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JOE BUDDEN lyrics - Mixtape Kings

Big Shots (G-unit Diss)

Original and similar lyrics
its that on-top music!.. (Chorus)(Big Shot) ..Yea Yea its cha boy boy listen to'em I think finally the steroids is gettin to'em or maybe if people believe in all his hard raps, or maybe its the tangtops with the bra straps maybe he's really believen he's a heathen like the dude he stole his name from, dude ain't the same none nothin's hard body about'em, he's like pudding, so here we are beat the floor it's dwight goodman so i can sit and wait while ya team gets soft, or i can go get u picked, no screens involved I can get you offed for a clip no fiens involved, or we can take it one further and get Queens involved Where they no he went to jail, never over a banger He went to boot camp, not to pop wit the gangsters sorta like Yayo who staid in D.C. and you can ask anybody up in J.D.C. so i guess he's a tough guy now that he's free, but doin that kind of jail time is easy but it's not beneath me, really i gives a fuck I can put the whole unit on the next flip and tuck, BUT! If he keep his dudes in check, I keep it real wit'em punch Banks in the face if he still wit'em i don't worry bout puttin the clips in the 40 (why?) pistol whip Lloyd when Fifty'll do it for me (chorus) Far as the kid Game, he's lame lets say the least Mad he's from the west so he converted to the East Always talkin about him n' his mans that'll blast pounds but when you see him, he's just dancin in the background I tore Game apart, i thought by now the asshole would have a change of heart Especially since i got the tape, but it's gangster on 'change of heart' Teary eyed cause his shorti had a change of heart, But i smell somethin fishy theirs a con in the air slacks, his tongue peirced, streaks blonde in his hair Who's he playin wit? Keep sayin shit and ya body'll take the same tour Regan's did Still tryin to get a buzz, embarrased, the kids hurtin Reachin, he's losin his head, he's Nick Birdman And as far as Banks and Buck i'm done discussin'em I only beef wit niggas who own publishin Curtis your a bum and your almost done Same artist that you were dissin, is exactly what you've become Saw'em at Summer Jam and all he did was stare Walk off stage and all you heard was 'Geah!' (They through the chairs at'em!) Dont be seen no more, he's a Queen no more and he can't even step foot in Queens no more Sellin his soul, Banks I hope your proud of your father Now we all see the 'Power of a Dollar' (Chorus) ..fade out with quarter drop..

Tornado Girl!

Paul Ellis "Live"
Sandy has seen a tornado more times than she's seen the Grateful Dead... She lives in Oklahoma, where the storms come prairie fed, And the numbers keep on mounting, It's been twenty times and counting that she's been in the path of splintered trees and twisted lead That connect the dots between trailer parks with destruction that's painted blood red And now she wants to chase them, with ME, in my Honda Civic, We'll keep a SAFE distance. I say, Give me an instance where 'safety' is MILEAGE SPECIFIC... Okemah is where the last one touched down, (that's Woody Guthrie's old home town) and, (as if it would turn me around) she starts singing THIS LAND IS YOUR LAND I say, OK, You win.....Terrific. Now, I've never been to see something that I wished wasn't even there, Though I've heard that said of dentists, and with in'laws, and from victims of the electric chair But there I was, heading east on 44, getting pelted by hailstones the size of BARN DOORS so, of course, NONE of them were missing.. It was as if GOD was keeping score, and THE HEAVENS were thundering their approval... Thats when I suggested our hasty removal Just a mile down the road, this rain of hailstones ceased and a vaacuum of silence brought a turbulent peace.... The clouds started dAnCiNg, dressed up in taffeta green and enveloped the sky in a jungle party theme-- There they gave birth to a barbed-wire wind Sandy was frozen, her face had a maniacal grin, A funnel cloud came roaring, cast down from the sky like the knife of the Devil but twenty stories high! Sandy broke from the car in a mad, desperation run to touch her sole fixation, this wheel where death was spun, and I could do but nothing, my heart came so undone for the host of twenty tornadoes, who died with twenty-one...

Echo Leader

Last Emperor
Verse 1: It's like one for the microphone two for the camera Three for deadbeats vagabonds panhandlers Street scramblers alleyway managers Substance abusers born losers mic damagers Everybody screamin' representin' keep it real But I'm still a worthless bum tryin' to get a record deal Peep my lingo and every wise word the man speaks I've been living on the streets and haven't showered for weeks But time moves forward, there's no looking back I'm homeless in pursuit of a record contract I wish my whole crew was paid in full like Rakim's But instead we're malnourished with skeleton-like limbs Instead of a land cruiser with BBS rims I got a busted pair of boots, and they're not even Tims See most mc's claim their pockets stay knotted Puttin' money in the bank, but point blank, I ain't got it I used to pump chums, for money in lump sums But now I snatch crumbs with a thousand young bums I'm the everfresh, what I still possess remains measureless My brain contains jewels and gems like a treasure chest Raw deal, no lie, that's the real And I can't remember the last time I had a hot meal Society labels me a bum, and that's right My crew keeps it tight, bums of the world let's unite Chorus: This one's for all the neighborhood bums To all my brothers in the gutters, in the slums In every city, no matter where you're from To all my boys, make noise if your bum (Repeat) Verse 2: Allow me to explain the mission, the pain infliction I entertain so listen, my style rocks like Jane's Addiction Mc's don't impress me, they know not to test me We'll be at each other's throats like Mr. Belvedere and Wesley Especially, when wack rappers open up their mouse traps They know not to tangle with these bums from the outback You see you can't miss what you've never had The life of a bum really isn't half bad We're never alone, cause bums travel in packs We combine fine lyrics with underground tracks We rock the best shows, placin' mc's on stress mode You can tell a fellow bum from his raggedy dress code We rock raggedy kicks, and wear raggedy pants We rock raggedy mics, and sing raggedy jams like, (Group of bums) The bums have the right to lay the down the law The bum train is leavin' from track number four The bummy engineer is the Last Emperor Hard rock like The Thing from the Fantastic Four While most mc's rhyme about guns and shootin' I drop science on their domes just like Sir Isaac Newton Big up to Q in Brownsville, that never runs Lift up your fist and shout, long live the bums Chorus Verse 3: Crack your brew, light your spliff, it doesn't make a dif Creamy light peanut butter, choosy mothers choose Jif Overlord of the poor, man not a myth It's the Last Emperor that you don't want to flex with I'll place mental lacerations and allesions On mc's and domestic and foreign legions I might be flambeau, but read a book of allesions The emperor switches up styles every season In the spring, I do my thing, relaxin' and that's it In the summer, just like a pirate, I attack ships But winter maybe, my favorite, one of all, but Jamal Is a Legend of the Fall, just like Brad Pitt I'm known to lyrically black shots on behalf of have nots Lock it down with the sound, equipped with chains and padlocks No gadgets, no gimmicks, no tricks up my sleeve And I won't play the Superman role like Christopher Reeve See you can learn a lot from a dummy Keep it real, better yet in '98, let's keep it bummy Bein' broke is no prob, you don't have to rob But if you're frustrated cause you can't find a job Have no fear the emperor is here to help ya Respect to all my bums, I'll catch you back at the shelter

Free

GETO BOYS "Da Good Da Bad Da Ugly"
Intro: [Willie D] Geto Boys (G.B.)'98 We gonna set this shit straight, belive that Don't you wish sometimes you can be free Free from incarceration Free from paying them bills Free to come and go when ya feel Most of all, free from them haters Verse 1: [Willie D] So many problems that exist in my world today When I'm deceased, I want my little baby girl to say That he was real He loved me with all his heart He loved mama too Even though they sometimes fought A young nigga in the ghetto With plenty of dreams Surrounded by the police And many of fiends At 13 started mobbin' 14 started robbin' It's hard to have morals and values When you're starvin' Abused, misused, and plus a bad dresser Nobody ever told me I was special I put a gang of tears in my mamma's eyes But she died Before I got a chance to apologize It hurts to see my baby sister feeling the pain It hurts to see my baby brother still in the game Ain't nothin' change but my finances I still be stressed All these motherfucking worries got a nigga depressed I'm just tired Every night, I pray to Jesus, rescue me From the poverty, hate, racism and diseases So the lord said He prepared a place for me And when he do that I'ma be free, yeah Chorus: I wanna be free No more player hater I gotta be free Verse 2: [Scarface] Now as I walk around in my drawers Outside smoking weed while I scratch my balls I'm reminsing on my homies who been lock tight Or got light Behind trying to feed their family one night It's not right Suppose you watch your mamma suffer Cause ain't another Her kids trying they off they ass It's gettin' rougher and tougher By all means nigga get your cream Stop storming what they calling this American dream And why you looking up for a role model You be your model Look who we follow Niggas forgot about the problem And single parent upbringings We doing bad on our ass Nigga fuck singing How you gonna tell me to keep it positive And growing up I didn't have a pop to give So these mother fucking streets is where I gots to live Fuck what you saying 'bout me I'm sittin'on a couple G's and smoking weed I'm free Chorus: I wanna be free No more player hater I gotta be free I wanna be free Gettin' tired of waitin' I gotta be free Verse 3: [Willie D] Nobody understands me but me It used to bother me at first But now my conscience is free I ask the lord to give me strength And bless the hood And keep these fake motherfuckers out my life for good Knock on wood I'm still here through all these trials and tribulations Tryin' to make it Shit, a lot of niggas couldn't take it My girls hate it When I go to clubs and stay out late She think I'm fucking around with hoes Gimme a break Get off my case Can I be committed to you And ride 'round without feelin' tied down Damn girl, I catch enough hell on the streets When I come home I want some tender lovin' and peace No one can take your place, you my ace I dig your jealously boo But sometimes I need my space I keep you laced Like you won the lottery see But God damn I gotta be free Chorus:(2x) I wanna be free No more player hater I gotta be free I wanna be free Gettin' tired of waitin' I gotta be free

Delirium Tremens

Christy Moore
I dreamt a dream the other night I couldn't sleep a wink The rats were tryin' to count the sheep and I was off the drink There were footsteps in the parlour and voices on the stairs I was climbin' up the walls and movin' round the chairs. I looked out from under the blanket up at the fireplace. The Pope and John F. Kennedy were starin' in me face.* Suddenly it dawned at me I was getting the old D.T.s When the Child o' Prague began to dance around the mantlepiece. CHORUS Goodbye to the Port and Brandy, to the Vodka and the Stag, To the Schmiddick and the Harpic, the bottled draught and keg. As I sat lookin' up the Guinness ad I could never figure out How your man stayed up on the surfboard after 14 pints of stout. Well I swore upon the bible I'd never touch a drop. My heart was palpitatin' I was sure 'twas going to stop, Thinkin' I was dyin' I gave my soul to God to keep. A tenner to St. Anthony to help me get some sleep. I fell into an awful nightmare - got a dreadful shock. When I dreamt there was no Duty-free at the airport down in Knock. George Seawright was sayin' the rosary and SPUC were on the pill.** Frank Patterson was gargled and he singin' Spancil Hill. CHORUS I dreamt that Mr. Haughey had recaptured Crossmaglen Then Garret got re-elected and gave it back again. Dick Spring and Roger Casement were on board the Marita-Ann As she sailed into Fenit they were singin' Banna Strand. I dreamt Archbishop McNamara was on Spike Island for 3 nights Havin' been arrested for supportin' Traveller's rights. I dreamt that Ruairi Quinn was smokin' marijuana in the Dail Barry Desmond handin' Frenchies out to scuts in Fianna Fail. CHORUS I dreamt of Nell McCafferty and Mary Kenny too The things that we got up to, but I'm not tellin' you. I dreamt I was in a jacuzzi along with Alice Glenn 'twas then I knew I'd never ever, ever drink again. CHORUS

Full Moon

ATMOSPHERE "Strictly Leakage"
[Hook] The moon is full, you can't fake that light No room to move, nah the space got tight Don't need no knife here, we break up fights Put your good shoes on, get your make-up right And the ladies in the pla-pla-place so fly Make you want to go home and wake up your wife And I like it right, could never hate my life In fact I'm quite excited, I get to play tonight [Verse 1] Mr. Soundman, turn up the bass I want to feel the beats disturb my heart rate We came in the door cause we wanted to escape And forget about the world burning in front of our faces We all paid dues, we all working hard Some fools even had to pay a service charge We sit at a thirsty bar Now give more 808, and turn up the guitars Tell the security guards to relax Cause these people came to get away from all that Them bouncers can't go bounce, they own balls flat But we came to have a good time - now fall back "Atmosphere" You know that's my team Ask around, we kind of nice with the rap things We came to stick up the rhythm So poor, made 'em want to put my kids in prison Spotlights, I'm a social moth I'm here to mark the tree then I'm rolling, gone Next shop gets broken off Now open up your top and don't quote me wrong I said this one here is what we call a good crowd Roof caught fire, whole block got took out Whoever's on after me better keep a look out The sun goin down, I'm about to let the wolf out [Hook] [Verse 2] Hit the stage like a war vet Hoping that the band members remember the set Knowing damn well that I'm the one that forgets "Hey man, I thought we specifically asked for a cordless" Tangle up all the microphone cords Till I'm tripping on 'em like I've done a hundred times before Even if I fall off stage and hit the floor Becomes part of the show, keep giving 'em more I like it when you dance and move your shell and it's Too soon to tell if you smooth and swell with it Felt good to see you do it for the hell of it "That's why I'm here today and touring for president" ...Ch-ch-ch-check out Penelope Right next Stephanie, Wendy, Bev and Steve Rapping with my songs and repping me Thanks to all y'all for being part of this little legacy Got busy and it won't stop So let the bid he's hot, and try to ditch the cops We don't need another 50 or another Iggy Pop Just raise the roof now, show me what your city got We found a lot of pounds out of town Was deep underground but it seems so loud now Sound never stopped and the crowd never wound down Puff no, huff girl, I blow that house down [Hook]

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