Tracks Similar To How We Do It
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
Booty Shakin'
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Gypsy, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mid East, Middle Eastern Influence, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
96
Key:
G
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Booty Shakin'
Booty Shakin'
Chorus
Get ya booty shakin'
Drop ya A to Floor
Shake ya Money Maker
Till I'm ready to Blow
Repeat 1X
Verse 1
Shake it, shake it, shake it
But baby don't break it, break it, break it
Oh my God I love to see you naked
I can't take it
Ya' let me put my hands on ya hips and now I'm snake bit
You need to quit
Make me wanna strip
I can imagine both our bodies drippin'
When I watch ya' booty dip I'm trippin'
Schemin' on how I'm gonna slip in
Make ya hips bend
I'm behind ticklin'
Ya pearl
Wit my stick in
We both grinnin'
The room's spinnin'
You know what you do
How you do
When you do that thang
Make me wanna buy you a rang!
Duckin my gang
The way you make my thang sang
I'd win a grammy category sprung
Got me in shower hung waitin' to plunge
Girl you da' one!
Uh Oooooh!
Homey there she go
Twirlin' on the danceflo'
Wit a rump deluxe
U see why I'm always in the cut smashin' it up?
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
Girl it ain't fair how you do that there
Everybody starin'
Wit dem tight pants dat you wearin', ya chil'ren
Had to be fun to make
I'm dreamin' of missionary nights grippin' dem cakes
For goodness sakes
Could you give a young brotha a break
Better yet, give a brotha a taste
Put ya lips on my face wit haste!
Let me fill up ya space
Undeniably you one of the greats, what would it take?
I appreciate ya!
U got every dude sittin' up in da club
Wit da bitter beer face
But you know they scrubs
Yet you showin' me love
Let's raise up
We can do it in the tub
Hot oil body rubs
Shake it, shake it
Wherever you move, I'll take it, take it!
Girl you ain't heard?
I can run a thousand miles
Especially when I'm runnin'.... FROGGYSTYLE!!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
"Bump, Bump, Bump, Bump"
I love the way ya booty's shakin' baby!
"Bump Bump, Bump, Bump"
You drivin' me crazy girl
"Bump, Bump"
Ya' waist is thin
Wit dem nice thick thighs
You can forget all dem other guys
You know dem chump's little willies won't fly!
Three Strikes U Out
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
96
Key:
G
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Three Strikes U Out
THREE STRIKES U OUT
Chorus
One, Two, Three Strikes U Out!
Verse 1
Bread Winner
Dope Getter
No betta'
U betta'
Go getta'
Kevlar Sweater
If you think you gonna test my neezies?
Please these rounds 'll come whistlin' by like a freezing breeze
Ya breezy 'll be left without her baby's Deezy
Wit' ya grandmother on her knees pleading weakly!
You don't want it
Don't do it
It's a loser son
Ya plan 'll have me leanin' out the window dumpin'
Don't let ya mouth get you into something
You never could imagine
It ain't worth the funkin'
I stay heated
Don't make me make you eat it homey
The O.G. told me just to hussle it up
Be ready to bust!!
Too many thugs plottin' on my paper
I get that feelin'
I'll just take her... Ya Mom! Ya Girl!
Can't afford expensive friction
My twin Nines 'll have ya head in the wind twistin'!
Repeat Chorus
Looked up
Couldn't duck
Quick enough
It's tough tryna hussle me? What?
I keep the Quality connected
But if you disrespect
I'll let 'em fly free
"On your knees!"
So many casualties
You little wannabees
It's really best you be easy!
Don't believe fat meat's greasy?
When I turn da corner of ya block in black
Keed, me with three patnas and the AK Straps
Perhaps,
You'll remember the jewel
Blessed ya but you chose to ignore the schoolin'
Second strike homey and I wish you much luck
Believe me! The drama's so beneath me
Discreetly, I'm a end it all
Come and get it all
After all
You don't want to brawl
Mayhem 'til they all crawl!
That's a real Thug anthem
There ain't no talkin'
We just clap 'em!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't want it!
You don't want it with me
I'm a G for real
You don't really want it
You don't want it
You don't really want it
Ventilate ya brains
Burn ya house & peel!
You don't really want it
You don't really want it
You don't want it!
I know one thing, my heart ain't pumping
Koolaid, you minimum wage
Boy, wit' dis gauge
Come on out ya house!
It'll be ya last mistake Hey!
It's Gettin' Nasty
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Guitar, Horns, Piano, Slide Guitar, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
97
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
Chorus
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty in Here
We Gettin' Nasty
We Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty
It's Gettin' Nasty in Here
1st Verse
A brotha finally made to the weekend
I need a few freaks
It's been two weeks
Poured me a glass of Hen
And now we rollin', chokin' on dat Bluegrass
Puff and Pass boy!!!
Don't play with me
Dey been workin' me
Time to let my hair down
Now I'm pagin Chief
I know it's goin' down
"Where da broadies be?"
" I heard it's goin' down at Suga T's majorly!"
Please, be the right one baby!
All a playa need is one right laday
And a sack of dat Supa Kill
Lick a couple suckas, and peel, hit the motel
"Fool, get out the way!"
Now my boss is pagin' 911
"Not today"
Tonight I'm flying free
I'm on a Nasty Mission, Nasty Girls, Nasty No Inhibitions
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Ooh I'm likin' this
Caught that herbal mist outside the backdoor
It's lookin' dangerous
Gave the codeword
She looked at my man and let us in
Homey's to the left dice jigglin'
Hold up dog, let me break these brothas
I'm causin' problems wit dey baby's mothers
I don't know what could be goin' on inside dey heads
Instead of buyin' diapers, "Dummies, give me dat bread!!"
Looked to the right, spotted baby in red
She licked her lips, rubbed her hips, and led
Me down a flight of stairs to a private room
She whispered in my ear "My name is Doo Yu Soon"
Are you serious
Her rump was so trunk, I was curious
I don't know where we was 'bout to go
But if she wanna get nasty, man I'm ready fo'sho'
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
So I'm on the couch and she's straddlin' me
A pretty pink thong on, I grabbed dem cheeks
Then she started doin' dat dirty dancin'
Flirtin' and jerkin',unzipped my pants man!
Ol' Girl, you doin' it
Anything I got, baby you could get
She put it in her hand and started massagin'
My stick was wider than a three-car-garage, then
She grabbed my hand
Gently put my fingers in her promised land
It was gushing, soon I was pushing
I had to pound her tooshing
And I soaked her bushing
Repeat Chorus
Blunt
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Explicit Lyrics, Gang, Gangsta, Getting High, Ghetto, Guns, Marijuana, Mean, Ominous, Party, Pot, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Stoned, Stoner, Street, Urban, Weed
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
90
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Blunt
Blunt
Chorus
We drinkin wine till we insane
Then we poppin down something gonna fry your brain
Hit the table and we sniff up the cocaine
Then we kick it all back with da blunt, da blunt blunt
Repeat 1x
1st Verse
Me and the homies we run the streets from dusk till dawn
Party and pump we pimpin every night its on
We stay wit da greenery playa put it in the air
Rollin by the cops smoking homey we don't care
Six soldiers deep and every gangsta got his own pound
Got some chickens that like to blow
Spread it all around
Sprinkle some on Mr. Willy baby put it in her mouth
Dropped her back around the corner
She was cussin and poutin
But you know how we do it's a P Unit thang
The pimpin they get from me is from the top of the game
Get em high and then we toss em in packs leave em in fits
Everybody around this town knows our parties are it
We're the baddest of the bunch
Nobody even closer
This is Ghetto Fantasy Island
tub
Man this is the kind of night me and homies love
It's a wild scene boy, playa anything goes
Weed smoking homey ladies quick to come out their clothes
They'll do anything for it people humpin
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
You'd think I was Tony Montana look at all of this snow
Looks like Christmas on the table
Comes in a constant flow
Stay cool we stay full of them chemicals
Don't be a fool P Unit rules we give it to you gals
Smoking all day the coke got my heart racing' fo sho
Six breezies all satisfied another ready to go
The homies kicked back chillin telling old war stories
I'm peepin the scene while they revel back in their glory
The blunt's got em talking
Blow got the honies stalkin
A little white lightning get tha bras and panties poppin
So much wild stuff happenin too much for the average
It'll fry your brain
Sometimes it's hard to manage
Kick back wit da blunt blunt
Puff a blunt blunt
I know you're enjoying yourself no need to front front
Out of all the city crews we got the baddest groupie broads
They like the power and money
We only give em blow and rods
Repeat Chorus
Mr. Pork I'm the hoster
Everywhere
They just wanna have a good time
Kick a private affair
We ballin out of control the Unit doin it right
Come party with us I promise you'll be as high as a kite
There's 2 in back homey waitin aiminz to please
Drop her a ball she'll give it to you wet butt up on her knees
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
Smoke....
Smoke....
Smoke....
Smoke....
2nd Verse
The room is full of purple haze and towers of powder
We in the penthouse tower
Hit both broads in an hour
Man it's 4 a.m. and we been up around 22
She wanna bang on the balcony
Hot crack with a view
The penthouse is smokin'
People snortin China White
The unit's been known to drop 50G's in a night
It really don't matter we're a full service crew
We provide you the experience
Dog u know how we do
20 bikini booties bouncing all up in da
Repeat Vamp
We Rollin'
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
94
Key:
A♯m/B♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
We Rollin'
We Rollin'
Intro
I don't know how many times I have to tell you cowards.
Hook
We Rollin'
Step aside when we on the street
We Rollin'
Watch what you say, cause we pack heat
We Rollin'
So if you wanna come get at the dog
Get at me dog!! Anytime, we can set it off!!
We Rollin'
Step aside when we on the street
We Rollin'
Watch what you say, cause we pack heat
We Rollin'
So if you wanna come get at the dog
Get at me dog!!
Anytime, we can set it off!!
1st Verse
Listen
I done lived my whole life in these streets
14 years old with nothin' to eat
No where to sleep
I had to learn to ride for mine
Rain or shine
I was grindin' back when U was in yo crib reclinin'
You could never feel my pain!!!
Nobody's ever seen a smile on my face – it's not a game!!!
So if you ever think you wanna come get at the dog- GET AT ME DOG!!!
We gutta livin' – We KEEP IT RAW!!
'Dis street life ain't nothing like what you see on TV
U seen a couple movies now you think you wanna be me
YOU COULD NEVER BE ME! (note: stacked with reverb)
Stay blowin' on trees
Don't get it twisted dog, I love to bleed!!
You hard, go head ignore this warning and bend my block
You dealin' wit a guerilla – a life full of hard knocks
Better think twice when it cross ya mind
Just remember
You puttin' ya life on da line!! Cause we...
Repeat Hook
2nd Verse
Ya got everybody in da hood talkin'
Whenever U ready to walk you talk Playa...
Be about it, but I doubt it
(I STAY 20 DEEP!!!)
So many soldiers in my squad
I promise that within a week I'll have you losin' sleep
Run thru ya, den put two to ya
Take a ride through yo hood
They'll say they never knew ya
I'll be holdin the paper you foldin'
I never chose to be the Don of the streets
Playa, I was CHOSEN!!!
You'll be wishin you could rewind tha clock
They always wanna pull me back and I was tryin to stop
So many pretenders I'm 'a lose my mind (pause)
Watch yo step young dummy Cause U runnin' outta time!!
Yea I know you punk ass family from around the way
I dealt with yo brother way back in tha day
I served him I don't wanna have to serve you too
I'm thru talkin' chump
DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO! (Cause I'll be...)
Repeat Hook
Vamp (Sung)
Life if is so hard on my block
Stay grindin' all that time
Streets stay hot
How many times I gotta tell ya
We don't play
Hold heat
Stay grimey all day
Repeat 4X with adlibs entering on 2X
Play For Keeps
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Play For Keeps
Play For Keeps
Chorus
I play 4 keeps
Don't mess with me
Better get out of my face
I'm the winner G
I own the street
Ain't gonna lose
Digging a plot
Gonna put you down six feet
Repeat 1X
1st Verse
I took ten shots, think you can roast da Dog!!
I keep the gat cocked creepin through the fog
Sneak up on ya like a shadow when we crawl
And leave ya leakin'
And ya mama screamin' dat I'm wrong
Ghetto reaper
Black Cape
Dog, I'm sinister
Nobody pull me off the task 'till its done
And I stay taxin' and I'm warnin' you all
My meat I like raw
Walkin' these streets you showin' ya gall
To think you could ball
If daddy's lookin' who ya gone call
Cause when I seen ya pull the 44 den BLAWWW!!!
I live above the law
I meant to throw her through the window, see..
It ain't about the green
Boy I'm a MEAN FIEND
Last week a new crew wit keys
They rolled around here flashy
Think they gonna bling bling
But I think not!!
Cause when dey came around my way
I jacked 'em den I cracked 'em
Cause ya boy don't play!!!
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
0:06:00 ya hopin' ya don't choke
Ya spot me floatin' through ya yard chokin' da smoke
You wanna run for some shelta but come up shote wit my dope
I come descendin' like I was wearin' a cloke
There's no where to runna when I swoop down on ya
Go for a collar left right stroke and you a gonna
Cause there's no roller
Shoot straighter
No greater
Darth Vader
If I walk through ya door
It's see-ya-later
I'm gonna shoot it it's ya turn to die
And let ya body rot
We known to peel on spot
That's how I keep a knot
Get ta duckin' when you see me
I'm 1 or 4 or 5 major villains on these streets
With chrome gleamin'
Cold deamon
Ol' gold leanin'
Head the toe tag team and I'm schemin'
Center of da scene
And We don't duck da law
187
You stepped on
And we da raw
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Now I told you young dummies once
I'm a killa toe to fro
Grindin' all 12 months
While(space) I soldier servin' grief
Ya smoke to much
You want my flow stopped
Handle mine homicide end up chalkin when I touch ya
Done(space)
Fool and you can get ta shuckin' and duckin'
Quit son
It won't save you
Young peela
The hood don dada
And I'm willin' wit ya girl
If you think you comin' for my green
I'll rock ya world
All the street brawlers
Is green as my top dolla
Wit all the yay I'm movin'
I'm ballin'
I'm rotweiller
Fa sho' bet I load and lock bite ya neck (space)
You a ho
G's give cuz much respect
Cause I...
Goodbye
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
92
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Goodbye
Goodbye
Hook
Goodbye
You crossed the line
Cold facts, it's the very last time
It's over, please
Get on your knees
And say goodbye, say goodbye
Repeat 1X
1st Verse
Goodbye, It'll be a long winter
When wifey gets the news, I'll make sure to send her
A dozen black roses to commemorate
When a sucka comes to me then tries to play me late
I slid you fifty grand
Now you messin' with my money yo
I told you from the gate I'm quickly bitter and unstable
When it comes to dealin' wit 'em and they don't pay me mine
I find boxes that can fit em, watch their bravados decline
There's no fists
It's 4-5th's
Silenced with no prints
Tha lab kit's negative and there's no snitches
You can believe me not
It's a quick way to become the foundation of a parking lot
And for some reason (pause)
I see a lot of asphalt if your future (You hear what I'm sayin')
I'm a use you to send a message to the block
Let 'em know Mr. Grimm ain't playin' ( I got to get you!!)
Repeat Hook
2nd Verse
Goodbye
Are you cryin'?
Last night I heard you was braggin'
Don't deny it
Take it like a man, quit ya' whinin' and snifflin'
You took it too far, it's beyond a butt whippin'
Right now, I know you wish you could begin again
I thought you knew the street game
It's hard to win it when
You think you gotta crew but you're really on your own
I ain't worried about your bodyguards – they was on loan
See they owed me money
It didn't take much
I got people so close to you
Boy you could'a been touched
But I wanted to look you straight in your eyes
So you could see the glimmer on my face
As your life expired
Why you play me phony
You know me homey
If I just let you take my money
I'd be broke and lonely
And I can't have that
So whether friend or foe
You cross me in these streets you better know... (I'm coming for you!!)
Repeat Hook
3rd Verse
Are there any last words you would like to say
U betta man-up and accept your fate
Cause its over, done, your chapter's finally closed
Out of all the paths to travel
This is the road you chose
Don't blame me, its basic street philosophy
Rule #1, paragraph three
you take a gangsta's money
And you try to slide
You can run it's just a matter of time!!!
Repeat Hook 2X
Vamp
Don't play with my money, money
Oh no
Cause I'm a come for you, I've got to
I run these streets, I've gotta feed my crew
Down in the Hood
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
C♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Down in the Hood
Down in the Hood
Intro
It's a little rough down in our hood. Sometimes you don't even know (space) if you gonn' make it through the next day. You know, we down here don' what we gotta do to survive (space).
Whatever it takes (space). It's do or die (space)
When you ain't got nothin' (space), you do what you gotta do!!!
Chorus
Down in the Hood
We comin'
Down in the Hood
We gunnin'
Down in the Hood
We hangin, Roll out hit the street
We bangin
Repeat 1X
1st Verse
More smokin' & croakin' down in the hood
Know folks don died floating like a bloc a wood
We choose to chop & chop and
Move it block to block
Seen a little money now we just can stop- What?
Lookin' like ya wanna run up... Look like ya not
Think you gonna rob me
That's how a playa gets shot
I was bummy wit da homie just yesterday,
Moved a bundle on the humble- stacked
Now I'm on my way!!
Partnas on the streets loc'in-up
Everybody's fingers on a trigga'
dey might erupt
Fiends on da hunt schemin'- comin' by the spot
I keep a AR under the couch
What would you do if you were hot?
I keep unloadin' the glock
Dis is 4 block!
Gang descendant
I've been shown a lot
How to rock cane
Blow a brain
Rollin? Call my main
Foes I fold 'em
Team a killas
Now the streets know my name
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
Two on the corner, six on the 4th floor
All da covers is rovin' knowin' it won't go
Tell all the fellas, tell all dey chickens dat don't know
If they need da dough and down for a trip
Den here we go!!
Dey bugged da celly so get wit me
Feel da heat split it
Pour it down the drain
Twenty strong and we sic wit it
We up'd the grimeyness during my reign
Yall sheep in this jungle, ya fallin'
And I'm Orangutan
Check the po(lice) file
She Used to be a queen
Now she a hooker
Saw her wit' a cop just chillin' for five minutes
if they book her
And it get back she get to talkin'
den I'll have to cook her
Playin' checkers when its chess boy I'll have to rook her
Locked & Cocked cause up in dese streets is BIG BEEF
No telling what they'll do behind a pipe and some coca leaf
But if you wanna get loose lips messin wit my grip
They'll probably find ya body in ya wip - DON'T PLAY WIT' ME!!!
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Soldiers we roll wit da 44 nixin'
all da phonies in da mix while we on our mission
Lbs. of work up in tha mo- bags is glistenin'
From Vaseline
When da phone ring
Da feds' listenin'
I'm up to da challenge. My foes quick ta dump
Young crooks dey wanna move up
Da lure of a buck
My head up on a swivel since a brotha blew up
Cause where we grew up
Ya girl a pump two in ya gut
Vamp
In my hood
It's life or death
These streets don't play
Down in da hood it's do-or-die
Make a bad move and you can lose your life
Repeat
Creepin'
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
89
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Creepin'
CREEPIN'
CHORUS
Creepin' creepin' I'm part of the streets
And ima keep holdin' heat till im six feet deep
Preachin' preachin' I'm holdin' this beat
And ima keep the body rockin' from your head to your feet
Verse 1
I been so long on the street
I got scars where my soul used to be
From CP to LBC im a freak
And you can catch me by the side of the road
I make em scream make ya fall out ya jeans
'cause im a hood so clean in a '62
continental creep with a lean so mean
I can never be stopped even in dreams
Even fiends think about the way
I cook up the product I wont lie
I got devils pie piece of narcotics
And I been shot up getting caught up in the game
Do or die never wondered why
God gave me wings and ima fly
Can't keep my eyes dry when I think about
The drive by put my mans soul in the sky
One night in Bed-Sty
Ima keep on pushin keep on sellin my position
Im a blacktop magician
An attack dog im vicious
Im intelligent seditious
It's a dangerous condition
CHORUS
Try and touch me where im livin
'cause I know that I been givin gifts
im steady even with a fifth of Henny in me belly
im so gully I got Nelly yellin Hip Hop Hip Hop
don't stop undercover like Tupac
im makin' ya knees knock keep it all froze game caught
in a headlock sayin please don't stop
'til you reach the top and you got
5 lives to try make nothing different
and you get no independence
mind locked like 5th amendments
ima count you in attendance
only if you pay attention
I done told you I was st.john
Engine precision im dishin out the wishin
And im switchin what im hittin
Cause its serious
CHORUS
Cocked And Loaded
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
2000s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
116
Key:
Am
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Cocked And Loaded
Cocked & Loaded
Chorus
Come on come on - I'm cocked and loaded
Come on come on - I'm cocked and loaded
Don't keep me waitin' - - I'm 'bout to explode
I'm cocked and loaded - -cocked and loaded
Repeat 1X
Verse 1
I see you want me lady
Girl I'll rock you crazy
Girl you know I love you so bootyliscious
Mesmerize wit a walk so viscous, delicious
Top of my wish list
You see dese bills so crispy
Ain't seen you in a while- You Miss Me?
U know what I wanna do
And I know you wanna do it too baby!
You saw me roll up in the black best
'member when I put those hickies on your chest
I remember how we used to do
'member when came home from schoo'- when you came through!
Then I blew your back out
And then you blew my brains out
Girl you looking so good tonight
Let's take the same route
Me and you face down on the couch
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
Ooooh! It's still like dat?
Still like it when I grip dat fat?
I gotta big bone to bury
That Brazilian on them lips is down right scary
Still taste like honey
It's all hot, drop, pop, stop running!
I know it feels real good!
Bite ya lip when you grip
Take this wood
You so grown and creamy
Had to grab ya hair
Moaning, Screaming
10 minutes in, both beaming
It's steaming
An hour later, I'm leaning
An hour later, know what I'm thinking?
I'm COCKED AGAIN AND TWEAKING!
Let me move it side-to-side, in-and-out, find ya G-spot
Tap it till it's LEAKING!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
I'm comin' in the back do'
Gonna give it to you like you really want it baby
I'm comin' in the back do'
Gonna give it to you like you really want it baby
There's sweat drippin on the flo'
It's so Hot in here
It's so Hot
I'm comin' in the back do'
It's so Hot in Here
Don't Stop
Don't Stop
Don't Stop
Don't Stop
I'm so cocked!
Going Up Going Down
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Entertainment News, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Party, Prison, Radio, Sexy, South Central, Streets, Strip Club, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Twerk, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
132
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Going Up Going Down
GOIN' UP GOIN' DOWN
Chorus
Goin' up – goin' down
Booty movin' all around
Git it lef, git it right
Grab a little piece 'n' hold it tite
Goin' up – goin' down
Booty movin' all around
Flash a fitty – watch her go
She's a nasty little HO.....
She goin' up -- she goin' down
She goin' up -- she goin' down
Verse 1
I know where I'd like to sit ya
Baddest B in da club and I gotta get wit ya
In da middle of the dance flo' prancin'
All da goons at the bar knockin' Hen shots glancin'
Let me tell you what I wanna do
Grab ya hips from the back- Booty Bouncin' Boo
Up and Down, Left to Right
I can see you wanna pop that thang tonight!
Drop it low and LOWER
Move it faster SLOWER
Baby freak dat beat petite, so sweet; don't mess wit me
I'll blow your back to the front- I'm out!
I'm back! Jigglin' 'til you shout
You got me reelin'
I'm feeling
Have you without a doubt...
Chorus
Verse 2
Gimme' sometin' I can work wit' shorty
"Snap your G-string?"..Ooh my Lordy!
Ya twistin', windin', 'n shakin'
Dem cheeks vibratin' then brakin'
I can see you wanna set dat suga free
No need'n fakin'
We can take a weekend make a motion picture
While we're makin'
Dem ooh! Aah! Sounds
You on my stripper pole sliddin' down
Onion so soft 'n supple
Frustrated?
Give me a couple
Suck sessions
Baby I'm guessin'
Got da buns? I'm a dog
Baby no stressin'
Come on we'll work it out
Have you without a doubt
Chorus
Bridge
We could speed in the Phantom down the highway
Bet I beat that bottom if you swing it my way
Plenty-inch cigar
Get it off so mean if you let me squeeze
Wanna take you home
Mami, I'm Papi
Shorty bend dem knees!!
What Mo
Artist(s): G-$tack
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
81
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What Mo
What Mo'
Chorus
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
(Come on) Yeah take it take it
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
Shut ya mouth boy
What mo you got
What mo you got
Take ya best shot
(Come on) Yeah take it take it
What mo you got
What mo you got
What mo
1st Verse
I don't know what you on but boy it got you stupid
Got ya whole family grievin' for thinkin' you can do it
Manana clouded ya mind- it come in clear when u HIT
They should a told ya well before ya shot, but ya blew it!
Come for my loot you been in pre-school-boy-I'm college
I pull too quick
.44 and 9 rounds spit
Man I sleep with a loaded gun
I stay on one
Tried to pull the caper now ya hangin' from a rope DONE!
I pump..pump..
2 a day chump
Hood king kill a rat
Pen tats That's wass up
Ya M.O. way too old
I know you dude
I movin' major weight across the interstate and you
Want my rep but you a fool
I jacked your mules
Come in ya hood, spit, and lift ya money and ya jewels
I'm bona fide you moldin'
Hate to have to hit ya wife
I know you know we meet again
I'll have to end ya life
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
So you wanna come get papa cool it's been tried before
I'm the one you wanna even the score
Hit my row you know I'm bustin' 'fore you get in tha door
Wanna be a gangsta but you just can't handle the gore
In a six foot pit
You and all the busters you come with
I'm gonna bury after my chrome Desert Eagle split ya dome quick
The beef's stopped after the tooly pop
Now the word around the block
Is yall pull and clap
Would a been clear to you
If you
Thought through
You would lose
Thought you'd bring da blues
To a do or die killa crew
Chose to test me and I blew my fuse
Left you in a coma
Livin' on a prayer
You'll never pull through
The mean green is the main thing
That get you youngstas hankering
I'll spank dat ass
Notorious the pain I bring
Always holdin' heat
The ruler of the block
Never scared
And I'll take anything you got
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
Don dada keep 'em dizzy
You wanna come and peel me
I'm a G you a sizzy
Hit the don, no one can, FEEL ME!
Son, I felt your plot ya eyes revealed ya envy
Top flight on ya comers hit list
Now yall all think ya can end me
Cause me and my folks hooked up
Wit lbs. of coke cooked up
But ya telegraphed the punch so we struck
My gats bucked long and lit ya up like a December night (space)
Braggin to all ya folks, on dope, thinkin' u'd see me die
But I'm
Lean, Mean
Love to bleed
Bad Seed
Different Breed
Top rank and undefeated
Boy you can't touch me
Spread the Word
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Strings, Synthesizer, Tabla
BPM:
90
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Spread the Word
SPREAD THE WORD
Spread the word judgment day'll soon be coming
If you a wanksta pack your bags and be running
I'm numba one, G, you'll never be nuthin'
That's the way it is
Spread the Word I'm the one that's gonna getcha
Like a dog I'm gonna hunt and fetch ya
You'll live to see another day if I let ya
Spread the Word
200 Proof G, criminal, lethal, get that picture
Run soon before I'm gonna get ya
Die A rack-a-homicides
Cold Killa Evil proven gunna
On the move I'm dead eye
Ride for a fee
Don't matter you can flee
A long future for ya I don't see
Try to move above me, ya team ain't movin' nothin'
Come through leave you wit a tattered squad
I ain't bluffin'
It's my city
On my word you can go
Strip ya pride I'm blastin betta hit da floor
Guards, buck 'em grab the money hit the road
Before I go put two in ya dome I have no soul
Mind blown
Gangsta you respect or ya gone
Dolla fiend, Terrorist
I don't care if I'm wrong
Killa bee watch my stang!
I'm insane
If I bring the ruckus you ain't gonna do a damn thang!!
Repeat Chorus
Movin' major Ki's pimp ya gal evil fire breathin' heathin'
Only an evn'n schemin' for ya green then
Hi! I'm just stopping by
Ransack it
Some empty bags I'm packin'
Drugs and money stackin'
Die for my gang
Let the shotties rang
A bounty on you if ya movin' rock cane
Move in my hood you'll leave ya baby G's searchin
For ya missin' body parts you didn't see me lurkin'
Dog it's a pity
It ain't like you don't know
You did some time man you know how I roll
Gats pump soon as I walk in ya door
Back to da hood with all the cheddar we stole
And hit a bowl
Too cold
Had to do it to remind all my foes
A gangsta's daily regimen
I stay on my toes
Now you gone
What a shame
It's not a game
I'm makin' major devastation if my gats sang
Repeat Chorus
Spread the word
This is my last warning to you cowards
You don't wanna have to see me
Cause when you see me
You know what's about to go down
Spillin' Blood
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
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Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
90
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Spillin' Blood
SPILLIN BLOOD
CHORUS
How much blood you gotta spill to make it stop
Cant be like big and pac dying for hip hop
VERSE 1
I found some inspiration when my heart started racin
Erasin the fact im patient shouldnta messed with the Haitians
Take a permanent vacation it only takes one word to be said
It only takes one word to be said it only takes cold steel to the head
It only takes a trigger finger to be pulled
It only takes one bullet to be dead
Foreign infiltrators debaters about the politics
We turn intelligence into some haters 'stead of college kids
A bitter pill to swallow people getting locked up
White kids black kids asian kids Dominicans
Diminishin an image used to be B-boys
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I wonder why some of the best die wild wild west style
Preachin' wisdom in the same breath talking guns
What could of become of some if they didn't die young
And dumb they'd make a phenomenon no bomb on rhamadan
And on Sundays we could rest no bullet proof vests
Call us what you want we just have to express these feelings
Of equality from off the chest
Now breathe conceive the world we weave
When we stop spillin blood then we start being free
We got a cerebellum for a reason
Time to turn the seasons when I make it to the top
Then I praise hip hop
CHORUS
Rub-A-Dub
Artist(s): G-$tack
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Street, Strip Club, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
Year Recorded:
2003
BPM:
86
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Rub-A-Dub
Rub-A-Dub
CHORUS
We go wild go wild - gonna do it supa freaky style
In the front back hot crack hump awhile
We pop the bub in the tub give it up
Gonna do the rub-a-dub, the rub-a-dub
When I'm up in da club
I like to Rub-A-Dub
Head straight to the bar, I'm blazed
I sip on some bub - I'm known
So all the honeys wanna give me some love
Every weekend G it's the same - It's never enough
10" inch long - They know they can't go wrong wit a thug
They know I plug - Lady's hollerin', Dog- I hammer the rug!!
It don't matter, cause any spot we in
We gon' win- Oooh!! Go head girl show me some skin
There it is!! Here we go!! Baby twerk your skirt
You may the perfect little somethin' to take back for some work
Hit the VIP- Give me some head – Get in her head
It's brains and money homey - Me, I don't need a bed
I like the way you girlin'
Crushed ice in your mouth
Slurp up on my nuts
This what's life's about
Turn around, let me hit it from back
It's wild in the club
Freakin' all night caught up in a Rub-A-Dub
It gets wild in the club
CHORUS
Repeat Pre Verse
Bounce baby's bouncing like a '64
I'm goin' for mine
Her but up off the floor
She got more bump than a little
Throw it back at me
This Magnum is aimed to please
I know it's hard to breath
I know they told I was thunderin'
Up in them walls
That's the only reason you back here
In a skirt with no draws
I'll give you what you need Girl
I stroke it mean
Dat crack hot, wet, tight
I can see the steam
I'm a P.I.M.P from a unit full of scrilla stackers
Don't leave your girl around me
Cause I'm a have to mack her
After about 10 minutes
We'll be in the back of the club
Trees in the air
Doin' all kind of freeky stuff
Like this one here
When I first saw here I knew she was a winner
Damn baby you freaky
She hit me with the sit and spinner
She said she want it on her face
I had to oblige
Pulled out gave her a taste
Shot the goo in her eyes
It gets wild in the club
So after the ep(isode), it's back to the bar
The rest of the ladie wanna do me
Just because I'm a star
I saw honey whisper somethin' to her girlfriend- her eye's lit up
She stepped away – now she wanna get stuck
She('s) lucky, cause I can last for hours
Keep goin' and goin'
Energizer bunny
All these broads is knowin'
That's what when she got the back
She shot a nod to the stairs
Next thing you know - Oooh!!
Baby girl drop
Hold it right there
Sit it on my lap
Damn its soft and wet!!
Turnover, spread them cheeks wide open
As wide as they can get
You're my second Private Dancer
And I'm enjoying the show
You can let your hair down
Let all your juices flow
She's moanin' - Man, I'm groanin'
The intensities growin'
Her crack is hot as a stove
And we both knowin
I'm only a couple bumps
From blowin' it out
I pulled out
She took monster out the Magnum
And made me put it in her mouth
Man it gets wild in the club!!!
Menace to Society
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:
Rock
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Bm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Menace to Society
MENACE TO SOCIETY
Raw dealer Quick from the hip
See the wrong gang dead eye
Lapse, leave you in the ditch
You can't win I
Kill for the thrill peal ya cap brain dent up
In da hood they know I control the crime center
Rollin' wit two clips- want ya life?
Spot ya pull clap bring the funk you die
Hot lead for a dish make a wish
With a smile Mr. End give you wings to flie- What!!
Young gunnas makin' moves take everything they own
Kidnap'em take a long ride
Ki's flipped, I move zips, get da fiends so high
Dey all hooked brain fried roamin zombie eyed
Out to get ya when the dollas come from all points
Ballin' other-side-of-towners try to set up shot
Choke 'em tear off dey joints
Conquer plunder your village and smoke trees
Cold villain to my heart trick please
'til Hell freeze..
Chorus:
Got blood on my hands
I got time to kill
I'm a Menace to Society
I'm a Menace to Society
Godzilla Think you gonna clean up da hood you gone give up
A row full of hoes for da dough
Dey buns bend up
Fire in ya veins China White
The raw venda
Rubbed the wrong way put ya in a tall blenda
Live above ya head grab the gat
Leave a bloody scene I don't care where you at
Or if ya mama's there wit ya
When these hollow points hit ya
Curtain's fallin 'n I ain't lookin' back
Slow you roll put me in a bad mood
I'll give you pain ear-to-ear grab-a-gear like I was O.J.
No tears, No fears
Few peers
Loose lips eighty sixed
Beat the murder wrap I don't play
Dey plot behind my back but they don't really want it
I get close stick ya wit my favorite knife
Ya cousin's blood stains still on it
All ya contraband seized
Bring you to ya knees
Major crime sprees 'til they bury me I'm a G!
Chorus
Sell drugs to ya nieces
Politicians follow my dolla and I'm a beast it's a
Fact if you ask about crime up in da east
My name rings loud
Haters pout
Without a doubt I'll tear ya hood to pieces
Nada thing hide ya team if I bend ya block
Leanin' out da caddi wit da double barrel shot cocked
On high grad bud
Always up to no good
Flaunt the law, man I just can't stop
I got major...
Lost My Mind
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, R&B, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Club, Cool, Cop Show, Crunk, Dark, Death, Dirty South, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Smooth, Sneaky, Southern, Street, Trippy, Urban, Vibe
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
92
Key:
D♯m/E♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Lost My Mind
LOST MY MIND
CHORUS
I done lost my mind lord can you help me find it
Get down down come and turn around (repeat)
VERSE
With the.44 come through the door get dough
Snatch ends like a fiend know what I mean
Serpentine dreams my whole team seen things
You wouldn't believe jail tat's on the sleeve
Smuggling drugs in cavities these thugs be jugglin'
Hustling talking about pimps with bricks in the back
Of the whip I think quick in my mind so sick
That they wanna lock me up give me medicine
Like im a veteran seeing things I hallucinate
About plates made of platinum and I flatten them with flows
And I love those hoes where my nose goes lead me to the rainbow
Pot 'o gold bend down touch ya toes
But ya cannot hear me though
I love playa haters im ya mind invader
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I lost my train of thought it jumped the tracks jump back
Semi-automatic in the hands of a lunatic
Spittin counterfeit mamuscripts im poundin fists
Reading all them lyin lips I used to say stack chips but its played out like space ships
Old like them flows don't they know im low pro
I sneak no doz on the way to poconos
Smoking those sticky elbows drinkin mickeys with a straw
Quick on the draw smoke pall malls climb walls stand tall
If you can even stand at all im so close to an overdose in Soho
Fond foes and I make em witness im takin care of business
Im writin up a hit list sofit this bullet proof vest real close to ya chest
I hold a dart against ya neck and make ya hold ya breath
My best friend my homepiece my man is death
No time left no time for them threats this time
Ima get mine ima drink mad wine in the summertime
Im alive like theres 5 minutes left
CHORUS
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
C Ya N Tha Club
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Death, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Intimate, Kinky, Mean, Nasty, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Sex, Shooting, Southern Crunk, Street, Strip Club, Swervin, Syrup, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
115
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
C Ya N Tha Club
C YA IN THA CLUB
CHORUS
See you in the club roll up deuce deuce
Ya got me so loose like a 100 proof
Smoking that dub right there in the booth
Spotlight shinin on my diamond tooth
VERSE 1
Swerving sippin syrup turning up the wrong way sippin Bombay
Ounce of that good californi-a my papers straight
Gotta move that weight chick chick bow please don't get in my way
Im real chillaxed but I just don't play
See me on the cover of a mag someday
I script hits flip get paid chicks on tip get laid
Slip fat bricks don't trip that fits lips spread thick
Im sick like Rick on the tape now hold up wait a minute
The club look right with you up in it
Dj spin it ima hit then I quit it
But im so smooth got a bottle of champagne
I show and prove
CHORUS
VERSE 2
Hey girl let me get up in ya world
Let me stroke them curls ask ya girls
If they wanna rock get up in the yacht tonight
I go so slow cause im nasty im a pro
I smoke like c-lo and those other brothers know
I got whole teams in kitchens cookin up that snow
A man gotta eat roll Bentleys roll up the sleeves
Pull out the heat this aint a video cuz
Keep it on the street hand me that blunt ima start to chief
I love ya girl specially when ya freak
Time to sneak back in the club we so twisted
CHORUS
VERSE 3
That mammy look so saucy
Classy on the street but you a freak
Let me put you on my dime
For about a week cause you a dime piece
Sexy text me then caress me
Baby I got plenty left
Let me get dressed cuz im fresh to death
CHORUS
Bust Out
Artist(s): St. John
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45% / Richard Trapp (BMI) 10%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Alchemetic Music (BMI) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Club, Cop Show, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Brass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Synthesizer
BPM:
101
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Bust Out
BUST OUT
CHORUS
Bust out why saying something
What you need something
Make you bleed some gimme a reason
Then ill freeze em then ill leave em screaming in the street
VERSE 1
Bust out of the gate straight waitin for a fool to approach
Then I burn em like toast I don't mean to boast but you cant get close
See those homies in the window with the finger on the trigger
I know you think big but my crew thinks bigger
How you think the lifers in the joint get high
One guard has product others turn a blind eye
If you try to interrupt then you know you gonna die
Soldiers in the street never gonna ask why movin pounds of product
From Bronx to bed-stuy put it in the trunk act crunk
We drunk in the club nearly every night
Dip in the whip 500 lookin tight takin care of business
In the city tonight gotta heater for your ass if you aint lookin right
Uptown downtown all around town
CHORUS
VERSE 2
I peel off caps like I was a bald head
Was it something that I said make you crawl back into bed
I got a lead missile comin at ya pop pop
Then im in the street when they all drop drop
Got no love for cops they say stop stop
I know they profilin when they stop and see me smiling
Don't get caught in long island unless your papers straight
I been known to move weight from state to state
Been known to rock a mic make the crowd vibrate
Learned from a young age I was meant to take the stage
But I still got rage to make the front page don't think that
I slipped so im soft if its on then im off that's why im paid
Sharp as a razor blade that's why im paid
Uptown downtown all around town
CHORUS
Army Of One
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angels, Army, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Bullet, City, Clown Dancing, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dance, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Dying, East LA, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Killers, Krump, Krump Dancing, Krumping, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, NYC, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Prison, Radio, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
84
Key:
Gm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Army Of One
ARMY OF ONE
Chorus:
I'm an Army of One
I don't trust nothin' but the end of my gun
When I'm in da hood, boy ya better run
Or ya gonna hafta answer to an Army of One
Ya better stand down or you'll be six feet under
Ya think ya own the streets well you ain't seen this mutha
I don't need no G to help me get it done
Cuz I'm an Army of One, yeah I'm an Army of One
Look at my grill
Betta grab ya shield
Or kryptonite tonight
Cuz I'm gonna drill
As soon as I see you
I'm a aim for ya dome
Precisely, boy I'm nice – Please!
I'm sqeezin' my chrome
Bl....att just like that
You in the parking lot of the club writhin' on ya back
And I ain't worried about a case
If they can't see ya face
And ya hands is missin'
After they deep sea fish ya!
Dey like to Rah Rah wit dat Blah Blah
Boy you'll mess around I'll have you screamin for ya Mama
We can pop tha trunk
If you wanna get crunk
Ya cover's blown crony
Dog, I know you a punk
I do my dirt on my own
I'm a rider solo playa- decide I'm sendin' you home
I bang on site
And when the time is right
You'll see me comin' up ya block
You in the danger zone tonight
Repeat Chorus
I got mo gunz
Chronic smoke in my lungs
I want you I won't stop until the task is done
We can tear the club up so what you got a crew
I'll take you sissies out when I pull these duel
Glock.45's as ya runnin' ya lips
It becomes real clear
When I unzip these clips
Give me all ya loot
Give me ya shoes
What u lookin' at sucka
Fool, run ya jewels
What happed to all that barkin' man
Y'all was laughin'
Runnin' round the club it was kinda bafflin'
Cause you know how I do my thing
Them tramps in ya ear had you gassed
So much drama I'll bring
Keep my head on a swivel
Smoke some weed- a little 'gnac
In da middle of the night
The last sound you heard was CRACK!!
No prints
No murder weapon
Roll one, Relax
A day in the life of a real G wearin' all black!
Repeat Chorus
Get caught up in ya hype
Playa please believe
When tha cutlass bends the corner
Dog, I'm aimed to squeeze
Automatic filled ya attic
Now you anesthes'd
Did you think when you started the static
You'd end up RIP'd
Now they pourin' out the liquor
Sad remembrances
Family devastated
Shoulda checked yo sentences
You don't wanna rumble homey
All bravados crumble homey
When you act like you don't know me
I'm a leave ya family lonely!
Repeat Chorus
We Faded
Artist(s): St. John
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Richard Trapp (BMI) 50% / Steven Kyle Mack (ASCAP) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Alley, Barrio, Chill, City, Club, Cool, Cop Show, Crunk, Dark, Death, Dirty South, Drive By, Drugs, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Party, Prison, Scary, Shooting, Smooth, Sneaky, Southern, Street, Trippy, Urban, Vibe
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
94
Key:
G♯m/A♭m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
We Faded
WE FADED
Chorus
We faded rollin in the escaladed
We faded rollin with them crunked up ladies
Verse 1
We rollin deep and we downright nasty
Eyes all crooked and the fashion is ashy
Smoking on foot long blunts
Pullin stunts in the backseat
Tags on the whip say '83
I got aluminum fronts and I walk like a pimp
When you see me comin lights dim
Talking to a Mexican say you love
Them puerto Ricans 100%
Im here to freak em out they stash
I don't give up the cash
Got a big old burner underneath the dash
Loaded with a quick clip and them big mouth
Big talk suckas don't say ish
But im cool like the pillows of them eskimoes
Got to pull down low to drop the ride I smash toes
Style on pro
Hands on froze
Hand me the microphone in a b-boy pose
Chorus
Verse 2
Laser scope jump rope move pounds of dope
Its pathetic how the product in the hood is narcotics
Spot it and I gotta get it glove that the hand fit
Faded like a flat top legit
We in the spot lookin downright classy
Mama come and ask me clean or he nasty
Comin with his team lookin mean and flashy
Aint got a minute to admit it im a gangsta
Getting rid of competition in the battle c'mon
Getting 6 figures for this song
I aint worried bout nothing cause im faded
Youre whole style and your flow is outdated
Keeping it on point I be lovin them ladies
Rollin in a black 600 mercedes
Swerving like Mel did in Malibu
Sippin on rum I aint no bum
Chorus
Pull em out toast and I bang bang it
Got nothing on the books
(mumbles)
We Be Comin'
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Barrio, City, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Mean, Ominous, Prison, Scary, Street, Urban
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synthesizer
BPM:
93
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Mid-Downtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
We Be Comin'
WE BE COMIN'
Game's over when we creep up on ya
We known from BK back to California
We into body baggin' when we ride
No need to talk about it you decide
It's a quarter to six and in the mornin' you still here
We up in ya mix
I done had it
It don't matter what the reason
I don't care what you say
The day we meet again I'll blow your ass away
Two guns to spit a tickin' time bomb
A crew of killas, Loc'd
Patrol like we in Vietnam
Rabid pits, we won't quit- sick
Get the word we headed to yo hood you better ring the alarm
Dog we ain't we playin'
We peel caps for kicks
Smash you whole clique you trip so don't slip
Send 'em on a mission just because you wouldn't listen
You'll be floatin' down the river wit' ya vitals missin'
We be comin'
You better watch your back
It don't matter where you at
Cause when I see you it's on
I know about you dog, you think you sneakin'
You cross the line, it's on, we'll leave you leakin'
And all dat posturin' I know you shook
Claim you a gangsta, dog I wrote the book
Sooner or later get ta realizin'
When we on da hunt there ain't no comprimisin'
Yall it? What when you all hit!!
For livin' lifes a' sin
You've seen ya end if
We cut off supplies encircle yo camp
Women and children is screamin' and yo shirts is damp
Clear the arena when the bangas start to clap
Yesterday you tried ta smile
Wanna give me some dap, PLEASE!!
We own these streets you livin' on a lease
Time to take you to the vet and let you rest in peace
Don't you know, you messin' wit tha #1 gunnas
Ya days are numbered baby boy
There's no where to run cause...
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!!
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