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JAY-Z lyrics - Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life

A Week Ago

Original and similar lyrics
(feat. Too $hort) [Jay-Z] Uh-huh [$hort] That's right [Jay-Z] Uh-huh-uh, it was all good just a week ago [$hort] Last week I had everything [Jay-Z] Uh, uh-huh-uh, had this all good just a week ago [$hort] I had the money.. had the cars, the bitches [Jay-Z] Uh-huh, yeah, it was all good just a week ago [$hort] and the jewelry.. and then my motherfuckin niggaz started snitchin [Jay-Z] Uh-huh, uh uh, yo [$hort] Beyotch! [Verse One: Jay-Z] Growin up in the hood just my dog and me We used to hustle in the hood for, all to see Problems, I called on him, he called on me We wasn't quite partners, I hit him off my P Met him unlocked doors, off my keys Yeah we spoke, much more than cordially Man he broke bread with me, my business spreads with me The Feds came to get me, we both fled quickly Wasn't quick enough to jump over the hedges with me Got caught, and that's when our relationship strayed Used to call me from the joint til he ran out of change And when he called collect and I heard his name I quickly accepted, but when I reached the phone he's talkin reckless, I can sense deceit in his tone I said, 'Damn dawg, what, nine weeks and you're home' He said, 'Main man, you think shit's sweet cause you're home.' I just sat, spat no more speech in the phone The crackers up there bleachin your dome, you're reachin I said, 'The world don't stop I've got to keep keep on.' From there I sensed the beef was on I ran to the spot, store to add some more features to my phone To see if I had bugs and leeches on my phone Can't be too safe cause niggaz is two-faced And they show the other side when they catch a new case It's on [Chorus: Too $hort, Jay-Z] It was cool when you had hella weed to smoke And you bought a new home where you could keep the folks I don't see how this side of you could be provoked (Uh-huh, uh-huh, it was all good just a week ago) Funny what, seven days can change A stand up nigga, now you sit down to aim Used to have a firm grip now you droppin names Uh-huh, uh-huh (It was all good just a week ago) [Verse Two: Jay-Z] Like I put the toast to your head and made you sell We both came in this game, blind as hell I did a little better, had more clientele Told you put away some cheddar now you cryin for bail Seventeen and I'm holdin on to around a mill I could bail out and blow trial and come around on the pill Had niggaz thinkin I was from Uptown for real I had so much hustle plus I was down to ill Like a Brooklyn nigga, straight out of Brownsville Down and dirty, down to fight the round thirty Freezin on them corners still holdin my crack Lookin up and down the block, the fuck is the dough at Came from flat broke to lettin the dough stack You tell them feds I said I'm never goin back I'm from Marcy, and Marcy don't raise no rats You know the consequences of your acts, you can't be serious [Chorus] [Verse Three: Jay-Z] The lawyer I retained you said you leakin some things All this after a week in the bang I'm mad at myself cause I didn't spot the weak and lame I woulda bet the house you wouldn't speak a thang Nigga this was the oath, to the top of broke Even pricked our finger, anything that got between us we sposed to cock the ninas, what happened to that Instead you copped out to a misdemeanor Fuck it, the same thing make you laugh make you cry That's right, the same game that make you mad could make you die It's a dice game, and sometimes you crap Who woulda thought you'd get popped one time and rap Now you know that's bad when your sister is mad and your son gotta grow up like, 'This is my dad' The labelling of a snitch is a lifetime scar You'll always be in jail nigga, just minus the bars [Chorus] [Too $hort] Shit is crazy man All these niggaz out here snitchin We was one step away from takin this crack money and recyclin it through the ghettoes and buildin back up our own hoods Now all you niggaz start snitchin on each other I got partners doin 15-20 Wouldn'ta been doin SHIT if you didn't snitch Beyotch! It's about time y'all check that shit out man It ain't all good Shut your mouth Just watch the game And don't snitch It sure will do a lot for you Believe that baby Jay-Z, Short Dawg's in the house main You know I got it Got it goin on We got the money Ain't got nuthin to do with crime baby But I'm recognizing [Jay-Z] You rat bastard!

I Hope I Sell A Lot Of Records At Christmastime

PRINCESS SUPERSTAR "Last Of The Great 20th Century Composers"
Ah yo Santa let's get something clear I'm half Jewish I shouldn't even be talkin about this time of year But I'm near tears tryin to fund my record label career While everyone drinks beer like they at Cheers makin Nintendo bets on debts from bad rekkid deals for real I'm probably next I'm here sweatin my ass off, it's July But by the time this comes out I'll be behind my release schedule and Mariah Christmas will be sellin out- why? I never did nothin bad to nobody I'm still friends with all my Ex's who stole money (Aw honey) Don't aw honey me/Just give me the money please One of those cards with a pocket for cash A big stash or check to cash I'll snatch it before you realize you acted rash and come at me all mad I've been good, well pretty good, at least in my mind Please let me sell a lot of records at Christmastime I'm too poor to afford life size cut out cardboard of me poured into a size 4 with a floppy Santa hat On the record store floor Need ace product placement/Listening Station so while I'm on vacation I got my face On Raisin Brans round the nation I'm impatient need my wax to sell by the cases Like Mase's in God's good graces I'll be gracious Just let me retire with his wages I'm not aimless I wanna be A-list Hang out with someone famous, then my friends and I would all have someone to date us Like Tom Hanks, Billy Blanks, Shabba Ranks or any of the Franks- Stallone, Purdue, Avalon, or Delanor Roo Bill Gates too-(Ew!) It's true, all I gotta do is sell through Go on tour then put out a live record real quick like Frampton or Badu I got a cold, it's gonna be Xmas soon and I'm getting old Hi Tower? Hi it's me again, how many units we sold? You mean we didn't go platinum or like gold? (Beep beep) Oh-that's my Rolls- Wait-- I'm on a payphone please don't even try to put me on hold!! Ok you're all listening to my song that's a good sign So either you bought it, it's on the radio or your friend is sayin 'ha ha listen to this funny song!' That's fine But if that's the case don't even think about the blank tape Take a date with your lazy ass go to Virgin or Other Music they close late And in case you don't make it visit my web site blah blah dot com See old sexy pictures of me, order my record, buy the clean version for your mom Santa, just one hit, one seasonal favorite One tear jerker piece of commercial shit for the ages or just enough to get an agent Watch how fast I'd sell out, get the cash get the hell out Be on VH-1 Where are They Now Eatin filet mignons by the pound Round baby, fat and gettin down baby No need to fit in fancy clothes now baby Hey get the Camera crews off my grounds! Call me flash in the pan, the blonde chick who thought she could rhyme Please, just let me sell a lot of records at Christmastime!

In These Streets

JAY ROCK "Black Friday"
[Verse 1 - Jay Rock:] Jay Rock, well connected in these streets, I'm a legend Testified, the reason why your momma dialed 9-11 Ride for my line, no questions gotta stay alive Stay inside if you tryna subside a homicide It's suicide to test me, the iron if you press me They say the game cold but I don't know Wayne Gretzky Keep the flamethrower in my coat if you disrespect The clips' known to make a scene when I hit the set Play your cards right or hit the deck The tech hit your flesh and your silhouette Corner store carnivores Fiends schemin', "what the fuck you want a quarter for?" I make a drop off, then I order more I'm with the killers and the thieves, hide your Audemar And if I got the thumper, I'mma hit you with it Blood, I'm on 112 obitual with it [Hook:] We on the avenue, we on the boulevard We blockin' off the block, we corner corner-shops We in the street, we in the street We in the street, we in the street [Verse 2 - Jay Rock:] Mmm, smellin' like dinner time You got a five star mill on you, give me mines And when I take it make sure you don't drop any dimes You play Magic Earvin You gon' see a black burner and a black turban That's a black mask And tell your bitch to get that necklace out her handbag You see it's cutthroat And my reality is cut dope and gun smoke Another casualty the family in the front row of the church pews A politician don't understand a hood nigga' views You see them devils in them black and whites And hit the lights, we hit them corners like Regis on a Monday night I'm in the spot like a dalmation Bake a cookie dinner, nigga break it, go 'head nigga taste it You know I keep them goodies in the oven Dawg it's nothin' want a dish, say somethin' Holla at me [Hook] [Verse 3 - Spider Loc:] Smack the back of my hand with a fresh pack At the meeting the homies know I press facts Can't ignore that he-say, she-say He pillow talk, what she say, he say On Keeway, they wanna see me in the pen Gettin' ends tryin' not to fall completely into sin Ever been in a trap where everywhere you turn You learn it won't help for you to make a U-turn Been through bullshit it only made the S better Recorded with Cube, arguably the best ever Ask me, it gotta be a conspiracy Still, no hate in my spirit, see They keep my reputation like "why are you the worst" No matter how you rehearse they don't vibe through the verse Will my world wide web ever hit these fans Only God knows, it's out of 50's hands [Hook]

Lie To Kick It

2PAC "R U Still Down? (Remember Me)"
(feat. Richie Rich) (If she didn't wanna fuck then she never would've called you) [Repeated] Yeah I dedicate this to my nigga Mike Tyson. It's all good. [Chorus] You ain't got to lie to kick it To them tricks and them bitches Out to get a nigga's riches [Repeat] [Verse 1: Richie Rich] Jack of all trades ballin' like Jordan you punk fake inside the paint in fact I know you can't do half of the shit that you was claimin' in the county Suckas on yo jock you claim you run the block Polyurethane busta cracked in half you claim you folding bank but I know yo bank stank I lived around the corner I seen you fully smoked Must I say some more you weighed a buck 04 you sold ya TV for a buck cause it was way too late Now they sent you upstate and you done gained some weight You's a baller lying to them youngstas quick got them thinking you sick and representing yo click But you's an old basehead kickin' too much hype yo bicentennial pipe it got rally stripes And if they knew yo identity you'd probably be the victim of a sticking (ugh ugh) You ain't got to lie to kick it. [Chorus 4x] [Verse 2: 2Pac] You ain't got to lie to kick it y'all don't hear me I got these niggas yackin' in my face about some shit that never took place And what you see is what you get that's what he told me I peeped it in his pose exposed the fucking phony I'm gettin' richer so they claim to be my homie with them bitches they be freaky they don't know me Hey it's gettin drastic Gunnin niggas down cause they plastic Sleep on a G and get that ass kicked and stuffed in a casket Rippin' the shit like it's my muthafucking last hit Hey they wonder why a nigga's nothin' nice and everytime I bust a nut I fuck for Tyson Cause I know the real on the bitch she got to skit ya just to get a nigga's riches (fuck that bitch) I pray to God that the bitch don't get no dick and got a nigga screamin' Fuck That Bitch! [Chorus] [Verse 3: Pac & Rich] Well if a bitch'll be a bitch Then a trick'll be a trick I've got my nigga Richie Rich and we be all up in the mix this is Thug Life baby rollin' hoes like Vogues Stay the fuck up out of mine and I'll stay out of yours It's a Oakland thang and bitch you wouldn't understand This Tanqueray got me screamin' Fuck yo' man. But now you beefing on the strength that you was thinkin' I was jocking Hey bitch I got no time for hoes I'm steady clockin' and if it ain't about a buck I gives a fuck it's raggedy hoes like you that keep a nigga stuck so what's up with them low life bitches tryin' to play me Bitch you better see Trojan about yo' baby (Ha ha) Trickin' niggas better catch up on they pimpin' Cause bitches love to catch a nigga when they slipping [Chorus 'til end]

Step Up

KURUPT "Tha Streetz Iz A Mutha"
Daz: Aw yeah! Right about now it's time to get busy Huh, straight out the box, nonstop Kurupt the Kingpin, Xzibit, Crooked I (Wait a minute, um) Crooked I: This is the art of, manslaughter When I'm rockin' I'm more shockin' than droppin' a boom box in bath water You entered the wrong scuffle You catchin' a chrome buckle I uppercut niggas hard enough to break my own knuckles Deliver the sick verbals My shotty spit a round, before you hit the ground, your body spin around, in six circles Diminishin' infamous menaces I'm waitin' to get dicced, if not, I'm a start finishin' innocents Lyrics (lyrics), I'm breezin the region Freezin g's in your legion Freakin' ancient techniques when I'm speakin' phoenician It's all about Crooked These bitches shout Crooked I'll make you say the West Coast aint shit without Crooked I own a vicious label, niggas'll get disabled When I'm spittin' rhymes written on project kitchen tables I load this 4-5 and let slugs dive at ya Now that's for Crooked I, the scrap happy, mic snatcha Daz: Motherfuccers can you dig that, huh? Can you fucc with this? Let's get Kurupt the Kingpin to fucc y'all niggas up Y'all don't wanna see none of this west coast MC shit Yeah, how you like me now motherfucker!?! Kurupt: Terror starts, in the midst of your heart, starts The storm, my vocals float like arts In the mystic state of mind, when I create a rhyme My microphone massacres every year the same time With audio amputations, vocal thoughts of a loud talker Up against the microphone night stalker With a tendency of bashing MCs, like ten of me As you can see I continue mashin' MCs Caboom, the room gets cleared as my views get clearer Extra-terrestrial microphone terror In effect, get infected Tell me what the fucc you expected These venemous injections I leave whole sections, and sections full of injections From these poisenous melodies and selections I select the methods of slow anguish I mangle shit with my language Tell me, have you ever seen one elope With the microphone In a scandal like abilities to make MCs explode Baboom, alone in my own zone So don't compare me to none Not one's nearly Severe, cuz I severely, impare MCs Near me, oppose and fear me, I got plots and theories Sincerely, I could have the spot locked Niggas get stoned for touching microphones with no knowledge on how to rock Daz: Yeah, back in effect, it don't stop Turn your speakers up, DJ Battlecat on the table We fuckin' it up like this and like that, yeah Got my homeboy Xzibit in the motherfuccin' house Alkaholiks! Xzibit: When I was enlisted I came to the table double fisted Sadistic, heavy artillery, for all my enemies Bust shots up in the sky screamin' obsenities Make niggas sport cackies and chucks from hear to Italy It'll be, a cold day in Hell when you see Xzibit fail Act like a bitch on bail, tuck tail, and run See we do it how it can't be done I'm the rough cut, plus how the west was won Or direct descendant of the gatling gun Don't test me son, you fucc around and catch you one That aint a threat, that's a promise I can definitely keep You can't compete wit' 25 niggas wit' heat in the street Ready to repeat, round after after round at you All hell break lose when the whole Pound come through I found that you and yours, can never fucc wit' mine I own shit but gimme some more like Busta Rhymes Cross the line, now you gotta pay the piper I'm The Alkaholik sniper, that be keepin' the crowds hyper It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust Can't stop till me and my niggas is platinum plus My Dogg Kurupt Daz: Yeah, no shit Yeah, y'all can't fucc wit' that That's what I'm talkin' about West coast, we been doin' this shit for years Aint nothin' happenin' wit' that Battlecat (Don't step up) Right, right (Don't step up, unles you wanna get hurt) Huh, huh, huh (Get get get get hurt) Whatcha say Motherfuccas that be hangin' in the battle (Get hurt, get get get get hurt) That's what I'm talkin' about Daz Dillinger (Don't step up, unless you wanna get hurt) Break it down, break it down Huh (mixed with Battlecat's scratching) Motherfuccas can't fade this shit

Caught Up

OL' DIRTY BASTARD "Trials Tribulations Of Russell Jones"
(feat. Mack 10, Royal Flush) [Chorus: sample] Some people get caught up Some try and get rolled up Some people... [x9] [Ol' Dirty Bastard] Ol' Dirty kickin' your ass.. The things that you learnt in class is trash You can't do nothin' wit' it, I put you in the past You broken motherfuckers, shut the fuck up I do it 'til you bad luck and head gets plucked The only thing on your brain is to give me this cash Stay out of my business 'cause I'm takin' your tash This struggle on the ming, non of y'all bring I got y'all in.. flavouring [Chorus x2] [Mack 10] I seem to fuck about a bitch or a crooked ass cop I'm a burst that, it's dealin', the hustle don't stop I got stones and hairone, ecstasy and weed Meth, imphetamine, sherm, sticks and speed Pay it high wid, dope is all I got to give I'm a ghetto nigga dog so I get it how I live Got money, lock 'em off, fuckers still I got drama Got two strike dog and five baby mamas With new strain I maintain, I'm ready and willin' to keep change on niggas brains to keep the blood spillin' I hate it but it ain't complicated, it's real simple Fuck with me and know you get a hole in your temple I ain't gonna play you niggas, I'ma slay you niggas Don't take but a few figures and a few new triggers Mack 10 livin' legend, every West coast rhymin' Straight hoo bangin' gangsta and all rhymin' sodom, it's bad [Chorus x2] [Royal Flush] Shut up, let me talk for a minute, alot of bull shit on my mind Dealin' with crime, alot of y'all dealin' wid rhymes Stuck on the grind, crackheads cookin' my pies Startin' off on the 1-2-5, the block's mine Bucket the spine, DH tryna tap my line Stop my producitons, wanna know my money discussions Who I roll wid, 'buy so many cars is he legitin' of my dick' It didn't matter when I ain't have shit They done watch me in helicopters, parklin' in my crib All I wanna feed is my kids, no time to do a bid Feel me, I forced the whole guns a while for my ones Didn't sell drugs, where the money come from? No school, no job, no bitch, no food, fuck that Do what I do to make my shit true And I make it hard on them boys who blew they cats charges If I go to jail you know I'm blowin' on the Sergeants [Chorus x5]

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