JUVENILE lyrics - Solja Rags

Roll With 'Em

Original and similar lyrics
Juvenile: It's enemy turf that I'm on, so I'ma play it how it go Cock the hollow points into my black calico Hit the coat with some of grams of that dope fo' sho' it's bout to go Niggaz graduated from sellin' dope to snortin' dope Gangsta be bustin' heads Lil Reggie be bustin' heads K.C., he be bustin' heads Think I ain't 'bout nustin' heads Boddies bled, I'll put infrared up in your Cutlass You play with 226, that's my clique so I say fuck it Ruckus, war deep, World War III in the mix 5 Hot Boy$ runnin', bringin' G's to they clique With them hundred round tip-tips, to make sure niggaz ain't breathin' You recievin', a punishment for not believin' Curly head lookin' for me, cause I'm hot and word don' got loose Bundles of dope fronted, from the Magnolia to the Goose Snitches wanted to testify the shit that they know Set a bomb on the front door, put a key in the door and the place blow Look I been walkin' way mo', with a coat full of yeh-yo Nothin' but clientele, from 11-5, sale You don't think it's legal, nigga we can take it to the scale You gon' double your money, gon' get credit make your bail Chorus: Juvenile (4x) With that iron, I'ma roll wit' 'em, momma don't pray for me I don't back down frome no nigga, they got a place for me Juvenile: My biological father, was a sperm donor, around the corner Was the man that killed lil Lanny, who knew we'd understand it That way that, my mother was heartless to her kids So he took us in his home, and he raised like his own Now we grown, and we learned responsibility, The devil tryed to get wit me To affect all of my dickin' inability But it's gon' be some shit, when a collision is occurin' Asurin', of me bein' a factor, through '97 and after And I'ma have to, get my ten percent Or I'ma get punished, like the rest of these niggaz and there's evidence 'Cause ever since all these cars and all these mansions, and all these luxuries was givin' You wasn't givin' no thanks, to the reason you was livin' So I'ma keep an open mind and make the right decision And ain't tell you niggaz shit, and put my self in a position That's unescapable, 'cause you capable, of puttin' my life in danger And it's causin' confusion, confusion draw conclusion And shootin' up some niggaz that pose a threat Until somebody warns you that you're close to death Chorus: Juvenile (4x) Mannie Fresh: Don't love ya, don't need ya, so why the fuck would I feed ya You bitches want my riches, delete ya Cause it's movin', it's shakin' number one spot takin' Rap shite tight and money we be makin' Clock six figures, with brown beats and triggers Drinkin' from the riggers, poppa said the gon' fig us Everything I make, and everything I drive Everything I scratch and everything I ride Touch it, , live for it, you niggaz kill for it The new Juve tape, got you hoes loosin' weight Can't get your life straight, music to masturbate Juvenile: Test a, nigga like me boy and you better Have on your bulletproof sweater, ridin' in an armored Jetta Beware of these, thugs in E's Everytime you breathe you recievin' a part of me Look, my lyrics be combustable like gases When I'm grabbin' for the mic and performin' for your masses I'm never found on the ship that's steady sinkin' Total control and all about self my way of thinkin' Bankin', off top, runnin' with them boys from the block Totin' glocks that we only use when we put on the spot Now I got, a reason to live for than to die Keepin' a tight inventory on my supply, of gettin' high Know when to stop, don't wanna be it, can't even see it Not even them little niggaz that I be wit' Chorus: Juvenile (10x) I'm gettin' tired, of this bulshit that we hearin' I'm gettin' tired, 'bout to get my iron ready to ride Ready to ride Ready to ride Ready to ride, lil wodie Momma don't pray for me, I don't back down frome no nigga Momma don't pray for me, I don't back down frome no nigga Momma don't pray for me, I don't back down frome no nigga

Ruff Ryders Anthem (Dj Clue Remix)

RUFF RYDERS
(Drag-On) This thing right here.. (yeah yeah) is for my peoples in the streets.. (ha hah) Swizz Beats (uh-huh) And this thing right here.. (Ruff Ryders) will get your ass off your feet (Remix! .. c'mon) They call me Drag-On, when it's time to bomb I burn em all, til they all say turn em off Cause these chips, I'ma run em all Chickenheads, know I, be the Colonel Cause I burn eternal, mixed wit the inferno So be careful, 'fore I burn you You better learn dude, yeah I heard you but I'ma hurt you, but you don't know? My versatile, is a virtue Ruff Ryders be the team, which means a lot cream, lot of schemes Lot of beams to make your stock drop, right on the seams Nigga here is too hot and too much for you to touch Better tell your man cause I'm too tough Indubitably, too dust Do you bust? Cause we do You need to ask the people, but quietly But they don't believe until they leave violently Is you buying this? Cause niggaz that purchased is under the dirt kid They call me Drag-On; I'm the youngest but get bonkers Collabo' wit my dogs from Yonkers but this Bronx bomber's spittin flame so you better wear your armor Flame on! Chorus: DMX (repeat 2x) My dogs gon' STOP, your dogs gon' DROP And then we gon' SHUT EM DOWN, OPEN UP SHOP First we had em like OHHH, now they like NOOO What baby?!! THAT'S HOW RUFF RYDERS ROLL (Jadakiss) When I pop up, I lock shop up, pull the drop up Park a block up, hit the alarm, put the top up Stash the 'dro in my sock then pull my sock up And keep the burner but if it's hot put my glock up You know what I'm about, slidin off get my cock sucked Or writin rhymes watching Scarface in the hot tub Whatchu wanna bet, when I pull it out if you don't shout that every bullet'll go in and out Who you know besides 'Kiss take the piss in the bottle of Crist' and then give it to a modelin bitch And you like your watch plain, I'ma flood mine Alligator bloodline trained to find coke and bite one time (Styles) Y'all niggaz ain't hearin me out, til I pop up appear in your house, clearin it out, holiday style Everybody actin violent and wild Snatch the wife silence the child, that's how we move Kill me my man kill you, that's how you lose I Ruff Ryde, I don't like to slide felt that I slipped Then the gun's only helpin the clip And the clip's only helpin my hand And like who the fuck is helpin your man? When I cock back and hop out the van Double R, get a job, play the shit in the car Hit a party start a fight at the bar, and snatch your R Sell your shit for some coke and get the fuck out of Dodge (ve) Guess you figured that my niggaz, flippers, pullin triggers News team crowd around, tryin to flick a picture Get witcha, this bitch from Illadelph marches quicker Nigga not makin sense better stay up off the liquor Blonde bombshell, car-a-mel, heavy spender Groups be sayin I'm they sister, hush ya mouth 'fore I hit ya Stickin in wiseguys, fake thugs, and bullshitters Take you for a ride, cover up your eye, then I get ya Used to be shy-er, now I'ma Ruff Ryder Big niggaz play me close, when they used to ride by her Snatchin up your figures, frontin, know you dig us Haters, screamin, 'Who that bitch?' (UHH, UHH) Mind your business nigga Chorus [DJ Clue * talking over chorus *] Yeah!! DJ Clue! The Professional! Part One C'mon! Mad shout out, Donnie Brascoe Big Skate, Duro.. CLUE! (MX) Uhh, uhh, uhh.. The X is gonna hit y'all niggaz hard, leave y'all niggaz scarred Fuckin with the Dog when you fuckin with the God Rip y'all niggaz off, faggot niggaz soft Remember me from up North, I had you scared to cough My name is ringin bells, in penitentiary cells I'm making thugs rebel, ain't hard to tell You never really wanted it, so the mic you jumped in front of it Outta sixteen shots I'ma hit, which one of you niggaz am I gonna get Thought you knew what I was gonna spit, this time with this rhyme but by the end of it, y'all niggaz is gon' be like, 'Yo X ripped it!' Did my thing as usual it's never gon' stop Them cats can't be for real, I got this shit locked! Is that a game or a joke? Say the name or get smoked Simple as that, simple as black, to the throat Hit em all up to the coat, now you losin your life (Grrrrrr) A dog is a dog for life!

Maabin

Z-RO "Resurrected"
[Hook - 2x] Maabin, in the streets, until we die No more dope selling or robbing We platinum and gold That to make them diamonds shine [Z-Ro] I bleed the block not with the rocks, I bleed with the candy paint Sipping promethazine codeine, with a jolly rancher with a danded drank Telling all foes, got my eyes closed and a fifth done got me numb On the cool feeling dumb but I'm still on no, come ready to watch you get done I'm thinking thoed about to unload, on anything that don't mind Trying to slap patches up out your hair, better say a prayer to somebody to find But you can't because you the demon, Frankincense got you on the run Forever living in fear your life, that's why your coward ass keep a gun You can run but I'm gon walk you down, where the fuck you think you gon go I got connect in every state, city and town, from here to Akapoko You choose to play put on your game face, it's bout to be a grudge match I guarantee if I bust first, there ain't gon be no busting back I shoot to kill I don't shoot to hurt, I wear the pants I don't wear the skirt Do you really must know to use a gun, and if so did you ever put in work Hell nah, y'all niggaz be gangbanging out of the garage faking it Dodging shots everyday from real niggaz, y'all barely making it [Hook - 2x] [Dougie D] Finally ain't no mo' jacking and robbing, or selling dope out on the corners We can live how we wanna live, and blow big marijuana Maabin' till I die, all of the streets bitch can you feel me Yeah I'ma do the damn thang, trunk knocking hole can you hear me I'm a Southside G, steady flipping and flossing the L-T-B D-O to the U to the G-I-E, nothing but a G baby that's all that I can be I can only be me, if it ain't platinum it must be gold, dollas gon shine Twinkle and glow, so shit we must expose Chopping the game up on you hoes, that is the way for toll And I'ma keep shining and grinding, always on you hoes Motherfuckers be loving how cool I be, boy don't get it twisted Cause a nigga won't hesitate to pull the infrared beam out his ?pentos scene? This is on all my G's, we gon continue to mash Stacking our cash forever, because we [Hook - 2x] [Trae] Still in to win I'ma hold it down, I got a AK that'll make em move around Like a track star ducking low, hopping high rolling on the flo' You bumping gums steady talking down, on nigga what you know about us And what you know about the 17 shot, cocked back that I'm fin to bust I'm a Southsider screen shiner, with a remote in the seat recliner Blue over gray in a Pathfinder, tinted up on the block grinder Block bleeder, trunk waver, DVD and a PC playa Pimping the pin and a mic breaker, cross skater hollin' at you later Slab shaking out the renegader, body rocking on the equator Like Al Kapone I'm living thoed, in a dream home with a elevator Guerilla nigga fin to come and get you, take you out the picture like a X friend For the divedends you fucked up, cause Guerilla Maab clicked up again Like the Wu-Tang, you better respect our name we all real And if you wasn't killed on another page, we still be wrecking your grill Feel that and get back, on my block we kill the chit-chat Doing out thang then go to sit back, I know they toll y'all we could do that [Hook - 2x]

No Mo Play In GA Pt. 2

PASTOR TROY "Universal Soldier"
What's up, big mouth, you still talkin' huh Pastor, blast ya, okay, and well uh huh This for, all those, niggas, that talk the talk Fuck nigga, I walk the walk, don't make me get my assault No charge if I get caught, I am connected Got this rap game on lock, hell yeah perfected Y'all nigga's pathetic, come around with that bullshit Fuck around and get gunned down, playin around in my pulpit Soon as I pulled it, they'll say he's deadly Hell yeah, you got that right, nigga I'm ready Y'all should'nt have let me, because PT gone rock 24 wit 24 blocks, m-o-n-e-y [Chorus (repeat 2x)] I'm ready I'm ready for war, fuck peace I'm ready I'm ready for war, I'm in these streets I'm ready My AR-15 up on my arm And fuck them weak ass niggas We droppin bombs What's up, homeboy, what is the business Pastor, church boy, can I get a witness This for, all those, niggas that be poppin' Seein' me in 6's, I don't never be stoppin' Most niggas be watchin', other niggas be hatin' Hangin' out their partner car, askin' me what's shakin' Ain't nothin shakin', nothin but this mula I see that you know me, but I don't know who you are Therefore, I am, rollin up my window Hasta luego, now it's back to my indo Drivin' 100, mothafuck if I'm wanted Take they ass on to Tennessee Before they beat the hell out of me Peep some real game from a mothafuckin G Me and , me and Uncle B Try to get some millions to blow Take this shit, I don't need no mo' Off in the condo burnin dro With my bitch and my hoe Gettin' me some fire fire, r-e-a-d-y [Chorus (repeat 4x)]

No Limit Party

SILKK THE SHOCKER "The Shocker"
(feat. Master P, Mia X) Ungh! (let's get ready to rumble) Where ya from Where ya from (ya heard me) That 3rd Ward. Time to start this fight, you fuckin right Bitch, get off me, buckle up nigga! [Chorus:] Who run this bitch, we run this bitch That bout it shit, we started this shit Cause ain't no party like a No Limit party I'm a No Limit Soldier for life So fuck ya'll bitches (fuck y'all niggaz) Fuck ya'll bitches (fuck y'all niggaz) Cause all hoes suck dick (All niggaz lick lips) [Mia X] Nigga, I bet you gotta bitch on the side But I gotta 9 on mine and it's about that time That I spit the game like it's supposed to be spat Cause niggaz ain't worth shit except for lickin cat And fixin flats, after I done stuck yo shit Cause I'm the wrong ghetto bitch to be fuckin with The roughest bitch, you wouldn't wanna bust them, bitch If I'm the same ho that had your mama huffin, bitch And puffin, bitch, and yes I'm known to suck some quick Cause I done told you once before the ladies run this shit We run this shit, ever since the last true lick And yet ya punks still screamin all hoes suck dick But fuck that shit, cause niggaz love to suck them lips And lick that clit, and pay yo bitch to lay yo bitch To say they hit, ho stuntin ass tricks Uh uh, sweatin tired sayin they quit Is that it Now ain't that fake No stars for your chest, I coulda had a V8 Mia X is known to take a nigga for his keys and Gs Government and cum and then they extra fun Cause all niggaz buy pussy, cry for pussy, lie for pussy Live for pussy, steal for pussy Rap for pussy, kill for pussy Even though they try to stunt They leave they folks stuck out behind a fat, hairy cunt Up front, when a nigga start to trip Ha ha, laugh dead in they face cause they just talkin shit (Do the ladies run this muthafucka, hell, yeah) Do the niggaz run this muthafucka, hell, yeah [Chorus] Bitch get off me (bitch get off me) Bitch get off me (bitch get off me) Buckle up, nigga, here it go, nigga Buckle up, nigga, here it go, nigga [Silkk] I'm so gangstafied, stay high till I die Smoke for free, I reply not with me Cause I get cheese, Nothin comes free but this dick and gum I be fresh up outta gum, cause I be to my last one Ya'll niggaz got the game backwards, Buyin dinner then fuck I fucks first, and say fuck dinner Then I hits and cut Because if you want to get paid, be a hooker See this ho, run and borrowin nothin But dope, money, and pussy Now niggaz sell dope to make money to spend on hoes But I, fucks hoes, and make them hoes buy my clothes from head to toe, Converse on my feet You call me young Spanish flyer I took them hoes in heat Now I'm a peep this game, as I see the game unfold Now hoes be tryin to get for the money The whole truck load, but fuck hoes Then I duck, cut, hit em then I slit em I spit game to em, and then I bet you I'ma get em I fucks one hoe two hoe three hoe four And if I get some condoms, I'ma fuck some more Now if you know Silkk, you know that I be plottin Your girlfriend, she be down I catch her on the rebound like I was robbin her [Chorus] So fuck ya'll hoes (suck these holes) Fuck ya'll hoes (suck these holes) Ain't no party like a No Limit party I'm a No Limit soldier for life So buckle up, nigga, guard your grill, nigga Here go the trigga, duck down, nigga (Blue!) [Master P] Bitch you bout, bout what, suckin dick I ain't gon tell ya partnas that you did me and my homey in You bitches is crazy, tryin to have my baby Sniffin on my riches, ho, suck some daisies I'm spreadin rumors on you hoes like I'm in social clubs What about me, you, yo sista in my bathtub You lookin fine in yo DKNY Versace on yo eyes, bags on yo side Yo bitch don't get rolled, and yo earrings hang side to side Yo rent no Lexus, damn, let's go take a ride Cause if you was a part on a car you'd be a fender Cause underneath all that expensive shit bitch you a pretender If suckin dick was a crime, you'd get 25 to life Oh , Miss Thang, I ain't mad at you for bein with somebody else Why, see I'm from the south, I keep hoes in the chicken coop I got bitches lined up in they birthday suit You want me to cum in your pussy, I'm a cum in your throat And if the rubber pop, then swallow ho Cause all hoes suck dick I ain't Too $hort, but fuck you, bitch [Chorus] So fuck you hoes (fuck them niggaz) Fuck you hoes (fuck them niggaz) Shake that ass, ho (trick that cash, ho) Bounce that azz, bitch (break me off, bitch) [Chorus] So ride the dick, ho (grow a dick, bitch) I say ride this dick, ho (eat this clit, bitch) Where ya from, where ya from, where ya from, where ya from Where ya from, where ya from, where ya from Get em up [if you from Down South] Get em up, get em up, get em up Get em up [if you from the west coast] Get em up, get em up, get em up, Get em up [if you from the east coast] Get em up, boot it up, boot it up Show the gold! [cause niggaz Down South ain't takin no shit] Where ya from, where ya from, where ya from When I say bitch, you say get off me Bitch (get off me) Bitch (get off me) Bitch (get off me) bitch Bitch (get off me) bitch Do the niggaz run this muthafucka Hell, yeah (Do the ladies run this muthafucka) (Hell, yeah) Muthafuckin No Limit party, nigga (Ungh!) nigga

Fuck Fifty Cent

FAT JOE
nine shots....50 cent (many men) intro fat joe: yeah that'll do it yeah i love hip hop i love this mutha fuckin hip hop game this nigga here's a lil nigga mayne stay in your mutha fuckin lane nigga you fuckin wit the Don nigga uh..yeah ...follow me chorus: fifty me fifty he's the fakest thug youve ever seen curtis cur-tis jackson how come he could never ever be seen (plus i gotchu ima give you my) my my foe foe foe foe foe my my foe foe foe foe foe my my foe foe foe foe foe (ima give it to you fifty nice and slow) fifty you gone end up dead when you fuckin wit crack talkin bout you gone pop off where the fuck you be at i see mj in the hood more than curtis matter fact this beef shit is makin niggaz nervous is gone be families grieving every sunday service end up with your head popped off thanx to curtis but he dont care he stayed locked up in the house and shit steroid up and he wont come up out that bitch is it me or candy shop sound like magic stick in the video this nigga fifty bout to strip shakin his ass what the fuck is wrong wit this nigga fifty dont make me prrrrrat oh yeah you got 65 niggaz on your team and their not from southside jamaica queens theyre the boys in blue...im just speakin the truth yeah we all see the bitch in you...follow me chorus: i told these niggaz...dont fuck wit the Don shit on yall niggaz mutha fuckaz....its crack its crack now lets take it back to the vibe awards where that nigga disrespected and snuffed your boss ready to go...all i heard was gggunit fifty niggaz ran and they didnt even do shit thats a shame i wuz sittin right in the front waitin for you niggaz to dump where all the guns at and the teflon vests we them terror squad boys you should know not to test hate it or love it the games on top now you jealous of him ...when your shit gone stop you see before yous a bitch nigga straight outta low cash l.a dont believe him this nigga is so ass you dissed lean back...said my shit was a dud now tell me have ever seenem up at the club no no no shorty... that right your singin more than your rappin now fifty that aint right chorus: i know what yall thinkin man yall thinkin jada gone slam lyrically this nigga crazy for dissin fat joe man he really crazy though this nigga be walkin around wit 20 cops talkin shit on records never comin out his house feel like he cant get touched man i was small one time one time only aint gone be no more small for me man this for all the mutha fuckaz that doubted crack man trust me..nigga can respond ten thousand times i aint talkin back to that nigga one thing i will promise you if i dont get you ima get your __? and thats it man its crack bitch...its gone be a real ugly summer man

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