Tracks Similar To What I Been Through
Trials And Torments
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, G Funk, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Adversity, Aggressive, City, Club, Compton, Conscious, Dark, Gang, Ghetto, Gritty, Hard Times, History, Inner Conflict, Late Night, Liquor, Moving Forward, Oppression, Past, Reflective, Rising, Rough, Storyteller, Street, Struggle, Tough, Trial, West Coast
Instruments:
Analog Synth, Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Electric Piano
BPM:
90
Key:
F
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Trials And Torments
A liasion was apart of my biography
No persuasion fortunate not to begin from pervasion
Calculation high in this aristocracy
Clownish emcees got me feeling like a comedy
Repeated knee slapping 'til I can't take it
All the melanin in my skin I'm feeling like I can't make it
I got dreams and I'm feenin' for more
Until I get followed by the clerk around the liquor store
Afraid to cop a scratch off
Cause that could be my last straw
Waiting to put a bullet through my black jaw
I'd rather grab a book than a four fifth
The antagonists and conflicts never once absent
Interceptions that I feel are habitual
Join the dearly departed or will I touch residuals?
Neighborhood's popping, my mental is toxic
All the assurance remains chronologic
Trials and torments
The OG's kept me straight to avoid the precint
Trials and torments
The nickel and dimin' never made sense
Trials and torments
Breaking my back just to make rent
Trials and torments
What more can I give?
Trials and torments
I'm just trying to live
Great measures that cannot be exactly spelled
Pressure to the mythical odds worthless to prevail
Gravity of essence for a young black male
Witnessing smiles, foreseeing catastrophic trails
Changing to a statistic from a hollow stray
Six feet presentable since they fear my DNA
But I will rise higher in my baggy attire
Skydive through the fire til they hail me as sire
Extreme devotion is a part of the blame
Persevering sworn enemies that is a part of my frame
Ready and willing with a lot of energy
Defying to turn the tide of all the latter centuries
Trials and torments
Trials and torments
Trials and torments
What more can I give?
Trials and torments
I'm just trying to live
Recognize the Real
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1980s, 1990s, G Funk, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Adversity, Aggressive, Bangin', City, Compton, Gang, Ghetto, Gritty, Hard Times, OG, Oppression, Past, Rough, Story, Storyteller, Street, Struggle, Tough, Trial, West Coast
Instruments:
Bass, Clavinet, Drums, Electric Guitar
BPM:
91
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Recognize the Real
Recognize the Real
VERSE 1
I'm like, straight up and down, that's six o'clock
I got, shooters on deck, with the pistol cocked
putting busters in check, when I set up shop
chicks giving up the neck for the game I chop
stack paper and bread, leave the crumbs for bums
cash flow as natural as the breath in my lungs
get it how I live it, ain't giving up none
got a platoon of goons that gotta feed they sons
jump in a foreign whip, put the pedal to the
floor and dip, fast lane with the cash and chips
all in, put your bet on the dealer
gets no realer, put a slug in a squealer
CHORUS
recognize it's the real OG
calling shots but I keep it low key
aks around thugs about know me
they put respect on the name, if you a player of the game
VERSE 2
you know the pedigree, we don't bark, we spark
you don't want that smoke, when the hood go dark
you dont' wanna see how it end, so better not start
expose you pumping fruit punch in your heart
I got ice cold veins for the cold cash
when the block's hot, product goes fast
catch me slipping without the strap no chance
I gotta stay alive to uplift the lower class
speaking for the streets, where the snakes play for keeps
and the slippery slope is steep
my word is bond, cuz life is cheap
watch your back cuz that knife goes deep, don't sleep
Crazy Place
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:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Back Story, Background, Chill, City, Conscious, Dark, Determined, Diligence, Emotional, Hard Times, Inner Conflict, Laid Back, Life, Mellow, Moody, New York City, Reflective, Restless, Rough, Soulful, Sports, Story, Streets, Struggle, Tough, Warm, Weed, Worried
Instruments:
Analog Synth, Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Electric Piano, Strings
BPM:
87
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Crazy Place
Take a breather, float on ether, kick my feet up
Running on E, try to break free, but I freeze up
Apathy stabbing me in the back, attracting opposites
I follow through, but too many fall through on they promises
Astonishing, no incompetence I'm feeling fine
Why's this the final aftermath every single time?
Vanishing, all I wanted was someone to mold me
Lacked the proper guidance, all they ever did was scold me
Never showed me fluorescence or the ropes
On the shore coasting through life so I learned to cope
No boxes, dig in the crates, you can't contain me
Artistic with the vice, you can't frame me
My mind in a crazy place, crazy place
Wanna run the race, run the race
And finish real strong, real strong
Cause I know my fate, yeah I know my fate
You can never ever frame me or box me in
Packaging, know where I'm headed, mindful where I been
No mountains, the valleys have been my best friend
Not afraid of success, my fear's to transcend
Everything I've ever known, yeah my situation
Comfortable but I despise, oh what a temptation
Rise to highest heights, ozone with flyest kites
Not a homeland citizen but I know my rights
Pre-marriage date, acquainted with the pen, know my writes
A fixed visionary, yeah I set my sights
No boxes, dig in the crates, you can't contain me
Artistic with the vice, you can't frame me
I Don't Play
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1980s, G Funk, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, West Coast Hip Hop
Keywords:
Adversity, Aggressive, Bangin', Bay Area, Boom Box, City, Compton, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Hard Times, Hood, OG, Oppression, Past, Raw, Retro, Rough, Story, Storyteller, Street, Struggle, Throwback, Tough, West Coast
Instruments:
Analog Bass, Analog Synth, Drum Machine
BPM:
82
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
I Don't Play
VERSE 1
repping that turf, like it ain't no thang
bully of the block when it's time to bang
I make it go pop but it ain't champagne
who the OG, yeah, they know the name
legend of the streets, as the stories told
got a whole grip of cash so big it won't fold
got as much respect as my neck got gold
the barrel gets hot but the veins is cold
cool and calm when I come to collect
cash better be correct get a gat to your neck
watch where you step 'cause we rep that code,
don't act stupid homeboy, you know how it go
CHORUS
This ain't a game
I don't play, I don't play
This ain't a game
I don't play, I don't play
VERSE 2
I don't play, 'cause I'm six o'clock
that's straight up and down, boy, the game don't stop
from block to block, I lock down the streets
rollin in a lowrider never scuff my sneaks
down for the set, this side of town
try to cross that street bozos they get clowned
posse in effect, no time for toys
try to cross the line and we bring that noise
face to face, your whole crew's erased
shaking the whole city yeah we pump that bass
watch where you step 'cause we rep that code,
don't act stupid homeboy, you know how it go
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
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
Don't Mean Nothin'
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:
1990s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Early 2000s, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Laid Back, Late 90s, Mean, Mid 90s, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
86
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Don't Mean Nothin'
DON'T MEAN NOTHIN'
Don't mean nothin', don't mean nothin'
(For the ones that didn't make it)
Don't mean nothin', don't mean nothin'
(For the ones that are fakin' it, it don't mean nothin' to me)
Don't mean nothin', don't mean nothin'
(Got you spotted, got you spotted)
Don't mean nothin', don't mean nothin'
That's right, you know, you know
Pop pop -- the shots get dropped like the rag top and the beats don't stop
Like Mr. King and the cops sellin' rocks on the block
It's the have and have-nots, I'll never be spotted
Got a camouflage physique and when I speak
You know your knees might buckle country huckleberry
Follow my lead to plant seeds, a new breed, no greed
Everybody get money in the land of honey
Milk go down smoother than silk, I'm well-built
Got 5 years in the tank to thank, I got bank and a certain amount of lovelies
A couple of them be ugly but they're the best, see
Kid I heard you tried to smoke me but I'm a local low g.,
Concentrate and focus, no hocus-pocus, the jokers get assassinated
Fascinated by the number of caskets at the end of the day
See the real steel shining lining clouds - I don't play
(I'm a veteran, see --- I got eyes in the back of my dome peace)
(I won't rest 'til I cease -- I'm about to show you how we do it)
You see the second verse about the smashing universe
I don't rehearse I spit bursts - used to snatch a couple of purses
Smoked out in the back route real smooth then moving no doubt
Laser in the middle of your dome scope I roam hope you're home
All alone cut the lines to the telephone bangin' like a metronome
Drop a dime make a rhyme, gettin' it right every time
Don't turn around - I'm right behind you
Play you and rewind you, fast-forward 'cos the truth is stranger than fiction
My diction's so precise I lead the blind to light I'm not askin' you to fight
I'm like a falcon in flight, 'cos this could be your last night so act right
Quit cryin', why you lyin? I'm detecting a fatal flaw in your inflection
You see the street's hot heat, no guessin', I'm a lethal weapon
If you have to ask the question you get blasted in all directions
(Yeah no more questions, see -- leave it up to the p-o-l-i-c-e)
(you never catch me g., never catch me -- too fast homey)
No doubt crack it open -- sip on the concrete yeah
Blood on my shoulders as I get a little older, pulla heist and rock ice
AS if my body was frozen, I'm chosen no supposin'
Got a load on my back, makes me rock like boulders, I smolder
I simmer 'cos I'm known to hold heat
Open the door, '64, low slow in my seat
If you got an extra beat I got multiple personalities, so smoked out
I got doubt about reality, no doubt
Yeah, no doubt, it don't mean nothin', see -- 'co I'm ruthless, g.)
From south cen to the L.B.C. uhh -- east side where we reside yeah)
Low little shorty like this little shorty like that - in the place to be see)
Yeah don't stop don't stop -- you see me comin' on your block,
You can't do nothin' about it see
Yeah roll up middle of the night, whatever you know
Don't mean nothin' -- been in the game for too long, kid
So don't play shorty don't play shorty don't play uhh
So it's goin' out to all my homies, you know what I mean yeah
Pour a sip on the concrete -- for the ones that didn't make it
For the ones that are fakin' it, it don't mean nothin' to me,
It don't mean nothin', yeah, come on
(C) 2001 Lyrics and Music by Bob Mair, Nick Vincent and Richard Trapp
A Date With Angels
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Chill, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
A Date With Angels
A DATE WITH ANGELS
Time is running out, I feel it slippin' away
time is running out, I see it in my dreams every night
I can't get away from it
Chorus
It's getting' hard to stay alive
The streets are full of blood tonight
An' everything is down to fate
You can't go back 'cos it's too late
Now brother's gone and mama's cryin'
Seems like everybody's dyin'
I know they're comin' for me
But I'm not ready – for a date with angels
A date with angels – a date with angels
Verse 1
I see death around the corner
I can't delete it
The Vision repeats over and over
There's no reprieve.. Click!!
Another round in the chamber...OOOOh!
Everytime I make a move
I feel my burning fuse
See the homey's over there creepin'?
The last two nights they been trying to catch a brother sleepin'
Didn't see 'em?
Na, I ain't tripping
That's why no matter where I go I keep the clip in
With the safety off
They tryin' to pick me off
They say I'm off
But I ain't never been soft
The game 'a make you go crazy
The hood's full 'a wannabe gangstas
Or they tryna be Jay Z
I only did it cause it pays me
Had an exit plan
But now I can't see SQUEEZE!
Cause I'm tired of runnin'
Dog I know it's comin'
I see death around the corner!
Repeat Chorus
She was 13 and I was 22
Used to holla at her when she went to school
She was enthralled with the streetlife
As a G I kept my knot right
Kept the product for them pipes
Told youngin' "Get ya mind right shortie. Betta stay out these streets!"
"Cause messin' wit' 'da street life
It'll get you caught up
Hunger combined with jealousy It'll get you buck Bucked!
Like you never was
You a Pup!
There's Killas out here and they don't give a What!!
She didn't listen man she did her thang
Two weeks ago they found her and her Thuggy slain!
Repeat Chorus
What 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 A Raid
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Old School, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Raid, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
92
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
This Is A Raid
This is a Raid
Chorus
This is a raid - git your hands up
Just stay in your place an' keep your mouth shut
This is a raid - git your hands up
Better stay in your place an' keep your mouth shut
Everybody freeze - everybody freeze
1st Verse
While you was rollin' flashy out wit' ya crew
While yaw was sellin' bricks I was watchin' you
You made a name
But you know the game
You sellin' in my hood
I gotta get ya mayne!!
Look, I'm a G for real
I own cops, crack shops, plenty of steel
I can't let you ride up in my hood
And sell major rocks like its all good (pause)
I've been settin' this trap for months
Make it difficult we'll have to clap
For once,
Do what's in ya best interests dude
If ya make a wrong move homeboy ya throughRepeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Young G you know how these streets be
Homicides, back knives, arm robberies
Take it like a man
Son you chose this life
I did it cause I can
You was livin' trife
You think cause you was out here mini-ballin'
Than you could avoid the wrath of me
Boy quit ya stallin'
Give me all dem bricks
Give me all ya chips
We takin' all ya wips
And we'll be back if you get loose lips
Hurry up, oh ya boy's bein' lazy
He had to try me now his eyes is all glazed see
I love my pump
I'm quick to dump
Better keeps ya hands up
We some riders chump!!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
Put ya hands up
We grindin'
No whinin'
We ridin'
Ya getting' stuck up
Stop cryin'
Or ya dyin'
No lyin'
Repeat Vamp 2x
Repeat Chorus
Feel The Pain
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Pain, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
G♯m/A♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Feel The Pain
Feel the Pain
Chorus
Yeah You're gonna feel the pain
You'll never be the same, Yeah
You're gonna feel the pain
You won't believe it
When you feel it
You're gonna feel the pain
You ain't never gonna be the same,
You're gonna feel the pain, Yeah
You won't believe it
When you feel it
1st Verse
You won't believe the pain (pause)
Full-time felon yall know my name, I slang
Quick to bang
I control a gang (pause)
Of rowdy-thug-gangstas
All united, we slang
More greens and coke than a little bit
Step outta line
We'll smoke you
Give the cops the fits
Bold, intemperate bro, so I get
Mo money than 'em all
Squeeze for the hell of it
Raised to hold heat
Thrived on seedy blocks
The game is all in me mayne
I can't stop
If I get the drop on you
I'm blastin', few
Survive a confrontation
Stop the beggin- your threw!
(long pause)
Of Newports in da pen
Make you fade to black
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
You don't want to cross me
I'll make you feel da pain
Feel da pain
Talkin' a lot being flossy
I'll put 2 in ya brain
You don't want to test me
You don't want to cross me
Don't want to feel my reign
I'm insane
I'm insane
Love to bang
It's all over if I want you mayne
Repeat Chorus
In the middle of the street ya shake
Boy I'll rock your world
Like a violent quake
Stopped my cross-town rivals movin major weight
I'm servin all you suckas
I ain't givin no breaks
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
I'll go blow for blow
Rivalries fo' sho; (pause)
Ended violently over drugs and dough
(pause)
You really didn't want confrontation yo
Cause I'm a killa for real
You've been shot befo'
(long pause)
I guess the message didn't sink in, and I guard my rep
I'm looking for homey- watch ya step
I was husslin' while you slept
Hit you five times, heard your mother wept
My side gangstas are the craziest
Homicides when des guns are blazin its (pause)
Real in da field
A'ready made a mil (pause)
Blew a mil, I'm still rakin' major scrill
(For Real?) (pause)
I'm really not playin' dude
Your eyes is shifty
If ya break my rules
You'll disappear quicker than a carton pack
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
Bullet To The Brain
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
97
Key:
A♯m/B♭m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bullet To The Brain
Bullet to tha Brain
1st Verse
I'm tired of the game
I'm going insane
I feel the reaper stalkin'
I'm the one to blame
30 years servin', killin', and robbin'
Now I'm looking in the mirror
My trigga' finger's throbbin'
What can I do- there's nowhere to run
I got no education
For the love of the gun
I gave up on my future
Fathers save your sons
Cause my mother did her best
She couldn't save me from
Blood in me from the other half of the Tree
My Great Grand, Grand, and my Pops was G's
My first words was "Daddy"
Second one was "Freeze!!!"
I'm disgusted wit my life
Dog it's hard to breathe ('cuz)
Chorus
It's gonna make me go insane
Gotta put a bullet to tha brain
It's gonna make me go insane
Gotta put a bullet to that brain
Like a dog passed his prime
Ain't no use, time to die
It's gonna make me go insane
Gotta put a bullet to tha brain
2nd Verse
I ran the gang
I killed for fame
Caused havoc on tha streets
Made 'em fear my name
You looked at me wrong
You'd get 2 in da brain
Now I look up and all I see's the same
Things that I did
Passed on to kids
Not even the dey teens
Pullin' 10 year bids
They looked up to me
And I convincingly
Led 'em all down the road to catastrophe
I knew one day that I would have to pay
For what I did to 'em
It's my casket day
I can feel it all around
I can hear the sound
Payback is a mutha
The game's claimed another
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Too much to drink
Too much to smoke
A rat infested spot
No contacts for coke
A gangsta passed his prime
Wit' no love or hope
I'm in a daze
Lookin' for someone to choke
I've tried everything
Tryna kill da pain
I've loaded up da bullets
Man I'm going insane
I'm running outta time
No better days for me
Just dark nights
A street life casualty
Got the.45- one in da chamber
Tremblin', Overdosin' on anger
I'm hearin' voices this is too much pressure
All I see is bloodstains
From a bullet to my brain
Repeat Chorus
Before I Die
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
93
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Before I Die
BEFORE I DIE
CHORUS:
Before I die I'm gonna beat the street
Gonna take my toll on society
Settle all my debts wit my enemies
Before I die, Before I die
Back in the joint yall know my name
Hard core killa that's my claim to fame
All props to me I'm gonna own this game
Before I die, Before I die
This is my warning and I won't repeat it
Try to cross me and You'll end up deleted
You rockin jewels, flashin tools
Give me all ya loot and take this lashin fool!
Man they just don't listen
Wifey looked up and him and his car was missin
You betta understand
It gets crucial, blow
The back of ya cranium
Take you man out, bro
I-Don't-Think-You-Realize
How quickly it could end
Can't get your hands untied
Blindfolded in my basement
With my gat in ya face
Its getting crowded in these streets
I guess I'll make some space
I always go for broke
you though you was a G
Take my position? Nope!
Politicians in my hand
I'm supplyin' dope..Blastin
Have you in the street dancing Loc!
It's really best stay out my way
Cold-blooded Killa I don't play
CHORUS
Give it up or you'll be spittin' up
In da middle of the street you can't believe ya luck
I know you own the liquor store's been here for years
I'm tryna say you got a new partner dear
Tha whole hood kicks in
I'm always on my grind
And I don't want no friends
I creep through the fog with ease
5 minutes after smokin' you
I'm home smokin' on some trees
It's Rough!
The street game's a risk but I love the drama
Some suckas end up missin'
When I pull heat
Put you on your knees
Make your last prayer
Crack a smile and squeeze
Boy you don't really want it
I'm livin it fo' real
E'ry day a wad of money
I'm collectin bills packin steel
Nobody thinks of testing
Cause they know I'll peel
It's really best stay out my way
Take you out man, I don't play
CHORUS
You don't wanna feel da pain
I run these streets
Kill my enemies
Everybody knows my name
This is my hood
It's all good
I'm the ruler of the game
Livin the street life
The street life
Eye Of The Storm
Artist(s): Exit Prose
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Matthew C. Vander Boegh (ASCAP) 50% / Tim Paul Hammes (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Sports
Keywords:
Adversity, Aggressive, Arena, Bad Ass, Basketball, Battle, Bold, Boxing, Challenge, Competition, Confrontational, Defiant, Determined, Emotional, Epic, Fighting, Football, Gang, Gritty, Intense, Motivation, Never Give Up, Odds, Overcoming, Perseverance, Persistence, Pounding, Power, Promo, Rising, Shootout, Sports, Strength, Strong, Struggle, Swagger, Tough, Triumphant
Instruments:
808, Bass, Drums, Strings, Synths
BPM:
85
Key:
D♯m/E♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Eye Of The Storm
VERSE 1
Another hero rises up
Out of the dawn
Hand on my hilt
Ready for em
Locked in brilliant form
Eyes full of vermillion
Ain't no fealty sworn
Except for a few
I hold with resilient born
Un-torn, unconditional
Constant affinity
Were here for jaunt
And then were gone
For infinity
I'm taking up the gauntlet
No acting timidly
They try to intimidate me
But they can't eliminate me
All they can do is hate me
But there the ones made me
Melded by the mayhem
My mind's my only sanctum
I got to find a way
For every move they play
Cuz when all the pieces fall
Its either me or they (4X)
CHORUS (2X)
Looking out
Through the eye of the storm
Through the riot and calm
Through the night and the dawn
Through the plight
And the strife
To the final beyond
Like a Viking song
VERSE 2
I stay wary
Conscious of my surroundings
Cause I know
Everywhere I go
Conflict surrounds me
It's the constant
State of affairs
But I can't be afraid
I got to embrace any fear
That I have
Got to take any trace that appears
Then turn into something
More brazen and fierce
Cuz when they start engaging
And invading my sphere
I got to be ready
To break em off
Leave em impaired
Cuz they out for blood
And their plot is
To end me
I'm defending
My honor
My name
Is an emblem
Of symbol courage
And independence
There will be no occurrence
Of any surrendering
I'm taking a stand
Making my brand
Never faking
Never breaking
Never forsaking my clan
Forever adamant
Surveying land
Holding fate in my hand (4X)
CHORUS (2X)
Don Ga Bong
Artist(s): oSean
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 33.34% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 33.33% / Sean Rhee (ASCAP) 33.33%
Publisher(s):
Booli Mooli Music (ASCAP) 16.66% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 16.67% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 33.33% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 33.34%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Korean Hip Hop, Korean Rap, Male Vocal
Keywords:
Aggressive, Ambition, Back Alley, Bling, Cars, Club, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crude, Dangerous, Dark, Decadence, Determined, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Explicit Lyrics, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Greed, Gritty, Guns, Hold Up, Hostile, Killer, Korea, Korea Town, Korean, Mean, Menacing, Money, Ominous, Prison, Raw, Rich, Rough, Scary, Shooting, Steal, Street, Streets, Struggle, Swagger, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, SFX, Synth
BPM:
109
Language:
Korean
Key:
Fm
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Don Ga Bong
돈가방 - Don Ga Bong (MONEY BAG)
Verse 1 :
Put that money bag in my money bag
돈벌이 되는 걸로 돈벌이 해
don't worry let the money do the talkin' ay
돈 아님, dont bother, 돈벌어 ay
i be in the zone in the early mornin'
lotta thotties wanna f*****' party all nite
전화기는 꺼 아님 비행기 모드
money over hoes 돈 더 벌어 ay
이건 병 이건 완전 직업 병이야
i ma ball with my pros in California
all the foes hustle talkin' 다 개 뻥이야
높은곳 가도 되 여기는 합법이야
손으로 다 못셀거야 ma money
기계로세면 헬리콥터 소리
we get the won n' the dollars u know it
이걸 난 원해서 잠못들었지
f*** sleep
잠은 죽어서나 실컷
해가 뜰때까지 still up
자꾸 돈이 나를 불러
cuz ain't nobody realer
Chorus:
i need that money bag
in my money bag x3
돈벌이되는걸로 돈벌이해
돈얘기 아님 난 꺼리지
f*** 어리버리 s***, i aint f*****' with
f*** errbody s***, 다 적이지
in my money bag
싹다 쓸어담어 쓰윽 x3
in my money bag yayayaya
Verse 2 :
f*** being fake about it
take money
내 모토 니나 잘해
내차례 절대로 뒤로 안빼 난
하고싶은 말 있으면 해 that's it
새끼들이 말이많아 쓸데없는 말이자나
쉽게 보지마 난 장난 하지않아 돈갖다가
내 돈가방, 세탁기에 넣고 다 빨아
병신들 평생 남 똥꼬나 빨아
난 하나 똥도 안주는 반항아 같은 태도 마랴
만의하나 내가 낼죽는데도 후회없는 삶을 살아
f*** u know about me
난 낮과 밤이 바뀌다못해 잠도 없이 grindin'
날보고 미쳤다고해도 f*****' pedal to the metal
겁도 없지 다른 level 에서 fatal 한걸 뱉어내고
더 챙겨 내 돈가방에
돈이 아니면 don't bother me
다른 랩퍼들 돈자랑질 민망하게만드는 problem kid
너네들 어렸을때 난 진짜 hustlin' f***** cocaine
임마 나 어렸을땐 그것도 없어서 만들어 slang
Chorus:
i need that money bag
in my money bag x3
돈벌이되는걸로 돈벌이해
돈얘기 아님 난 꺼리지
f*** 어리버리 s***, i aint f*****' with
f*** errbody s***, 다 적이지
in my money bag
싹다 쓸어담어 쓰윽 x3
in my money bag yayayaya
Phonetic:
Don-Ga-Bang - (MONEY BAG)
Verse 1 :
Put that money bag in my money bag
don buhri dwae neun guhro don buhri hae
don't worry let the money do the talkin ay
don ah nim don't bother don buh ruh ay
i be in the zone in the early mornin
lotta thotties wanna f***** party all nite
jun hwa gi neun gguh ah nim bi hang gi mode
money over hoes don duh buh ruh ay
e-gun byung e-gun wonjun jig gup byung-e-ya
i ma ball with my pros in california
all the foes hustle talkin da ge bbung-e-ya
nopen gosae itsuh do dwae yuh-gi neun hap bup-e-ya
soneuro da mote sel guh-ya ma money
gi gae ro sae myun helicopter sori
we get the won n the dollars u know it
e-guhl nan won hae suh jam mote deuh ruht ji f*** sleep
jam eun jook uh suh na sil kut
hae ga ddeul ddae gga ji still up
jaggoo don-e na reul bool luh
cuz aint nobody realer
Chorus:
i need that money bag
in my money bag x3
don buhri dwae neun guhro don buhri hae
don yae-gi ah nim nan ggu ri ji
f*** uh-ri-bu-ri s***, i aint f***** with
f*** errbody s***, da jug-gi-ji
in my money bag
ssak dah sseuh ruh dam uh x3
in my money bag yayayaya
Verse 2:
f*** being fake about it
take money nae moto nina jalhae
nae charae nan jul dae dwi roh ahn bbae
hago sipeun mal it sseu myun hae thats it
saeggi duri marimana sseuldaeup neun marijana
ship gae bojima nan jangnan haji anah don gaht daga
nae don-ga-bang, sae takki ae nuko da bbara
byungsindeul pyungsang nam ddong ggo nah bbah rah
nan hana ddong do ahn jooneun ban hang-ah gateun taedo maryah
mahn eu hana nae ga nell jookneundedo who hwae upneun salmeul sara
f*** u know about me
nan natgwa bami bwakwidamothae jamdo upsi grindin
nalbogo mi chut dago hedo f***** pedal to the metal gupdo upji dareun level aesuh fatal hanguhl batuh nego
duh chang gyu nae don-ga-bang-ae
doni ahnim don't bother me
dareun rapper del don ja rang jil min mang ha gae mandeu neun problem kid
nuh nae deul uh ryut sseul ddae nan jin jja hustlin f***** cocaine
imma na uhryut sseul dan geugutdo up suhsuh mandeuruh slang
English Translation:
"MONEY BAG"
Verse 1 :
Put that money bag in my money bag
make money with the s*** that makes money
don't worry let the money do the talkin' ay
if it ain't money, don't bother, make money ay
i be in the zone in the early mornin'
lotta thotties wanna f*****' party all nite
turn the phone off or put it on airplane mode
money over hoes, make more money ay
its like a sickness, that workaholic sickness
i ma ball with my pros in California
all the foes hustle talkin' all f***** lies
we can go to a higher place cuz its legal here
til we can't count money with hands
count it with the machine and it makes a helicopter sound
we get the won n' the dollars u know it
because I wanted this I couldn't sleep
f*** sleep, sleep plenty when I die
til the sunrise I'm still up
money keep callin' me
cuz ain't nobody realer
Chorus:
i need that money bag
in my money bag x3
make money with the s*** that makes money
if u ain't talkin money i ain't about it
f*** sucker s***, i aint f*****' with
f*** errbody s***, all enemies
in my money bag
sweep it all in x3
in my money bag yayayaya
Verse 2 :
f*** being fake about it
take money - my motto, u do u
my turn, and I never back out
wanna say something then say it, and thats it
suckas talk too much, all them words useless
don't take me light, I don't play with my money
I put my money bag in the laundry
suckers keep kissin a**
I don't give a fuck like rebel
if i die tomorrow, I ma die with no regrets
f*** u know about me
day and night switches and now i grind with no sleep
u might say im crazy but i go pedal to the metal with no fear,
and I'm on another level spittin' fatal s***
put more in to my money bag
if it ain't money, don't bother me
a problem kid embarrassing other rappers' money flexing
when yall was young i really hustled cocaine
when I was young, I didn't even have it so I made it and slanged that s***
Chorus:
i need that money bag
in my money bag x3
make money with the shit that makes money
if u ain't talkin money i ain't about it
f*** sucker s***, i aint f*****' with
f*** errbody s***, all enemies
in my money bag
sweep it all in x3
in my money bag yayayaya
Set The Stage
Artist(s): Terrell Burt
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Matthew C. Vander Boegh (ASCAP) 50% / Terrell Burt (BMI) 50%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Hybrid, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Sports, Trailer
Keywords:
Adversity, Aggressive, Arena, Bad Ass, Basketball, Battle, Bold, Boxing, Competition, Confrontational, Defiant, Determined, Emotional, Empowerment, Epic, Fighting, Football, Gang, Gritty, Intense, Motivation, Never Give Up, Odds, Overcoming, Perseverance, Persistence, Pounding, Power, Promo, Rising, Shootout, Sports, Strength, Strong, Swagger, Tough, Triumphant
Instruments:
808, Bass, Brass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Hand Claps, Stomps, Synths
BPM:
73
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Set The Stage
If I ever fold then leave me in the dirt
It's a clever mold meaning that my set path was never meant to merge
It's kinda getting worse while all of these feelings surge
Not supposed to be here but flipping packs up on the curb
But now I'm penning words, so free but time got me bound
Life is short but I hover tall, why I'm not backing down
Empty promises like track and field, it's the run around
The battle has only just begun so yeah, who can stop me now?
Who can halt the plan?
I'm different 'cause I am bound to stand
When in a jam
I will come out with the upper hand
I'm gonna rise in an instance
Sorta expeditious
Invitation to the first look, you can be a witness
Never count me out even though I will fall
You can never question if I truly gave my all
I'll set the stage for ya
I'll set the stage for ya
Let me let me let me let me
Set the stage for ya
What you doing if it isn't for the long haul?
I'm running game, you just playing 'cause you wanna stall
I'll set the stage for ya
I'll set the stage for ya
Let me let me let me let me
Set the stage for ya
When you defy the odds and free from all the sham facades
You're set apart from every single person in your squad
Perceiving frauds that's on a journey where the roads are broad
You persevere since you no longer do it for the applause
I'll fight back if you strike first
It's in my blood so it's unrehearsed
I'll still prevail even at my worst
There really no point on stopping me
League of my own like a latchkey
Plowing competition so carefree
My name going down in the books yeah, check the marquee
Who can halt the plan?
I'm different 'cause I am bound to stand
When in a jam
I will come out with the upper hand
I'm gonna rise in an instance
Sorta expeditious
Invitation to the first look, you can be a witness
Never count me out even though I will fall
You can never question if I truly gave my all
I'll set the stage for ya
I'll set the stage for ya
Let me let me let me let me
Set the stage for ya
What you doing if it isn't for the long haul?
I'm running game, you just playing 'cause you wanna stall
I'll set the stage for ya
I'll set the stage for ya
Let me let me let me let me
Set the stage for ya
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
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
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!!
Public Gangsta #1
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drug Deal, Drug Dealer, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
84
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Public Gangsta #1
Public Gangsta 1
Chorus
It's all over the news - wanted dead or alive
But they forgot only the strong survive
My reign of terror has just begun
I'm Public Gangsta number one
They can't catch me - they'll always fail
I'll never spend the rest of my life in jail
My reign of terror has just begun
I'm Public Gangsta number one!
1st Verse
I'm a drug sellin larcenists
End up on my list I promise you I'll twist
Bullet holes burnin'
The police squad squirmin'
They look at me as vermin
Keep they stomachs churnin
Homey, I'm goin for mine
All my ladies work the corner
Man I'm on the grind
Cause untimely demises
I'm deeply despised
They wanna see my end
I see the look in dey eyes
It's a war out here and I control an army
Of predicate felons
It's so alarming
Sellin ki's and trees
I do what I please
It takes a certified G to bring a city to its knees
I don't care
You don't like boy then say somethin'
SAY SOMETHIN!
DO SOMETHIN!
I ain't chest thumpin'
I fill body bags fo real
My.9's my only friend
Man I love my steel
Be careful what you say
Just stay out my way
Have you duckin and divin' as my AK sprays
Run-up
If I'm lookin for you son
You betta carry ya gun
I'm Public Gangsta #1
Vamp
They'll never
They'll never
They'll never take me
I'm a keep on slangin these rocks mayne!
They'll never
They'll never
They'll never catch me
I'm a keep terrorizin' these streets mayne!
If they ever
They ever
They ever catch me
I'm a shoot anything that moves mayne!
I don't care what they say
They'll never take me back
They'll never see me fry
I ain't afraid to die!!
I run these streets
At night I creep
The boss of the bosses
Dog I never sleep
No words to say
No compromise – I'll spray
Get caught up in my biz
You've seen ya last day
You betta pray!
Run-Up
I do it for fun
I always carry my gun
I'm Public Gangsta #1
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
They'll never take me back alive
I got 2 strikes
Spent half my life deprived
Man I'm cheefin' in my 'Lac
Slangin lb's of crack
Addin' bills to my stack
Houses full of sacks
Neighborhood stores have to pay me fo sho
The baby G's don't test me
They already know
I catch a 3rd strike I'm done
So I'm no the one
Creep up on ya slow and collapse ya lung
When the pump gets ta pumpin' everybody gets ta jumpin'
2 a.m. rollin' and my beats is bumpin'
Run-up
I'll never run
I'm a real G
I love the street life
Boy ya feel me!
'til my last breath
I'll be squeezin' my gun
I'm Public Gangsta #1
Just Hang
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Dino Soldo (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Brandino Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1990s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Hang, High, Laid Back, Mean, Ominous, Pot, Prison, Relax, Scary, Stoner, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
91
Key:
F♯/G♭
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Just Hang
JUST HANG
Laid back thinking chillin in the Lincoln
On the brink of vexin' but I shouldn't be stressing
All of this existence is a blessin confessin
To my many women in the back seat sinkin'
Into separate dreams roll up smoking the conduit
Spliff lit ill admit if it's a gift it should beget a
Righteous destiny smokin session come with blessings
Too many troops with too many youths trying to get loot
Who do dem shoot cant discuss discussion
It's a dangerous transgression
Just hang
Cause it aint no thing
Scandalous can handle just its own exist a vandalous
Contagious way of operating ignorance in angeles
Forget it find the fit and just lay back and just get lit
Kid its far too close to overdose no one to trust only boast
One particular way of thinking sink in sunshine state of liquid slow
My tempo down to beats complete as you and me could only be
In this a free delicious breathing only competing with the airs
Of existence this is just a persistence of magnetical realizations
Super evident and existential in the mentals climb a mountain
Exponentially each and every day hey
Chill relax and just lay back
Repeat
Chorus
RAST
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
Git A Move On
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Old School, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
110
Key:
D♯m/E♭m
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Git A Move On
GIT A MOVE ON
Now it's time to run (Blood be pumpin’)
And the deed is done (Feet be jumpin’)
Put the petal to floor
We betta get gone
Let's get a move on
The bullets be flyin' (Bump bump bump)
And The homies be dyin' (Buh bump bump bump)
We'll do what we gotta do
Yeah yeah, let's get a move on
If you ever cross me
I swear to God it'd take Condalesce
And a whole Army SWAT Team
When you started the beef
Did you think it could get worse
Boy you a'ready lost ya teeth
We knuck when we buck
But that wasn't enough
You had to show ya pannies
When I called ya bluff
You know who you messin' wit'
I gotta sick clique
Underestimate the grit
Ya get ya wig split quick
I'm just plain mean
I love conflict
You betta' think about it cause when we hit
It's like a 2-ton boulder crashin' down on you
Quick to bend ya block
Run through your whole crew
9's and AK's spittin' out the back of the Lex
Double up on ya vest
'Fore ya try to flex
I gotta mean team
A pump as big as Texas
You see my grill homey
Guess what's next (it's all over playa)
Now it's time to run (Blood be pumpin’)
And the deed is done (Feet be jumpin’)
Put the petal to floor
We betta get gone
Let's get a move on
The bullets be flyin' (Bump bump bump)
And The homies be dyin' (Buh bump bump bump)
We'll do what we gotta do
Yeah yeah, let's get a move on
All you suckas be fakin' mayne
Watch a few movies
Then ya claim a gang
You ain't never seen a G as real as me
Ya get ta runnin' when these gats bang
It gets wild in these streets
Homicides for weeks
You betta watch what you sow
Cause when we creep
In a flash
You on ya back
As your blood seeps
In the gutter wit' da trash homey
R.I.P. you don't know me
So boy what you lookin' at
So you slang a couple trees
And you flash a gat
I don't give a damn
I slang weed and crack
But more important
I got two guns as big as Shaq
Wit' some bullets wit' your name on 'em
You need a taste?
I saw ya eyes as I leaned out da same Brougham
When I caught ya brother slangin' on my street
Lobbed a volley
Knocked him off his feet
You two shall meet
Now it's time to run (Blood be pumpin’)
And the deed is done (Feet be jumpin’)
Put the petal to floor
We betta get gone
Let's get a move on
The bullets be flyin' (Bump bump bump)
And The homies be dyin' (Buh bump bump bump)
We'll do what we gotta do
Yeah yeah, let's get a move on
When you see me keep runnin'
Keep runnin'
We gunnin'
If you cross me we comin'
We commin'
I'm dumpin'
When you see me keep runnin'
Keep runnin'
We gunnin'
If you cross me we comin'
We commin'
I'm dumpin'
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