Five Fingers Of Funk lyrics - Slap Me Five

Look At Where You At

Original and similar lyrics
Funky fresh tracks I'm strapped with a pack Pump the real rap false crap to the back I stay true to the vibe and the flavor the old school Gave you what all others lacked Integrity contained in the grain of the lines Artistic expression conveyed in the rhymes Critics dismissed it and dissed it and wished it would die But it lifted and strengthened the mind Now the nineties are here so have fear it's getting washed out All the original vibes are being tossed out Taken from the streets and jacked for the beats These companies are weak their songs incomplete They seek to sell hip hop but instead they disrespect it Dissect it use what they can sell and then neglect it Everywhere I turn I find a sucker with a rhyme Not an M.C. 'cause an M.C. knows the time Rap is popping up like toast from coast to coast They try to boast that their style is so dope But it won't last a round when the real sound macks For all the pioneers I'm going way back Go back... to the Funky 97 Lyrics have been kicking hard from day one I wake around noon I squint at the sun Consider all my chores each day I catch more Throw on my drawers before I get the job done I step out the apt. without delay Walkman pumping It's a brand new day I'm gonna meet the keen-one when suddenly I see some Ducks in a truck playing Ice Ice Babe Down upon my ears my worst fears had ascended I guess I must admit that at the shit I was offended They proceeded to park stepped in the minute-mart I thought to myself The situation is splendid I stepped up to it and began to analyze the Scene in green I tagged my name Pete Miser Wide strokes in green dripping down the hood while I'm flipping The pilot in my pocket is my duty to advise a Bandwagon buster not to dis hip hop The shit they hit it makes me wonder how they get props As if you didn't know it takes the skills to flow Go back to the lab 'cause if you step you'll get dropped Go back... to the Funky 97 Go back to that rack of wax and two twelves 'Cause back then we'd rap when caps sent the braincells Flying toys dying many punks sunk denying Their fronting ain't it something fluffing nothings still trying To come off but the drums lost their weak minds I cultivate a great state of thought caught between lines These toys nowadays employ the sound waves To get paid and laid but still played the proud ways Don't understand the plan the man or my reasons Wack rhyme's a crime and I'm trying you for treason You're a goner if I catch you on a corner in a freestyle But I never will you lack skills that's why you're on trial Go back to the basics or face it your fake shit Wastes airspace it's a disgrace when you make it If it don't sell well tell me would you do it? If not then hot shot you'd better not pursue it Go back... to the Funky 97

The Interview

Artifact "That's Them"
[El Da Sensei] My characteristics be mistic, you ask who is it doin it, with the next type of tecs running through it The bullshit, I mean, rap style clean while I lean my 6 foot frame, Tame's the other being Seeing that niggas wack, time to take it back to basics Like saucony sneakers or a pair of Asics Don't hate this- analyst, hip hop activist battle tecnician who be on a mission now listen [Tame One] Tame One got more grip than gore tex I'm comin through your set like CBS writing my name up in your projects Who wanna test me when I'm sess-ted Pushing the paragraph like it's a Lexus I come off hot like Texas My west disrtict predicts that I'm the shit So I walk through the bricks and shoot the gif like it's a full fifth I bring the ruckus filling dutches with dust I spread love like Take 6 until the whole spliff bust [El] We wish to diminish MC frauds who need to check into a rap clinic, thinking that they all in it My message to those is right down to the core kick your best MC and all his niggas through the door 3-point offense, defense level's high Stamina a hundred, leave your team ass dry [Tame] It's still our nature to hate ya play you out like Las Vegas cause my crew's got more game than 16 Segas with adaptors, battling wack rappers and actors for all their stacks and keeping my family fucked up like the Jacksons [El] Yo, you couldn't find my dap if you tried to use a map or instructions, the number ones sold, guns be bustin so Best to recognize, eyes is on the prize watching for spies who want a piece of the lyrical pie [Tame] Crews be flippin like they really wanna die but when I ease up, they freeze and can't look me in the eye I got folders on the jokers who talk trash They never walk past, cause I be checkin for they're hall pass Haul ass and let me shine like glass do when I die make a statue, I get in you like a tattoo I pay homage to all the bombers that I'm fly with enduring politics and getting paid off of some side shit [El] I push niggas back who lack skills to hold their own Jackin other brothers' styles way that they can zone Prone to dismantle your insides like Mickey Mantle My form lasts long, like trick candles You see the work of these rhyme experts that hurt niggas in cyphers to make the other states liver Survivors of the fittest light the graf then ASCAP Sen-S-E-I peep the next paragraph [Tame] In all actu-al my style's wilder than a crack spot I'm illin, using the putas you buildin as my backdrop I paint a picture perfect with a thousand pencils From the back of Continentals, Lincolns, drinkin, thinkin mental You better look through your girl's tape collection cause this next subject might have a nigga second-guessing I wanna do raps and get fat like Apache so I can get nasty and dis a nigga like a taxi [El] My exquisite exhibit has facts in this specific Most niggas boast how they represent and come with it But whose the rudest boys, coolest with poise Artifacts be stickin them with rhythm poise Is on the biz, taylor skills like Liz Tryin to save the culture, vultures wanna run the biz You hear my voice more clear, intact peep the lyrics, trap my sectrets Ill like the film called the Curor Questions, answers, brothers payin dues MCs recognize, yo, we endin this interview

Y'all Niggaz Ain't No Killaz, Y'all Niggaz Some Hoes

PROJECT PAT "Mista Don't Play"
[Talking: La Chat] Yea dis La Chat up in dis motherfucker 'Murder She Spoke'will be out in a minute Ya hear me Dig dat Project Pat in dis thang finna let you weak ass punk ass wanna-be hard ass wanna real record deal bitches know Y'all motherfukers ain't no killaz Y'all aint nuthin but some motherfucking hoes So getcha mug off me when you see me If you ain't finna do nuthin then keep ya distance boy! [Chorus:8x] Yall niggaz aint no killaz yall niggaz sum hoes Yall niggaz aint killaz yall niggaz some hoes [Project Pat] You can run but you cant hiide I wont let you slide Strap with gun get ya mind right or a homicide Shall be done T-K-O style bugged like Ms. Wild On the run doing dumb shit blasted up a child Stand ya ground hold ya own so you best to regulate Imma clown on a damn fool slugs will penetrate When in skin you got no wind when i gotta tone Im the man with master plan you can bring it on When I set to his hoe ass right up in his mugg With this thang bitch I will blast coughin up your blood First you came to a real man thinking I's a boy When it rains and it does pour I's the real McCoy Done deal pullin out steel bitch play no games You's a two dollar ass boy and Im making change Take hieve to these motherfuckin words dat I say Dont play with real niggas real niggas dont play [Chorus:8x] [Project Pat] A real nigga workin jobs before he fall off Will pull one with a mask or a sawed off Areal nigga don't speak what he dont know He keep his mouth shut act like he dont know A real nigga will kill if he have too Take care his kids anyway dat he got too A real nigga never start shit he in shit That mastermind shit that execute shit [Singing: Project Pat] So dont you hoes try to test me Best to bow down and rest me The police want to arrest me I won't get caught Some want to annihilate me Some of yall really hate me Here I go bitch try and take me I will kill you

Crip Hop

SNOOP DOGG "Duces 'N Trayz - The Old Fashioned Way"
(feat. LaToiya Williams) [Chorus: Tray Deee] I'm tired of that punk shit Where niggaz claim to done, where they from and who run shit I bang it to the tip-top Can't stop, won't stop, droppin gangbang hit rocks To the last drip-drop To the, tick tock to the blocks niggaz rip glocks I'm knowin that this shit hot This your first introduction to this motherfuckin crip hop [Tray Deee] It's time to research the documents and pull some files and put it down with this gangsta style Cause I be seein niggaz bein more aggressive now after peace treaty meetings and the weapons down Sport Chucks 'member once it was Nikes and sandals To me it's unlikely that you're sheisty and skanless To manage this dramaticness I call my rep Every step stay on deck keepin bustaz in check Certified murder guide through the streets of death Where the sleep ya slip soon as ya weakness met From that real killer deal get ya steal and mash Niggaz have done did when the steel'll blast Pockets filled with cash, fuck a Benz or Jag Lookin rough in a bucket, tuckin tens and Macs Dip roam, chip phones, flip () and clock Lick shots and the cops and control your block Keep it true with the crew from the old to new Ride providin 'em with guidance like your 'sposed to do Notice who, participatin all the activity That's how we livin G, strictly killer tendencies So death to all my enemies And to the homies who rest in peace, a dub bag and Hennessy These weak niggaz killin me with their proclivity to even proclimate that they as real as me [Chorus] [Snoop Dogg] Yeah nigga this crip, crip, crip Talk shit and I'ma bust yo' lip I'm gettin chips in the summer in a nine-six Hummer in D.C., fuckin with a breezy, easy See we see all we can see G.R. we can G, the Eastside family Coherent, cohesive, the co-pilot On this Eastside shit cuz, I'm co-signin On the East fuck peace we ridin violent Fuck where you been it's all about where I been Sirens, gunshots, flood glocks get popped when they all try to knock knock knock Who is it - visit the papers, the streets and the labels We got the hottest shit burnin on the turntables I won't deny ya, I'm a straight rider and you don't wanna fuck with me (yeh yeh) [Chorus] [Goldie Loc] C.. R.. I.. P.. cause that's all we G I'm from Rollin', 20, Gangsta Crip and I'ma tell you how the shit gon' C (gon' C) Now if I wasn't rappin motherfucker y'all be starvin on my nuts without bucks like Marvin You can't sleep, you can't eat, look who starvin Written bill paid but still gotta be a slave Flip your own money, make your own proper Get yo' own heat, in case some niggaz try to stop ya Be a boss hog about your money, float loc And trust no one, anybody can get smoke smoked like a fat-ass blunt, of that bomb shit Have a babysitter set that ass up for chip Chips Ahoy! Niggaz ran in with toys If you didn't see 'em it's the Eastside boys We be mobbin, like a motherfuckin cut Dirty dealt, lil' sag, lil' jay, lil' Chuck Two times, trey times on yo' motherfuckin ass Keep it O.G. nigga, rewind and pass It's just another day and forty dozen, niggaz strugglin Is you hustlin, do you relate to drug smugglin If so, grab a nine and start to trip But remember, don't let nobody punk you out yo' grip nigga [LaToiya Williams] Dogg Pound groovin, Eastside is the greatest and other guys can't fade us cause we're the hardest in the town () and duces, never could be faded And all you suckers hate it Ohh crip is goin down And baby have no doubt, we gonna turn it out And that's on Eastside L.B.C. And we're the best, we rockin coast to coast and we be blowin dope, and baby that's the shit I'm talkin real shit to ya baby (that real crip shit) Duces 'n trayz bangin (that real crip shit) I'm talkin real shit to ya baby (that real crip shit) Duces 'n trayz, bangin bangin bangin bangin (THAT CRIP!) [Snoop Dogg] Oooh! Yeah, that Eastsider shit (Eastside Eastside) What y'all know about this here (what what wha-wha-what) I'm (I'm) tal..king.. crip shit (talk to me, talk to me) I'm.. tal..king.. crip shit I'm talking crip shit to you baby Eastside.. ahh! Eastside, Eastside Ahh.. Eastside, Eastside! Uhh, ahh.. Eastside, Eastside

Can I Get High

LLOYD BANKS "The Hunger For More"
[Lloyd Banks] I know, I ain't supposed to smoke in here But Mr. Bouncer Man, don't put your motherfuckin hands on me (Can I get high) - without you botherin me Everybody you see in here tonight's doin the same thing, so why you keep player hatin on me? (Can I get high) - without you botherin me [50] Ay, did you hit this shit? [Chorus: G-Unit - repeat 2X] That la lah-lah, I be smokin Be gettin me right, I be loc'n Them bullshit trees, you be rollin barely gives you a buzz, me I get HIGH! [Lloyd Banks] I admit I got a problem, I keep comin back for these doe-doe bags, and not your 'gnac or your sack of seeds I chill, sit back on the sofa and relax my knees And roll one up loose enough to make the backwards breathe I blow a heavy load, you can subtract some G's cause I'm a smoker, too much of this to choke ya I don't mean to provoke ya, but I'm a bad influence A musician can't operate without his instruments My recent success rapidly got your bitch convinced Haters mad they can't look inside cause I pitched the tints I enter the club with baggies of that chocolate The secondhand smoke'll make a nigga wanna start shit Sometimes I think bout where the niggaz from the start went Raise up a lighter and fuck up the whole apartment It's just one of them things that I do with my spare time My bad habits ain't private, so I'ma share mine [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks] Now they put they hands out, cause of the way shit bend So you niggaz ain't smokin if you don't chip in Listen, I waited long for these rocks to glisten From that one-room pad without a pot to piss in Overt betrayal is not forgiven, I do this for my niggaz locked up that's comin home to lobster livin Helpin the cop's forbidden, bout to buy momma her own mansion Just so I can see her pop the ribbon That Cali bud special, so special I held the blunt so long Snoop had to tell me, 'Pass the weed nephew!' Fuck rap, I'm the wrong one to get pissed off Cause the pump'll make you 'Jump' like Kris Kross My nigga dead and it's hard to let go So I'm blowin on that wet doe, same color as Gecko We follow hood codes and everybody in the set know We gas 'em, fuck 'em and pass 'em, what you expect ho? [Chorus] [Snoop Dogg] Say 'gain won't you blow it with the best of them Yes yes I blessted them, blazed up the purple palm trees I told dem don't mess wit dem, I hold dem no testament Do you want to smoke wit me? Weed rollin, G-strollin, bad-mouthin muh'fucker Law breakin, pimp slappin niggaz for the fuck of it Hip-Hoppin, ziplockin, riprockin gangbanger 'Thought you was an actor,' thought I was a singer Thought about ridin if you say you wanna hang tough D.P.G. unit sounds like danger You might wanna manage your anger Hang with us and stop smokin on the same stuff Now lay back on the law This new weed that I got I call it face off Cause it'll blow your face off and that's a figure of speech My niggaz a beast, on me, from the West to the East, preach! [Chorus]

I'm Not You

Clipse "Lord Willin'"
(Pusha T)(talking, voice echoing) No, no, no I told you, i live this shit, i aint just up here, rapin and tappin, spitin' and skitin' and shit, naw, unh unh, not me, (beat starts) Im not you, im not you rapper, im not you, Pusha (rapping) I keep them ziplocks bustin' at the stitches, Culinary chemist, I serve the malicious, the brick the fiends fixes, one give you the sniffles, the otha leave you wit the itches, transport airport with the vaseline, so i can fulfill my dreams of pastures thats green more cash than you seen, with an aston thats green, me drivin' her fast with tha lean, zonin' fam'ly, keep youngin's in them rented camry's, door panel full of shit and i aint full of shit, reckless ass, god forbid they dont crash, from the panel to the dash and four pounds of slab, naw bitch we dont beleive in airbags, cars turn tricks like them ringlin' brother skits, whether a bitch hop out, or the glock pop out, you know what im about, blow clear sinus till the snot drop out. (Jadakiss)(overlapping last line) Who ever said (?) is a damn lie, got em right here, and if i dont like you the grams high, take it or leave it, soon as a fiend taste it he need it, they can smoke it right in front of you and make you believe it, prob'ly think I wont murder you the way i smile, but ima take a lotta shots AI style, and Jada, the name is silky, but so what the muthafuckin' game is filthy, you know what, my mom and my pops really did a good job, but it was the montegga and the 'cain that built me so i, could never hate on anotha brotha, God is great the devil is a mutha fucka, if u broke but they think u got money, crackers start showin' you love, ya own people act funny, i tear niggas heads off, i dont discriminate, fades, cornrows and dreads i will eliminate (Coldchain)

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