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JUVENILE lyrics - Juve The Great

Enemy Turf

Original and similar lyrics
[Verse 1 (Juvenile)] C'mon, C'mon.... I bet if I pull a pistol and pop you, you gon' tell me where its at, you see the blood shotted eyes with the taped up clips in the mac, black hood with black gloves, bandanna round the mouth, a nigga posted up on every perimeter around your house, and we didn't come here for meeting, or here to loose time, we some niggas who wanna be eating better in due time, mutha fuck leaving the block, better to use nines, It ain't no secret I'm cheap, however my jewels shines, The prisons got more niggas than the streets do, who average more than 30 murders a week (nigga we do) It ain't a war thang, its a fuck me, fuck y'all thang, And we got hoes that know how to sneak guns in the bars man, So think twice about leaving the gun in the car man, Nigga don't give a fuck about moving son on the wall man, Ain't no everybody, its yourself and you all in, If you paying traps you don't deserve to be balling, [Chorus (Juvenile X2)] Its enemy turf c'mon, so I'ma play it how it go, cock the hollow points into my black calico, I'ma make all these bitch niggas respect me right, please let me hit another lick, i'ma be set for life [Verse 2 (Juvenile)] Look I'ma solid 170, lips like Bill Bellamy, Fresh out of the court house from whipping the felony, Didn't really want to hurt her, but you know how it is, You better not ever disrespect me hoe in front of my kids. ayo the cops be rolling, therefore I fucks with no one, I went and copped me 4 guns, I'm bout to bust this open, To all you bitch niggas doubting the force, its gon' get ugly, I'm that nigga that'll fuck you up quick, thats why the streets love me, Catch me posted with Lil' Weezy, () I'm doing it, Niggaz having problems with coke but we still moving it, Whatever's on the market I can work it, I ain't scared, I ain't nervous, give it to Juve dog and watch me serve it, You holding on the coke now whats the purpose, () gon hook it up too, nigga the scheme is perfect, ya heared me, now why is you acting like it ain't worth it, you gon' make me take it, nigga I gotta make it, [Chorus (Juvenile X2)] [Turk Talking] Say nigga, heared a nigga picking () Heared a nigga got all kinda shit ever since he hit that lick he don't want to fuck with a nigga, but look this what we gonna do man, I want you to go get your niggas and go find that mutha fucka do him in, ain't nuthing going on around this mutha fucka if I ain't got my hands in it, I put a nigga on his feet and this how he gonna treat a nigga , I promise, I put this on my babies dawg, we gon get that mutha fucka [Verse 3 (Juvenile)] They talking bout' putting a sting on me cuz they say I've been making too much, Fuck what they talking bout', this how I grew up But this ain't nuthing new bruh, we been throwing this 'U' up, We had some altercations and things but they got blew up, New has and Curly head them niggas dirty in the TC, Shit that a G like me couldn't even tell you on a CD, So i'ma make all of my enemies never forget me, You looking at one of the realest niggas from Feret Street, [Chorus (X2)]

Shut The Fuck Up

Keith Murray "It's a Beautiful Thing"
Is it on? Faggot ass niggas, talkin all that bullshit Worried about what I do but I don't give a fuck You know what I'm sayin, cuz if I listen to that shit... [Verse 1] I be the metaphorical Don Juan's upon My confidant bring my words to life, make shit bond See the lyrical lexicon makes strong songs DJ's gotta throw on Thug niggas love to bug along And wack MC's dream on and on Drifting further from reality, concentratin on me flow on I master murderous phrases simile, homicidal delivery And don't give a fuck who don't like me See we be, the type of MC's bringing equilibrium into the industry Your own peeps say you pussy I show up unexpectedly to the release party Get up close and personally snatch your body Often say, place your life status see on crtically But y'all just sound like you dissin me subliminally See you walkin contradiction, caught up in the friction If you can't stand the heat, stay the fuck out the kitchen In front of the whole industry on national TV I'll bluntly, tell you to shut the fuck up HOOK: To all you got the pen niggas Shut the fuck up All you stinky, dirty tramps Shut the fuck up All the hoes on his dick Shut the fuck up All you lyin motherfuckers Shut the fuck up [Verse 2] You'd be surprised what niggas go through to dis the squad Call our business lines tryin na sound all fuckin hard When your man dialed the number, heard my voice, jumped on my dick Then you grabbed the phone and started poppin mega shit Then tried to kick a little bullshit rhyme or two About how much money you can make and how much damage you can do But the simple fact is that you wanna be me Redman, Erick Sermon, and the L.O.D. But the next time you wanna be me look in the mirror The next time you leave a voice mail speak clearer Fun loving criminal, savage mic killer Comes through by way of knockout on the strength of my niggas Ther arsenal successor, mister apply the pressure On niggas frontin like the Nutty Professor I pull you foul, track you down like a private detective Then put you in your proper perspective And tell you shut the fuck up HOOK To all you shitty drawls cats Shut the fuck up All you fake thug niggas Shut the fuck up All you gay ass niggas Shut the fuck up All you media freaks Shut the fuck up All you hype motherfuckers Shut the fuck up All you fake drug dealers Shut the fuck up You better shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up You better shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up

Cramp Your Style

ICE-T "VI - Return Of The Real"
(I cramp your style With a bullet and a smile) [Onyx] [ VERSE 1 ] Ugh, niggas on the d-l casin me out Truckin my jewels, feelin for the tools When they come they gots to come correct Because they know I catch wreck A well-known wild street vet Step into the kill zone, baby, it's on I pack the twin nine-mills that'll lift your dome Chrome pump with double-eyed slots and such A fully-auto Mac-dime that is sure to touch Ya, bust you with the Desert Eagle Street legal, move against my peole And the Ice gets evil Hit you with the .44 Smith & Wes- Son, you're best to run cause my Tec eats pests I got a glock with the laser, hot police taser Step in real close, I hit your throat with the razor You wanna live or die, it's your decision Talk shit, you're dissin, i got you in my night vision Brain fragments on the street released Another nigga fronts hard, another nigga deceased I got a H.K., A.K. and a M-16 A 12-gauge street sweeper with the circular clip Quick to let projectiles fly, you die And watch your fat moms cry - bull's eye (I cramp your style With a bullet and a smile) [Onyx] What you think all the guns is for [ VERSE 2 ] What's up, niggas don't seem to hear Still lookin crazy, let me make this clear Fool, the Ice ain't havin it And when I let loose lead, believe I'm accurate Fat scope on a 306 Sawed-off double barrel and a pistol grip Pump on my lap at all times I fill my gauge shells with nickels and dimes Thompson Center spittin .45 slugs Black Mac-11, Python .357 Snub-nose .38 or .380 Seventy Automatic, full metal jackets Hollow points comin atcha fast You feel the slug before you hear the blast (I cramp your style With a bullet and a smile) [Onyx] Muthafuckas frontin hard Lookin at niggas crazy and shit Make a nigga break Nigga don't want me to pull out [ VERSE 3 ] I don't like shootin but I do shoot straight Niggas I be rollin with will shoot up a wake Why you wanna step in the sights of a nigga Known hair trigger, the coroner delivers More cold bodies to the morgue each weekend One minute you bleed, the next minute you're leakin Best to listen close cause this ain't no boast And never forget that I leave you wet Bloody, sticky, holes in your Dickey's Oh what a pity, lookin all shitty My Winchester will get the best of ya Hand grenades will fade all the rest of ya I reach out and touch you with the parabellum You got a crew, you better tell em

Damn Right

Dres "The Sureshot Redemption"
bad bitches countin doe baggin rocks crazy whole teams committed we was poor as kids..... but now it seems we've done did it and blew other niggas find the style hard to chew talkin bout we too wild and that's emphatically true so don't cross us....or you'll be on the ground countin losses for rea; every nigga I know will peel a motherfuckin dome like stockin - we be the owner of the style many niggas be jockin - blocks be rocklin - Glock pops alot and, damn, there ain't no stoppin me or my mans. We like whatever. Pop told me that this money's not forever so I look for investments for my crew to bury treasure. That be it, say when ya makin money , paw, ya see it - cause if ya can't be paid, it's like ya can't be shit HOOK Ringleaders are coming, get up your dick-beaters - or heaters - and share the mind state of a fetus - can't beat us - and lyrically them niggas can't see this as it go's - we turn kilo's into litres. Pounds turn to smoke in the concrete flood - and blood will often turn the dirt into mud. Bulletts become shells - names become bells, and if you blow street trial, nigga your cell becomes hell - said even time don't tell, at least that's how it used to be, but it's a different day and time and strong eyes don't see down the wire - ready to blow the empire like a friar, smoking blunts strong as desire - a messiah - raised amongst men that conspire to retire but often end up the town crier - In the fire of a cold world yo, said it be flamin - still we aimin to be the one - Titus Haymon HOOK Get ready - my whole teams known to rock steady - No Getty - I gots more sauce than spaghetti - a machete - I'll turn your whole frame to confetti - to the nitty-gritty, we bout to flip the pity petty - when braves become slaves and plots become graves - and strays fly in the air like they was Blue-Jays Robbers can be cops - while thuggs police blocks - I sit beside my window sippin sky on the rocks - to see the church got locks - no goodness in gracious - Loungin with robber barrons in rooms thats palacious - to weigh dissin us with the need to lay down - no more misunderstanding - coming at you , aye-now, who be talking - better than that yo, who be hawkin - I suggest you turn around and just start walking, or I'm a catch you coolin talkin what a fly life and keep it real and cut your throat with a butter-fly knife HOOK GET SWAZY - WE ABOUT TO FLIP THE SCRIPT AND GET CRAZY RICH KIDS UP FOR RICH BIDS BABY - GOIN ALL OUT - GETTIN DOWN GETTIN GRAVY - ON THE DAILY


NAS "Stillmatic"
[gunshots] [Nas talking] ('Fuck Jay-Z') What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talkin 'bout me dog You, what ('Fuck Jay-Z') You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga ('Fuck Jay-Z') [Chorus] (I) Fuck with your soul like ether (Will) Teach you the king you know you (Not) 'God's son' across the belly (Lose) I prove you lost already Brace yourself for the main event Y'all impatiently waitin It's like an AIDS test, what's the results Not positive, who's the best Pac, Nas and Big Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy I embrace y'all with napalm Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone How could Nas be garbage Semi-autos at your cartilege Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne I got this, locked since '9-1 I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas With Hawaiin Sophie fame, kept my name in his music Check it [Chorus] [talking] Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt) Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fuckin ring [Chorus] I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh) Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face Y'all some 'well wishers,' friendly actin, envy hidin snakes With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take When these streets keep callin, heard it when I was sleep That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef Started cockin up my weapon, slowly loadin up this ammo To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid When KRS already made an album called Blueprint First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big Dick suckin lips, whyn't you let the late, great veteran live [talking] (I...will...not...lose) 'God's son' across the belly, I prove you lost already The king is back, where my crown at (Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas [Chorus] Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother You traded your soul for riches My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin his only son that made it You seem to be only concerned with dissin women Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly In '88 you was gettin chased through your buildin Callin my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers All I did was gave you a style for you to run with Smilin in my face, glad to break bread with the god Wearin Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin with little Chase You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to learn though That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy Rockafeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss What you think, you gettin girls now 'cause of your looks Ne-gro please You no mustache havin, with whiskers like a rat Compared to Beans you wack And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame You ass, went from Jaz to hangin with Caine, to Herb, to Big And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit You a dick-ridin faggot, you love the attention Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick Shaun Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick So little shorty's gettin gunned up and clapped quick How much of Biggie's rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips Wanted to be on every last one of my classics You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss

I Luv

M.O.P. "First Family For Life"
Aaaaaaaaah! Chorus: Freddie Foxxx What's mine's I love, and I fight, push to shove ?Hand to hand?, but you can't stop the love You push to impress, and I leave you with less It's real love for the mics that I bless, no quest' *repeat* [Lil' Fame] Can't stop the love! I know you sayin I'ma young nigga Don't get it fucked up cause I move with them thug niggas From old ? to life we straight sparkin light Bring light to the darkest nights (M) Blast (O) Blast, P in your area Make a move and them cats might bury ya Now that your trapped and your fuckin with thugs Let me tell your punk ass what I love I love to see motherfuckers, that show no love And start speakin out like a bitch when you catch em in the club I love, when a slug cat shut down And then try to post up when they damn near cut his ass down I love, trying to reach all parts of the map On a Ninja, with a big Buddha bitch on a back I love, cats that rap and still drip checks Like your man Lil' Fame, Bill Danze and triple X Chorus [Billy Danze] Aiyyo, you know what I love (What's that?) It's when motherfuckers assume That they ass can't get popped at 12 o'clock in the afternoon I got the balls to come through your walls, like (Boooom!) Have an orgasm every time I clear the fuckin room (Niggas is gone) Nah, not just yet I need to see you son of a bitches sweat (I love) What I got, son, my shit is prop', son With Prem' in the drivin seat and Freddie Foxxx ridin shotgun (Stop son!) Here is the ultimate Somethin I love is when thugs be bumpin my shit (I love) Niggas with heat, (I love) niggas that's deep Niggas that regulate the streets (sho' nuff) Mic blessin, Smith and Wessun caressin (First Family) With the Desert Storm impression The lesson: I advise if your not ready to ride on the homicide side, nigga slide Chorus [Freddie Foxxx] I love beats that are hardcore, dirty and raw I love takin niggas burners when they scared to draw I love plottin on my enemies, I love to attack I love beatin niggas down when they rhymes is whack I love seeing emcees struggle to make themselves something that us real niggas love to hate It's too late, I love my Ninas and I love my ?fours? Blowin holes through the project doors in ?knive wars?, nigga I love the feeling, and the rush that I get From ?Sam? run the Rolex watch with the diamond begets I love, how my life was intact without a deal How I kept the newest chromes on my automobile I love the fact that rappers make the dough, without a flow Soft niggas, that I stain, like piss in the snow I love the fact that I survived through the roughest of times And break the mic when I want, with the roughest of rhymes Its a luxury to see me emcee Its so hard, this lyrical brutality, feed's a nigga's mentality I love, when you niggas claim to be great knowin your mob ain't never lettin shit, what the fuck is this? Niggas bustin shots on New York, I get my vest on Twenty rhyme clips in my mic, I get my bless on Loan soldier standin on the front line, I fear none Excuses that you give me for your lyrics, I hear none You niggs ain't no real emcee's You Sam Goody ass niggas can't write without suckin down trees So I love, laughin at you niggas, while you clappin at me I split your head shot from your man, while he's slappin at me I feel the hits from your rounds Your hollowpoints make a nigga wobble, but I won't fall down *echoes* [Lil' Fame] Yeah, you motherfuckers see it, come on! Chorus [Freddie Foxxx] Aiyyo, aiyyo, aiyyo, for all them sucka ass niggas that don't know, when I crawl up out the whole, and I got M.O.P. with me, baby, ain't nowhere you can run (to the life) ain't nowhere you can hide. With hot slugs at both sides. Split your back open wide. Niggas from the East Side

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