Tracks Similar To Freak
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
C Ya N Tha Club
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, Intimate, Kinky, Mean, Nasty, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Southern Crunk, Street, Strip Club, Swervin, Syrup, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
115
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
C Ya N Tha Club
C YA IN THA CLUB
CHORUS
See you in the club roll up deuce deuce
Ya got me so loose like a 100 proof
Smoking that dub right there in the booth
Spotlight shinin on my diamond tooth
VERSE 1
Swerving sippin syrup turning up the wrong way sippin Bombay
Ounce of that good californi-a my papers straight
Gotta move that weight chick chick bow please don't get in my way
Im real chillaxed but I just don't play
See me on the cover of a mag someday
I script hits flip get paid chicks on tip get laid
Slip fat bricks don't trip that fits lips spread thick
Im sick like Rick on the tape now hold up wait a minute
The club look right with you up in it
Dj spin it ima hit then I quit it
But im so smooth got a bottle of champagne
I show and prove
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Hey girl let me get up in ya world
Let me stroke them curls ask ya girls
If they wanna rock get up in the yacht tonight
I go so slow cause im nasty im a pro
I smoke like c-lo and those other brothers know
I got whole teams in kitchens cookin up that snow
A man gotta eat roll Bentleys roll up the sleeves
Pull out the heat this aint a video cuz
Keep it on the street hand me that blunt ima start to chief
I love ya girl specially when ya freak
Time to sneak back in the club we so twisted
CHORUS
VERSE 3
That mammy look so saucy
Classy on the street but you a freak
Let me put you on my dime
For about a week cause you a dime piece
Sexy text me then caress me
Baby I got plenty left
Let me get dressed cuz im fresh to death
CHORUS
Bring It On
Artist(s): Slur-P
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 33.34% / David Armitage (BMI) 33.33% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 33.33%
Publisher(s):
Tony Vose Music (BMI) 33.33% / Tech Styles Music (BMI) 33.33% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 33.34%
Category:
Rock
Subcategories:
Alternative, Hip Hop, Indie, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Explicit Lyrics, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Promo, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Sports, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
85
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bring It On
BRING IT ON (Clean)
Man these little fools think they can step up and try to question my authority
Don't they know it's life or death out here in the city streets
Rockin' these gritty beats, please
Ill disease manifest in violent fantasies and tendencies to overreact attack and ransack villages the pillager like Ghengis Khan you relate the source of infinite hate that motivates a killer the shark the 24-7 hunter red eyes gleam search for the mark wak MC on pipe dream step to the cipher to sharpen my claws loosen some jaws give final rites say goodnight and send 'em home in a box my fight not I'm hyped ready for war check my arsenal and strap refresh ammo and head for the door want a firefight slide into the night a deadly shadow that could shift the stitch of the fates with one riff and unleash a massacre I'm blastin master assassin on the warpath can't hold back it's full blast comin ill to correct catch wreck and snap necks with some raw ass funk no need for special effects
Chorus:
Bring it on
You wanna play me
Think I'm crazy
I'm gonna show you
Blow you away
I can take anything you got
Shoot your shot wake up cause
I own this game
Lab explosion you're dozin I'm swingin for the balcony rows and your flows are stopping at your toes your sole projection you're clothes and watch chose to perfection grab the steel and your as real as 'its at a porno convention I outbox you one handed outfox at every twist and turn of my command of reckless abandon more shots landed your crew can't stand it watchin my underhanded tactics expose your need for more practice I'm sharp like cactus spikes light up the mike and rock block your weakness while I freak this hip hop true MC battle me and be left in memory or just forgotten as one more fate who's style is rotten you're a seed that never sprouted you never made the first stage when I engage I'm lethal as a twelve gauge at close range my battle axioms are razor sharp practice the dark arts I'll cut out your heart from the start your marked
Chorus
There's no escape from this reality just another casualty of combat better go back slow down your drum track in fact start from scratch cause your whole style is wak soundin like a Jack Kerowac crack flashback I react my instinct go for the throat I wanna hear you choke disappear in a cloud of my gun smoke <> hope defeated I'm top seated royally treated warnings should be headed true contenders needed I'll repeat it if I must stay weeded when I bust I outlast and outpace the enemy is crushed dust to dust ashes to ashes they all fall down retain my crown go down in history books and catch jealous looks take off my cape and dance around like godfather James Brown when you hear the funky sound you know its time to get down the mike burner bomb sparker drive the party insane so bring it on 'cause I own this game y'hear bring it to me
Chorus
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!
Wiggle It Jiggle It
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Wiggle It Jiggle It
WIGGLE IT JIGGLE IT
CHORUS
I love it when you wiggle it and jiggle it
U know I gotta get it
Oooh girl you making me horny
Tonight it's me and you shorty
I love it when they wigglin' and jigglin'
U know I wanna get it !
Can I get next to you hottie?
Rub hot oil all on yo' body?
VERSE 1
Hold up wait a minute
There some pieces up in the party
Time to get up in it
I like it when you move ya hips nice and slowly
Diamonds up in the bevel blind
I'm flashin' the Roly
Hey, Oooh!
Please excuse me mama
U lookin' good tonight
Me no want no drama
Move weight
Yeah I'm known in the Burroughs
Flip the stash 5 times a week
Made thorough
Whassup? Whatup Hun!
You seen me at the bar with a stack of hunds
All dem other dudes steady bumpin dey gums
You heard about the flow
Now you think I'm the one?
Only if you gonna gimme some lung!
Wit' ice cubes, let my brothers bounce on your tongue
You so petite
I'm tryna creep
What can I say?
Can I kiss ya booty dimples today?
CHORUS
VERSE 2
100 proof
The way you move dat thang
Baby you the truth
Ya need some new moves?
Suga, I could coach ya
I tried to told ya
Get tha picta
Mi la vida loca hey!
Da kitty's hot
Actin' like it's not
Now you got me on the flo'
Drop it like it's hot
Let me touch it
We can make it easy
Hit da coast in something pleasing breezy
Stop
Let me hold dem buns
Baby oil dem cheeks
We could have some fun
Roll around the suite
Episodes discreet
I'd like to break a sweat
Dancin' off our feet hey!
Come on, Come on
Get it, Get it
You worked to get me open
Baby you done did it!
You so petite
I'm tryna creep
Let's lose da clothes
Let me get it while you touchin' ya toes woo!!
BRIDGE
The way you move dat A@!
I'm feenin' for ya
-Move it for mami hey-
I'm checkin' for you
Nothin I won't do
The way you move that thang
I'm waitin' for ya
-move it for mami hey-
Girl you so lovely
Won't you just come with me!
CHORUS
What Up
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, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Bouncy, Club, Energetic, Flirtatious, Fun, Good Time, Hot, Old School, Party, Playful, Retro, Rowdy, Sexy, Teen, Upbeat, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
100
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What Up
WHAT UP
CHORUS
What up lets rock this party
H2 limo and a case of Bacardi
Ladies in the back seat gonna act naughty
You know we rock the spot
What up get high supersonic
Me and the crew like to twist the chronic
2004 hip hop bionic
you know we rock the spot
VERSE 1
Turnin' it out in the club with Jamaican rub-a-dub
The ice from my neck reflects the bubbles from the bub
Strip off them clothes girl climb in the tub
Full body rub then it gets x-rated
Never kiss and tell gotta keep it understated understand
Im debated all around the world
Black skin white skin and Indian girls
Travellin' around and putting it down
Bein a clown makin the sounds
Too many people to put in equal stereo scenario
Why ya wanna be hater jealous of me
Don't think the game that comes with fame don't also
Come with envy
Gotta pay attention did I mention that its real
Come on everybody make em hot make em peel
Off come the tops man that's how im gonna steal
The ladies make em crazy gang star mass appeal
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Thinking about the rhythm keeping my seat in the middle
Two tender vittles to the right and the left
Holdin my breath that was the last hit left
Hookin up some more green and the branches
And bounce across the stanchions
Dreamin' about mansions time for expansions
Aint no way that we could ever roll with less than fifty
Plus we got the gift B makin people shifty
Party people pushin possibilities for me
Gimme the mic any night rock it right
Just to get a sight of me
Have to pay fifty G increase the artery
Like you won the lottery
Got these hotties with bodies
Beside of me thinking about is heavenly
Sheezy with the bubbly trying to get
In trouble see the only way ill ever be makin them hits
Make you party the crews about to get
CHORUS
WHOA OH WHOA OH WHOA OH
CHORUS
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...
Keep It Comin'
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:
Entertainment News Rock, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Bouncy, Club, Energetic, Flirtatious, Fun, Good Time, Hot, Party, Playful, Promo, Retro, Sexy, Sports, Teen, Upbeat, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2002
BPM:
130
Key:
F♯m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Keep It Comin'
KEEP IT COMIN
CHORUS
Keep it comin all night
Keep it comin all right
Keep it comin fo sho
Keep it comin you know
Keep it comin to the top
Keep it comin don't you stop
VERSE 1
Keep it comin like an animal drop down clap
We be chillin at the club till we fade to black
Then its back to the crib you know how we do that
Now and laters faders chillin wearing gators
Good old boys with them automatic toys
Don't care if you move left or right tight tight
Pullin on the spandex got me feelin man jets
Erupt explode lawd lawd walkin down these country roads with
My headphones on wearin louis vitton
Some slang just to get that money right if you slang then you bang
If you wanna hold on then sing this song
Nothing to it but to do it
Then smoke that stuff lean back take a puff
Man don't act tough
Keep I comin like a player
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Nnow in the back of my mind now im feelin divine
Like when you in the cut with a bottle of wine
Thunderbird Mad Dog 50/50 look at them gangstas
Start to look shifty we all about love till they push and shove
Showin off lookin stupid cupid shoot them
Aint no one want that mess down here gimme that nooky
And a bottle of beer stay focused hocus pocus
Why ya clothes is still hangin off ya frame
You look better buck naked aint wanna complain
Take ya out to the car in the pourin rain
Smoke a little Spliff shut off the brain
Take it slow you know how to maintain
Keep it comin aint no way that we could stop this train
If you too clucked up im the one to blame
CHORUS
VERSE 2
We can rock it all night long
Shake your ass and sing that song
A party aint a party girl unless I see that thong
Shakin' that rump now don't feel strange
Break it down like this I drink a fifth drive slow
In the Cadillac Brougham im lik the that stone keep it rollin
Girl you aint right you wrong
Keep it comin all night long
Shake that ass and sing this song
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
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
Git Me Some
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, Alley, Barrio, Chaos, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energetic, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Promo, Scary, Sports, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
106
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Git Me Some
GIT ME SOME
CHORUS
Money gonna get me some honeys gonna get me some holla
Yeah oohh ooh gonna get me some get me some
Ladies gonna get me some crazy gonna get me some ladies
Gonna get me some party oohh oohhh
VERSE 1
Gonna take a look at the nook of my neck of the woods
Its all good its understood but im above a battle saddle up the philly
And get reall y on the day to day dilly of the dally of a dollar in the
Valley keep the increase till deceased I never flash a peace sign
To tell you whats on my mind I got thick rhymes that'll never see the light of the day
Play the occupation operation back in the 70s would've had to been a smooth hustler
Just to get the cheese now in new millennium im onto them they onto us get on the bus
But I could never trust a mister buster of the populous they like to trust and long legs
Skinny braids get the show get paid rodeo lasso up the stupid dough I aint lyin honeys cryin tryin to do voodoo at the show
CHORUS
I got you in my grip hush child don't slip sleep sleek sheets slip
Seek heat success chest to chest sweat you think that im a natural
Well im not even done yet spend dollars too long in a mental tenement
I might bend with it but ill never break you come fast ill come late
Just rip the party up to date your fate is what you make of it the fakers
High stakers some packin some stackin it I cant lose ill get busted
Used to get dusted now my armys crusted with a band of ice suss one
Vice or two that's true advice to you I might switch the other shoe
But it would never fit I get stick stuck tick tack patty actin wack
My knack is for the crackin of the domes with dope poems holmes
CHORUS
Breakdown
This little word goes round and round I wont stop until
Ive found cool cool crazies know how to get down
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
Back Against The Wall
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, Alley, Barrio, Chaos, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energetic, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Promo, Scary, Sports, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
100
Key:
Fm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Back Against The Wall
BACK AGAINST THE WALL
Chorus
Propaganda make my heart beat faster
Running and gunnin im done in with the same life
Son caught between a rock and the game
Harder than I am one man comin with the same plan
Hot damn broke down folks say god bless ya then stress
Ya distress ya confess that my chest is distressed I cant breathe
Seize upon my need to escape the same fate
Maybe money mention heavy debted did I said it
Yes I must because I thrust myself and let it out quick
Sand in which I stand a situation Benjamin chasing facing one year up to life
Mental trigger picture bigger things than hustling and strife
Up against the ropes dope dealer nope
Rock another boat three situations got me chasing
On probation failing falling finally fed up sick cycle in the cut
Got this feeling in my gut that im stuck land of the free
Cant disagree but somes trapped got to find my way
Now its 3 am in the morning theres a warning bell ringing in my head said im sick of doing stick ups but im dead if my man cant make it
Take it underground and wait
Chorus
Heavy cats in undercover caps and all I wanna do is relax
And vibe ou kick hard like the bass and sharp like the flip
Recapitulation takes discipline participating such such
Mentally tough aint afraid of enough june gloom boom boom
Sunny disguised money in the symphony
Fool im strength and smoke whispers and solidity
Random destiny strewn street thoughts beat me in punches
Im possibly a mystery life is complicated sometimes
I sedate it I waited too long now im gone
Unless I bust these hustles and its on gotta use some muscle
And I gotta live long song of the ancients in my blood strong
Now I make my move prove that im righteous fight this feeling
Til im wheeling im gone hunches past assumptions
Amd im done with frontin kid visions of apocalypse burst
From the lips of misfits I have risen and arosen
The last amongst the chosen feel as if im frozen
Stuck against the bricks backed up and im sick of feeling
Dismissed yes even by my misses now the list as long
As history gotta make a monument of flow
Going Up Going Down
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
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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!!
En El Club
Artist(s): Cash El Principe
Label: Black Toast Records
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 33.34% / Luis Rivera (ASCAP) 33.33% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 33.33%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 16.67% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 33.33% / Booli Mooli Music (ASCAP) 16.66% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 33.34%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Latin Hip Hop, Latin Hip Hop Rap, Male Vocal, Rap, Reggaeton
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Angry, Arrest, Barrio, Chaos, City, Club, Compton, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Lute, Mean, Mexico, Mug Shot, NYC, New York, Ominous, Outrage, Prison, Rage, Rape, Riot, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Spanish Lyrics, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Struggle, Urban, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
95
Language:
Spanish
Key:
Fm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
En El Club
"En El Club" (Spanish)
Chorus
Pon Las Manos Arriba, Si Me Sienten
En Este Club Las Mamis Estan Calients
Vamos Mi Gente, Vamo A Bailar
Brinden Sus Tragos, Vamos A Gozar
Verse 1
Miro Pal Lado Y La Gente Esta Bailando
Miro Para El Otro Lado La Gente Esta
Sudano, De Aqui Te Veo La Cabeza
Estas Meneando, Y Las Cinturas
Moviendo De Lado A Lado
En La Barra Si La Gente Esta Tomando
Los Que Bailan En El Piso Estan
Planeando, Y Los Tipos Aqui Aprovechando
Lo Que Pasa En El Club Es Un Escandalo
Chorus
Verse 2
Oye No Se Asusten Mamis, Esto Lo Que
Le Trae El Negro. Para Que Muevan
La Caderas Y Su Cuerpo, Esta Caliente
Pero Eso Lo De Meno, Cantalo Asi
Muevelo Asi, Gritano Por Mi, Pa Que Se Viste
Asi, Tentando Me Ami, En El Club Asi!
"En El Club" (English translation)
CHORUS:
Put your hands up - if you feel me
In this club all the ladies are hot
Come my people and let's dance
Put your drinks to the air and have fun
VERSE
I look to the left and the people are dancing
I look to the right side and the people are sweating
I can see you from here - you're shaking your head
I can see the ladies shaking their hips
In the bar the people are drinking
The ones on the dance floor are planning
And the guys on the side are taking advantage
What happens in the club in always scandalous
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Listen - don't alarm yourself
'Cos this is what the black man is bringing to you
So you can move your hips and your body
I know it's hot but don't worry
BRIDGE:
Sing like that - move like that
Screaming for me while you dress like that
Tempting these men in the club like that
CHORUS
Keep The Joint Rockin'
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:
Female Vocal, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Bouncy, Club, Energetic, Flirtatious, Fun, Good Time, Hot, Party, Playfu, Playful, Promo, Retro, Sexy, Sports, Teen, Upbeat, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
104
Key:
C♯m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Keep The Joint Rockin'
KEEP THE JOINT ROCKIN'
CHORUS
Here it come y'all can you feel it? (repeat)
Were gonna keep the joint rockin (repeat)
Every night
Were gonna keep the joint rockin
Never gonna stop it
VERSE 1
With that high gloss sheen on everything that you seen
Put you on a million dollar yacht out at the sea
Partly its position partly its my mission
Pardon me miss id just like a little kiss
Pardon my past I aint really low class I just like your sass
And your savoir faire no that's not fair
Wanna see you down there on the dance floor
I wish I could see more let me take a detour
To my big ole fancy crib wanna see the way I live
Making hits for these kids making clubs real hot
With real sure shot know im pure hip hop
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Its time its time out your game on the line
If you feel like you look then you gonna feel fine
I was twisted hands on the business
Maybe you could tell me if you ever felt it like this
Heart was pumpin' jeep it jumpin' that's my function
Aint that something I been around the world
I aint playin girl if you like the way I say it
You could just display it get in the ride with me
We could go 150 im fast put my foot on the gas
Always last till we reach the peak homegirl
Im a freak I don't speak I scream
Throw you in the limousine
CHORUS
Breakdown
Throw your hands up top
This is just hip hop
You know we don't stop
Cause we cant ever stop
We came to party where do all the hotties be?
(repeat)
What Mo
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
81
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What Mo
What Mo'
Chorus
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
(Come on) Yeah take it take it
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
Shut ya mouth boy
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
(Come on) Yeah take it take it
What mo you got
What mo you got
What mo
1st Verse
I don't know what you on but boy it got you stupid
Got ya whole family grievin' for thinkin' you can do it
Manana clouded ya mind- it come in clear when u HIT
They should a told ya well before ya shot, but ya blew it!
Come for my loot you been in pre-school-boy-I'm college
I pull too quick
.44 and 9 rounds spit
Man I sleep with a loaded gun
I stay on one
Tried to pull the caper now ya hangin' from a rope DONE!
I pump..pump..
2 a day chump
Hood king kill a rat
Pen tats That's wass up
Ya M.O. way too old
I know you dude
I movin' major weight across the interstate and you
Want my rep but you a fool
I jacked your mules
Come in ya hood, spit, and lift ya money and ya jewels
I'm bona fide you moldin'
Hate to have to hit ya wife
I know you know we meet again
I'll have to end ya life
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
So you wanna come get papa cool it's been tried before
I'm the one you wanna even the score
Hit my row you know I'm bustin' 'fore you get in tha door
Wanna be a gangsta but you just can't handle the gore
In a six foot pit
You and all the busters you come with
I'm gonna bury after my chrome Desert Eagle split ya dome quick
The beef's stopped after the tooly pop
Now the word around the block
Is yall pull and clap
Would a been clear to you
If you
Thought through
You would lose
Thought you'd bring da blues
To a do or die killa crew
Chose to test me and I blew my fuse
Left you in a coma
Livin' on a prayer
You'll never pull through
The mean green is the main thing
That get you youngstas hankering
I'll spank dat ass
Notorious the pain I bring
Always holdin' heat
The ruler of the block
Never scared
And I'll take anything you got
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Don dada keep 'em dizzy
You wanna come and peel me
I'm a G you a sizzy
Hit the don, no one can, FEEL ME!
Son, I felt your plot ya eyes revealed ya envy
Top flight on ya comers hit list
Now yall all think ya can end me
Cause me and my folks hooked up
Wit lbs. of coke cooked up
But ya telegraphed the punch so we struck
My gats bucked long and lit ya up like a December night (space)
Braggin to all ya folks, on dope, thinkin' u'd see me die
But I'm
Lean, Mean
Love to bleed
Bad Seed
Different Breed
Top rank and undefeated
Boy you can't touch me
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)
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!
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
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
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
Holla Back
Artist(s): St. John
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:
Entertainment News Rock, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Bouncy, Club, Energetic, Flirtatious, Fun, Good Time, Hot, Party, Playful, Promo, Retro, Sexy, Sports, Teen, Upbeat, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
76
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Holla Back
HOLLA BACK
Chorus
Holla back come on baby where ya goin?
Holla back been missing you for so long
Holla back I want some more pain
Cause when you talk back to me makes me go insane
Holla back its much too quiet
Holla back I want to start a riot
Holla back don't you leave me cryin
I miss your love and I feel like dyin'
V1
Hop skip jump for a minute jump in the ride
with the boom booms in it I aint gonna be long
im sorry I was wrong stone rollin hand glowin
feet showin dusty roads but im on my own
lets keep it going drive to the left drive to the right
those gangstas right there look they wanna fight
gotta hit the crib and the outfits tight goin to the club
downtown tonight might be on you gonna be gone
eerrrtt stop slap Cadillac up on the curb 3 wheelin
peelin you aint wit me roll like fifty up in the club lets go
Chorus
V2
Whilin and profiling dub sack that need to get smoked tonight
I don't wanna get provoked that big ass thing is the antidote
Shake it roll it move it hold it slap it silly she from philly
What the dealy I got a girl where she at? Ima rock that world
Oh no fast slow people askin about ya girl put the lights down low
Pop that criss hands in the air now make a fist the whole club
Swayin from left to right girl them short shorts sure look tight
When we gonna go to the club together sittin at home tryin to be clever
The cris flowin booty showin where you goin girl? Come on
Chorus
V3
Like ice cube im down for whatever holla back girl don't care about the weather
Skip step jump for a second turn around shake like you got buck naked
Bomb another drink like we aint gonna make it
Stop roll drop sown damnit shake it like sex like there aint no limit
I miss you girl ill tell the whole planet
Aint nobody stacked in the back like that
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
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