give a What!!
She didn't listen man she did her thang
Two weeks ago they found her and her Thuggy slain!
Repeat Chorus
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
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...
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
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
Hustlin' The Street
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:
Entertainment News, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cool, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Exotic, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Hustling, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Hustlin' The Street
HUSTLIN' THE STREET
Chorus
YA HUSTLIN THE STREET
TRYIN HARD TO COMPETE
DON'T LET THEM CRITICIZE
MAN JUST OPEN YOUR EYES
YA HUSTLIN THE STREET
TRYING TO MOVE YOUR FEET
TRYING TO SURVIVE BUT YA
LIVIN A LIE
I make it by with tears in my eyes
Shorty looked tough until he met his demise
Standin on the stoop lookin wet and surprised
Didn't know he died til the light left his eyes
I told him listen man ya gotta put up a disguise
That's how you get by that's how you survive
That's why we dip and dive and roll and front and smoke blunts
We on the hunt get what we want and do it crunk
And buy this junk and cook it up and rock it up
Pack it up and slap it up and slap the hand
And understand that in the hood this the only way that we
Can make a hundred grand and feel like a man
Do you understand that you must have a plan
Wheelin and dealin trying to be a big man
Chorus
Yo makin to the biz taking a man to meet another man
Forsakin the plan that there's another life shorty
Hop the train before you run into strife shorty
Start reading books don't be a crook with kids and a wife
The heat is on doin dirt and wearin Teflon
I wish I could go on and explain how I feel
But these are the streets and I have to live real
I told him all these things fact without saying a thing
Feelin hypocritical and wearin diamond rings
I started out a hustler it don't mean a thing
I coulda left the streets coulda been anything
This shorty just died for cream and bling bling
This shorty just died for cream and bling bling
Chorus Repeat
Crack in the Street
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:
Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Laid Back, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Crack in the Street
CRACK IN THE STREET
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Every heat in the laps with enough street caps
To make that mistake gun claps no daps
To make fools of an enemy hustler
Bustler just to make a buster trust her
Take a permanent nap now I got a backpack
At the pad with the rad semiautomatic fad
Of these kids with mad dreams fiending for the stream of
Greenbacks snatched from the midst of adolescence
With no repentance shorty call the crew back
Ain't no amount of crack gonna get your life back
Told you once I'm the mack of this game
Slap you with the shame same
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Laid back I'm the mack don't hate just get a sack
Of the doja I told ya I'd be back you know me 6'5" live
At the wide down electric its hectic its misfits with no business
Get ya hustle move on we at the long beach side of the song
I'm the bomb funkadelic if I tell it be too nasty she asked me
Yo you know where I could get that rock from?
Talk about prolifically said you no go in the side of the snow
Cook it up and rocked talking automatic walkin' talkin' crazy shiznit
Get with bizzel trick I nizzell slick substance
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
It's not the roughness just the justice
I just want to get the rough biz but my cousin
Lives in that same insane the same vein
Like a thief addicted to relief hell steal the seat
From under your peeps it's the old school pimp flow
Just to let you know know
I do get the dough dough oh so opposite
Of slow soul so I get a runnin' of a dozen
Sacks of that soul substance jack
Now my backs tweaked deep like a knife
In the back of another crackhead beds made might sleep
But I thought I saw these fools creep
After me in the laid back chevy that's heavy
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
She got a big big belly messin' with this kid named Delly
Pumpin' sytems with that Nelly now you damned smelly
Can't get no relief in the crack strewn streets now my peace
Is this piece that I keep with me on the daily gotta fight like Israeli
Soldiers I told ya I hold the head of my man fed lead in his system
Two in the leg one in the chest no protection no resurrection
For this chosen direction perfection this lesson is lessened by these
Same seeds guessin' get life lessons from the grip of a gun
And it ain't no fun runnin' these streets tryin' to get relief
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
Crack in the street, too much heat
I can't get no relief
It's gonna run you down to the ground
'Til you can't make another sound
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
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!!!!
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)
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!!!
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...
I Know
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Dino Soldo (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Brandino Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, High, Laid Back, Mean, Ominous, Pot, Prison, Scary, Stoner, Street
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
110
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
I Know
I KNOW YOU NEED TO KNOW
Everything is in between the lines of time
Spawns the rhyme the kind of expansion of
Consciousness dances beat of the drum where
The words come from given a gun and explicit
Instructions function of livin is full of instruction
What if we act and subtract this distraction
A faction of us could erupt in conjuction
Open up minds into time and dimension
Extension of soul into powerful people
Soul sanctified soul my god how ya sent prevent
This to detain that
Chorus
It's a subtle battle the rattle of chains refrain
Is it they or them friend or enemy spiritually
Vacant dissipations is runnin the nation
I look back on the Jamaicans see that he was
Takin a risk to sift between the gifts he got
Friends got shot I seen affliction same as this one
In a separate state of perception minds locked down
This is got a soft spot slow of convention
Convincing wisdom isn't in the books or looking up
To crooks who trust that they're the same as us
Inside of that streams a separate dream each and every thing
Chorus
Let it all go
RAST
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
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
Fresh
Artist(s): Pyro
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Writer(s):
Daen Simmons (NONE) 90% / Derrek Clarke (ASCAP) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 90% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Laid Back, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
89
Key:
C
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
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
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
Bump Bump Bump
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
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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
Beat the Street
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
87
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Beat the Street
BEAT THE STREET
This is a message to all those soldiers
To all those grindin' in the streets
As you live life as a roller- your time is over
Quicker than a camera's flash- as it floats past
I wonder what kind of questions are asked
Did you take your life for granted?
I hope he wasn't too hard on judgment
Cause I understand it
It's just the way it was
Anybody from my hood- I don't care who you might meet
At some time or another, they was probably sparkin' heat
Hard to survive but I refuse to fold
Me and Manny was jumped when we was 8 yrs old
And now he's leavin'- But I hope to God he rest-in-peace
I wonder when will this nonsense cease
I realize that my life's on lease
The World's rotated and my game's grown thicker
I'm ten years older and I'm tired of holding triggers
I don't know how I'm gonna do it – But I'm a find a way!!
Cause life as a thug is a waste ( I know now I gotta....)
Chorus:
BEAT THE STREET
KICK IT HARD IN THE FACE
CUZ IT'S UP TO ME
TO TURN THIS LIFE AROUND
FOR THE DEAD I GRIEVE
BUT I'M STILL ALIVE
I BEAT THE STREET
I CAN TAKE THE HEAT
BEAT THE STREET
KICK IT HARD IN THE HEAD
IT'S HOW IT HAS TO BE
TO TURN THIS LIFE AROUND
I DON'T NEED TO BLEED
TO BE A GANGSTA G
I BEAT THE STREET
I BEAT THE STREET
To all the past thug hustlas, bless the dead
It's time to re-arrange what's inside my head
I'm only 18 better late than never
Instead of searchin' for umbrellas
It's time to change the weather – I'm tired of rainin'
I'm gonna use my brain
I've never been a stupid brotha
This may be last chance to save my mother
So if I gotta hold a steady job
Anything to keep from robbin'
Duckin' 9mm bullets and crime plottin'
I ain't takin' no more Pen(itentiary) chances
It's gonna be hard to look past the gangsta glances
But I ain't leavin' the hood
Today, I pledge to apply myself
Stop duckin the law because it's all good
I'm a chase them legal stacks
You hear the rumors I left the street
Tell 'em it's a fact (I don't care what they think)
I'm a take control of my life
'tho' I proudly wear my stripes
I've turned the corner and I ain't looking back
Chorus 2X
I'M LOOKIN' INSIDE
I'M LOOKIN OUTSIDE
THIS LIFE IS ALL MINE
IT'S ALL MINE
Chorus
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