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Koopsta Knicca lyrics - Da Devils Playground

Ready 2 Ride

Original and similar lyrics
1- Purple thang gold hammers gleamin as I see you pass Purple thang gold hammers gleamin as I see you pass Purple thang gold hammers gleamin as I see you pass Purple thang gold hammers gleamin as I see you pass (x12) 2- Locced out smoked out smoke out smoked out Locced out locced out locced locced out (x8) 3- DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul Everybody hittin so... (x8) Back to 1 (x8) Back to 2 (x12) Back to 3 (x12) 4- DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul DJ Paul locced out locced out locced out locced out Everybody hittin so.. (during 'locced out) (x7) Back to 2 (x16) Back to 1 (x4) music to fade

Scarlet Begonias

JIMMY BUFFETT "License To Chill"
(Robert Hunter) [Originally by Grateful Dead] As I was walkin' round grosvenor square Not a chill to the winter but a nip to the air From the other direction, she was calling my eye It could be an illusion, but I might as well try, might as well try She had rings on her fingers and bells on her shoes And I knew without askin' she was into the blues She wore scarlet begonias tucked into her curls I knew right away she was not like other girls, other girls In the thick of the evening when the dealing got rough She was too pat to open and too cool to bluff As I picked up my matches and was closing the door I had one of those flashes I'd been there before, been there before Well, I ain't always right but I've never been wrong Seldom turns out the way it does in a song Once in a while you get shown the light In the strangest of places if you look at it right Well there ain't nothing wrong with the way she moves Scarlet begonias or a touch of the blues And there's nothing wrong with the look that's in her eyes I had to learn the hard way to let her pass by, let her pass by Wind in the willow's playin' 'Tea for Two' The sky was yellow and the sun was blue Strangers stoppin' strangers just to shake their hand Everybody's playing in the heart of gold band, heart of gold band

On My Block

For the block boy, take it rough... [Scarface] Everyday it's been the same old thang on my block Ya either workin or ya slangin cocaine on my block Ya had to hustle, cuz that's how we was raised on my block And ya stayed on ya hop until ya made you a knot On my block, to hangout was the thang back then And even when ya left out, ya came back in To my block, from Holloway, Belford, to Scotts We rolled the fox, we load the spots Smoke weed and rocks, drink all the blue dots On yo' block you probably had a fat pad of Tupac Or Big Pun, or B.I., ya homeboys from knee-high And even when it was stormin outside, that nigga'd be by That's me dawg, on my block, I ain't have to play the big shot Niggaz knew me back when I was stealin bell from Shamrock And my nickname was Creepy, if Black June could see me He'd be, trippin - and I'd bet he still try to tease me [Chorus] My block - where everything is everything fa sheezy My block - we probably done it all homey believe me My block - we made the impossible look easy, fa sheezy My block - I'd never leave my block, my niggaz need me [Scarface] On my block, we duck the nigga-haters and the cops Fuck a hotrod, we race Impalas, chromed-out On my block - it ain't no different than the next block Ya get drunk and pass out, and they back ya to the house And when you wake up on the couch you goin right back at it On my block when ya that fucked up they laugh at it On my block, it's just another day in the heart of the Southside of Houston Texas, makin ya mark On my block, we're cueing all the time, playin dominoes Keep the swishers sweet down until my mama goes back inside -- then we can fire Pass it around a few times to get high [Chorus] - 2X [Scarface] On my block, everybody business ain't ya business What's goin on in this house is stayin here, comprende? On my block, ya had to have that understanding Cuz if ya told Ms. Mattie, she went and told Gladys And once ya mama got it, it was all on the wire And when the word got back, the set yo' ass on fire On my block, we got some 'Nam vets shell-shocked Who never quite got right, now they inhale rocks On my block - it's like the world don't exist We stay confined to this small little section with dividends Oh my block, I wouldn't trade it for the world cuz I love these ghetto boys and girls born and raised, on my block... ... [Chorus] - 2X


Chrome, She can see herself In the shiny grill and the Wire wheels of a red Chevelle with four on the floor and the top down Chrome, zippin' by on an Electra Glide With dual tail pipes doin' 105 in the broad daylight On a two-lane headin' outta town Forget Pink and purple paisleys little mellow-yellow daisies Ain't no pot of gold in her rainbow Her favorite color is ..Chrome Chrome, get her leg up high on the bumper of my big black Mack truck With a smoke stack pointed towards the sky And mud flaps, you know the kind Chrome,I said hey little girl you sure look nice Do you wanna ride, I won't bite, she climbs inside Says hell no, I want to drive Forget Pink and purple paisleys little mellow-yellow daisies Ain't no pot of gold in her rainbow Her favorite color is ..Chrome It's chrome alright Shiny,nice polished Chrome, Chrome Forget Pink and purple paisleys little mellow-yellow daisies Ain't no pot of gold in her rainbow Her favorite color is ..Chrome Her favorite color That girl is all about chrome She sure loves chrome

300bps N,8,1

Information Society "Peace Love, Inc."
ATZ OK ATX3DT CONNECT 300 So we're supposed to play in Curitiba in 18 hours, but our bus is being held hostage by the local promoters. They've formed some unholy alliance with the Brazilian counterpart of ASCAP: The PRS. Apparently the PRS has the legal power to arrest people, and they want a piece of the national tour promoter's money. The local security force, Gang Mexicana , has been bought out for 1800 Cruzados and a carton of Marlboros each. The only faction still operating in our defense is Big John , our personal security man, and he's hiding in his room because a local gang is out for his blood because of a 1982 knifing incident in which he was involved. Our 345-pound road manager, Rick only had this to say: You wanted the life of a rock star! . Paul, Jim and I realized that this was one situation we were going to have to get out of ourselves. We convened a hasty conference in the hotel lobby. Paul suggested contacting our national tour promoter in Sao Paulo, but we remembered that he was in Recife with Faith No More, who had just arrived for their Brazilian tour. We thought about contacting our Brazilian record company in Rio, but they weren't home. Our ever-diligent American manager was arranging help of numerous forms, but he was in New York, and just too far away to get anything moving in time. And there were 6000 kids in Curitiba who just wouldn't understand. We knew it was time for action. Paul went up to the PRS guys and invited them into the bar to discuss it like civilized men over a few Brazilian drinks, offering each of them a cigar on his way. The amused PRS heavies seemed to like the idea of a few free drinks, even if they knew they would never give us our bus back. When Paul winked at Jim and I on his way in, we went into action. I stole off to my room to prepare while Jim went into action. Creeping carefully through a service duct, he managed to gain a vantage point some three meters above the bus, and dropped carefully onto the roof. After using his all-purpose Swiss Army knife (affectionately known as the skit knife ) to jimmy open the roof hatch, he went through the darkened inside of the bus and removed the inside engine service panel. Using some spare electronic parts he found while on an island in the Amazon, he wired the entire bus for remote control, not unlike a remote control toy car. At this point, he asked himself Now how shall I get out of here?!? Paul was having difficulties of his own. Couldn't you see your way clear to letting us fulfill our contractual obligations in Curitiba? Think of the kids! Through our translator, Fabio, the PRS man, Aldo, said: No. You Americans think you own the world. Hah! We'll burn down our rain forest if we damn well please. We need room for cows!! We want a McDonald's on every... oh, sorry, yes anyway, no. We need 40% of your concert receipts to give to David Bowie, he said, winking to the local promoter, Phillipe. As Paul continuted this elaborate distraction, Jim effected an escape from the heavily guarded bus by crawling down into the cargo bay, cutting a hole in the floor with the Swiss Army knife's arc-welder, slipping into the manhole cover situated under the bus, and walking up to the hotel's basement from there. Jim called up to me in my room and gave the signal. We were now to meet at the back entrance, with our tech guys. But first, Paul would need some help getting away from his unwelcome guests, as things were getting ugly. He says he has lost his patience, and that he can think of other ways of extracting payment from you Kurt and Jim physically, our trembling interpreter said. The moment had come. Jim began operating the bus from his back entrance vantage point. As the remote-controlled bus lurched towards the parking lot exit, the superstitious security youths fled in terror. Paul was pulling anxiously on his collar as the PRS man began describing his collection of World War II Nazi ceremonial knives when a sudden crash split the tableau. Jim had purchased me the gift of a complete black ninja stealth assassin outfit in Aracaju. I had been gearing up and crawling through the air conditioning ducts all this time. As I crashed through the cheap imitation-Styrofoam hung ceiling tiles, skates first, I flashed ninja stars all about me. In the ensuing panic, Paul escaped to the pre-arranged bus pick-up point. Unfortunately, my skates were a poor choice of foot gear for escaping over the broken glass of the table I had landed on. Were it not for the confusion and the ninja-star-inflicted-wounds delivered to the bad guys, I would have been set upon while floundering on the glass-strewn carpet. As it happened, however, I leapt through the open door of the careening bus as it departed the city of Maringa forever. If only we had managed to get our equipment in the bus, too . . . Every word of this story is true. - Kurt H NO CARRIER ATH0 OK ATZ OK

We Got Tha Fat Joint

King Tee "Tha Triflin' Album"
Wrap Then pass that joint ( *in the background* ) Where the joint, man? Somebody got it I ain't got it Check it out y'all Mad Kap's in the house Nefrettiti's in the house And she finna kick it like this Come on now Come on [ VERSE 1: Nefretiti ] So just call me the spark, held by the flame Once again my beats make white boys reclaim A stain on your brain, and yet I'm stayin the same Bust another rhyme, move into the hard time My lifeline revolves into a circle of zero And like for real I never liked no superficial hero Now this joint is fat, so spark up that fat joint And yes, you best believe I'm born again to prove my point To say the least, I know you know that hip-hop won't stop I smooth will get wreck, then pass me the joint Pass it around Pass it around Pass it around (2x) [ Motif ] Improvisation is the key to this freestyle Hip-hop style, while jazz in the meanwhile Stride, glide, and all that good stuff Ride to the rhythm of this jazz, it's rough You're crippled in the brain from a late night feature The government is run by the beast and the creatures Hanger for the hook-up, for the jab it's junk They're comin in your speaker with the funk-fu-fu-funk Some want you to say today I can't fit on one caper Take out the seeds and begin to rollin papers Then I roll the blunt or a spliff or a fattie Feelin like a hood with a beanie in a Caddy I love my herb, I love my money, cause I'm young, matty Never eat the pork, cause it's much, much too fatty So come down, selector, and give me my props I'm runnin through a field of marihuana crops I'm thinkin, all the green, fat, crazy, stinky buds Flow on the instrumental, cause this rhyme is not a dud [ Coke ] Gettin crazy blunted, and you'll never say I fronted On the raps, cause I take the track and run it Into the ground, I'm ghetto clown number one Rhymes are kinda fat like two tons of fun Smash, boom, bam! and I never sound flam It's that nigga King Tee with the Mad Kap band Gettin stupid high off the chocolate ghetto thai So pass the dutchie on the left-hand side King Tee and Nef, and the rhymes are on point But now it's time for Coke to pass the fuckin joint Pass it around Pass it around Pass it around (5x) [ King Tee ] Now here comes the bomb... Pass it around, throw some flex in Peek-a-boo! I mean - ooh! I be fresh when I do that, but wait - who dat? It's the King Mad Kap, Nefrettiti's the queen With the sound of Africa to the streets Somethin the Man can't cheat And make it pop, cause we're already poppin So I'm whistlin, sittin on the dock by The bay, singin 'ay-hey,' can you copy? Boomin like a jeep, deep with my posse What's up, sister? yeah, it's Mister K-i-n-g Tee, I brung a mixture Of ruff rhymes, I drove by to shoot the pop rap Cause you know you gotta stop that Bullshit, but when my pull hits, it's on point And I got the fat joint Pass it around Pass it around Pass it around (4x)

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