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JUVENILE lyrics - 400 Degreez

Ha (Jay-Z Remix)

Original and similar lyrics
[Jay-Z] Bounce, bounce, bounce J-j-j-j-j-Juvenile and Jigga The remix [Juvenile] You at the point of no return, ha If your daddy get out the way with you, you gon to let him learn, ha Life's a bitch, ha Niggas be fakin but you ain't givin em shit, ha You stealin the bricks, ha You got a wife and three kids, ha But you be fuckin around right in the neighborhood you live, ha You own a truck, ha With tv's and cd's rimmed up, ha Fuckin em up, ha You won't be stuntin on your cell, ha Get your partner some money orders and commence to jail, ha You bout ready to roll a draw, ha Some of that drove, ha You bout to get you some more, ha You that nigga with all that cheese, ha You that nigga that whipped that girl and she called the police, ha You understand, ha You ain't gon cry like a bitch, you gon be a man, ha Where ever you stand, ha [Chorus X 2] You a paper chaser, you got your block on fire Remaining a G until the moment you expire You know what it is, to make nothing outta something You handle your biz and don't be crying and suffering [Jay-Z] You done got yourself in some deep shit Now you stuck in your house, you gotta peep the remix You can't go out cuz they gon leave you in a deep ditch And hit you with the sign if you decide to keep shit The only reason you alive cuz you read lips and you drove on the block low in yo' seat an' shit Seen em mouthin off, they don't need this shit Now they sick of you duckin, dodgin, and weavin and shit How they call you when you don't return they beeps Now they ready to kill you and all your peeps You done fucked around with some wild niggas You done fucked off the dough and Juvenile and Jigga's You better get it back, or sleep where the river's at They send shots through your fifty cap They got big guns that go brrrrrrrap, brrrrrrrap, brrrrap Where your niggas at [Chorus X 2] [Juvenile] You gotta get up off your ass, ha And make the cash, ha And stay away from them bags, ha Two and two done come together, ha Juvi and Jigga, ha Straight up guerrillas, ha That nigga Manny Fresh a fool, ha He be playin it to the bitches on every song he do, ha My fuckin album going plat, ha You bought the tape, ha Tell em ain't none of it fake, ha You got a shipment coming in, ha During the week, ha Got a little something for me, ha You boy and them be drawin heat, ha But that's your wootie so you gotta find you someone to creep, ha Nigga tired of livin fast, ha Your boy hit the stash, ha Now you wanna go bust his ass, ha You keep it real, ha You don't fuck with no nigga but you will kill, ha You know how it feel, ha [Chorus X 2]

You're Only A Customer

JAY-Z
Intro: Ha ha, ha ha, Roc-a-Fella y'all Futuristic shit beeotch Uh, what the fuck? How we do. How we do. Uh ha Verse 1: Triple platnum nigga with the solid gold fade All that nickle and dime shit, don't hold no weight Fortune 5, top 5 in the Forbes (you'll see) as you Thumb through the Source I read the Ride report Class C, cold me down with the plastic That's all I Ask Of You, like Raphael Saadiq At the hotel, Nico, robbin' the val suite My people's eyes through the peep hole I'm lovin' you down freak as I Shoot through the city like a rumor Not soon enough, to stop 'em from spreadin' the news Paper headin' read Jay-Z breaths, 80 degrees the only thing to cool them off is a Malibu day breeze Can't sop for the feds, say cheese You know they wanna take a nigga picture Pray for the day to get ya, but I'm a parlay and stay richer for now Jigga hasn't done dirt in a while YOu know my stomach getin' weak from livin' on the streets for real Tryin' to oversee it from suites, orderin' eats At the top where the criminal minds meet That's where the cream is (right) , that's where your dream is (well ain't it?) Hook: You're only a customer (uh) Walkin' in the presence of hustlers You spend money all night long All night long - Mary J. Blige Verse 2: A-yo my youth had a nigga too aggressive I use to speed excessive, both eyes closed No thought infested Hittin' pot holes, cop-o's will snatch your weight But your game most precious Had to rethink things, is pinky ring worth Life on the run and time served in Sing Sing I don't know to tell the truth If I'm pressed for doe, I got to consoul Irv Gotti y'all Irv Gotti: Heads got to roll Jay-Z: I was raised to live, Lord I pray you forgive If not, I just handle it like Jason Kidd What you're facin' is official (it's official) Most cases when I m blazin' won't miss you (won't miss you) Case and point mad bullshitted issue I see it to the end, my writting is so personal My heart bleedin' out my pen, make no mistake aobut me It's only one nigga livin', I got a half a cake about me I got love, to make a nigga die bleedin' is nothin' You make a motherfucker die breathin' then you sayin' somthing, beeotch Hook (X3) More flavor than y'all can image havin' Graphic like Sega, Saturn, traffic like the Bodega It just so happens, you caught me at the the tail end of my dive My brain ain't right from inhaling the work of my life Fuck it, 3's in ya, had to hold D.C. high pissy off Cristle 3 G's high seasoned Bacardy, UV's Blesses my body, we be fresh at the party Play yourself go head if you don't no the ledge It's like spittin' to God Get it in your face fuckin' with niggas over your head Take your time with me, shiftee Use to make Coke stretch like the samplin' a 950 Shit with that, while I'm o a Kawasoki bike At the light, doin' a pike, with a bitch on the back And take flight, my life like it was directed by Hype In 35 slow-mo, with the Rockafella logo Accapoco to Arruba, bay breezes and caviar baluga Very little loot, a loser In the grashish blueish, Les Coup it's the root of evil in these people Hook (X3)

Let's Dance

Brand Nubian "Foundation"
Intro: Busta Rhymes Brand Nubian '98, hot shit for your ass Get up everybody, make your ass move fast Check it out, like this, check it out Let's dance, I know you got the feeling Let's dance, come on and get down *repeat x3* Verse One: Grand Puba One time for your mind and it just don't stop (Hah) Chickens flock, I hit you wit dat knock (Hah) I be the Grand Royal makin it hot, flame broiled (What What) To this I stay loyal while your style goes spoiled (Huh) One of a kind, I'm like a diamond in the mine (Hah) Brush of the dirt and watch the Haji God shine Mama Pu, Mama Pa, Mama Grand Puba (Hah hah) Alamo, Dotty X and the Lord Jamar (Woooooo, hah) We wanna party (huh), fiesta (Wooooo) together (hah), forever (huh) Say word, son, a nigga flow like Chandon Champion, been in more cooties than a tampon (hah) Grand Puba Nubian co-workers (Hah) specialise in music, these cats'll never lose it (Huh) Time for some action for your satisfaction (Hah) Stackin Benji Jacksons without no procastinatin Chorus: Busta Rhymes, (Rebbie Jackson) Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (Brand Nubian makes the party, hot) Let's dance, come on and get down Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (This jam is all for you) Let's dance, come on and get down Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (It's the energy that's hot) Let's dance, come on and get down Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (My body's all for you) Let's dance, come on and get down Verse Two: Sadat X Here's a simple joint that a baby could follow I had wrote some twisted shit that niggas just couldn't follow Love Vivica, Nia, Pam and Tamia Soul Food with the cornbread, greens and head (Hah) I'm off-ramp while y'all camp under a street lamp (Huh) I got a stamp from back then, remember when you was ten But now you're burstin, enough to make me u-turn on Lennox Watch your mouth, this a grown man with the grown plan (Hah) And a swift hand on the witness stand before the grand, I can't go out on my man I know nothing of the sort, never seen a transport (Hah) Wax built thors and cats who open doors (Huh) Can get it in their paws when I release my youth Down with Jamar, he's in the B-K, Haji in the Rule Known Alamo since birth, young boys we went to school Family planner, I can't forget my daughter in Atlanta (What) Chorus Verse Three: Lord Jamar Yeah Light-skinned, understandin see with brown eyes (hah) Seen me in the van, the streets of Crown Heights (Huh) Wit weed in my hand, runnin lights (Uhh) In need of a grand to put down on a fight (Yeah) See me and the Brand Nubians keep it tight Flew me in to do a show in the middle of the night If we don't get our dough then you know we're gonna fight Keepin niggas on their toes cos our flows be right (Word up) I used to bag hoes on sight now it turns me off when their clothes be tight, I'm on the road of the right (Uhh uhh) and just, when I was 15, I used to smoke dust Now I strive to stay pristine and free from lust Watch the 3 bust, I be the Black G-zus (Hah) Attack any man who plan to freeze us Your hand should be up, my man's be tree'd up (huh) in a land that the black man needs to free up! Chorus: Busta Rhymes, (Rebbie Jackson) Everybody let's dance, I know you got the feeling (Brand Nubian makes the party, hot) Let's dance, come on and get down Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (This jam is all for you) Let's dance, come on and get down Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (It's the energy that's hot) Let's dance, come on and get down Let's dance, I know you got the feeling (My body's all for you) Let's dance, come on and get down Outro: Busta Rhymes Hah yeah, Brand Nu's Busta Rhymes, all in a 12 jewel Break fool, nigga, no go to school One down, fuck ya head up One shot, bounce nigga bounce to this Just bounce to this, just bounce nigga bounce nigga bounce to this

C.S.I.E.

MICK JENKINS "The Mickstape..."
Free Nation Free Everything Niggas in the Chi got goals they can't attain They either spit or break it and flip it like Boldy James Chef it like Gordon Ramsay, 7 on they side They keep a Ben Gordon handy, keep a Ben Gordon handy Dandy-lions in my freshly row And my phone stay buzzing, all these pesky hoes Be trynna to chill with him Fuck 'em, mind on my money Cops, duck 'em Grind for this honey Cause life ain't as sweet as they say So niggas wrist twist when they pre-heating the yay Me? Shit, I just sprinkle all the kief on the haze And the Ron Brons rocking pre-Heats like they J's Couple niggas I grew up with, playing 2k Red Kool-Aid, with a Panera Bread souffle I'm cold chilling and pilling leaves off rare bouquetes Nothing major, something like the Huntsville Stars Or an undecided student bumming rides in your car Like the flies in your car, these niggas rolling down the windows Trynna catch a breeze in this Free shit But if you wasn't fucking with us since the prefix When the boat rock, all you shallow niggas gon' be seasick Can't stress it enough Just a chill ass nigga from the Chi, homie Can't stress it enough

Watch Yo Enemies

C-Murder "Life Or Death (Explicit)"
(C-Murder talking) Ya'll niggas know one thing out there This rap game is just like the dope game P told ya watch your friends But i'm tellin' ya to um (Chorus 2x) Watch your mother fuckin' enemies And you might live a long time Watch your mother fuckin' enemies Stay strapped cause the ghetto is so wicked now (C-Murder) I watch my mother fuckin' enemies, even watch myself I know these niggas wanna test me, but it's bad for they health My motto is, if you ain't TRU Then why the fuck you up on me I can tell by your look that your bitch ass is phony My brother said C you know these niggas gonna test ya But only real TRU niggas don't crack under pressure Ever since I could remember I been TRU to da game And now the mother fuckin' media wanna know where I got my name I'll start it off bitch, I ain't even rap tight I smoke weed all day and sell dope at night No Limit Soldier tatted on my arm best believe Cause if it's life or death nigga, somebody gonna bleed I got a tank full of hard niggas, from front to end But still I watch my enemies, and I watch my friends (Chorus 2x) (Magic) I been hustlin' from the beginning makin' cash to a million g's I hope you niggas feel me See every time I step on the scene I hear you niggas call me Jealous cause you like my style you bitches wanna ball with me But I trust no nigga, whether he's friend or foe Not tryin' to step on no toes just let you bitch niggas know My adversaries have died for fuckin' around with me I know you niggas can't believe that I got C-Murder down with me Boss niggas so believe there could be no tighter crew No TRUer 2, they gotta kill me to fuck with you I'm an assassin known for kickin' ass Show me who them niggas are, and watch me start blastin' It's Mr. Magic, known for causin' havoc As long as i'm on your side, see there's no need for panic I got your mother fuckin' back for eternity So when you slippin' i'm watchin' all your enemies (Chorus 2x)

Safe + Sound

DJ QUIK "Safe + Sound"
Yeah Now this is for the G's who know we needs that gangsta shit It's like the P Funk we funk so its gotsta hit And when you fire up that hooter pass it to the young G The nigga Mista Quik that's me from the C to the P to the T And when I'm givin it up for my hood you can't clown Cause when we lettin off you gots to duck down And then we're rollin back to the spot where they hang (Westside fo'hundred street gang) so it's a street thang Makin that grip and stackin the chips high Ballin never fallin I gots to stay fly Whether they smokin up them beadies or rollin the joints fat I gotta kick it with my niggaz cause it's like that And you need to know I ain't for none, because I'm dumpin The hollow point rounds that got everybody humpin But niggaz they keep on mouthin, kickin up the static But keep on talkin shit *machine gun* and I'ma let you havit Yeah yeah Huh, I'ma let you havit Yeah Check this Somebody told me that you dissed me (bitch) in your video But I ain't trippin cause I'm knowin you ain't nothin but a silly hoe And yeah I said your monkey ass name in my underground tape But if you peeped game you woulda heard me say ( To the top of the tree, for C-M-W see ) We wasn't dissin lettin you know the other side was on a mission Comin up with the Quik-ness, now you know who's dick this is Down in the throats of the Compton's Most Bitches So take this shit back to your set if you got one And I'ma be puttin the double oh bugs in my shotgun And if you come back fuckin around I'ma take your life Why would you come back to a gunfight, with a fuckin knife? So there it is MC Eiht, cause you're wack And Mista Quik can beat the niggaz down with another sack So keep on rollin in your Camry or your Rabbit but if I catch you slippin in my hood, gotta let you havit Ahh yeah Gotta let you havit Huh, I'ma let you havit

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