Tracks Similar To Where Ya At
Better Way
Artist(s): Terrell Burt
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 50% / Terrell Burt (BMI) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1990s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Boom Bap, Brothers, Change, City, Conscious, East Coast, Empowering, Freedom, Hopeful, Improvement, Intellectual, Jazzy, Laid Back, New York, Optimistic, Political, Positive, Role Model, Slick, Smart, Smooth, Streets, Underground, Uplifting, Youth
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
BPM:
92
Key:
D
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Better Way
BETTER WAY
VERSE 1
Once in a time in my neighborhood
Yeah it wasn't the suburbs but we lived life good
There were drugs, guns, dudes dressed in blue and red
Pagers on their sides, high tops, a few had dreads
They beefed pretty often
So at a young age I saw my fair share of wooden coffins
Never claimed a color, I was cool with both crews
So I stepped to them I had nothing to lose
Said clean up the streets, make it safer
So the little ones lives aren't like vapor
Rising to the skies, obituaries in the paper
We can make a better way for these third graders
CHORUS
Is there a better way? Yeah you know it 6x
We can lead a generation
We just have to lay the foundation
("Better way, there's gotta be a better way" in the background)
VERSE 2
The straight and narrow may not seem so appealing
Gotta teach to reach for stars with no ceiling
Give back to communities, shouldn't take and pillage
To raise the little ones man it takes a whole village
It's all on us, we the ones they look up to
I see my little brother when I look at you
Not to mention future doctors and lawyers
You don't have to pollute the hood and loiter
Aimlessly at all times of the night
Parents working long hours so they out of sight
It's overrated if you just wanna run your block
This life only leads to jail or a pine box
CHORUS
Hi Step
Artist(s): B-Luv
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Brian Edward Watson (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1990s, Classical Crossover, Hip Hop, Hybrid, Instrumental, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Boom Bap, Chill, City, Conscious, East Coast, Empowering, Freedom, Hopeful, Improvement, Inner City, Intellectual, Jazzy, Laid Back, Lively, New York, Optimistic, Political, Positive, Slick, Smart, Smooth, Streets, Underground, Uplifting, Youth
Instruments:
Acoustic Bass, Drums, Flute, Strings, Synths
Track Styles:
Production
Year Recorded:
2018
BPM:
90
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Rock The Party
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1990s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Attitude, Clever, Cocky, Confident, Dance, East Coast, Flow, Fun, Ghetto Blaster, Graffiti, House Party, New York City, Old School, Party, Playful, Raucous, Retro, Rowdy, Streets, Style, Swagger, Throwback, Underground
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Pan Flute
BPM:
99
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Rock The Party
Elevated to the highest, fools they wanna try this
Recognize this, the hottest joints like arthritis
Call me midas, I got the golden mic, with flows that's tightest
I'm going after the booty like a pirate
On autopilot, crusin, my crew deep
Grinding til the sun shining, I lose sleep
Rhyming and designing, skills are unique
Straight from the street, not a boutique with a receipt
Learn the lesson, still remains the question
I'm unarmed and dangerous my mind is a weapon
Cock back and reload, drop jewels like shells
Know the ledge, leap of faith, fall from grace, but never fail
Success without the excess of glamour and glitz
It's like breakfast and you don't get ham with your grits
I want it all, right or wrong, cuz life is never too long
The steady arm is heavy so it's never too strong
CHORUS:
Get ready, go, get ready, go
We control the crowd with mic control
Eh yo, now you know, what we came to do
We came to rock, rock the party for you
Chillin' like a villain in the cut, like a cavity
Filling, the meaning of raw is ready and winning
Down for whatever's bout to pop off, get knocked off
The throne, pulling the mic out of a stone, the king has come home
A masterpiece like the dome in a chapel
On the right side of the gavel I'm still biting the apple
Cuz knowledge reigns supreme over snakes with a rattle
You wanna battle raging bulls but you're part of the cattle
Jumping on it like a saddle, riding a coat tail
Dime a dozen clones buying style at wholesale
I got styles upon styles, organically grown
So just hand me the throne, with a chrome microphone
XMAS
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Holiday
Subcategories:
1990s, Christmas, Hip Hop, Holiday, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Boom Box, Bouncy, Carefree, Celebration, Cheer, Christmas Tree, City, East Coast, Exciting, Family, Fun, Ghetto Blaster, Good Time, Happy Holidays, Hood, Old School, Party, Playful, Positive, Presents, Retro, Santa Claus, Sleigh, Snow, Snowmen, Spirit, Street, Swagger, Winter
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Music box, Sleigh Bells
BPM:
94
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
XMAS
Let's light, the tree up, illuminate, the whole block
let it shine, so Santa knows where to stop
got stuffing and the gravy, coming off the stovetop
carolers singing while the jingle bells rock
deck the halls, deck the halls, wreath on the door
I can drink as much eggnog as you can pour
with cinnamon, putting ribbons on a box
plus I got the fireplace lined up with socks
spark it up, frankincense and myrrh
jack frost nipping so I'm rocking toques and furs
I make snow angels in a bboy stance
I don't need a toboggan just the seat of my pants
watch me rock it, y'all, watch me rock it
hold the mistletoe for a kiss, don't drop it
I hope Santa knows and he's impressed
I ain't been a good boy, I been the best
CHORUS:
X, M, A, S
what makes winter so fresh
X, M, A, S
digging into presents making a mess
X, M, A, S
sugarplums and the turkey sweats
X, M, A, S
now that's what makes winter so fresh
here we go, here we go, let it snow, let it snow
candy cane on the brain let the champagne flow,
looking outside it's like shaking up a snowglobe
stuff my stockings with goodies please no coal
throw confetti up, it's a party with poinsettia
turkey got me lying down, belly up
little drummer boy drummin the funky drum
pa rum pum pum pum, popcorn string strummed
chestnuts roasting, sugarplums dancing,
gingerbread house crashed for the icing
hanging ornaments, tinsel and trimmings
it's kinda chilly, even Frosty got mittens
watch me rock it, y'all, watch me rock it
hold the mistletoe for a kiss, don't drop it
I hope Santa knows and he's impressed
I ain't been a good boy, I been the best
Hold It Down
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1990s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Angry, City, Crime, Dangerous, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, East Coast, Gang, Ghetto, Gritty, Jail, Mean, New York City, Prison, Raw, Rough, Rowdy, Rucker Park, Ruckus, Scary, Street, Tough, Underground, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums
BPM:
100
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Hold It Down
Now set it off, one, two, the crew gets wild
Crack a a 40's not a smile, yah that's my style
Recognize the real, watch out for spot rushers
You know the deal, we pack steel for the busters
Ain't afraid to bust, snakes get touched
Jokers get yoked up in the cobra clutch
I get props on the boulevard and ave
Don't mind whoever front hard they scabs
On the real, the streets got my back, no doubt
Shutting down wack crews tryna take me out
Gotta maintain the devil's always watching
Try to catch me sleeping have me laying in a coffin
I got shells that'll rock your bells
A cut creator if it don't catch you in the lapel
Hold it down for the team nahmean,
Even if we do dirt, yo we coming off clean
CHORUS:
Hold it down for the team
Even if we do dirt, we get away clean
Hold it down for the team
Even if we do dirt, we get away clean
Hold the crown, that's how it's going down
Thorough in the borough getting props and pounds
Respect that, keeping wack crews in check
Keep the tech clean so the techiques correct
Stay strapped up, that's wassup
You never know who gonna roll up try to get the whole crew capped up
Suckas wanna violate, the master plan
So we snap back like a rubber band
Fam first, brothers on the block holding glocks
When worse comes to worse, let off the first shot
Let'em know it's the team, and we out for the cream
Even if we do dirt, yo we coming off clean
The Realest
Artist(s): CaiNo
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Marcus Cohen (ASCAP) 100%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Midwest Rap, Rap, Underground Rap
Keywords:
Attitude, Bouncy, Bragging, Bravado, City, Cocky, Confident, Drinking, Druggy, Edgy, Explicit Lyrics, Flossing, Gangsta, Gangster, Gritty, Hood, Intoxicated, Laid Back, Minimalist, Money, Party, Partying, Raw, Street Smart, Streets, Swagger, Thug
Instruments:
Drums, Percussion, Synth Bass
Year Recorded:
2018
BPM:
80
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
The Realest
THE REALEST (CLEAN)
CHORUS
He the realest
The illest no disputing
He the realest
Got genius runnin thru his double helix
Always give 100 so you feel this
Cuz he the realest
VERSE 1
He the realest
And by he I mean me
I make music that comes through your TV or MP3
My CD is so sick that they call the CDC
Now they quarantined me in my homie SUV
I'm a f***** SOB
P L O T constantly
My melody rock to sleep
Intelligent as I b (be)
I C (see), supplying the ID
IE, for example I'd F your GF put it UP on IG
Been kickin since 83 I'm a OG
All these newbies stealin flows kinda owe me
They on so much codeine, the probably gonna OD
While I sit alone sippin a 4 0 of OE
I kill the lights O F F
Gonna hold the M I C till there's no one left
F L O S S
The best, no BS
Best G O H O M E and spell check
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I'm the realest, the B O S S
I call all O F the S H O T S
Take a trip down to OBX
Then hit the H20 hopin she be DTF
EZ, if she not, she could be my BFF
Drink some E&J and see what it leads to next
She said LOL, I said SMH
Took a jet to MIA for the 2nd date
Never been a second late
Ballin like the NBA
I make all my CPA's sign a NDA so they never say
Got you under watch like I'm the NSA
And esse, better watch your B A C K 'for I spray like MGK
Everybody in the G A M E selling out
Guess that's why I had to F U C K I N spell it out
CHORUS
BRIDGE
I'm the R E A L, yeah the realest
I'm the R E A L, yeah the realest
I'm the R E A L, yeah the realest
I'm the R E A L, who the realest
Put your hands up real high, if you the realest
Put your hands up real high, if you the realest
Put your hands up real high, if you the realest
Put your hands up, Put your hands up
CHORUS
---------------------------------------------
THE REALEST (EXPLICIT)
CHORUS
He the realest
The illest no disputing
He the realest
Got genius runnin thru his double helix
Always give 100 so you feel this
Cuz he the realest
VERSE 1
He the realest
And by he I mean me
I make music that comes through your TV or MP3
My CD is so sick that they call the CDC
Now they quarantined me in my homie SUV
I'm a fuckin SOB
P L O T constantly
My melody rock to sleep
Intelligent as I b (be)
I C (see), supplying the ID
IE, for example I'd F your GF put it UP on IG
Been kickin since 83 I'm a OG
All these newbies stealin flows kinda owe me
They on so much codine, the probably gonna OD
While I sit alone sippin a 4 0 of OE
I kill the lights O F F
Gonna hold the M I C till there's no one left
F L O S S
The best, no BS
Best G O H O M E and spell check
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I'm the realest, the B O S S
I call all O F the S H O T S
Take a trip down to OBX
Then hit the H20 hopin she be DTF
EZ, if she not, she could be my BFF
Drink some E&J and see what it leads to next
She said LOL, I said SMH
Took a jet to MIA for the 2nd date
Never been a second late
Ballin like the NBA
I make all my CPA's sign a NDA so they never say
Got you under watch like I'm the NSA
And esse, better watch your B A C K 'for I spray like MGK
Everybody in the G A M E selling out
Guess that's why I had to F U C K I N spell it out
CHORUS
BRIDGE
I'm the R E A L, yeah the realest
I'm the R E A L, yeah the realest
I'm the R E A L, yeah the realest
I'm the R E A L, who the realest
Put your hands up real high, if you the realest
Put your hands up real high, if you the realest
Put your hands up real high, if you the realest
Put your hands up, Put your hands up
CHORUS
Soul Of The Streets
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Back Alley, Back Story, Background, City, Conscious, Cop Show, East Coast, Hard Times, Mellow, Moody, New York City, Rough, Soaring, Soulful, Sports, Story, Streets, Struggle, Throwback, Tough, Warm
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Strings, Synths
BPM:
85
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Soul Of The Streets
At the top of the city, the crew lounging with me
the crabs couldn't get me I'm rubbin' something on pretty
running through the gritty streets, ducking the beast I had enough
violators trying to get me snuffed
watch out for 2 faced dice rollers, throwing
snake eyes to the ways of the streets I stay wise
my crew be the eyes in the back of my head
throwing hot lead to any perpetrator wanting me dead
trying to build, but the snakes try to destroy
that's why blood spills, when you try to avoid
tight situations, I got tight connections
we either busting for freedom, or protection
CHORUS:
I got the soul of the streets in my bones
no moss on a rolling stone
sitting back in the danger zone
I call the street corner my home
I got the soul of the streets in my bones
no moss on a rolling stone
sitting back in the danger zone
I call the street corner my home
no time for second guessing, stress and strife
cut like a knife, it's all about the dollar, name your price
broken down, pick up the pieces, cease and desist
with brain cells in a cell how can we resist
that struggle, keep dreams from popping like a bubble
try to stay clean running through the puddles
we only looking for a piece of that cream
so we can chill watching flicks on a flat screen
don't need to hide the nine behind the couches, it surrounds us
product of public housing, don't associate with cowards
rolling with kings, checkmate any aggression
we either busting for freedom, or protection
Come With Me
Artist(s): Geoff Pinckney
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Geoff Pinckney (PRS) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Pop
Subcategories:
1990s, Electronic, Indie Rock, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, Pop Rock
Keywords:
Cars, Celebration, Change, Chill, City, Cruising, Driving, Energetic, Forward Motion, Freedom, Fun, Get Away, Good Times, Inspirational, New Start, Open Space, Overcome, Party, Positive, Smooth, Speed, Triumph, Unity, Uplifting
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
105
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Come With Me
Verse
Thank you for the memory
Your unnatural abilities
A credit to society
An image of prosperity
Waiting for the time to come
When all the little things I've done
No longer mean I have to run
And shield my eyes from everyone
Verse
Thank you for the remedy
A welcome opportunity
A chance to show what I could be
And only we could ever dream
Waiting for the time to come
When all the little things I've done
Come together one by one
And win the hearts of everyone
Just think about it
Chorus
Just close your eyes
Just close your eyes
There's no more time to compromise
So, satisfy your hearts desire
Yeah, come with me tonight
Verse
Thank you for the memory
Your unnatural abilities are a credit to society
An image of what I could be
Waiting for the time to come
When all the little things I've done
No longer mean I have to run
Break
Take what you want, do what you like
Say what you feel, don't head for a landslide
Chorus
Just close your eyes
Just close your eyes
There's no more time to compromise
So, satisfy your hearts desire
And come with me tonight
Oooooo, Woah.....
What You Lookin' At
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What You Lookin' At
What u Lookin at?
Chorus
What you lookin' at - boy you better watch yourself - leave with your health
What you lookin' at - you ain't never seen a G. before, now that's for sure
Yeah what you lookin' at - time's up, better turn and run - feel my gun
Yeah what you lookin' at - what you lookin' at
1st Verse
What you lookin' at fool
I'm hot tempered and I'm cruel
Have you duckin' mini missles as they spittin' out my tool
I'm not the one you wanna mess wit'
You can get lit
I'm the one they come to
When they want gangstas hit
A cold-hearted savage
Doing much damage
If you ever try to cross
I'll fry you up like cabbage
Boy I'm way too sick
Roll wit' a grimy clique
I decide I'm coming for you
I won't quit...
..Until
You hide or peel
Or you eat some steel
You playin' but I'm an old school G for real
Roll wit' a.44
Soon as I hit tha do'
They all get ta scatterin'
They already know
That I'm a killa man and I don't play
If you like ya livin' homey
Stay out my way
Savor revenge and I ain't got no love
Got a collection on my wall of G's mauled and stuffed
I carry major stacks
Won't hesitate to clap
Blow out ya back, Dog
Who you lookin' at?
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Dog, you must be crazy
Thinkin' you gon' play me
Cause I'm kinda chubby and my eyes a little lazy
I've dealt with cats like you before
Twist ya wig back and jack ya 'Lac
Outside the corner store
In broad daylight
Somehow no witness though
You shoulda listened to 'em
Boy they told you so
I should wear a black cape
Look at all this yellow tape
I got tha munchies off these herbs and you look like yellow cake
I told you boy don't mess wit' me
Specialize in kidnappin', grand larceny
Cross me then ya done
I always carry my gun
You hate the street life
Man I do it for fun
You see me boy it's best you duck
I'm the one to bring tha blues
Homey that's wassup!
A 10 megaton bomb waiting to erupt
A cold-hearted demon
I don't give a (What!!!)
Like to wear black
Love to blast and scrap
I'll put you on ya back
Can you handle that?
Repeat Chorus
What you lookin' at
My nickel-plated nine?
Boy you don't want that
You gonna mess around and get ya scull cracked
E'ry time you in my zone
I'm smellin' kit-kat
Playa get back
I'm movin' major keys
This ain't no rivalry
You mean nothing to me dog
You'll be a casualty
Of a misguided ego and a thirst for fame
There was 19 before you and yaw all was lameAll you heard was a crack
Then all you saw was black
You shoulda thought of who you was mean muggin' at
You never met a G as raw as me
Take bums like you out constantly
Repeat Chorus
This Is My Block
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1970s, Entertainment News, Funk, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Soul
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Funky, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Porn, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sex Flick, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
95
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
This Is My Block
THIS IS MY BLOCK
Chorus
This is my block – this is my block
The rock ain't gon' stop
This place is hot y'all – Ho ------
Verse 1
Posted up chokin'
On some Indo green
Stacked up in the back
Too many Stacks
I'm mean
These streets is the King's streets
It seems
Everyone or two years I have to make 'em lean
Hit 'em with tha machines
If you run the block
Heavy Handed Means!
Greasy
Enough cake to make your wake come quicker than a sun beam
Run up on you with the Fo' leave ya leaking
Pulling capers and I'm squeezing
It's Pleasing!
Yeah you nippy but I'm FREEZING
Fully automatic cracks
Now yo' whole family's weeping
Stop ya madness young dudes
I'm a veteran killa
Servin' 22 blocks
On every corner I'm the major dealer
Only 19 when I wrapped a Milla
You taking over the flow? Stop it will ya!
Ya pocket's thin? Boy I feel ya
But is it worth eating steel bullet dinners?
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
We get it poppin'
What you talkin' bout dude?
You up in da club..
Chump, I own the club
You see how all they' eyes is glued
On my section roped off it's a thug reunion
We tucked with our tools.. Send
Them Bunnies over it's time for pattin' pannies
More throats in action in the back than the Grammys
Everybody on the floor throwin' 'bows and two-steppin'
I'm not a DJ but I make lean back when I'm pepperin'
No stressing
Mo weapons
Than the American
Airforce and you the Taliban
I'm the worst
I'm the HEAT man
I keep grams
Kilo'd up
Grands in rubber bands
Understand Fam?
Cold-hearted G and I don't give a damn
Yeah they saw what happened
But they won't take the stand
Everybody give respect
Cousin, I'm the man!
Taxin', Clappin', It's crackin'
That's why I'm rappin'
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
Watch yo' back!
No matter what you do
Dog I'm watching you
You betta' watch yo' back!
I got eyes on every corner, plenty guns to shoot
Homey don't get smacked!
I'll treat you like my hoes if you disrespect
Make me grab the Tech
Or maybe grab ya neck!
Homey watch yo' back
You'll pay a heavy debt
Watch yo' back!
No matter what you do
Dog I'm watching you
You betta' watch yo' back!
I got eyes on every corner, plenty guns to shoot
Homey don't get smacked!
I'll treat you like my hoes if you disrespect
Make me grab the Tech
Or maybe grab ya neck!
Them slugs is hot
Homey, This is My Block!!
I Need That
Artist(s): HighRise
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Alexander William Larkman (BMI) 25% / Brian C Frank (BMI) 25% / Jonathan Lee Ferguson (BMI) 25% / Jonathan Meir Holder (PRS) 25%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Urban Pop
Keywords:
Attitude, Ballers, Boss, Bouncy, Braggadocious, Cash, City, Club, Cocky, Confident, Explicit Lyrics, Flossing, Game, Hustle, Money, Party, Pumped Up, Streets, Swagger, Tough, Triumphant, Upbeat, VIP
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
Year Recorded:
2019
BPM:
95
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
I Need That
I NEED THAT (CLEAN)
CHORUS 1 (2X)
Eight figures, Seven b****es
G6, Five whips
Four grammies, Free s***
Too many reason I need the one hit
VERSE 1
Stackin' rolos on my neck I need that chain gang
Rosay blacked the b****es out, no they can't hang
Black coupe with the rims riding round dirty
Then I'mma pull up with the tech click
Bang bang
CHORUS 2
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma keep on riding I won't ever normalize, no
I'mma catch a case a day I'm tryna catch a vibe
Cuz I got the squad around and all we are is do or die oh
VERSE 2
I'mma level up, go from ghost into phantom
With a look she let me slide into them panties
Said she could bring a friend, I already had em
But we can go around again and ride me like a tandem
A Rollie, I'mma need that
Designer, I'mma need that
A Patek for my momma
Not a penny for my daddy
Gucci suit, yeah imma need that
Hootchies, I ID that
Ain't no budget for a feature?
Tch nope, I need three rack
CHORUS 3
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma catch a body, if a body wanna fight yeah
I'mma catch a case a day, I'm tryna catch a vibe
And if lil mama wanna ride then I need her supersize yeah
CHORUS1 (2X)
VERSE 3
That my squad, DSM
Still gone rock, in the west
In a Kia, or a Benz
Got my back, SPF
I ain't ever be be like
"Where y'all at"
I ain't ever gotta be like
"Hit me back"
I ain't gotta ask twice to
Get to my cash
And I aint gotta ask twice
To throw out her back
I need a baby mama minus
The baby I need it fast
I need Katrina or Tina, or Mia,
She on the gas
CHORUS 4
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma keep on riding I won't ever normalize, no
I'mma catch a case a day I'm tryna catch a vibe
Cuz I got the squad around and all we are is do or die oh
VERSE 4
I'mma level up, turn hater to a fanboy
You decide, love or hate me from the stands boy
I'mma, get to Platinum status, do it with no hands
Follow in my footsteps punk b****, I bet you can't
A Rollie, I'mma need that
Designer, I'mma need that
A Patek for my momma
Not a penny for my daddy
Gucci suit, yeah I'mma need that
Hootchie, I ID that
Ain't no budget for a feature?
Tch nope, I need three rack
CHORUS 5
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma catch a body, if a body wanna fight yeah
I'mma catch a case a day, I'm tryna catch a vibe
And if lil mama wanna ride then I need her supersize yeah
CHORUS 1 (2X)
----------------------------------------
I NEED THAT (EXPLICIT)
CHORUS 1 (2X)
Eight figures, Seven bitches
G6, Five whips
Four grammies, Free shit
Too many reason I need the one hit
VERSE 1
Stackin' rolos on my neck I need that chain gang
Rosay blacked the bitches out, no they can't hang
Black coupe with the rims riding round dirty
Then I'mma pull up with the tech click
Bang bang
CHORUS 2
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma keep on riding I won't ever normalize, no
I'mma catch a case a day I'm tryna catch a vibe
Cuz I got the squad around and all we are is do or die oh
VERSE 2
I'mma level up, go from ghost into phantom
With a look she let me slide into them panties
Said she could bring a friend, I already had em
But we can go around again and ride me like a tandem
A Rollie, I'mma need that
Designer, I'mma need that
A Patek for my momma
Not a penny for my daddy
Gucci suit, yeah imma need that
Hootchies, I ID that
Ain't no budget for a feature?
Tch nope, I need three rack
CHORUS 3
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma catch a body, if a body wanna fight yeah
I'mma catch a case a day, I'm tryna catch a vibe
And if lil mama wanna ride then I need her supersize yeah
CHORUS 1 (2X)
VERSE 3
That my squad, DSM
Still gone rock, in the west
In a Kia, or a Benz
Got my back, SPF
I ain't ever be be like
"Where y'all at"
I ain't ever gotta be like
"Hit me back"
I ain't gotta ask twice to
Get to my cash
And I aint gotta ask twice
To throw out her back
I need a baby mama minus
The baby I need it fast
I need Katrina or Tina, or Mia,
She on the gas
CHORUS 4
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma keep on riding I won't ever normalize, no
I'mma catch a case a day I'm tryna catch a vibe
Cuz I got the squad around and all we are is do or die oh
VERSE 4
I'mma level up, turn hater to a fanboy
You decide, love or hate me from the stands boy
I'mma, get to Platinum status, do it with no hands
Follow in my footsteps punk bitch, I bet you can't
A Rollie, I'mma need that
Designer, I'mma need that
A Patek for my momma
Not a penny for my daddy
Gucci suit, yeah I'mma need that
Hootchie, I ID that
Ain't no budget for a feature?
Tch nope, I need three rack
CHORUS 5
I'mma stay alive until my doors are suicide yeah
I'mma catch a body, if a body wanna fight yeah
I'mma catch a case a day, I'm tryna catch a vibe
And if lil mama wanna ride then I need her supersize yeah
CHORUS 1 (2X)
Crooked Ways
Artist(s): Courtney Seven
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Courtney Seven (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Old School, Reality TV, Trip Hop
Keywords:
Ambient, Atmospheric, Beats, Chill, City, Cool, Dark, Drugs, Haze, Hazy, Hood, Laid Back, Lo Fi, Lo-Fi, Menacing, Moody, New York, Old School, Raw, Reflective, Smoking, Street, Tough, Trippy, Vibe, Weed
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Organ, Synths
Track Styles:
Production
BPM:
98
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Let Go
Artist(s): CaiNo
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Marcus Cohen (ASCAP) 50% / Scott Horton (BMI) 50%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Entertainment News, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, Rap
Keywords:
Bright, Carefree, Carpe Diem, Club, College, Dance, Drinking, Flirty, Frat, Freedom, Fun, Girls, Good Time, Hanging Out, Happy, High School, House Party, Joy, Laid Back, Late Night, Loose, Moment, Party, Playful, Positive, Sexy, Spring Break, Summer, Young, Youth, Youthful
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Hand Claps, Piano, Scratches, Synth
Track Styles:
Production
BPM:
105
Key:
B♭
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Let Go
Let go
Let your hair down baby let's roll
Bring all the friends that you can fit up in the Rolls
And we can do this all day, we can do this all night
If you thinkin that you diggin let me know
Let your mind relax and unwind
I been flirtin wit ya girl for sometime
And if we just let the song play
It cannot be the wrong way
Follow me so we can let go
Tell if your down to make a change in your life
I got the perfect remedy for all of your strife
You been workin so hard but your life is hardly workin
And the lines are getting blurred and that's all that you know for certain
But with just a little dose of the perfect blend of a drink
And the music that we're grooving to got you startin to think
That maybe you could put away your fears for the moment
And just hold my hand while we dance
Let's just float away
CHORUS
I see you like the words that I'm sayin
The DJ keeps spinnin it back let it replay
Dude I do this with my crew like every single day
So the party's never over till the music goes away
We got the drinks flowin, bottles on deck
Getting horny the way shorty is kissin up on my neck
Told her that we're leavin shortly but surely she's gotta pour me
Another glass of the vodka got my vision obscuring
With me it's never boring baby party all the time
From the night until the morning baby I'ma make you mine
To the sky is where we're soaring baby ain't no wait in line
Let go of all of your inhibitions leave it all behind
As we approach the intermission baby let me ease the tension
Anything you want you can have it
Oh did I mention I'm the best
The way I'm flowin got all of my money growin
So let's take another shot and embrace the moment
CHORUS
Here We Are
Artist(s): Vega Heartbreak
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Orlando L. Rowe (ASCAP) 100%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap, Reality TV Moods & Emotions
Keywords:
Ambition, Aspiration, Changes, City, Confidence, Dreams, Explicit Lyrics, Fame, Los Angeles, Motivation, New Life, New York, Rising, Risk, Striving, Taking A Chance, Uplifting, Victory
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
Track Styles:
Production
BPM:
75
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Here We Are
CHORUS:
In search of stars a thousand miles away from home with no direction
But we don't care because we know which way to go
They all pretend to be what we've become
Until they see their reflections
But here we are
Here we are (5x)
Lights on, mic's on
Big stage right song
Dreaming bout the places where their flights long
With some bad bitches sight seeing
I'm just in my ride on the road to riches
They say you're more successful when you're more persistent
Let go of a couple bitches now I'm more efficient
No admission you hate when you get no attention from me
California dreaming shit I'm dreaming worldwide
Before the world die I wanna see the world skies
Before I spend a dime I wanna see that girl ride
Because my niggas been here since the beginning
Right by my side
I'm alive
I've tried to but I can't stop
I can't fall like rain drops
I must win I can't lose
That's gods plan so you can't block
If you feelin' this than go loco
Blackout four locos
No more disappointments
No romos
We compin' shit no robos
CHORUS
I'm just thinkin' to myself when did this begin
In this life changing meeting that I'm sitting in
It started when I start transitioning
You're great when you learn how to stand out instead of fitting in
Are you listening Ima say it again
You're great when you learn how to stand out instead of fitting in
Here we go with this again
Models wanna kiss again
No timeouts but we travelin
Like Webber but no Michigan
All the girls down like
Vega you just sound right
I just left my city cause I just wanted to get my town right
Yeah we are the gateway but don't s*** happen until you break away
Gotta hit the big cities like NY or LA to get a pay day
But Ima change that for the future
Bring it back to these roots cause
These kids need some role models
Waitress I need some cold bottles
If you feelin' this than go loco
Blackout four locos
No more disappointments
No romos
We compin' shit no robos
Here we are
Let'em Run
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Alternative, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Action, Assertive, Big, Brash, Car Chase, Challenge, City, Conflict, Confrontational, Distorted, Driving, Edgy, Energy, Heavy, Impending, Intense, Intimidating, Ominous, Promo, Pulsating, Raspy, Raw, Scary, Streets, Tension
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synths
BPM:
105
Key:
E♭
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Let'em Run
Let's start this
As I pull something shiny from the darkness
Cold blood that flow through the heartless
I promise ya'll don't want this
Got a devil on my shoulder, accomplice
Codefendant, caught between the hardest
Place and a rock, 'til I get all of it
What's yours is mine, can't stop it
Who runnin', chopper bout to dump on 'em
The only money I get, got blood on 'em
Who the suspect, they get dusted
No strings attached can't trust it
Chorus
Let'em run
Let'em run
They trying to chase the sun
When the demons catch'em they done
Let'em run
Let'em run
Live and die by the gun
I'll be waiting, they can get some
Smooth criminal, invisible
Y'all flash in the pans, look pitiful
Low key, brim low, but the smoke is high
These crabs in the bucket want me crucified
I'm only crucified with my gold on
Try to sweat me brother, better roll on
Try to shake me down, that's the wrong move
Turn that around, now you're dog food
Gang related, not blood though
No red, no blue just the hustle
Better hit the deck or get shuffled
I'm the mastermind and the muscle
Good Times
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:
Entertainment News, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Pop, Rap
Keywords:
Bar, Barrio, Celebration, Celebratory, City, Commercial, Dance, Energetic, Fun, Ghetto, Hopeful, Joyful, Joyous, Night Club, Party, Positive, Promo, Radio, Swagga, Swagger, Upbeat, Uplifting
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Horns, Piano, Scratches, Strings
BPM:
95
Key:
Fm
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Good Times
GOOD TIMES
CHORUS
These are the good times
Forever in the hood times
We gonna make it we can make it
These are the ggod times
Love is the best crime
We gonna make it
Verse 1
5 bucks get a forty and a dutch
not thinking about much see my shorty get a touch
sweet as can be and a big you know what
keep my head up I never stop swingin
never stop hopin always keep copin
keep my body movin and my mind in motion
slick in production big truck system
mama always said son stick with the wisdom
I came to get them stick them fit them
I aint a victim and you never see me slippin
Never see me dippin even in middle of friction
Got them all wishin they was in my position
Smooth with the diction pay to listen
I get paid every single day
Gotta be good in the hood baby
Keep it comin baby one more time
We gotta hit them now with one more rhyme
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I gotta say make me feel that way
Like sippin champagne on the fifth of may
Like a pocket full of benjamins I maintain
Make it fall like rain act mad insane
Runnin through the streets yellin my own name
Love the way you move love the way you do
Anything can happen when you walk like that
King im relaxed to the infinite
Rock mic's that's my instrument
With two turntables make this thing get bent
Wicked with the flow act you don't know
Rockin it real fats then I make it slow
Flip the hood we can all get down
All come together white black or brown
In the hood whats good it's the natural sound
Check me out when ya on the block
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
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
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!
Rock The Block
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:
1980s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Boastful, Boom Box, Bouncy, City, College, Drinking, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Flirtatious, Fun, Gang, Girls, Good Time, Groove, Hot, Night Club, Old School, Party, Playful, Positive, Radio, Retro, Sexy, Street, Strip Club, Swagger, Upbeat
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synthesizer
BPM:
95
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Rock The Block
ROCK THE BLOCK
CHORUS
Rock the block - get the party on
Rock the block - 'til we get it done
Rock the block - girl shake that hump
Feel that thing goin' bump bump bump
Rock the block - get the party on
Rock the block - 'til we get it done
Rock the block - girl shake that hump
Feel that thing goin' bump bump bump
verse 1
bass starts shakin that 808
all the people in the place
with a smile on they face
got speakers and tweeters makin you vibrate
can you feel it in ya feet all the way to ya face
I just love rockin partys lookin out at the hotties
In the black spandex or them ripped up jeans
Im the ruler of the mic king of the scene
I can make the whole block rock like a fiend
I can make it so nice seem like a dream
CHORUS
Verse 2
Pour my drink on ice and ill make you scream
Fellas in the place just grab that lady
It don't really matter if you rollin Mercedes
Rock that body make the girlies go crazy
Don't stand on the wall lookin stupid and lazy
Take a chance do the dance as im rockin the block
Aint no other like me rockin this hip hop
Im the best MC in the place to be
CHORUS
Verse 3
Certified by makin this party swing
Im the best in the west best in the east
I can make the old ladies get up from their seats
Make the leaves start shakin up in the trees
Ladies be lovin make em weak in the knees
Paris Tokyo London belize
I rock around the world like you wouldn't believe
It's Gettin' Nasty
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Guitar, Horns, Piano, Slide Guitar, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
97
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
Chorus
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty in Here
We Gettin' Nasty
We Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty in Here
1st Verse
A brotha finally made to the weekend
I need a few freaks
It's been two weeks
Poured me a glass of Hen
And now we rollin', chokin' on dat Bluegrass
Puff and Pass boy!!!
Don't play with me
Dey been workin' me
Time to let my hair down
Now I'm pagin Chief
I know it's goin' down
"Where da broadies be?"
" I heard it's goin' down at Suga T's majorly!"
Please, be the right one baby!
All a playa need is one right laday
And a sack of dat Supa Kill
Lick a couple suckas, and peel, hit the motel
"Fool, get out the way!"
Now my boss is pagin' 911
"Not today"
Tonight I'm flying free
I'm on a Nasty Mission, Nasty Girls, Nasty No Inhibitions
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Ooh I'm likin' this
Caught that herbal mist outside the backdoor
It's lookin' dangerous
Gave the codeword
She looked at my man and let us in
Homey's to the left dice jigglin'
Hold up dog, let me break these brothas
I'm causin' problems wit dey baby's mothers
I don't know what could be goin' on inside dey heads
Instead of buyin' diapers, "Dummies, give me dat bread!!"
Looked to the right, spotted baby in red
She licked her lips, rubbed her hips, and led
Me down a flight of stairs to a private room
She whispered in my ear "My name is Doo Yu Soon"
Are you serious
Her rump was so trunk, I was curious
I don't know where we was 'bout to go
But if she wanna get nasty, man I'm ready fo'sho'
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
So I'm on the couch and she's straddlin' me
A pretty pink thong on, I grabbed dem cheeks
Then she started doin' dat dirty dancin'
Flirtin' and jerkin',unzipped my pants man!
Ol' Girl, you doin' it
Anything I got, baby you could get
She put it in her hand and started massagin'
My stick was wider than a three-car-garage, then
She grabbed my hand
Gently put my fingers in her promised land
It was gushing, soon I was pushing
I had to pound her tooshing
And I soaked her bushing
Repeat Chorus
Hot In The Club
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Hot In The Club
HOT IN THE CLUB
CHORUS
Hot in the club yeah
Up in the club little drugs little love
Make it shine from above drink a little henny
Move that fanny outstanding
Im inside while you still in line
VERSE 1
Im holding hands with this divine thing
I think she make my mind sing
Yo we in a see through bathroom
Quick lock the door
Never seen a body like that before
Make me want to run home write metaphors
See we been doin it in the club since 94
This is a hip hop stick up sick put ya hands up
Wave em in the air like ya just got out of lock up
We walk up with 50 bouncers look shifty
Get ya hands out ya pocket quick kid
I saw ya hide those little diamonds
When you see my eyes shinin
Straight from Long Island better not look at the god
Now smiling okay okay
CHORUS
Hot in the club a little drugs little love
Make it shine from above
Drink a little henny move that fanny outstanding
Im inside while you still in line
VERSE 2
Ok ok I didn't bring no AK
Time to pop a hundred dollar sparkles
Yo pour in the chambord
I drove the LamborGhini here
But I think im leavin with that little teeny here
She whisperin good things in my ear
Oh my god say it out loud it sounds scandalous
Throw me off balance like bad drugs
We aint mad thugs we just come here to party
I like to sip cognac I don't drink Bacardi
Speakin of which lets switch seats I got to roll up a philly
Let the club feel the heat spread ya legs out
Move that ass move ya feet
CHORUS
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
Drop From Below
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Blake Colie (ASCAP) 25% / Henry Benjamin (ASCAP) 25% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 25% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 25%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 25% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 75%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, Chill, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
105
Key:
G♯m/A♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Drop From Below
DROP FROM BELOW
Verse 1
Yeah lets make that sound
Yes yes don't test don't test im alive 45s drop spin and the its hip hop
Yes yes don't stress don't stress keep it movin yall got no time to stop
Yes yes so fresh so fresh like a fine girls breath
Like that feelin in your chest yes yes don't test don't test
I'll be waitin in the bushes with the bullet proof vest (sike)
I don't shoot don't loot don't perpetrate
Keep it straight gully on the low like Watergate
Yes yes mess mess in the head
Never would I tell you id be better off dead
Im alive 45 drops spin and then its hip hop
Yes yes spit verse a make ya knees knock
No stress puff trees when the wind blows
No trees if you don't got ends though
Keep my head straight got no time to debate
North south east west rep state to state
Interconnected methods through the nebulous and
Clouds I drift check check check
Chorus
Drop from below freak walk city streets
Drop from below freak walk city streets
Verse 2
Yes yes bless bless we the best if I don't tell anyone
I wonder who will guess nonetheless fa me test
When we light up the jets I am what I am alchemical
Do what I do identical to my soul plentiful
Beats eats when fed new sun redemption
Seems that the air that I breathe filled with vitamins
Invite 'em in im tight im at the peak of my precipice
Twist white black backwoods in the back of whatever hood
Its all good welcome to my neighborhood
Drop state shift minus images diminishes swift perception
No question
Yeah lets make that sound yeah yeah lets MAKE THAT SOUND
CHORUS
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!
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