Interested in Cryptocurrency?
Visit best CoinMarketCap alternative. Real time updates, cryptocurrency price prediction...

JAY-Z lyrics - American Gangster

Roc Boys (And The Winner Is...)

Original and similar lyrics
And the winner is Hov...my man? SPEECH! First of all I wan' thank my connect The most important person with all due respect Thanks for to duffle bag, the brown paper bag The Nike shoe box for holding all this cash Boys in blue who put greed before the badge The first pusher whoever made the stash The Roc Boys in the building tonight Oh what a feeling I'm feeling life Thanks to the lames, niggas bad aim Thanks to a little change I tore you out the game Bullet wounds will stop your bafoonery Thanks to the pastor rapping at your eulogy To Lil Kim and them, you know the women friend Who, carry the work cross state for a gentlemen Yeah, thanks to all the hustlers And most importantly you, the customer [Chorus: Jay-Z (Kanye West)] The Roc Boys in the building tonight Oh what a feeling, I'm feeling life You don't even gotta bring ya paper out We the dope boys of the year, drinks is on the house (We in the house, hou-, hou-) The Roc Boys in the building tonight Look at how I'm chilling, I'm killing this ice You don't even gotta bring ya purses out We the dope boys of the year, drinks is on the house (We in the house, hou-, hou-) (We in the house, hou-, hou-, HEY) Let ya hair down baby, I just hit a score Pick any place on the planet, pick a shore Take what the Forbes figure, then figure more Cause they forgot to account what I did with the raw Pick a time, lets pick apart some stores Pick a weekend for freaking for figure fours I figure frauds never hit a lick before So they don't know the feeling when them things get across Put ya hand out the window, feel the force Feel the Porsche, hit the frost Ice cold, jewels got no flaws Drop got no top, you on the top floor Pink Rosay, think OJ I get away with murder when I sling yay Niggas got less steps then Britney That means it ain't stepped on, dig me? [Chorus (with overlapping 3rd verse towards end)] Red Porsches, rare portraits Red glocks if you dare come near the fortress This apple sauce is from the apple orchid This kinda talk is only reserved for the bosses Which means I get it from the ground Which means you get it when I'm around Rich niggas, black bar mitzvahs Mazel tav, it's a celebration bitches, la heim I wish for you a hundred years of success but it's my time Cheers, toast to crime Number one b-boy, chain nigga rhyme [Chorus x3] Sweet, let that ride out! Bring the horns back in, yeah This is black super hero music right here baby American Gangsta Taking flight, coming to a town near you Soon as I touch down I just want ya'll to start playing the horns like... Hovies home...Lukey baby Hahahahaha...ow!

Just Rhymin' With Biz

Big Daddy Kane "Long Live the Kane"
Biz: lt;Fonkee! Ready Fonkee! Fonkee! Ahhh... One two, one two We came here to just motherfucking do You and a crew Got my man Marley Marl in the house Can't forget my man, Lik, y'all in the house Got Fric and Frac in the house Hey-hey-hey, you got Big Daddy Kane in the house Juice Crew in the house That's right And my name is the Biz Markie And we gonna rock a little something like this... gt; One, two, whatcha gonna do I say yes, yes y'all To the beat, all Party-having people guaranteed to be like having a ball H-h-h-hey We gonna do a little something like this I say... I'm the rap promoter I start to motor Tour from New York to South Dakota Drink ginger ale or root beer soda Never get the girls with the underarm order Put me on water, I'm a good floater When I run for prez, you best be a voter Once knew a girl by the name of Rhoda I watch Star Wars just to see Yoda Or R2-D2 driving down the BQ When I buy franks, I make sure they're Hebrew When I entertain, and love to treat you Love to see a girl in a nice tight see-through Take her to the crib, turn on the Beta Watch a good flick by Arnold Schwartzenegger Maybe Commando or the Terminator Peace party people, ha ha see you later! Big Daddy, huh huh, my man my mellow Get on the mic cause you know you eat Jell-O Kane: Check it out, y'all You don't stop Keep on Well it's the Kane in the flesh Of course I'm fresh Oh you thought that I was rotten Huh, I beg your pardon To me getting paid and getting busy fall together So a man of my ambiance...never! Could I be weak, why I'm rather unique I got style, flavor, grace, and plus a different technique That I be using and not many can manage So a brother like me, I do damage Just by picking up the mic to go solo I cold turn a party on out, and oh yo I get physical, mystical, very artistical Giving party people something funky to listen to That's why the other MC's can't swing long I stomp them out just like I was King Kong Stepping on roaches, I get ferocious Supercalifragalisticexpealidocious I go on and on and on and Until the bright Shirley Murdock morning Cause I'mma pimp, hear the primp, yes the emp- Eror, bringing much terror in your era I ready, willing and I'm able, so bust a move Never use a barbershop I got my homeboy Smooth Cooling out with the clippers right around the way To keep my fresh Cameo cut every day Like that y'all, it's like that y'all It's like thata-the-that, it's like that y'all Cause I'm the prosecutor taking a stand And, I'm cross-examining you my man The judge and jury, releasing my fury The verdict that I reach for you is rather blurry You see, the name Kane is superior to many people It means King Asiatic Nobody's Equal I hate to brag, but damn I'm good And if mics were a gun, I'd be Clint Eastwood And if rap was a game, I'd be MVP Most Valuable Poet on the M-I-C Or if rap was a school, I'd be the principal Aw fuck it, the Kane is invincible To be specific, I may die one day But my rhymes will remain like a hieroglyphic It's a certain special skill that takes much practice I got it good, apparently you lack this So in turn, sit back and learn Listen close, this is for your own concern Let me show you exactly how it's properly done Lights, camera, action! A rap pro, do a show, good to go, also Cameo afro, Virgo, domino, I go Rambo Gigolo, Romeo, Friday night spend money on a ho- Tel, to get a good night's sleep I'm keeping in step Now do I come off Yep.

Make Room

Tha Alkaholiks "21 and Over"
Verse One: J-Ro I knock em knock em out the park when other rappers are hitting bunts I'm a togger not a fogger step on hunts and don't do stunts I got SOUL POWER never took a cold shower Never had a girlfriend the color of cooking flour You can call me sleazy cuz my rhymes are kinda greasy Some brothers wear curls, cuz it ain't easy being peasy Like a Kung-Fu flick, I stick you in the dick, with my toothpick Tell em Rick ( You hit them harder than a fuckin brick ) I like clothes and hoes but like em better in the sheets I rock more beats than Jesse Owens ran track meets] Amazing feets move, they happen everyday When the Ro to the J bring his ass out to play I weight one-eighty but I'm, fat I ki-uh-kick up dust when I bust like a cap Tha Alkaholik crew, and what we're here to do Is rock a show, knock a hoe, and crack another brew Chorus: Make room, for the crew with beats that thump (3x) Tunes hittin hard enough to ditch your trunk It's the Liks baby, it's the Liks (4x) Verse Two: Tash The super, duper, gets it poppin with the quickness King Tee and the Alkies straight gettin down to business It's all about the Liks cause we're heavy on the kicks But we're easy on the treble (adjust my mic level) So fools can here me mic checkin all the way in China The skills you can't front on, Tha Alkaholik rhymer Could rip a show up to' up so I always flex my talents but my words don't be slurrin, I never lose my balance But that's cause I'm slick tossin bottles like a discus The Liks could rock a party from Halloween to Christmas That's why I'm screamin on MC's like I'm Onyx I'm hooked on gin and tonics like your momma's Hooked on Phonics So when we steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew Niggaz better make way for the Alkaholik crew When we're steppin through, with the thirty-two of brew Niggaz better make way for the Alkaholik crew Chorus Verse Three: J-Ro First you gotta have respect, money comes next After you get THOSE, come the hoes and the sex Girl you keep askin bout the niggaz in my crew Yeah I'm down with Pooh, but what's up with me and you Cause I don't give a fuck whose your cousin who could fuck Cause I just wanna fuck, damn I wanna fuck So unlock the gate and MAKE ROOM for the heavyweight rapper The slim light skinned coochie slapper Pull over to the side so I can roll up the indo Got the bitch head bumpin on the front window Wham, bam, I spanked you ma'am I wonder how they make these rubbers from the skin of a lamb I blow into the mic when I check it Had hoes gettin naked way before I made a record I smoked a gang of liquor, I drink a gang of boom Like Ted, I gotta zoom zoom so make room Chorus Outro: Tash, J-Ro Ah yeah, ah yeah, Tha Alkaholiks Yo, before we bail We gotta give a shout out to the crew that gets the party poppin Tha Alkaholik crew Old English is in the house, and uhh What about Mickey's is in the house, and uhh St. Ide's is in the house, and uhh Crazy Horse is in the house, and uhh Genuine Draft is in the house, and uhh What about Red Bull is in the house, and uhh Colt .45 is in the house, and uhh King Cobra ain't in the house, and uhh *bottle smashes*

1977

Dr. Octagon "Dr. Octagonecologyst"
Yeahhh! You're listening to the sounds, from the Boogie Down Bronx! Kooool Keith!! Performing with Mean Jean, Cordio the Grand Wizard The Ill Brothers, at the T-Connection Bust them flavors, more rap styles than Life Savors Damage kids with suits with champagne and fake alligators I'm for the repercussion, my style is bumrushin MC's get back, that black brother sound wack A bust a new style, grease your hair with NuNile Do wrecks flex the Bronx fronters that step up next New jacks can't rap, stomp your feet and make your hands clap The kid is booboo, your screw up on the mic is doodoo That's word to Mom Duke, you wack you get the boot It's Casanova, Bronx Kid all over Swift to shift top MC out to shoot the gift Morisena Projects, my neighbors took your Rolex You get action, talkin loud walkin up in Jackson My little cousin Bronx crew's about to move on you Yeahhh! Patterson Projects is in the house! Webster's in the house! The Non is in the house! Melrose is in the house! Jackson, is in the house! Yeah! I come real deal rap style back like Holyfield Check em at the door, and watch crews with steel With the L Brothers, we hittin freaks undercovers to the left side, you on the back door I got a OJ ready, with pink whitewalls Ah yes yes y'all, and you don't stop the body rock Cockblock my friends, you count tens in your Benz Rappers know they toy, I blast your rhyme skill kid yo, step up like Elroy You know the steelo, from New York to Puerto Rico You'll tell me bro... yeah, I'm Kool Keith chief You been out two weeks Don't try to ill, cause you're plastic no frill Yeahhh! Next week at the P-A-L!! Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five! Battling Kool Herc and the Herculoids Afrika Bambaata and the Mighty Zulu Nation, Soulsonic and Cosmic Be there! Two dollars before ten! With special guests, the Cold, Crush, Brothers!

3000

Dr. Octagon "Dr. Octagonecologyst"
Yeahhh! You're listening to the sounds from the Boogie Down Bronx! Kooool Keith!! Performing with Mean Jean Cordio the Grand Wizard The Ill Brothers at the T Connection Bust them flavors more rap styles than Life Savors Damage kids with suits with champagne and fake alligators I'm for the repercussion my style is bumrushin MC's get back that black brother sound wack A bust a new style grease your hair with NuNile Do wrecks flex the Bronx fronters that step up next New jacks can't rap, stomp your feet and make your hands clap The kid is booboo, your screw up on the mic is doodoo That's word to Mom Duke, you wack you get the boot It's Casanova, Bronx Kid all over Swift to shift top MC out to shoot the gift Morisena Projects, my neighbors took your Rolex You get action, talkin loud walkin up in Jackson My little cousin Bronx crew's about to move on you Yeahhh! Patterson Projects is in the house! Webster's in the house! The Non is in the house! Melrose is in the house! Jackson, is in the house! Yeah! I come real deal rap style back like Holyfield Check em at the door, and watch crews with steel With the L Brothers, we hittin freaks undercovers to the left side, you on the back door I got a OJ ready, with pink whitewalls Ah yes yes y'all, and you don't stop the body rock Cockblock my friends, you count tens in your Benz Rappers know they toy, I blast your rhyme skill kid yo, step up like Elroy You know the steelo, from New York to Puerto Rico You'll tell me bro... yeah, I'm Kool Keith chief You been out two weeks Don't try to ill, cause you're plastic no frill Yeahhh! Next week at the P-A-L!! Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five! Battling Kool Herc and the Herculoids Afrika Bambaata and the Mighty Zulu Nation, Soulsonic and Cosmic Be there! Two dollars before ten! With special guests, the Cold, Crush, Brothers!

6 Feet Deep

GETO BOYS "Till Death Do Us Part"
[There's far too many of you dying] Verse One: Scarface June twenty-eight was the date thirty-eight till the chest plate mommy dear's cryin' at the wake And everybody's dressed up in black suits goin' to pay their last respects to the black troop Why'd he have to die Is the question that we're under But everyone knows that everyday's a different number So when your time comes, just remember G you'll always have a place in this world as a memory Especially my boys who passed away back in '92 best believe that all the boys in the hoods got love for you Wherever we go, wherever we be, we be thinkin' of how we hung in the clubs smokin' and drinkin' Never missin' out on a hood fight 'cause ever-ee-day back in the hood we had a good fight Everything is changed and people-r-lookin lonely it's gonna be strange spendin' New Year's Eve without your homie But ain't much that we can do except pour brew throughout the crew to make sure we all remember you And believe me it hurts to see the boy you broke bread with six feet in the dirt... dirt [There's far too many of you dying] [There's far too many of you dying] Verse Two: Bushwick Bill Another homie got smoked but it's no surprise everybody's trippin cause the boy was to young to die A sad sight to see my homie take his last breath everybody's trippin cause they can't accept my homeys death Another killin' was reported on the evenin' news somebody's brother got killed behind a pair a shoes In the midst of all this shit I think about my self wonderin' when somebody's gonna try to take me off the shelf But I refuse to be another violent casualty so when I'm rollin' I pack my pistol grip beside my knee Cause on the city streets today a brother jus' can't win when the people you think are your friends really ain't your friends Uh And Bushwick can't sleep when everybody aroun' me keeps fallin' six feet deep [There's far too many of you dying] [There's far too many of you dying] Verse Three: Scarface The pain that's deep inside of everybody grows as they approach to see the body before the casket close The person standin' nex' to me has snapped the flip once I seen the casket closed I knew that that was it The whole entire family spoke on his defence the choir sung the songs that make us reminisce And durin' all the singing I broke down myself when I looked and seen the family that my partner lef' And then the choir broke into its final song thinkin' to myself the worst is yet to come Everyone was headed for the final flight as we creeped along the gravel on the burial sight The director said his words and there was not a sound as they lower my little partner inside the ground Everybody dropped their flowers on the coffin top and then they work alone with the concrete block and that's deep [There's far too many of you dying] [There's far too many of you dying] Verse Four: Big Mike Alotta homies die Alotta mothers cry I watch tears fall down from their eyes Everybody wants to go to heaven but nobody wants to take the chance they chose the music so they had to dance Couldn't tell 'im nothin was a player, had ta have it got caught up in the game now ma boy's in the casket And everybody's lookin' for somebody else to blame ashamed to let his mother know that he was in a gang We used to kick it on the ave at night comin' up tryin' to have the finer things in life But now my boys gone, I wish he was at home I wish he wouldn't a never fell victim to the clone So when I drink a brew for you I pour some on the block son you might be gone but you damn sure ain't forgotten So on remember whenever or wherever dead or alive real partners come together, and you know that [There's far too many of you dying] [There's far too many of you dying]

Was it funny? Share it with friends!