Tracks Similar To Fat Bitch Sing
My Ninjas
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 25% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 25% / Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Back Alley, Brash, Brooding, Crew, Crude, Dangerous, Defiant, Eerie, Frightening, Gang, Gritty, Hostile, Humorous, Mean, Menacing, Murder, Nasty, Ominous, Posse, Rough, Rowdy, Rumble, Scary, Streets, Threatening, Tough, Trouble, Underground, Unpredictable, Vicious, Violent, Vulgar, Wild
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
BPM:
84
Key:
F♯/G♭
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
My Ninjas
CHORUS
My ninjas wear black black black
they don't got swords, what they got go clack clack clack clack
brass knuckles make your ribs crack crack crack crack
body shots make your head snap back back back back
VERSE 1
Black mask, black gloves, blast slugs, single handed
Other hand the middle finger up your girl that's where she landed
and she rub it right, all night, lick it like a lollipop
All I see's the top of her head like it's a barbershop
So don't get heated cuz the bucket chose a heavy hitter
the whole crew hit her and dumped her like cheap liquor
We could pop glocks, or throw fists, any or all
When we roll through turning high noon to night fall
CHORUS
My ninjas wear black black black
They don't got swords, what they got go clack clack clack clack
Brass knuckles make your ribs crack crack crack crack
Body shots make your head snap back back back back
VERSE 2
High off dust, snatching collars, choking throats
Rock the boat, no survivors, under the black smoke
Body count for the toe tags and body bags
Check yourself before the sawed off shotty bangs
The block is hot, squeezing burners, raise the temperature
Hollow points hit ya, leave ya holy without the scripture
Rip ya, bone and flesh, rush to where the cash is
All this while I take toke and dust the ashes
CHORUS
My ninjas wear black black black
They don't got swords, what they got go clack clack clack clack
Brass knuckles make your ribs crack crack crack crack
Body shots make your head snap back back back back
BRIDGE
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
Taking all you got still looking for more
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
What you ready for, getting raw, hit the floor
Run up in your spot taking all that you got
VERSE 3
Creepin' through the territory, markin it up
Roll heavy like blunts sparkin it up
Short fuse, lose ya life, by the barrel or knife
Heating up like ya standing over lighters in a crack pipe
Get your facts right, know the rules, and who rules the streets
Straight up and down in the flesh, play for keeps
So gimme dat, that's how I'm living
Sniffing lines from the cleavage all the way down to the kitten
Trippin'
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 25% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 25% / Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Back Alley, Brooding, Crew, Crude, Dangerous, Druggy, Drugs, Eerie, Frightening, Gritty, Hallucinate, High, Hostile, Mean, Menacing, Nasty, Ominous, Rough, Rowdy, Scary, Streets, Stupor, Threatening, Tough, Trouble, Underground, Unpredictable, Vulgar, Weird
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
BPM:
79
Key:
F♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Trippin'
CHORUS
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I'm trippin' and I ain't even walkin'
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I ain't moving but I'm feeling exhaustion
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I'm trippin' and I ain't even walkin'
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
Slowly overdosing, everything in slow motion
VERSE 1
Tripping off that powder, look like flour, get baked up
Save none for later, cut it with a razor get my face cut
Mouth dripping, eyelids flipping, time is slipping
Hyper speed, uhhh, slow me down, somebody light the weed
Fighting to breathe, hold it in
I got golden showers for whoever want a golden chin
So baby, say the word and I'll hit the switch
We can get as twisted as the fingers I pose for pictures with
CHORUS
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I'm trippin' and I ain't even walkin'
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I ain't moving but I'm feeling exhaustion
I'm trippin, yeah I'm tripping,
I'm trippin and I ain't even walkin'
I'm trippin, yeah I'm tripping
Slowly overdosing, everything in slow motion
VERSE 2
Standing in a coffin, when the walls start closing in
Inhale it deep like it's a bay window opening
Far fresh air, toxic fumes blooming
Turn the dial 'til my brain on poppy seeds is tuned in
Looming beneath skulls and crossbones
Ding dong whoever's there I'm not home
And won't be back soon, under influence of paraphernalia
Waiting for my abduction rocking freemason regalia
CHORUS
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I'm trippin' and I ain't even walkin'
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I ain't moving but I'm feeling exhaustion
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
I'm trippin' and I ain't even walkin'
I'm trippin', yeah I'm tripping,
Slowly overdosing, everything in slow motion
Cutting Throats
Artist(s): Owen Chaim
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Owen Chaim (SOCAN) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Angry, City, Crime, Criminal, Dangerous, Dark, Drive By, Drugs, Frightening, Gang, Ghetto, Intimidating, Jail, Mean, Menacing, Ominous, Prison, Raw, Rough, Scary, Street, Tough, Underground, Vicious, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Synths
BPM:
102
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Cutting Throats
Break'em take'em for whatever they got, run the jewels
Heat in the holster always stay hot, gunning the fools
Sonning whole crews, when we roll through
Bow down and stay down, before the loaded clip fold you
I got cold shoulders, and cold veins that hold steady cold steel,
Aim and blow brains
Spaghetti stained sidewalks, nighthawks swooping down
Taking all that you got or your life, whoever new in town
Back the FFF Up
Back the FFF Up
Roll up on'em like what, what, what
Back the FFF Up
Back the FFF Up
The game is cut throat so that throat gets cut
What's mine is mine, what's yours is mine, you get repo'd
I got keys for the city, keys short for kilos
Pistol to your peephole, knock knock who is it
Blockah blockah, to the dome, with the chrome, nobody home
Gunsmoke, weed smoke, chicks wanna rub and tug
motorboat them bras til the strap pop, keep the hammer cocked
Shel ls rock bells, ricochet, stray shots spray
Like raid on a roach who try to approach this
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
Sistema Perro
Artist(s): Paco
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 33.34% / Francisco Jimenez Garcia (ASCAP) 33.33% / Nick Vincent (BMI) 33.33%
Publisher(s):
Tony Vose Music (BMI) 33.33% / Latino Style Publishing (ASCAP) 33.33% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 33.34%
Category:
Latin
Subcategories:
Action, Alternative, Heavy Metal, Indie, Instrumental, Latin Rock, Male Vocal, Metal, Rap, Rock, Spanish
Keywords:
Action, Aggressive, Alley, Angry, Angst, Arrest, Barrio, Brash, Car, Chaos, Chase, City, Confrontational, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Escape, Fierce, Fight, Gang, Gangsta, Get Away, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Hostile, Intense, Jail, Lute, Mean, Menacing, Mexican, Mexico, Mug Shot, Ominous, Outrage, Prison, Rage, Rape, Raucous, Riot, Rousing, Scary, Shooting, Spanish Lyrics, Streets, Struggle, Urgent, Violence, Working
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Electric Guitar, Solo Drums
Track Styles:
Production
BPM:
95
Language:
Spanish
Key:
C♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Sistema Perro
SISTEMA PERRO
RUTHLESS SYSTEM
(English Rough Translation)
INTRO
¿Que pasa mi hermano, que no te quejas hermano, echándole mano, y no ves cambios?
What's the matter brother; you don't complain brother, work your fingers to the bone & don't see changes.
Este sistema no esta funcionando... no funciona!
This system doesn't work... it's not working!
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
Sistema perro que no cambia ni funciona
Ruthless system that doesn't change and doesn't work
Sistema perro que nos quema las hormonas
Ruthless system that burns our hormones
Sistema perro que nos tiene como cerdos
Ruthless system that treats us as pigs
Sistema perro que no tiene ni cerebro
Ruthless system that as no brain
¿Como puedo, como puedo avanzar?
How can I, how can I advance?
¿Como puedo, como puedo progresar?
How can I, how can I get ahead?
¿Como puedo, como puedo Latin rap?
How can I, how can I Latin rap?
¿Como puedo si no quieren escuchar?
How can I if they don't want to listen?
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
Trabajar, trabajar, más
Work, work, more
Trabajar, trabajar, más
Work, work, more
Trabajar, trabajar, más
Work, work, more
Trabajar, trabajar, más
Work, work, more
¿Cuantos emigramos por las mismas razones?
How many of us migrate for the same reasons?
¿No ven que mal están todas las situaciones?
Can't you see how bad the situation is?
Los que se quedan con el bote, son chingones
And those who stay with the boat are the big boys
Y aquí estamos sufriendo, cabrones!
And here we are suffering, bastards!
Yo soy de Cuba, también de Panamá
I am from Cuba, also from Panama
Soy de Guatemala, El Salvador y Honduras
I am from Guatemala, El Salvador and Honduras
Soy de México y de Costa Rica
I am from Mexico and Costa Rica
Donde el sistema es polvo pica pica
Where the system is a joke
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
Sistema perro que no cambia ni funciona
Ruthless system that doesn't change and doesn't work
Sistema perro que nos quema las hormonas
Ruthless system that burns our hormones
Sistema perro que nos tiene como cerdos
Ruthless system that treats us as pigs
Sistema perro que no tiene ni cerebro
Ruthless system that as no brain
¿Como puedo, como puedo avanzar?
How can I, how can I advance?
¿Como puedo, como puedo progresar?
How can I, how can I get ahead?
¿Como puedo, como puedo Latin rap?
How can I, how can I Latin rap?
¿Como puedo si no quieren escuchar?
How can I if they don't want to listen?
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
(Sistema) que nos tiene como cerdos
(System) that treats us as pigs
(Sistema) que no tiene ni cerebro
(System) that has no brain
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
Feenix
Artist(s): CaiNo
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Marcus Cohen (ASCAP) 50% / Scott Horton (BMI) 50%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 50% / Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 50%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Alternative, Electro, Hip Hop, Indie, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Sports
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Arena, Attitude, Basketball, Boastful, Cocky, Competition, Confident, Crime, Criminal, Crushing, Dangerous, Dark, Death, Determined, Dirty, Distorted, Driving, Edgy, Epic, Face Off, Fight, Fuzzy, Game Time, Gang, Gritty, Inspired, Intense, Killer, Mafia, Mean, Motivated, Murder, Ominous, Overcoming, Police, Power, Promo, Propulsive, Pumped Up, Rebirth, Rising, Robbery, Showdown, Sports, Stadium, Struggle, Swagger, Tough, Trailer
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
Track Styles:
Trailer
Year Recorded:
2018
BPM:
160
Key:
Dm
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Feenix
Rising up
straight from out the ground I am the greatest at this
have you seen the latest fact sheets
violent like the great Apache
if you want come and attack me
I'll smack you back to the past
my run is planning to last
I'm hitting targets exactly
I'm a sharpshooter
never miss when I get in the groove
never lose
you can't even walk a mile inside my shoes
I don't move
I don't budge
I don't make no lame excuse
I just tighten all the screws
light up till I blow a fuse
I'm getting ready
it's going steady
I'm headed for the end drop the confetti
I'm intent and I'm not sensing any weakness
watch me rise from out the ashes like a Phoenix
Give it up
there's nothing in my way I am unstoppable
no matter what I think I know it's possible
I'm running at a level that so optimal
that trying to go against me is just simply irresponsible
I push it much further than most
brag and I boast
trying to catch me I'm ghost
gas never let up or coast
pull up and approach
and you get smoked, choke
coughing from all of the dust
I got a passion let's call it a lust
I am the greatest that's saying enough
feel the ground shaking that's me coming up
The Takeover
Artist(s): CaiNo
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Marcus Cohen (ASCAP) 100%
Publisher(s):
Burnt Toast Music (ASCAP) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Alternative, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Trap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Arena, Attitude, Basketball, Beast, Boastful, Club, Cocky, Competition, Complex, Confident, Crime, Criminal, Crushing, Dangerous, Dark, Death, Determined, Dirty, Distorted, Driving, Excited, Explicit Lyrics, Face Off, Fast, Fight, Fuzzy, Game Time, Gang, Gritty, Intense, Killer, Mafia, Mean, Murder, Ominous, Police, Power, Promo, Propulsive, Pumped Up, Robbery, Showdown, Sports, Stadium, Struggle, Swagger, Turf, Underground, War
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synths
BPM:
152
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Mid-Uptempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
The Takeover
CHORUS:
It's the takeover
Everybody put they hands on the floor
The exits covered we barricading the door
And I'm not leavin' till I get what I came for
Take over the game if I'm able cause this is CaiN's War
The takeover, it's the takeover
Only God knows when the rain over
She said she thought she would look better in a Range Rover
I told her that her friend was lookin' better then the date over
Oh no, I done fucked it up again
But a couple hours later I was f***** wit her friend
Her friend knew that I was f***** up to begin with, cuz every other night I pick another chick to end with
I'm crazy, too lazy
I don't do a verse unless you pay me
I don't do a song unless you play me
And I don't fight fair so don't ever try to play me
Word play is ridiculous ain't nobody as sick as this is you wanna get twisted give a call
I got the rhythm delivery if you think you ill as me then just get on the court pick up the ball
Game over, I'm done
Don't nobody shine brighter than the sun
Never gonna die, higher I'm the Son
It's the Matrix and I'm Neo so I know that I'm the One
Clear the copies the original has won
The time to question everything's begun
And if you fakin' I'll dismantle you for fun
And watch you little chickens start to run
You been lied to ain't no better way to say it
Then if I got a plane and had to spray it
The sky died and the clouds are turnin' grey
And the breath of Armageddon gettin' closer every day
So I'm a have to make a f*****' change in what I say
Put the pen to paper see what happens to the page
Light it all on fire let the rage fuel the flames
S*** nobody wasn't ever gonna listen anyway
CHORUS
Slow it down it's been a decade and a half
I done written and linguistically spitted to make em spaz
But now I got a cynics point of view I've gotten mad
If conscious rappers was sellin' then you woulda been the man
Well I'm sick of this it's just ridiculous
Gave it all I got n y'all still wasn't diggin' it
Maybe if I switch it and just twist it up like licorice then maybe I could flip and get up out of this predicament I wish that it was different
Wish there was more of us to go around
Feel like the last of the Mohicans in this ghost town
But now I'm sittin' and I'm thinkin' that I been found
Start a revolution when I surface from the underground
I tried to make em believers they had me feelin' like Jesus
I wasn't tryin' to preach
Just tried to show em what they could be
But if I gotta burn on the cross with all these other rappers who floss
Then maybe I ain't ready at all
And I don't think I wanna do this no more
Then I sat myself down and said the beat was sick
That I had to get up on it and just let it rip
That if I could make a difference to a couple kids it wouldn't even matter if this song even became a hit
Told myself I had a point and that I'd put it down
Then I took to the critics shoved it in they mouth
They ain't got no taste swallow with a smile
And I ask with a straight face f****** do you hear me now
CHORUS
What I Am
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:
Rock
Subcategories:
1990s, Action, Hard Core Rap, Hard Rock, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap, Rap Rock
Keywords:
Aggressive, Alley, Angry, Arrest, Barrio, Boastful, Bragger, Chaos, City, Compton, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energy, Frat Party, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Loot, Mean, Mug Shot, Ominous, Outrage, Prison, Rage, Rape, Riot, Scary, South Central, Street, Streets, Strip Club, Struggle, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Cowbell, Drums, Guitar, Percussion
BPM:
88
Key:
F♯m
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
What I Am
Been bangin' since I was seven
A lost hope
Put on some Dickey's and picked up a.44
A flame thrower, feeling no jokes
I opened up on my veins and nearly overdosed
No Similac suckin' young hoodie's buckin'
Hold fully automatics I'm a semi-nut and
I cede nothing cause livin wit no dough
If you comin' soft ya slippin' it's a no no I'll lay you low
Cause I am
Huntin' for the folks that slick slicky
Punk if you don't I bury slow lames sickly
You hopin' I'll go, set you free, can't without the keys
I'ma end the matter wit the magazine make ya peace.
What I am is what I am
So you wanna little peace of me
What I am is what I am
I'ma show you how it's gonna be
Please forgive me when we settle the sco'...so street
My mortal enemy has taken my soul my life's overtaken
For my minds seekin'
No sleep, my brain's leakin'
When I tried giving up the fangs cut deep and rough
I'm feelin' stuck, I'm a soldier forsaken seekin' lovin'
I'm dreaming holding the trigger with 9 killers dumpin'
I strayed wrong, chasin' mo dough, robbin' and peelin' I'm cold bottled up, my domino's falling slow!
Now take a look at ya! When seein' mo' figures in dollar-takes the mo' we lie!
And all the sorrows keep my criminal insane karma comin'.
When it comes a callin' and I fall who's going wit' me now?
There's no fakin', there's no more "take-a-knee"
Walkin' the stroll so meekly
Singin' a song so sickening
Too many blunts you won't wake up
You're only weakening
Thickest one- we sickin' 'em
Then I'll hook you up to mega watts and make you think again
Rotten to the core
I spit and now you know
Don't wanna push me son, fo' sho' end the scenario
Arms-fitted an I'm so quick wit' it
If you balk gonna walk that talk; don't want that chalk; you smerk- I'll wreck it! Cause I
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
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
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
Get It Done
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:
91
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Get It Done
GET IT DONE
Pledge allegiance to the grimy, I love it, I get it done
Decide to take the hit out on you- no where to run
Once I get that blunt smoke deep up in my lungs Boy
I'm meditatin' on mutilatin' den grab my gunz
I'm feared on these streets, cold killa, quick trigga
I'm never hesitatin', forsaken, the deal sealer
Controllin' my terrain
Stay in da lanes
Put 2 to ya brain
Against da grain
Da realest G in that game
On sight
Son I'll light you up like a pimple
When u cornered creep up on ya
In da mornin'
Then I say goodnight
Catch you slippin' in my danger zone
It's major drama for ya mama
When I send you home
Her child is gone
Chorus
If I come for you, you won't hear a sound
I'll creep upon on you slow
Then I'll lay you down
If ya smart, tell ya homies I don't play around
I'm bad for ya health, Boy don't mess wit me
(I'm Gunnin'!!)
6-2 Chiseled Physique
Lost my daddy when I was 2
Ma couldn't handle me
At 11 O.G. homies had me hold da heat
And I found that I liked bustin'
It's my specialty
On the regular I was buckin' and them chumps was duckin'
I enjoyed puttin' fear in dey eyes and over nothin'
Cause I'm cold like that, I love my gat
I'm a legendary cap peela
Check my stats
Ladies screamin' "What's Happenin?"
When da villain gets to clappin'
Then it's chaos in the streets
Homicides for weeks
Daddy brings that drama
Playa you can wear your body armor
BAD KARMA is my name
You can't escape the pain
If I come for you, you won't hear a sound
I'll creep upon on you slow
Then I'll lay you down
If ya smart, tell ya homies I don't play around
I'm bad for ya health, Boy don't mess wit me
(Keep Runnin')
Hey duke ain't that somethin'
2 weeks ago you was bumpin' ya gums like you was dumpin'
Now half tha blood in ya body's on the street and clumpin'
Ya homies in da back of they 'Lac
They heads is slumpin'
Screamed like some ladies
When da pump was pumpin'
A mercenary 'till hell freeze
It's bad luck when I am on your tail
Your ship will sailed
I've never bailed
No witnesses were left to tell
Surgical with a.45 or.38
Or an AK shell a send u swiftly to your wake
If it's your fate
Caught in tha wrath of a psychopath
333 X 2 – Homey you do the math!
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
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
Yo Life
Artist(s): Arsonist
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Christopher Jenkins (BMI) 100%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 100%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Rap, Reality TV Moods & Emotions, Tension and Suspense
Keywords:
Aggressive, 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, Reality TV, Scary, Shooting, South Central, Street, Streets, Struggle, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Violence, War
Instruments:
Bass, Bells, Drums, Guitar, Percussion, Piano, Strings
BPM:
100
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
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
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!
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!!
Police Goin' Down
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Nick Vincent (ASCAP) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Tony Vose Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
1980s, Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Old School, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Angry, Arrest, Back Alley, Barrio, Boastful, Boom Box, Chaos, City, Club, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Death, Drinking, Drive By, Drugs, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Guns, Hard, Jail, Killer, Mean, Mug Shot, Murder, Night Club, Old School, Police, Prison, Rebellion, Retro, Revolt, Revolution, Riot, Scary, Shooting, Street, Swagger, Thug, Tough, Urban, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Synthesizer
BPM:
96
Key:
Em
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Police Goin' Down
Police Goin' Down
Chorus
Police goin' down
They gonna feel my pain
I hear a siren
It's makin' me insane
Police goin' down
Cause killin' brothas gotta stop
Let's ride
Gonna find me a cop
Let's ride
Gonna find me a cop
Verse 1
Why we always funkin wit da boys in blue?
Them cowards always come around harrassin' duke
Make me wanna grab the sawed-off and bust
They betta wear dey vests
Because in guns we trust
We great the triple K's wit da AK's
Homey's on da roof pot shottin' e'ry day Aye Aye!
Punk police protect our neighborhood?
Wit dey boots on our necks
Boy I wish dey would
Try to Rodney King me
See me on TV
Face down 8 cops
When I gave up at Freeze!
But a young brotha's life means next to nothin'
To these donut eatin' chumps
They can think we bluffin'
Whether blood or cuzin'
It's our time for huntin'
Let me tell you wick-wack rollers some'n
We tired of shakedowns and brutality
We'll protect and serve ourselves you da enemy
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
The ghetto bird's roamin'
I can hear the shots
As here dey come again
Terrorizin' the block
Who gave dese leeches the authority
To steal our civil rights keep us on our knees
If I'm chillin' on da corner- with the gang injunction
I'm in an orange suite
It takes a lot of gumption
To treat a whole race
Like dey caught a case
I know dem cowards love it
It's all on day face
It's terror on the streets
Yet they screamin' peace
There'll never be peace wit the blitzkrieg police
They'll run up in ya house and start sprayin' bullets
A no-knock search made my grandma pull it
Poorly executed rip on an informant's tip
Wadn't no drugs in her house
She was 86
When dey finally hit the news that night on CNN
I smell a cover-up
Dem boyz is at again!
Repeat Chorus
Verse 3
Undercover police
The harassment won't cease
I know dey tryna get me
That's why I tote heat
When da cops is comin'
Hollow-points we dumpin'
I'm tryna leave 'em front seat of da car slumpin'
You gotta understand the pain
400 years of pillagin'
Slavin' wit no gains
We tired of eatin' dirt
Plenty bills but no work
You can call it what you wanna
They dirty! – The Truth Hurts
Repeat Chorus
Playin' Dirty
Artist(s): G-$tack
Label: Black Toast Records
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 45% / Don Reynolds (ASCAP) 10% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 45%
Publisher(s):
Black Toast Music (BMI) 45% / Calamari Music (BMI) 45% / Guerilla Funk Family Musicworx (ASCAP) 10%
Category:
Urban
Subcategories:
Hip Hop, Instrumental, Male Vocal, Rap
Keywords:
Aggressive, Arrest, Back Alley, Bar, Barrio, Booty, Bump n Grind, Chaos, City, Compton, Cop Show, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Crunk, Dance, Dark, Deep South, Dirty, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, East LA, Energetic, Energy, Gang, Gangsta, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Jail, Mean, Mug Shot, NYC, Nasty, New York, Night Club, Ominous, Party, Prison, Radio, Scary, Sexy, South Central, Street, Streets, Territorial, Thug, Tough, Upbeat, Violence
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar, Horns, Strings, Synthesizer
BPM:
85
Key:
Cm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Playin' Dirty
PLAYIN' DIRTY
Chorus
Playin' Dirty
When we ridin'
Playin' Dirty
When we clubbin'
Playin' Dirty
We be comin'
Playin' Dirty
C'mon
Verse 1
Po-Po's always tryna catch us ridin' dirty
What's up derty?
It's time to flip this birdie
Columbian stacks in the safe
We tryna make a bundle add the bakin'soda to it den you shake it
After you chop and separate it
You' ridin' dubs thru the town
Let the suckas hate it!
Associates in every state
But be careful cause the streets is watchin' all the money that you make, wait!!
We Bossin'
Don't get it twisted when we flossin'
We'll take it to the mats
We love to hear the sounds of the muzzle crack
Boy you don't want that
We'll pop the trunk and twist your cap back
We countin' money like the NASDAQ – it's too much
We keep the baddest broads – for two months
We been lounging down by the water in San Drope
Rubbin' on big booties
That's how big boys play hey!
Repeat Chorus
Verse 2
When it's mission time
There ain't a lot of barkin'
We get on our grind
A couple blunts we get to sparkin'
Our intelligence is better than the CIA
Assets watchin' your everymove, everyday
When it's time to launch the attack
I carry the MAC
Budda got the AK and we both wearin' black
We creep real slow
Before you know it
You feeling like you floatin'- the world receding below, it's
Not a dream
Boy you've passed away
My motto's "Best ya pull it, instead of taking a bullet!"
So you little rat punks get it straight
We the grimiest click no mistake
Homey take ya time and get ya weight up
You tryna come for mine?
Have you lost your mind?
Betta ask somebody,boy I run this city
Another young G gone what a pity!
Repeat Chorus
Vamp
GUNS!
We got mo guns than a little bit
DRUGS!
We move it in and out, boy we flip a grip!
WAR!
If you really want to test our menace
All I gotta do is give 'em the word- you' finished!
GUNS!
We got mo guns than a little bit
DRUGS!
We move it in and out, boy we flip a grip!
WAR!
If you really want to test our menace
We'll wipe y'all all out it's a dirty business!
Repeat Chorus
Pienso Verde
Artist(s): Paco
Similar Tracks
Writer(s):
Bob Mair (BMI) 33.34% / Francisco Jimenez Garcia (ASCAP) 33.33% / Joel Wachbrit (BMI) 33.33%
Publisher(s):
Calamari Music (BMI) 33.33% / Latino Style Publishing (ASCAP) 33.33% / Black Toast Music (BMI) 33.34%
Category:
Latin
Subcategories:
Action, Alternative, Heavy Metal, Indie, Instrumental, Latin Rock, Male Vocal, Metal, Rap, Rock, Spanish
Keywords:
Action, Adventure, Aggressive, Alley, Angry, Angst, Arrest, Barrio, Brash, Car, Chaos, Chase, City, Confrontational, Cops, Crime, Criminal, Dark, Death, Downtown, Drive By, Drugs, Energy, Escape, Fierce, Fight, Gang, Gangsta, Get Away, Ghetto, Gritty, Guns, Hostile, Intense, Jail, Latino, Lute, Mean, Menacing, Mexican, Mexico, Mug Shot, Ominous, Outrage, Prison, Rage, Rape, Raucous, Riot, Rousing, Scary, Shooting, Spanish Lyrics, Streets, Strip Club, Struggle, Urgent, Violence, Working
Instruments:
Bass, Drums, Guitar
BPM:
113
Language:
Spanish
Key:
Fm
Tempo:
Medium/Midtempo
Time Signature:
4/4
Lyrics:
Pienso Verde
PIENSO VERDE
Me levanto en una nube de humo gris
Intoxicado y medio loco sin dormir
La puta envidia de vivir en un país
Donde todo funciona, todo es surgir
CHORUS
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Verde, verde, verde... yo pienso verde
Niños por las calles, niños bien hambrientos
Sin educación solo en sus tormentos
Mis palabras siempre se las lleva el viento
Puta corrupción hasta reina en los conventos
PRE-CHORUS
Ciudad maléfica, ciudad patética
Aquí no hay ética, ciudad maléfica
Todo es la T.V.
CHORUS
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Verde, verde, verde... yo pienso verde
Sigo, sigo en mi camino activista
Sigo, sigo y no me aceptan mi entrevista
Sigo, sigo hasta que alguien se pellizca
Y que entiende de miseria una pizca
Sigo, sigo en mi camino activista
Sigo, sigo y no me aceptan mi entrevista
Sigo, sigo hasta que alguien se pellizca
Y que entiende de miseria una pizca
Todo es la T.V.
CHORUS
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Verde, verde, verde... yo pienso verde
PRE-CHORUS
Ciudad maléfica, ciudad patética
Aquí no hay ética, ciudad maléfica
Todo es la T.V.
CHORUS
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Yo pienso verde, yo pienso verde
Verde, verde, verde... yo pienso verde
Me levanto en una nube de humo gris
Intoxicado y medio loco sin dormir
La puta envidia de vivir en un país
Donde todo funciona, todo es surgir
I Think Green (Pienso Verde English Translation)
I get up in a cloud of gray smoke
Intoxicated and half crazy without sleep
The freaking envy of living in a country
Where everything works, everything is emerging
CHORUS
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
Green, green, green... I think green
Children on the streets, very hungry children
Without education alone in their torments
My words are always blown by the wind
Slut corruption until queen in the convents
PRE-CHORUS
Maleficent city, pathetic city
Here there is no ethics, evil city
Everything is the T.V.
CHORUS
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
Green, green, green... I think green
I'm still on my activist path
I continue, I continue and they do not accept my interview
I continue, I continue until someone is pinched
And that misery understands a pinch
I'm still on my activist path
I continue, I continue and they do not accept my interview
I continue, I continue until someone is pinched
And that misery understands a pinch
Everything is the T.V.
CHORUS
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
Green, green, green... I think green
PRE-CHORUS
Maleficent city, pathetic city
Here there is no ethics, evil city
Everything is the T.V.
CHORUS
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
I think green, I think green
Green, green, green... I think green
I get up in a cloud of gray smoke
Intoxicated and half crazy without sleep
The freaking envy of living in a country
Where everything works, everything is emerging
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
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
Follow BTM on