JAY ELECTRONICA lyrics - The Jay Electronica Project

My Uzi Weighs A Ton

Original and similar lyrics
When I walk motherfucker, My uzi weighs a ton, When I talk motherfucker uzi weights a ton When I walk motherfucker (my uzi weighs a ton [x3]) Never will I resign I'm a soldier for life I'm masterin my circumference controlling the mic Behold the light (bring) Some niggas die for they ice See I'll part with the chain But I'm a die for the christ This time I baptise with fire Roll with a thousand soldiers like jeremiah Call me sire Hitman for hire Show me the money like J Mcguire Build my empire in the midst of the fire Voodoo men say that I am I'm a stumbling stone I'm never too far from home cause the earths my throne I'm the king supreme superb out the third ya heard Magnolia made me a soldier throwin dice on the curb Crucified me the first day I'm rockin ice on the third Burning circles on hood corners rockin mics and them birds I got my hard hat my work gloves I'm ready to rock So beware of this heavy hardware we steady to drop Bring seven mcs put em in a line Go get seven other cornballs who think they can rhyme Itll take seven more befo I go for mine That's twelve sucka niggas with a gash in they perm Plus nine other motherfuckers draft to get burned It's a horrible lesson indeed but has to get learned It's the new world order We kidnapped rap and took us south of the border While cats rock three-sixty waves white tees girbauds and diodoras Young guns is raised in the little shop of horror When drama get to poppin and the shit get outta order The choppersll chop a hole up in the door of your explorer The coppersll pop a hole up in the door of your aurora Watchers, dime dropper to copper sing em a story Niggas is shiesty, in the land where they trill with it Stress is a motherfucker man nigga deal with it When I gave me some sweet advice, uh huh He came like a man with it Took it and ran with it I'm a turn the rap game to the summer of sam with it If anybody asks tell em the son of man did it That's right you know my name I got the devil on the run Why, cause my mother fuckin uzi weighs a ton And I'm squeezin on you fuckers with the mic in my hands Thatll leave terrorizing rappers from detroit to japan...

Representin '93

2PAC "Strictly 4 My N.I.G.G.A.Z."
I got a head, but ain't no screws in it. Roll up and get swoll up. Hold up. How ya gonna play me like a sunkin dunkin donut I ain't came a long way to get checked So give me respect when I get wreck or get your motha fuckin chimp check. Once again, it's your friend outta Oakland. Hoping I rock the shit to get ya open. Say your looking for some real shit. Then catch a funkdified batch. Like that!! Oakland's on the map. Tupac is on the big screen strivin. Gotta love a nigga for survivin. I wear alot of old schools jewels. Look how the fools . Ooohh. Stop lookin at me hard cuz your buffer. But I'll just buck then bigger motha fuckas. Turnin men to suckas. Niggas wanna start a little ruckus. Better duck cuz I'll be poundin them motha fuckas. They wanna throw their hands up. Thats tight. Hit em wit my eight. Never had shit left, right. Then hit em wit the uppercut. Duck quick. Shit outta luck. Fucked and stuck with that rough shit. Fuck a pop song, fuck video, fuck Arsenio, fuck the radio. Do you hear me though Give a holla to my niggas in the pen. And my murderous parteners wit their Mac 10's. I represent the real cuz I'm ill, G. Glock cocked and then they kill me. I'm representin'. Peace to Redman, Tretch, Vin Rock, K-G the great one Mary J. Blidge, Pete Rock and sure you're late son. Heavy D, CL Smooth, and Queen Latifah. Too Short, Tony Toni Tone, And the Special motha fucka, Ed Lover, the Tribe, A Tribe Called Quest, and Jungle Brothas. Das Efx, EPMD, and Ice Cube. House of Pain: funky blunted ass white dudes Cypress Hill, yeah, the ill niggas. Digital Underground: my real niggas. Raw Fusion, all in house confusion. Wickeder than most men: Spice 1 and Pooh Man. TLC, Eric B rockin, then Scarface. Stretch, Mad K-Low, pumpin the scars bass. Thorough Heads, Poonannynans, the Click. Mmmm. , Richie Rich. Young Guns in the house pumpin the flava. DJ Ditch for their behavior. Off the head, my freestyle flow. Just a couple of motha fuckas that I know. I'm strictly representin 1 motha fucka, 2 motha fucka, 3 motha fuckas, Damn, who did I forget I'm a soulja. Daddy was a soulja. Strong in the struggle. Must contend so it's on. Raised in a house full of bad motha fuckas. Mad motha fuckas. Never had so we grab from the stacked motha fuckas. Now they know me, the homies. Raised by some crazed ass well payed OG's. Ah shit! Pulled up in a benzy, snatch. The wheel as I peel out. Catch a cop's tail. Rock shells hit. Raise a fist so they know to make a hit. Can I flip it I may get wicked as I rip it. To get specific: If the shoe fits, then kick it. It's for the gifted. Pump your fist if you wit it. Here's your ticket to see Mr. Wicked rip shit. Now they wanna maime me. (Told ya) All I wanted to be was a soulja. Bang bang boogy it's stick up. Quit now nigga, eat a dick up. I

Cross The Border

[Boobonic] Yo, once the Mo start drippin Hoes start trippin Tell em my name Boo You know we all hittin But look mami I got 3 drinks in me stuck And I aint tryna talk, I'm tryna fuck If the pussy gets wetter Chicks, I never sweat her I'm gettin all the cheddar Bitch, read the letter I pattened the plan Get a dick suck wit a gat in my hand Bitch, it's thug passion Chicks drive by in their whips They be flashin Do you know Bonic and Lib They be askin If the bitch wanna ask me shit, I'ma hit Attitude just like Cancun, I'ma trip Now niggas pissed Know why Cause I'm the shit If you cop a 5, imagine what I'm gone get Lights out Most Wanted bring the bikes out Ball out Bitches on the back Ass all out I got hoes wit accents And I don't mean Hundai's My hands touched more bricks than Quamay's Ice'll blind you For real dog, believe me Only feel comfortable around Ray Charles and Stevie So I'ma take it easy [Chorus (Female voice)] So why don't you run across the border mama (I'll run cross the border papa) And what will you bring me back mama (You know what I'll bring you back papa) So don't forget (I won't forget) To bring me back (To bring you back) What I need (What you need) Tonight (Tonight) Will you run across the border mama (I'll go cross the border papa) [Mr.] (Mr. Mr.) I know the fuck you heard Give me head while I drive Bitch, I like to swerve I'll take you to the airport so you can cop them birds Now is you bout it mami Whoa, let me know Is it the dick, the car, the looks, or the dough She said, 'Mostly the dough, playa I don't lie.' I hit once, then hit her girlfriend Ask, 'When can we all get together again' And I never love hoes What you talkin about I party your wife, nigga You be eatin her out And I sat there and told you that I cum in her mouth And my connect the only reason she be runnin down south Bitches high for a ride dependin who key startin So fuck a Jaguar Cop a Aston Martin, pardon No talkin, Mr. say sparkin Niggas can't understand They still walkin [Chorus] [Boobonic] Hot ass whips is what they see Boo in We play down in C-A-C-U-N Uh, nice wit the O flex outta line Cut a bitch off like O.J. Yall aint ready That's why all yall niggas look hurt When yall see me More Franklin's than Kirk And I'm spendin em wit GP Thick tube socks I rock like I'm from DC Cash Money as in Juvenile like BG [Mr.] Top down on the Cadillac Allante' I get street stripes like Carlito Brigante Dog, I tax yall cause it costs to live And still show no love like foster kids I rent out homes in the hood and live across the bridge My car's hotter than Negril While y'all walk, I wheel Oh, your Roley go tick and tock It's not real And keep a piece around my neck I know worth ya deal, nigga [Chorus]


If I was your tv I'd be like Look at me If I was a shooting star I'd be like Peace! If I was a fat bitches thong I'd be like Hell naw!' If I was a hotties thong I'd be like Awwww... If I was a cuss word I'd just be like fuck If I was a rock on the moon I'd be chillin' like Sup? If I was a butthole I'd just be an exit If I was the D.O.C. I'd be like man this is bullshit If I was the tires on your car I'd be like NEEEAAAWWW If I was the bumper on your car I'd be like Aww fuck If I was a balloon I'd be like pap If I was Allysa Milano I'd be fucking Joe Bruce If I was a radio DJ I'd probably say the point 103 If I was a richy ass bitch I'd be like umm...ok If I was Spin magazine I'd put me on the cover and be like fuck us! And I won't read this, even us motherfucker! If I was your mental stress I'd be catching up If I was your headaches every now and then I'd be like THONNNKK!! If I was your tongue I'd be hating your teeth I'd be like Man why do you try to bite me every time we try to eat? If I was a chair I'd be like Sit here If I was Kid Rock I'd cut my feathered wolf hair If I was your muffler I'd be like Shhh, quietly If I was a price tag I'd be like You ain't buying me If I was a fresh ass DJ I'd be like [records scratch] If I was Jam Master J I'd be like [records scratch] If I was a cheap clock radio I'd be like [static] Tune that motherfucker in If I was Barry White I'd be like What up y'all? If I was nipple in the cold I'd be like Boing If I was your dead uncle I'd be like ..... If I was a raindrop I'd just be like drip And If I had an ax to your neck I might say CHOP! [Chorus] If I was, if I was, but I'll never be If I was, if I was, but I'll never be If I was, if I was, but I'll never be If I was, if I was, but I'll never be If I was, if I was, but you're killing me If I was, if I was. but you're killing me If I was a Faygo at one of our shows, I'd fly through the air into and ocean of juggalos If I was Andre The Giant This is how I'd be talking If I was Father MC I'd be like Now what happened? If I was a mirror, I'd find another mirror and look each other dead in the eye, crystal clear If I was a slider I'd slide out your butt I'd be floatin' in your toilet lookin' at you like What? If I was a pilot I'd be like This is air traffic control If I was John Denver I'd be like Nooooooo!!!! If I was a switch I'd be like Flick me, yoo-hoo If I was a London cop car I'd be like Wee-oop wee-oop If I was Chewbacca I'd get a fresh ass fade If I was Vanilla Ice I'd be like Fuck y'all. I'm still paid If I was a stop sign I'd just be like Stop If I was your wooden leg I'd still be giving you the hip-hop [Chorus}

Ya Better Bring A Gun

King Tee "Ruff Rhymes: Greatest Hits Collection"
[ VERSE 1: King Tee ] They live on the street and they hustle for fame Some kill for a livin, some sling cocaine Because it's now a lifestyle and a full-time job And if you live in Compton, it's like at McCobb From block to block everybody's bad And if you don't know where you're at, then your life's been had Cause they walk in the street with intentions to meet Some sappy lookin punk with Fila on his feet And if you try to act tough, well Mr. Tough, you're through Cause everybody's a family, if not, they're a crew I'm here to give some advice advice (Run!) Cause if you're ever in Compton, you better bring a gun Yo, here come my homeboy Mixmaster Spade Man, what's up, man? Hey man, ain't you from Compton, man? (Ah yeah) Alright man, tell em what's up, man What you used to do [ VERSE 2: Mixmaster Spade ] I used to cut up the beat on the two turntables Now I'm rappin on the mic, cause I'm willin and able When I'm on the mic I take no slack And everytime that you see me I'm tearin a gat I got .380s and .22s You messs with me, I'm gonna bust on you I got a .357 and a M-16 They call me Master Spade, and Tee's the King Now Compton is the city where the homeboys stay Rollin in a different car everyday Can't roll too hard, gotta watch my back Cause if I don't, I just might get jacked Now Compton is a city of a lotta fun (Can't walk down the street (Can't walk down the street Can't walk down the stree without my gun) [ female voice ] Now you know this just don't make no kinda sense [ VERSE 3: King Tee ] Now the next place is kinda risky if you're walkin with your mother Y'all can get shot if she wears the wrong color They're all from the old school, nobody's modern The place I'm talkin 'bout is the Nickerson Gardens You can get away with murder, cause they murdered the cops Cause they said they tried to run a bumrush on Watts But they took control, slingers walk real tall While real down gangbangers write their set on the wall If I was you I wouldn't visit here, it's like hell And if you get robbed, who you gonna tell? I'm only here for advice advice (run!) And if you're ever in Watts, you better bring a gun [ VERSE 4: King Tee ] Now you got a nice car with a brand-new paintin Rag top convertable with all-gold Daytons You decide to take a ride down the Crenshaw strip You stop at the Fat Burgers to feed your lip You got your sounds bumpin, playin Zapp and Vibe A skeezer comes your way, you say, Let's take a ride So you're cruisin Crenshaw with her, you're goin to bail A brown Cutlass pulls up, they put a gauge to your head They say, (Get our your car) if you value your life (And leave your money) if you love your wife Now you're standin in the street lookin like you're on crack And you say to yourself: I can't believe I got jacked You call the police because your car they stole But when you get in touch with them, they put you on hold Your car is gone, nothin could be done So next time you cruise Crenshaw, YOU BETTER BRING A GUN! Alright, I wanna thank Mixmaster Spade for comin out to rock with me (And Greg Mack) the Mack Attack And I also wanna thank J-Ro and Sweet Tooth for comin out rockin (And DJ [Name]) And I wanna thank Scotty D, Cold-Crush Chris And DJ Pooh, the Hip-Hop Gangster (When he say beat em up he don't be bluffin) Word And oh yeah, I forgot somebody Unknown! (Yo man Who blew up that McDonald's on Central and Rosecrans, du?)


Basket Case "Straight MTL"
[Mr. Q] Yeah, yeah. Check it out. Yo, yo, yo [CHORUS: Mr. Q] It's the connection It's the connection It's the connection It's the connect son It's the connection It's the connection It's the connection It's the connect son Mr. Q and Mikey Styles, shit is live Yeah, yeah, yo [Verse 1: Mr. Q] So watch the story of a young thug Niggas is busting Niggas is trying to get they hand on our cheddar, but whatever Part of my mission, is to reach my destinatino Son, you with me? Aight, then let's make it happen Yo with this rap shit, I'm in it I worry y'all niggas stick it and bring it A lot of niggas talk about the next nigga Is kyou real or are you faking jacks? Y'all niggas ain't live The whole way niggas is standing in the pair of fly ties Niggas bringing the drama My niggas Deeper than the Mobb Bring the shit like you want it You can't bust me I'm like the holy son, the son of Jehovah ??? niggas puch your Range Rover Put y'all to sleep You try to creep after seeing niggas freed you I'll leave you with a death wish Your peoples miss you thinking you're alive My niggas kick your ass for a ride Now you gone, dead These niggas took your head Instead of fucking with us you better get with us And be the last nigga thinking that you got through And defeat you, you feel offended, then money bring it I take no shorts, I leave you niggas on a crusty cross While your priest bother calling Has a sly trade of where my crew is from The heart of Bushwick I bring it back to Allah 'Cause niggas make you cry if you front on some bullshit But still you fronted Now you bump heads with real niggas You don't want it But yo, you got disrespected Hit you on the spot, must respect it You got rejected That's what you get when you fuck with rap With the real niggas Nigga you get his cap peeled, shit is real son Yeah, yeah, yo, yo Thug bust a slug Niggas don't give a fuck son If ya want it, then you bring it Yo, yo Thug bust a slug Niggas don't give a fuck son If ya want it, then you bring it [Verse 2: Mikey Styles] Welcome, on the East side of things We 'bout the dookie links, diamond rings and things Head come around, try throw foul swings Back stabbing enemies, claim defending Never shake hands with a crooked wanna be Only real niggas feel the true energy So feel the vibe nigga Hit ya kind of red Represent yours, time to make this shit shine 'Cause rappers that be looking from the side Then they go and party to heads that's always live Ain't fakers whose be down with us, because we bust Criticize the rappers have had enough of what we say Mad love to niggas who live what we say East, West, North, South niggas all day We gonna bust your ear drums Call you dun, son You know how we do [CHORUS] [Mr. Q] Mr. Q and Mikey Styles, yeah, yeah, yeah Yo, yo young thug busting slugs Niggas don't give a fuck If ya want it son then bring it Young thug busting slugs Niggas don't give a fuck If ya want it, then you bring it [Mikey Styles] Yo, yo Let's take it to the streetside, the real side So don't move an inch, don't even flinch Just grab you bag of money Now it's time you represent Ain't nothing changed, the crew is stilll snatching ends I'm chilling, sipping Shon Dom's(sp?) You know how we do I get my buzz on [Mr. Q] It's the connect son It's the connect son It's the connect son It's the connects It's the connection It's the connect son It's the connect son It's the connect son Niggas know better not to run this nigga Q My shit, is lyrical when I drop it on This shit is ludicris, I plant them in tears So a lot of niggas out there don't like my style dun Fuck a man, I'm going underground So listen to my sound Word is bond son, niggas is dumb Pass me the gun, fuck ya beef and ya speech Come clean in every scene Try to make it on my own Dukes throw up, they say she try to lose me I got crazy drama Can count on my mama I'm going insane, got fucking hoes in my brain Trying to maintain, buy yo I still a fucking mess I'm stressed, now I'm smoking cease Reality got my mind, you know what I'm saying It's the connection

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