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ACTION BRONSON lyrics - Blue Chips 2

Contemporary Man

Original and similar lyrics
Get it together Justin, got to get it together fam Let's Go Yeah, fuck the back talk Save all that pussy shit for the cat walk Now write your name 100 times on the blackboard Just a white man excelling in a Black sport, like I'm Pistol Pete You already know you a goner when I kiss your cheek Lift your feet, like when your sister sweeps Fine dining, drink water out the crystal creek Straight from Queens rocking leathers like I'm Mr. Cheeks (Uhhhh, fly shit Grown Man shit Do it one more time, fuck it I'm good to go) Yo, I'm a wild freak, hit shorty where the child sleep While her mother make soup with the cow feet Shoulder pads and a leather, Beau Brummell Hopping out the limo at the old Tunnel Fuck sex on the beach, I want head in the streets Spread bed on the feet Lead on your cheek, the cadillac from 73 Aqua marine with a popular fiend, uhh Big Bird, Farrington alumnus Mouth like a pussy, she gummed it You see me in the green velour, facial conquistador Then I order up a feast for four If you see me in a leather, know it's reaching the floor Linen flapping in the wind cause of the breezy shore, yeah Spinal tap, you spitting gynecology rap Eat your pussy with a plastic bag, covering that Brothers will clap leave you hovered or jacked If there's chicken in the building, know I'm smothering that This tool I got will loosen up your stool a lot Near the pee pee will make you poo-poo a lot In the Z3 bumping U2 (Yo this Big Motherfucking Body, bitch) Ginger ale laying in a Knicks cup Pay thirty dollars for a dick suck Pay a hundred dollars for the joints I rolled Oyster bowls chilling in the cloisters I love Black girls boisterous Shorty's on the arm like a koi fish On a Herbie White dude with the yellow fever Yellow sneakers, see through yellow beeper (Feel the beat...) When our eyes first met was like the fourth day in July When you kissed my lips, I knew one day you'd be mine Watch my shorty take a shower, I want the good loving Six ducks in a wood burning oven Georgia Southern, her alma mater She raised out in Queens, but moved out to Colorado Looney Tunes, Taz on the shirt Fuck swag, got pizzazz Two jags, Cincinnati Zubaz Du rag, Bay Terrace pool pass Talked to Skip, schooled me on the ponies Next year catch me posing at the Tonys Folding paper wilding at the OTB Grow the money like a Cocha tree American flags hang on walls that hide money Put my arm through the Picasso Kept a fortress, crib got the Tex-Mex motif, wolves howling Two stallions pull the buggy, Clydesdale Crack the Bud, guzzle, humidors Uncle Moozy with the Mitsubishi Uncle Jimmy with the funny money flossing out in AC Randy Quaid with the turtleneck Erma with the jungle juice, man feet Beamer with the tan seats, Smack the taco out your mouth, green couch

Go Cop Whatever

THE JACKA
[Verse 1:] Verse one first there's not a safety on my gun For the safety of my daughter and my son Who gotta father on the run Still hustlin Gotta leave em with something Still young and thuggin Bustin hammers after a function Get that shit on camera Na dudes we gon be stuntin The boys come and roll da window up Act like nutin We from the bay A R E A nigga We got straps smokin fat so don't roll with us If you scared of the high speed Or the ice streets So cold you need minks Racin niggas for pinks Watching tv seein AP gettin tatted on ink Who told me never sleep Matter fact never blink I'm always in to my neck but I never sink At the burl like young furl rest in peace That's the nigga get yo scrill Cause you are the streets Ya feel? [Hook:] Got weed coke hop whateva It's the game where crooks come together Get rich and go cop whateva It's the shit but don't cross me neva [x2] [Verse 2:] I don't think you like hanging round me I smoke too much Ain't scared to buss I jus poured the four in my cup All the hoes just trying to get fucked Seven trey cuts sittin way up I buss the scale then weigh it up Park in the cuts wait on jugs Wait for cause then wait on hus After that my day is up All day I'm with da shit Cranberry drippin off my whip Hit the liquor store for a fifth 99 cent bag of chips P black drippin off that six Black g5 26 inch Rims under that bitch Sometimes I wonder why we rich And I pop bottles on the strip Smoking purp no matter what 40 cals that knock out chunks Let my young niggas knock out chumps Ya them yung niggas knock out fronts And I'm standing there smokin blunts Could've stopped but fuck you punks [Hook]

There's Been A Murder

JAY-Z "Vol. 3... Life And Times Of S. Carter"
[*BLAM BLAM*] [*woman screaming in pain*.. cops yelling 'Go! Go! Go! Go!'] [*police sirens*] [Hook:] {sung vocals} Think there's been a murder-errra-ahhh-hahh-ahhh I ahh, think there's been a.. I.. I think there's been a.. Think there's been a murder-errra-ahhh-hahh-ahhh I ahh, think there's been a.. I.. I think there's been a.. [Jay-Z] I hustle from, night to morning, dawn to dusk Kidnap and robberies like, (c'mon nigga) 'You goin with us' I held roundtable meetings so we could go on and discuss not only money but all the emotions goin through us Why we don't cry when niggaz die, that's how the street raised him Look in the air, say a prayer (hail mary) hopin God forgave him Cop liquor, twist it, tap it twice, pour it to the pavement We live dangerous, often findin ourself in the eyes of strangers (Who the fuck is you) My dream is big and in it my team is rich as seen through the eyes of a nigga who ain't seen shit Back to live action, I'm packin, I'm still in the mix like new hits, I think I'm goin over your head a lil' bit But I let you know I changed names when I roam through town Stay free and be who I'm professional known as now Jay-motherfuckin-Z; and with that said back to Shawn Carter the hustler, Jay-Z is dead, and uhh [Hook] [Jay-Z] My infatuation with autos led to autos gettin sprayed Houses gettin broken in, quarters gettin trayed Bricks gettin chopped, mom's pots gettin used One thrown in that water, try the soda in there too Expensive shoes worn, Louis Vuitton seat, roof gone Coke cheap, my face is like a coupon I gotta do Shawn, cause even when Jay-Z was lukewarm I was gettin my loot on, nigga I'm too strong Eat til the food's gone, they placed me on this earth The twin brother of rich/poor though, seperated at birth I got the soul of a hustler, quiet noise like a muffler Fuck with us, walk through the ghetto, see the place that corrupted us Learn why we buck at the guys that come up with us Ain't enough bucks for us to split in this shit Plus ain't nobody lovin us; and with that said back to Shawn Carter the hustler, Jay-Z is dead, and uhh [Hook] [Jay-Z] See my life is like a see-saw And until I move this weight it's gon' keep me to the floor Travel with me through my deep thoughts Y'all can't learn Jigga by the shit y'all be readin in The Source; It's deeper of course Follow the life of this reckless minor At sixteen in the 600, unlicensed driver Playin, cops and robbers, like shots can't stop us Flippin a bird to the choppers (fuck you coppers) Buck-thirty on the turns Reckless abandon, when I'm standin on this pedal Hand on my metal, minus all this time they tryin to give me Lord help me, all I ever wanted to be was wealthy or somebody to tell me that they felt me I tried to play the hand you dealt me but you gave me five funnies an' shit I was hungry I need menage money Nothin less than a 520; and with that said back to Shawn Carter the hustler, Jay-Z is *BLAM* {Think there's been a murder-errra-ahhh-hahh-ahhh}

State Prison Farms

George Carlin "Back In Town"
Here's another idea. I'm going to save you a whole lot of money on prisons, but at the same time we are still going to remove from society many of our more annoying citizens. Four groups are going away permanently. First group: Violent criminals. Here's what you do with these Emmy award winners. You take the entire state of Kansas. You move everybody out. You give them a couple of hundred dollars for their inconvinience, you know. Got to be fair. And then, you move them out, you put a big ten story electric fence around Kansas and Kansas becomes a permanent prison farm for violent criminals. No parole, no police, no supplies, the only thing you give them is lethal weapons and live ammunition, so they can communicate in a meaningful way. Then you put the whole thing on Cable TV. The Violence Network, VNN. And for a corporate sponsor, you get one of those companies that loves to smear it's logo feces all over the landscape. Budweiser will jump at this shit in half a minute. Alright, next group: sex criminals. Completely incurable, you got to lock them up. You could outlaw religion and in most cities sex crimes would disappear in a couple of generations. But we don't have time for rational solutions! Much easier to fence off another rectangular state. Rectangular states are cheaper to fence, saves the taxpayers money, you know? This time Wyoming. But only for true sex offenders. We're not going to bother consenting adults who liike to dress up in leather boy scout uniforms and smash each other in the head with ballpeen(?) hammers while they take turns blowing their cat. There's certainly nothing wrong with that. It's a victimless hobby. And think of how good the cat must feel! No, we're only going to lock up rapists and molesters. Those hopless romantics. Who're so full of love they can't help getting a little of it on you. Usually on your leg. You take all of these heavy breathing fun seekers, and you stick them in Wyoming. And you let them suck, fuck, and fondle, you let them blow, chew, sniff lick whip gobble and cornhole each other, until their testicles are whistling 'Oh Come All Ye Faithful'! And, and you turn on the cameras and you've got The Sperm Channel! And don't forget our corporate sponsor, we're going to let Budweiser put little logo patches on the rapist's pant right here, 'This Bud's for you'! Alright, next group: Drug addicts and alcoholics. Not all of them, don't get nervous. Just the ones who are making life difficult for at least one other person. And we're not going to bother first offenders. People deserve a chance to clean up. Everyone will get... twelve chances to clean up. Alright, fifteen! Fifteen! that's fine, and that's it, if you can't make it in fifteen tries, off you go *fwit* to Colorado! Colorado! The perfect- a perfect place for staying loaded. Each week, all of the illegal drugs confiscated in the United States - that the police and D.E.A. don't keep for their own personal use - will be air-dropped into Colorado. And we're going to turn the Coors brewery over to the beer-drinking assholes, and everyone can stay wasted wired stoned bombed hammered smashed and shitfaced round the clock on another new cable channel, Shitface Central 'This is the real Rocky Mountain HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGH!!! Ok I've saved my favorite group for last. The maniacs and crazy people. Yeah. The ones who live out where the buses don't run. And I distinguish between maniacs and crazy people. A maniac will beat nine people to death with a steel dildo. A crazy person will beat nine people to death with a steel dildo, but he'll be wearing a Bugs Bunny suit at the time. So you can't put them all away. You know you got to keep some of them around just for the entertainment. Like a guy who tells you the King of Sweden is using his penis as a radio transmitter to send anti-semitic lesbian meatloaf recipies to Soupy Sales and Marvin Hamlisch. A guy like that you want to give him his own radio show. No, the maniac farm will be reserved strictly for hopeless cases. Like a guy who gets a big tatoo on his chest of Liza Minnelli taking a shit, you know? And he tells you if he wiggles a certain way it looks like she's wiping her ass, you know? A guy like that, you want to get him into custody as quickly as possible. Now, for the maniac farm, I think there's no question we got to go with Utah. Utah. Easy to fence. Easy to fence. Right next to Wyoming and Colorado and Colorado is right next to Kansas, and that means all four groups of our most amusing citizens are now in one place. Except for the big fences. And I think I have another one of my really good ideas for Cable TV. Gates. Small sliding gates in the fences. Think of what you've got here. Think of what you've got. Predators, degenerates, crackheads and fruitcakes. Nine hundred miles of fence seperating them. Every fifty miles you put a small sliding gate. But, the gates are only ten inches wide and they're only open once a month... for seven seconds. And you know something? Fuck Cable, this shit has got to be on Pay-Per-View. Because, if those gates are only open seven seconds a month, you are going to have some mighty interesting people pushing and shoving to be first in line. Deeply disturbed armed cranky lunatics on drugs. You know the ones. Lot of tatoos... lot of teeth broken off at the gumline... the true face of America. And every time you open the gates, some of the more aggressive ones are going to get through. The creme de la creme. The alphas. They're going to get through, they're going to find each other and they're going to cross-breed. And pretty soon you'll have a melting pot. Child killers corpse fuckers drug zombies and full-blown wack-a-loons. Wandering the landscape in search of truth and fun. Just like now! Everyone will have guns, everyone will have drugs, and no one will be in charge. Just like now! But at least we'll have a balanced budget.

Over & Over

KANO "London Town"
Over and over again [x7] Over again. Like beef back an forth chiefs backing tools thinking they are street, black and cool lying acting fraud married to the street and then sign that divorce A cheap bottle of wine then I pulled the same ting I pulled last time that's a fool Back to the road hit her from the backup resume (Over And over again) Like blacks on the news getting shifted with straps in the boot knowing and knowing again. Back to the pent unstrapped in the booth with knowledge and facts for the youths 'BRRAP' and that's not the sound of the beat that's just the sound of the street like 'WHOO WHOO' that's the sound of the police. I murk mc's many times they say I've murdered like 25 and I've murdered like 25 their still nervous at 25 commit petty crime in the petrol station at any time swear on your life you've already lied two time your wifey like 20 times I'm trapped in this life of sin try and win this continuous fight within I just don't listen no no different if shit around me then things go missing no religion church no visit I confess my sins all of the riddem Like sent home form school parents overrule I still hot the fence and over walls like fuck Santa clause if my shit ain't under the tree the niggas best run way from me cause I'll blatantly eat the whole class till Miss Baiten sees miss behaving please don't dictate to me I've heard that shit over and over again shows get banned radio keep sleeping real fans gets cheated we get defeated but we keep dreaming they say we are seen as equals that's why they call us urban and we encourage it they yeah they might like but were in love with it Saturday night life yeah their loving it Monday drop like we heard enough of it back to the crime, crime work and other shit but her I'm fucking with (over and over again) I'm trapped in this life of sin try and win this continuous fight within it's taking part that counts but I rhyme to win keep paying cash out so I rhyme to live still trying to blow us about time I did I'll probably be out by the times end need to pull some strings like the violin the same old shit same air max same Stan smith same grey tracksuit just different colour tick hit the same bars spit the same bars spit the same bras spit the same bras I'm trapped in this life of sin try and win this continuous fight within I just don't listen no no different if shit around me then things go missing no religion church no visit I confess my sins all of the riddem Over and over again [x7] Over again. Like beef back an forth chiefs backing tools thinking they are street, black and cool lying acting fraud married to the street and then sign that divorce A cheap bottle of wine then I pulled the same ting I pulled last time that's a fool Back to the road hit her from the backup resume (Over And over again)

You Had Me, You Lost Me

EVE "Scorpion"
[Chorus - Repeat 2x] You had me, You lost me And now you want me back You fucked around and played around And now your feeling sad [Verse 1] Uh, uh How should I start it off You must have thought me soft Like it was all good to move on and cross me off We never shared secrets We wasn't fucking raw Helped you when you were down and now you got the fucking gawl We used to be so tight We was each others life You was my husband and no doubt I was your fucking wife Did anything you ever asked of Eve You turned out to be a devil nigga I couldn't believe Sneaking numbers out my phone Calling bitches on the cell What the hell! Clunky bitches one on the scale I'm like a dime over line You can't calculate my status And you fucking with these bitches like my ass wasn't the fattest Like I didn't dress the baddest Any time we surface Must have been insecure Niggas made you nervous And I guess it was your purpose to lock me in But you fucked up Your lucks out But then again [Repeat Chorus 2x] [Verse 2] Used to let shit slide Caught a couple lies I chilled for real, I mean I called a couple guys Knew when you was fucking up, I saw it in your eyes Then I guess it was my fault cause I put up the disguise In public we was happy In home we'd be scrapping Later we'd be naked, joking, smoking and laughing Making up to Break up I thought that shit was love But it wasn't and I learned the hard was soaking in suds Crying all depressed Not again You'll never catch me Wishing on a star for some nigga to come bless me I tried to save it All you ever did was stress me Pushing all me buttons Why the fuck must you stress me Nigga get a life Go on and find a wife Get the fuck out my face 'fore I go and find a knife And you still calling my phone trying to act polite Asking me for favors now you know that shit ain't right But [Repeat Chorus 2x] [Verse 3] Uh-oh You see me coming don't you Look at you running wont you Oh you gonna sit there and see me like I want to approach you Now it's payback I'm talking way back To bitches calling hanging up You ain't no way to save that To unanswered questions To home in the a.m. To you out clubbing Forcing me to stay in Remember - O.K. then It's over - no playing I said it before I'm about to do it - fuck what you saying To late for apologies Go puff on a pile of weed Think about this good bitch that's leaving and don't follow me Moving on Shut you down Now you wanna regret You could fuck all day - But it would never feel like my sex Played yourself Tried to show I cared You ain't cared When I needed you the most nigga you wasn't there And the game is the same Comes around goes around Now hate me forever while the chorus goes around [Repeat chorus 4x] [Eve] Look ma everybody makes mistakes aight na na na na na na na na na na na [Repeat until fade]

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