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JUVENILE lyrics - Reality Check

Keep Talkin'

Original and similar lyrics
[Chorus: Skip - 2X] Keep talkin' out the side of your mouth (POW!) Smack the taste right up out of your mouth (POW!) "I wa-, I wa-" That's what I'm talkin' about (POW!) Keep talkin' out the side of your mouth (POW!) [Skip] Since I hit the TV now I'm a hot topic But that don't mean Skipper won't pop it Ain't that that dude with the H2 and the nice wallet? And I got four words - stay off my dick You wanna make it to where Skip ain't got shit So you could ride around town and spread your gossip Make up stories like "U.T.P. done dropped Skip" "Juve' used the man, paid him and then got rich" C'mon stop it, you're makin' it up Damn, how much hate is enough, boy you faker than fuck "I just saw Skip blazin' it up With a dime piece, smilin', gettin' head in the truck Look, right now he headed for us" (Look!) "You lyin' motherfucker, dude he right behind 'em, you a busta" Cause that's your old lady he with Them hoes is for everbody, stop savin' a bitch [Chorus - 2X] [Redd Eyezz] Open my eyes when the sun rise, blazin' First nigga on the strip, even if my block's hotter than Cajun I cop them Haitan, Jamaicans, Cubans and Yanks Program with every race, now I cuts my own steak Known to take G trips to a town like Wimbleton Get a bust' down spot and be servin' like Wimbledon Black John McEnroe, my rap flows are clapped (uh-hu) Supposed to be hot as Tabasco, look at them assholes now Homie, when I'm seen there's a crowd With head bustas off the streets talkin' loud, ready to wild Get respect for a few things Deranged, the chopper spit And the first off the block to cop a new Range Life is fast, I get cash and write about it At night it ain't safe in the South, we bout it bout it Doubt it and get bodied 'cause the shotty will lift - your big muscleman bodyguard off his shit [Chorus - 2X] [Juvenile] Who lil' daddy with the fitted cap turned back? Know some of these niggaz got respect, he tryin' to earn that Hopefully one of these niggaz with yayo will see that And put him in the right position he tryin' to be at They talkin' in the wind but they no better than the play though They could make a carton or a t-shirt in a day though I ain't tryin' to flex my power bitch but I got say so And I could make a million; American, yen or peso They say I got a attitude, that's not the issue at all Don't get involved when I'm doin' what I have to do I'm suttle now but I could turn into an animal Blow it out of proportion and I ain't understandin' you Not in it for the short, I want the long term Fuck the government, I'ma take care of my own children You gon' have to zip your lip up, before a nigga flip up I don't think they understandin' me, holler at 'em Skipper [Chorus - 4.5X]

Hit And Run

Tha Alkaholiks "Coast II Coast"
[J-Ro] I pull up to front with a smash to the ground black duly Niggaz in the street gettin wild and unruly Digga B was in the front so he let me through the door I never get frisked so I pack a forty-four Straight to the bar, can I get a rum and coke The whole club was filled with the indo smoke E-Swift was scratchin, Tash was hoe catchin I had the latest fashion but my shit wasn't matchin So King Tee was baggin, the nigga Threat was braggin Bout his brand new, baby boo, fiendin with the rag in Lorenzo's, but anyway, them hoes was deep Peep, E-Swift shoe em how we creep [E-Swift] Check you out, yeah you baby, up against the wall Here's a dollar ten rum and coke, heavy on the alcohol Starin at your chest, and I can only guess Lord have mercy what's up under that Adidas dress Yo shortay, you're lookin kinda nice Stick around and watch us rock the mic device She gave me this look like she was puzzled or troubled I don't think I'm large so she didn't bust my bubble It's the Liks baby where your girlfriends at She said they got thrown out tryin to sneak in the back No sweat, I'll go out and get em Hooked it up for Noid and Tash to get with em Now we on stage stop the mic from back-feedin Got the three hoes in the front row chillin That's how it be when you play high post Cause all I wanna do is tap that ass and get ghost [Xzibit] This is how I roll it, I met her at a club last week It was this fly ass freak, I didn't sleep, I got the digits, laid back Coolin at the crib one day I think I'll call her, we're talkin on thephone for half an hour I finally ask her can a nigga come through She talkin bout she ain't dressed I said Cool, I'm still comin over I get there, she's chillin in some undies and a robe Ice cold, forty down in the freezer And roll up blunts at my leisure, I play like I believe her How she tellin me she ain't no skeezer An hour later I was breakin her off in each and every position that you can ever put a bitch in I got up and then I washed my shit Alright bitch, word got her rings then I split Yeah back to the shade, so I can get my lounge in effect Xzibit keep the hoes in check, so check Chorus: Repeat 2X All I really wanna do Is tap that ass 'fore the night is through All I really wanna do Is tap that ass and get ghost with the cash [J-Ro] I was drunk as hell-est, I begin to bill for my pray the club reminded me of whylin at the Bush back in the day That's when I seen her, the freak from the diner Her name was Nina, or Tina, or was it Regina Fuck it, the bitch with the tipple bitties and the boomin bass I said my name is big game all in her face I said for what it's worth, I'm the best on earth Kickin folls off my turf since the day of my birth I got a pocket full of money do you wanna help me spend it Can I get in your backfield like Cornelius Bennet She said, Mmm, J-Ro yeah! Just let me know the time and I'll be there I said, I'm drunk, tired, hoe, for heaven's sake Let's go to Larry Parker's for a burger and a shake We got to the place I started stuffin my face Not a bid did I waste, cause it was good to the taste I didn't wanna get stuck so I said, What the heck I left my money in the truck so won't you pick up the check And the next move, you might think it's tasteless But I gave her a tip and got ghost with the waitress [Xzibit] We rip shows, and hoes drop clothes backstage it's funny The shit bitches do for money Only jockin on a nigga with his name in lights I'd rather kickback relax and play the shades real tight Yo last time, caught it with this fresh-ass hooker Kept runnin her mouth about what it last meant to her I said, Look hon, all I gots is blunts, forties A couple of brothers cause I don't know the kids before me You're trippin. Dip into the streets to chill Nigga these days, I'm gettin PJ's, on the freeways It's lovely, I get home, blaze up another drink of somethin kinda stronger, to make the funk last longer Yo, it's the one and only who welp the bitches Thinkin they got me but yo they gettin they-self I'm a bomb like the stealth, and hit way up above your wealth You felt the vibe when I tapped that ass Chorus


JAY-Z "Vol. 3... Life And Times Of S. Carter"
[Jay-Z] Geyeah, NYMP the realest, uhh This is educated thug MU-SIC, niggaz Life's a battle, mean streets eat you alive Blocks'll have you, tryin to maintain your course through the potholes and gravel Hot holes and what-have-you, tryin to clock dough Foes tryin to pop shots through you by code Pigs tryin to grab you and lock up your soul Through the Hot Apple, nighttime shots crackle (bucka bucka bucka) Fiends tryin to gaffle you Not only cokeheads but the Feds in the Mercuray Topaz after you, up the avenue Tryin to give you big numbers, you got math to do Tryin to make you miss summer, shit, that ain't cool I caught smaller cases tryin to get cap or two Up against the wall, tryin to pass through Ghost-like, hear the cries from the tortured souls Most nights, I hold my toast tight, and it goes like [Chorus: Jay-Z] N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P. the realest Marcy.. Brooklyn.. [Jay-Z] Yo; I come through, gettin money, sittin on twenties Niggaz throwin me shade, but ain't shit sunny Hot shells only thing niggaz could get from me Cocktails thrown in your living room, KA-BOOM I'm so confrontational; they shoulda never let me go on probation yo I'm a hustler; except that.. no correctional facilities can correct that I took a step back, I viewed myself, seen where my head was at It's where that dough is homey, gotta get that Gotta get away, some try but head back Uhh, street smart niggaz got left back Some died, they left stacks Me, I ball right, and on top of that I'm dog nice Jigga been cold as fuck before ice Not before Christ, but a long fuckin time Get your mind right niggaz [Chorus: Jay-Z] N.Y.M.P., the realest Uh-huh-uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz Uhh uh-huh, uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P. the realest niggaz Marcy.. feel me.. [Jay-Z] I looked Death in the face years back I held tears back, I gathered myself and stared back I'm from where you don't crack, the weak don't live You gotta bounce back homey, the streets don't give I take and rape villages, who gon' stop him Not Rudy Guiliani, not Hillary Rodham Still I still pop him Shit I grassy knoll and hilltop him, it's all political now I think big when I spit at you now Between my dog and the figures, the four gonna get'cha Between life and death, they killed my spirit So what little life I got left, y'all can expect me to ball I myself, teacher said I was a lost cause cause I used to roam them halls Still I spit knowledge, dropped out of high school, skipped college Who woulda thought I'd make it 'Big' like Ms. Wallace [Chorus: Jay-Z] Uhh, yeah, N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz Brooklyn, what N.Y.M.P., the realest niggaz Uhh, uh-huh-uh-UHH, N.Y.M.P. the realest niggaz Marcy.. Brooklyn, N.Y.M.P. the realest, feel me [Jay-Z] Educated, thug mu-sic niggaz This is Brooklyn, this is gangsta, this is project Real shit, N.Y.M.P. the realest niggaz Marcy, Brooklyn, stompin grounds Fuck with me

Roll With A Strap

KING LIL G "King Enemy"
[Hook - Big Swiisha:] Why must I be like that Why must I roll with a strap Nothin' but the thug in me Nothin' but the thug in me [Verse 1:] Its the muthafucken hood life You don't know But I'm a show you What the hood's like It's the muthafucken royal blue L.a. dodger cap Got pride Like eazy-e's compton hat Everybody bow down Like dr. dre's back In the alley with my homies Listening to payback In the south side All my homies post outside This my hood And I'm a show you I'm about mine We put it down If your hood wants war Non-stop get blasted In your hood once more My homies keep it gangsta That's why we're getting bigger Fuck a red rag Yeah everybody killa I'm up in the oc Cruising on bristol Gang affiliated So I brought my pistol I will talk shit Like fuck all of you Taking off my shirt Like what you wanna do homie? [Hook - Big Swiisha (x2)] [Verse 2:] I'm a lil muthafucka But I don't give a fuck Try to act brave Get blasted the fuck up Never been afraid 12 gauge let it bust Enemy gangs We put lames in the trunk I know you heard The lapd don't like it That's why the fbi Got us indicted Man, its just so hard to be a g Oh yeah Till the enemies fall Fuck peace We winning the war Your boys keep on losing South side riding We keep on recruiting Ride homicide Till the wheels fall off Your big homies got shot So your hood got soft What's crackin' bee gee? From the smiley drive gangstas Much love swifty Centro side bangin' I gotta keep it real Thats the only way to be Royal blue bandana Yeah thats me [Hook - Big Swiisha (x2)] [Verse 3:] I'm an l.a. gangsta, bitch I bang blue Only recruit soldiers Just never you lame fools See it on the news 2 enemies dead Got caught in the street Wearing all red Your body full of lead Cops got no witness A man in all black But they don't have my description Loaded, cock it Shoot his fucken ass Run dash Piss on my hands Never snitch Never tell For my homies up in jail Try to get you out on bail Homie I'm a lunatic L.a. where we don't like strangers We don't like snitches And we don't like rapists Southern c.a The home of real gangstas Shaggy from the drive Chillin' up in vegas I never trust a man Cause only god could save us We live & we die in l.a Nothin' could change us [Hook - Big Swiisha (x2)]

House Slippers

JOELL ORTIZ "House Slippers"
One two one two Turn this thing up a lil' bit, yeah For those who been wonderin what's goin on with Joell Ortiz It's a lot man, a lot Feels like I finally found my (House Slippers) My mind was goin, I stood around niggaz Wearin this poker face like I'm holdin aces That so wasn't the case, this business is such a business, don't take it personal It's more than these beats and lettin verses go Don't end up locked in and whylin Like a deaf person buyin a Roley better watch what you signin Freedom is overrated until they take it When it's gone feel like nothin can replace it Shakin the hand that's feedin you but you hate it Disappointed in meetings cause of your weight, just imagine this man with your career in his hands Givin a fuck about your fans; he just lookin at that black and white Seein you ain't sell too well You tryin to tell him that you was on an indie that wasn't actin right He don't care, them numbers fucked up his appetite Your past just fucked you twice like a hermaphrodite You watchin niggaz win who ain't half as nice Faced with the choice of givin in or hit the pad and write But see, the fans can't know So you leakin freestyles and you nailed that flow Kids leavin out of venues like, "He killed that show!" Screamin YAOWA everywhere but you ain't on that though Your loved ones sick all in the mist of this Watchin moms shoot insulin is ridiculous Your son got a mask on, his asthma bad His older brother actin up cause he don't have his dad The grind took forever but it happened fast Listen close y'all, it happened fast Red-Eye flights out to Cali, sign to Aftermath Come back and sign to Koch, you and Allen laugh You drop a album over here, left the label over there Finally let it go y'all, the past's the past Sorry for the delay on your order But even in my off time I ran around the world with the Slaughter My alter, ego is a quarter of the best rap group but I'm back to bein me, yeah the Puerto Rican, niggaz standin on the corner with that work for the fiends who wanna hear him more maturer Story from a project nigga, a New Yorker Gettin money with the I'll-still-fuck-a-nigga-up-quick aura Man, this ain't for radio play This for the Radio Raheems who let their radio play For the heads on the neck clickin, lookin for the best writtens Turnin to their man like, "You hear what he say?" Y'all niggaz tryna recreate back in the days I'm just tryin to rap my ass off Hopin maybe I'll impress a few niggaz from back in the day Because I'm finishin these new niggaz that's rappin today You turn this up, but not too loud niggaz Feels like I finally found my (House Slippers) ["House Slippers" echoes and fades out]


YING YANG TWINS "Thug Walkin'"
[Kaine] Fuck them mutha fuckin niggaz and them hoes and them niggaz that be talkin that smack Act on those pussy muthafuckaz or those hoes'll put this trouble on your nutsac Pack, let a nigga know nigga know do you wanna go that far with us Do you wanna go to war with us Do you really thank that you gonna stop a, top a, drop a, NO With a nigga in tha street (?) heapin at me, he a true city thug Yeah, ha nigga what? When you trapped in a cut, ain't nobody showin no love Hoes lookin for a he'll hold to clapped, cuz bitch you already some If you lookin for a shell to hide behind that mean you (?) from a punk, BITCH! Chorus: 2x A! A! A! A! Nigga what da fuck, nigga whatcha say, ha A! A! A! A! Nigga what da fuck, nigga whatcha say, ha A! A! A! A! Nigga what da fuck, nigga whatcha say, ha A! A! A! A! Do you know the price you pay [D-Roc] You lay down low for hoes Get that mat out your nose You heard the same story told From beginnin to old I give a fuck no mo', bitch 'bout the cheese Hangin round a nigga cuz he drinkin and smokin weed Ridin on them D'z Thugs ride clean Mo' gone mean, Just many peepin out that scene, gotta make that money man So I'm headin to the trap First hit the Micky D'z, dropped da crib to take a nap Nigga! Nigga! Nigga! Chorus: 2x [China Dog] You flip the script I'm gonna kick the shit, for all of my thugs(echo) Ask me was up, what you got on the dub, but I have no love for scrub(echo) I gotta get mine, so I grab so Hennessy some weed so I can get crunk If I get and itchy finger on my finger on da trig- I'ma put this nig- in da trunk Don't waste no time, this killa be kill, I ain't fin to die by this shit Don't waste no time, just walk up to em, squeeze, and lets get what I need Drag the body in the creek getta burn rubber cuz I gotta fleed the scene No time to go to jail for a murder case all the thugs, judge you know what I mean (echo) Chorus: 2x [D-Roc] Some of these niggaz be fuckin' ya'll quick, nigga, what you taught my Ying Yang Twins (?) still runnin' up at the (?) Some of these niggaz be perpetratin' On the side-lines, instigatin Nigga like me be concetrate, quick to start regulate Grab yo' shit, ya gon' get killed, times up anyway Fuckin wit the Ying Yang Twins don't you know the price you pay Obviously you don't cuz you still wanna run ya mouth When you hear that A!(echo) we tell em bout that dirty south Chorus: 2x

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