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JUICY J lyrics

Slob On My Knob

Original and similar lyrics
Slob on my knob Like corn on the cob Check in with me, and do your job Lay on the bed, and give me head Don't have to ask, don't have to beg Juicy is my name Sex is my game Let's call the boys, let's run a train Squeeze on my nuts Lick on my butt The natural curly hair, please don't touch First find a mate Second find a place Third find a bag, to hide the ho face Real name rover I said bend over I started to knock, then came the odor Smelled like mush Shouldn't had a woosh Told her to stop, and take a dush When she did that I didn't want the cat So I bounced out and never came back Suck a nigga dick or something [4x] My nigga D-Magic Said he had to have it I said just forget it, it's too crabby I Know a little freak, in Hollywood Sucks on dick, does it real good She'll give you money, to feel up your tummy House full of kids, parents all schummy Once had her down, backyard ground Hit it from the back Enjoyed the sound Lay on the cover Always use the rubber Till I got caught, fucking with her mother She blamed it on me We fought in the street She pulled out a knife, so I had to flee Called up the boys Went to her house Charged the whole place Threw the bitch out Police busted in Where the niggas at We left just in time, and never came back Roll through the hood, waving at the freaks Who's sniffing all the rocks, and smoking all the geeks Made another stop Police station Saw a few cops Drove by and sprayed them Licensee tag number A nigga said he saw Bogus all the time Never get caught

Slob On My Knob (Pt. II)

THREE 6 MAFIA "Vol. 2 - Club Memphis Underground"
(feat. Juicy J) [Gangsta Boo] Slob on my cat Cause you know it's fat Check in with me And do that [Juicy J] Wait a second freak I know you from the streets My nigga Hurry T Has seen you through his mean They call you little red The one who slobs on head And drinks a niggas nut Until you well and fed To see what she's about I creaped to her house To catch her in her blouse And see how big her mouth She pulled me to her room To get the fuckin soon I didn't have a rubber I fucked with two balloons Lay on the bed That's all she said Her pussy has one problem Twisted tight in streads The fucken sounds were tunes I fucked her with a broom She rode it like a horse The blood came rushing soon When I seen that I didn't want the cat So I found out And never came back [Chorus] Bloods on dick Does it real good Bloods bloods on dick Does it real good Bloods on dick Does it real good Bloods bloods on dick Does it real good [Juicy J] My nigga D Magic Had said he finally got it The true and false blow He said he had to have it Know a little freak In big ham Licks up nuts Like lickin stamps She'll grant your wishes Blow you freaky kisses House full of G's Freak horse bitches Had the little freak In my niggas jeep Try to spit some game To get her suck some meat Lay on the cover My natural hair she loved it Stop bitch stop bitch Please don't touch it Took her trough some hoods And let her hoe around 7 street 9 street And street of walks and brown Now she's in click A pro on suckin dick Until the rugged out The bitch was smokin bricks Straight trough the blow pipes That's all she thought Runnin from the rehab Never got caught

He Lay

TWISTA "Legit Ballin' - Vol.2"
(feat. Liffy Stokes, Sko) [Chorus 3x's] He lay, he lay, he lay, he lay, he lay, he lay, he lay, he lay In the grave he lay, he lay In the grave he lay, he lay, he lay [Sko] L-E-G-I-T Ballaz Screamin' stop killin' for dollars From G-I, from the South to the Westside From the D-I and where I love, Darkside I forever got my pride Forever guide my guys to a better mindstate or phase To replace all the wicked ideas erased All the fears about the payroll What you say Lo about Sko We representin' the Chi, do or die for real Niggaz caps gettin' twist off they tops for real The conflict's in the hearts of many men for real The convicts in the Pen holdin' plenty steel Niggaz know they house bigger but they play in the field Tabasco ain't gon' let it ride though Let my brother fat folk I thrill for the kill Smoke me a Never runnin' from the mill boy I'm runnin' the field It's the eternal Lord feel cemeteries revealed Prophecies prophetcized stuff bein' fulfilled And to another man I'll never kneel Until I see Allah, fate's comin' from the wheel And baby girl, you can check it you can dig it here If yo nigga try to test it, you can bet it he'll Be in a grave he lay, he lay In the grave he lay, he lay, he lay [Chorus 2x's] [Liffy Stokes] It's Liffy Stokes with the sticky smoke Quick to shoot a muthafucka down if he choke Never see me in yo city broke In the club spendin' 50 notes Leave with 50 girls and 50 Folks And we all tote scopes Guarded like the Pope cause we got that bomb on the dope G-stacks in our coat Niggaz ask, we ain't hoes Just to afloat with me, I'm livin' lovely Baby come on and relax with a Folk All my mackateers know why we ride down Cliqued-up pick the bitch up bumpin' sounds, hurtin' the whole town With raw pound all around me ya dig, the sounds off like a live round 22's on Fleet, peep my shine now I got a whole fuckin' nation that'll ride out And put yo lights out in a matter of minutes young nigga So it's best for you to be closin' yo fuckin' mouth Before I pull out and bust slugs in yo ass You lucky yo bitch here, that's why I'm givin' you a pass Nigga haul ass before I up and blast with no mask And blow off you bit of mustache with yo tough ass Shit everybody's bustin' down My niggaz fallin' off all around Before I go, I got my 50-rounds To blaze a nigga before I hit the ground He lay [Chorus] [Sko] It's really gettin' hot on the block Niggaz got they glocks, niggaz sellin' they rocks But my mind prepared to get this muthafuckin' knot So a nigga ain't scared to put a nigga in the box If I gotta drop him down in the grave In the grave he gon' lay-he Cause this shit don't stop, I shut 'me down everyday Everyday anyway he, anyway he If he grown or not, wrong or not Niggaz better shake the spot and praise Allah Don't let me see yo face nowhere by the peace Allah A laundry mat, niggaz better have they glocks cocked off Ready to blast off and get yo ass popped off With 10 hot ones when I draw from when I smash off over there It's blood on the curb over there And them niggaz that be actin' like nerds over there And my niggaz that be flippin' plenty birds over there For them niggaz that be gettin' on my nerves over there For my brothers that be gettin' plenty dirt over there For them broads with all that weave in they hair Who ain't got no walls, pussy like bees in the air She dropped them draws and then I zoomed outta there Cause I got my laws, I'ma stay strong to myself And I thought about y'all, that's why I ball by myself I don't need no mob to make me feel like myself I don't need no job, I'll make these G's by myself I'ma be aight, breakin' my hands to the left I can see aight, I smell death on yo brea-ea-ea-ea-eath [Chorus 4x's]

Trap Muzik

T.I. "I'm Serious"
This a trap This aint no album This aint no game This a trap (trap muzik) [Repeat 8x] [1st Verse] Welcome back to the trap Niggas back in the trap Wit another heavy chevy Big dope boys and trap All you rap niggas role out I trap when it's cold out Whack niggas flyin But I stay down to I'm sold out Cause down a hundred ground Like a rapping in a dope house Man wherever I be The feds got me scoped out Mother fucker let my nuts hang Block out the duc canes Cook it to it bubbles Doulble fast as a mustang I know you think you fuck man But little showty tuff man Been a long time Since a nigg from Alanta Spit this nuts game Thats a very few of real niggas So how could they give nigga The feelin that a real nigga Would get around a real nigga All they do is still niggas ideas And rhythm wit em Holla sumthin similar Talking bout the hood Like they hung in em I got a million rhythms Want em come get em What bitch you pussy nigga I'm just havin fun wit em [chorus repeat 8x] [verse 2] Still telling niggas I aint wholing I aint crolling When the 12 hit the corner I aint brolling I aint rolling Keep the coat stretch out Like Carl Louis Hamstring Stepped on like I'm working With the damn thing Drible baby aint seen What I do to a ounce of doe A whip man on my pager Like I pay you folks To whip somemoore I'm doper than the fluid cellur I flip it all up by myself I give my niggas recipes So they can turn to sumthin else They love to work Thats why I keep em comin Like conlasions plate We flip the cake We move this shit from Georgia Baby state to state Attemadate Niggas in the city Who've been moving weight Nobody loosing weight They fuck with us Cause you've been known to hate Demonstrate The way we turned the trout Out in '98 Sarted out in '95 Started out with nicks and dimes Niggas you done lost your mind Thinking you could set up shop Pimpin I respect the game Lets take this to another block [chorus repeat 8x] [outro talk] [outro verse] Pimp squad Showty still in the trap When I spot a scene hot With the man name Jon And the collad green pot On alot of straight hen And alot of green pot Compation in a range Like he gotta be stop Well maybe I will be But probably not Oh what the blood cloak You try to knock em out and he sock Listen to me I'm serious Thinkin how did he not End up way up On the top of Detroit If come where I was You gotta be pop And if you really want to pop And I rather be dropped Listen pops Want to know a little more About rap Firts rule this is real It aint just a record deal Its a trap [music continues] [music fades]

Ital (Feat. Q-tip)

THE ROOTS
Verse One: Q-Tip I wanna be able to reach an mc and reach a little child in the same degree And my elders excel I mean what the hell we might as well bridge these gaps in all before we fall in the fire Black Thought: It's a million mc's upon a plan they call real tryin' to set it profess mic techniques illegit inaccurate perceptions of reality embedded in their minds thus their rhymes are discredited (check it out) Q-Tip: I use my music implemented with jewels import tools to inspire all those too cool fools who say screw school 'Cause they don't see the conspiracy that's put here to trap you and me Black Thought: Y'all know the battle leutenant be on some whole 'nother other finesse genetic they say I get it from my mother so its' inheredit- ary and very necessary to shine legendarily, heavily refined Q-Tip: Contemporaries like the Roots is so radit's like dage which bag did they come out of, and how can I get in itto win it like raffle ticket pick and if you feelin' something, guess who gets the sticking Black Thought: I got this Ital mad up close and personal the first I find to violate, I shall retal- iate with realisms for their whole local we on point like decimal Abstract now Q-Tip: MCin while I'm breathingmcin is believing that you can host a ceremony and the dough is never phony in fact, it's very therapeutic like B12 hyperdermic needle so shoot it Black Thought: Lyrically elicit upstarts the explicit most wicked seven digit mic wizardmy tongue lashes out and strikes with it just slightly might miss it when I blast through your section or district CHORUS Verse Two: Black Thought In my formitive by my peers I was influenced until the instruments of time killed the congruence I peeped the blue prints on how to make true sense of MC's which are a nuisance I know just what to do sinceI'm on another lev. brothers is fakin' jacks and think they ready for the rev. but they got a lot to learn, to make theri thoughts long term 'cause on theri short-cuts they made a wrong turn probably, timelessly I construct the firesome to rip your eardrum for many years to come professional style thinkin' rational to move wise so hard it's a wonder y'all alive... Q-Tip: ...And still breathin', niggaz is dead and not even perpetuatin' real life the shit kicked is real trife ayo they fake bleedin' It's obvious that they needin' attention feedin' they cold actin' like heathens when mics is picked up MC's scenes is kicked up like women with the gripper drinking Moet 'till they hiccup fellas hustlin' picking bricks up fantasizin' about the illest stick up but rip up the jam and we be truly impressed on stage you won't need your tef. vest only a mic with and a mic test and at your best you get blessed by the fans who profess that they can relate with the trials you tribulate or the pains you endure 'cause some cats is pure tell horors that are true but see cats like you y'all fake joints just tyo get a woo-woo the tear jerker you be that miracle worker whose miracle just ran out I think it's time you pan out or just plain fade, 'cause yo you played we 'bout to drop on you like the Everglades

For Victory

Bolt Thrower
The candle burned down from it's place on the sill The curtains caught fire but the house remains standing there still. Turning around, saw you looking at me With tears running down from the place where your eyes used to be. Walk through the door like your brother before A lifetime remains until dawn The trees seem to say you'll be passing this way In the wink of an eye you'll be gone. The flames leaping higher, the rope is made fast Blinded and burning, the first bearing gofts for the last. Turning around saw you leaping away The rose in your hand caught the sun at the close of the day. (chorus) The stars and the shadows each have a share I called out your name, but the wind stole my words from the air. Looking ahead, saw you pale as the sky The circle is closed, I said as I turned and walked by.

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