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MIKE JONES lyrics - 1st Round Draft Picks

If U Don't

Original and similar lyrics
If you dont work you dont eat you dont grind you dont shine no if ands or buts bottom line thats why i'm on a mission to keep the paper flippin' i gots to get a house before i start wood grippin 2x verse 1 (Mike jones) My routine 100% grindin 10% sleep I peep game when I sleep I hole heat when i creep i'm mike jones I hold chrome, Break microphones, I flip in my slab all alone I wish a mutha fucka would try to steal my leather wood it's gonna be no good understood cuz i shoot stray's, when the tapes play i'll have you lookin like a client thats on x-ray's, I don't delay when you comin' shootin' bullets you talk down ima pull it represent this gangsta shit to the fullest, I pack a ruger and get scareing like Fred Krueger you talk down on Mike Jones and nigga I'll do this cuz I aint trippin', I got the ruger rippin while i'm flippin expedition, come in Mike Jones home and I'll shoot shot's till your teeth missin' First Round Draft Picks you come at us wrong and you will be dismissed Mike Jones Chorus 2X Verse 2 (Magno) Uh, it's Magno, I dont mind, I let a stray one cross, but if you got beef cool I got that A-1 sauce, you must forgot I pack a big mac i'm runnin' mickey D's, pop yo ass up leave you bleedin' on yo big mac, keep you bent like a car fender I fight dirty I'm throwin bottles in the club like a bartender, fuck fightin stud, niggaz remember who won, in these H town streets you gotta remember your gun, you dont wanna get stuck with the 5th, you dont wanna hospital trip with IV's stuck in yo wrist, my best advice is stop stay in yo spot cuz these bullets got a mind of they own they hate to stay in the glauk, you like to keep it to a snapples cost we got checks to your chest we about to make you look like applesauce so if you want a snapple I got 17 reasons to make folks forget about yo like 7 countin' Chorus 2X Verse 3 (Mike Jones) You might see me in the Lac 4 18's black on black sittin low holdin gat waitin for a nigga to jack when it's time I get krunk I got rugers I got pimps, my name show when I pop trunk, Mike Jones is no punk, I got ho's down to die for me, niggaz down to rob from me I got friends I got robberies alot of niggaz watchin you can look but don't touch cuz if you touch then I'll bust Swisha House Swisha Blast y'all done know we cant be touched (Magno) we can't be touched becuz we move like powder and I dont mind shootin' at a nigga if his mood is sour, I'm a technique flowa this aint New York but you better stay undercover like (?) cuz we lookin fo ya, big gun's 49 we not from San Francisco but we got 49 and if ya prolly heard the gat it was me trigga pulled cuz I roam the woods like (wally zerbiak?) Chorus 4X

Pure Uncut Remix

DMX "The Great Depression"
[Eightball] DMX McGruff and Canibus. You know where you heard it first. My man Cardin, G Black, Ralph, Universal Records. Uh [all echoes]. Pure Uncut, Eightball [DMX barks in background] DMX (What) DMX, McGruff, McGruff, and Canibus, baby. Yeah, its the Pure Uncut, raw, we keep it raw. Its the Pure Uncut, raw we keep it raw. Listen... [DMX] Niggas at Ruff Ryders is the illest, baby gorillas And shit we do today is gon' catch up with us and kill us Long as I feel this, motherfucker's head is shot Fucking lead is hot, and leave them dead to rot Ruff Ryders cut the shit up, like raw keys Like that crystal aching my last name is Raheed It can happen niggas, dog keys, and still gun it down Only cause I know how you look up to a nigga, from the ground Running clown, you no better, than a braveless heart For my kids I thank you God And if you don't know, ask a nigga, that they just put in the ground Slugs ran out of him, so I must've put in a pound At least! I gave it to another nigga for lookin Money, could never stop my slugs from cookin Remember me, cause I'ma be there when they bury, you Leave your skeleton in the cemetery [Eightball] Dum, du-du, dum Who got the, who got the bum bu-bu bum We wrap it up and smoke it, sixty green I'm a fiend for this rap thing Down South hustiln' and we all about the cream Stick em up, mad face, car chase through the city Fuck the police, I'm mad plus I'm going off that gritty Frank Nitty got a mob down to murder with me Catch one to stick me, believe it or not, I cripply I rip thee, back into a stack and flip it like a tech Pure uncut, tie it up, and watch the fiends come back Bucklin, real dogs stay around for troublin Eightball, pick up the ball, when them tricks start bumblin Rumblin (vrooom) much room, cloud trippin Victims who lie there die when I be speakin, releasin You heard me, are you worthy To ride with the Suave House and get down and dirty [Chorus Eightball] Its the Pure Uncut, raw, we keep it raw [2X] Baby Pure Uncut, raw, we keep it raw Its the Pure Uncut, raw, we keep it raw (What) Nigga, Pure Uncut, raw, we keep it raw [repeat] [McGruff] Yo; where the fuck is the dough its time to bubble and blow If I spit this from the back, have em clutchin they toes Once smoked my lungs out, but now I fuck with my nose Perform shows, bad bitches crunchin my clothes Yo I'm 'Gruff, street thug beyond the speakers, beyond the rap Man I'm on a car and my gat, swarm attack, sip Don and Cognac Ain't just me, my whole freakin army strapped Aiyyo, fuck that! And fuck you! Who the fuck you Touch you, you act like you want trouble Money don't know you, don't rub you, I got' eat, that's like trying to tell me don't hustle I gotta blow a couple, niggas away just to show the muscle Yo, I squeeze till your vocal tussle Niggas please, I got keys, coke, and snow to bubble Hoes to cuff you, fuck you, suck the shit out your dick Sucker for love, think you can fuck with McGruff Now listen mister Gruff put your soul in a twister [Canibus] Just got off the payphone, on a three-way line, with Eightball and Tony Draper Askin me for a favor Now let me take it from the top I touch your knot, with the rubber glock Then I take your title, nigga, fuck your spot Peace to the players who crush a lot, but they call me Canibus because I bust a lot You can suck my cock, and got the same transmitted disease your mother got Being a favorite with me right before she was forced to pop She came home at four o'clock, was shot, she was riding me on top I told the bitch to keep the door locked, I know your heating up hot Because I touched the sure spot, you got defeated and dropped I punch you in the jaw-ops You talk dirt, you get dirt thats how I stand on niggas networks You think that best works You think you can't get hurt The bitch in you, makes you run for cover when I spit at you A man-to-man zone Allen Iverson couldn't dribble through Rapid fire syllables, you gotta bribe me with a mill or two To keep me from killing you with the lyrical All you chief executives ampin answer wreckin shit See, what goes around comes around, bitch

For Doz That Slept

Black Sheep "A Wolf In Sheep's Clothing"
Intro (by Mista Lawnge) Van Damme! Let's see what kind of flavor I want... Do I want, vanilla? Or do I want a taste of chocolate? Hmmmmm... I want something different, I want somethin slammin. What's the slamminest flavor out this month... Let's see... Yo black! Hmmmmm, what flavor are you? First Verse (note: the way he says listen, I wanted to spell it lehsen) Listen For a second, I'm wreckin I got ya double checkin Then again, when to you knees did you beckon Hold me only if you wanna get naked Play before a crowd only if you wanna wreck it The name is Dres, like silk I get slick Drop rhymes like a basehead Bic flicks Constantly, yes it's me D-R-E-Ssssss So yes, I guess, unless, confess you can get down To serious business, with this I never boned a honey that I didn't like I never saw a mile that I couldn't hike I never had a spliff to make me choke I never had a pocket that was broke Hate no one but love only a few Franklin, Grant and yeah mom too I run buckwild for self or with the crew But then again, huh I thought you knew Now I hear the voice Is it what you want? I hope it is kid you're the flavor of the month Chorus I heard you got the fever for the flavor three times Somebody said you got it goin on I heard you got the fever for the flavor three times Hurry up and get a scoop before it's gone Second Verse So you got the fever for the flavor of the other Chocolate, sasspirilla, or is it you like another Flavor in my socks To the curly locks Black Sheep rollin hard and kncokin peons out the box Never have I ever never ever felt much better Did the whole nine on the tenth I was no wetter Ready and I'm eager Eager as a beaver On the radio and good to go says your receiver Not to be the baddest or the oldest nor the wackest Neither am I needest or the newest or the blackest Just a brown fellow Who's not afraid of Jello To the people of the world I would like to say G'day Had to wait a while But the while has been waited Never gave up hope in myself, nor debated Didn't shed a tear when I wasn't picked Cause I got a cone now, want a lick? Chorus Third Verse Now I catch a number when before I caught a glare Now I give a pound when before I got a stare Now I guess I kinda got it goin on I get a wake-up call on the lawn I used to try and push a demo Now I have a Coupe That's a bit more than a little But then not quite a few Funny how they find you when they told you get lost Tell me why you're grittin when you have no dental floss Wasn't my loss Thought you were the boss? You never knew how much the Sherbert cost Forget it, I never sweat it Your girl will give me play I'll wet it It only happens just because you let it Now everybody wants to play my phone I see em with a spoon I see em with a cone You never knew I knew it but I knew you would pursue it Hurry up and get a scoop before it's gone Chorus (hope you like it all... I'll get the rest to ya soon BTW as you probably guessed by now I'm a lyrics fanatic... got any more you can send me? Peace out homes!)


Mac "World War III"
Mac talking: Yeah I got these motherfucking Warlocks in this biatch So you know its all about that World War 3 Nigga You feel me nigga haha My nigga Sam My nigga Popeye Shout out to my nigga BI-Geezy you off in this bitch feel it Chorus: (Popeye) My future, my focus, paradise Criminal slash pistol popper toat the badder dice And if I got to be real and sank a clip below my hip to survive I keep the real motherfuckers alive My future, my focus, paradise Criminal slash pistol popper toat the badder dice And if I got to be real and sank a clip below my hip to survive I keep the real motherfuckers alive Verse 1 (Sam) : Intentions to leave a coarse, remourse is extinct Niggas murder and lust the course we own is mislink The pack we don't want it lead to unknowns Like understanding life and why we here and some gone I'm mystified conspicuous eyes vision my glory Camaflouge and wish we hiding side of the hallways The narrow road has followed the battle hole of hollows I spit To keep the real alive to have tommorow Murderer slash real nigga slash ghetto celebrity To often have life and death we hope to never see The destiny of what's real is my fate to not hate Confusion keep unfolding that the migrates, my Lord Tech to my face, flinching is forbiddin Murder in self-defense, can you blame me for living? Keep the real alive, the fake get famous with death Keep the real seen, bitch niggas are laid to rest Chorus: (Popeye) My future, my focus, paradise Criminal slash pistol popper toat the badder dice And if I got to be real and sank a clip below my hip to survive I keep the real motherfuckers alive My future, my focus, paradise Criminal slash pistol popper toat the badder dice And if I got to be real and sank a clip below my hip to survive I keep the real motherfuckers alive Verse 2: (Popeye) : Faster between the streets I held on promoted through pistols and either elsewhere Silent and helped to hold on for killer that said a self-prayer To walk away beside the lord, siners repent so we divide the sword Behind the tents I mean be riding cars Standing off the roof of a killer, to murder made life Focused than any president living that carry shade ice That live amongst the fallen few, to walk away the day they calling you And freeze the heat when they come crawling through Breathing from the top of it's lungs, tommorow it will shut down Niggas that held a piece of my heart they never let down Was yet to come before the lord, I thought my father supposed to show the card, These niggas camaflouge to blow the gaurd Making me a part of the wind, suspend will now hell Everything operated in time to end when I fail Beside the walls of badder shit, I run the streets and chose to stan and spit Behind the gate the hater grabbin' pit Chorus: (Popeye) My future, my focus, paradise Criminal slash pistol popper toat the badder dice And if I got to be real and sank a clip below my hip to survive I keep the real motherfuckers alive My future, my focus, paradise Criminal slash pistol popper toat the badder dice And if I got to be real and sank a clip below my hip to survive I keep the real motherfuckers alive Verse 3 (Mac) : Now Check it Now spill on my proverbs, I bless you, you bless the next niggas Its for the best niggas believe me They say money is the root of all evil I say only when it's in the clutch of the wrong people ya feel that If murder is the medicine for fools who refuse to abide by the rules You lose your cool then you lose your shoes To every nigga in the struggle with big dreams We was born with the hustle in my genes, I know it seams like we forbiddin Forced in ghetto living, poverty strickin eating popeye chicken and biscuits With alittle jelly for my lil belly, That I just can't fill cause moma belly make the bills And I know shit's real, when we go to school just to eat meals And for dinner we got sleep nigga, it's deep nigga With that you got that whole world against ya Bitch ass nigga have you forgoten god sent ya Whoaaaaaa

No Comment

JOE BUDDEN "Escape Route"
[Intro:] Uh-ohhhh, uh-oh Uh-ohhhhhh! That on top, ohh! Ta-ha, Joey (yeah, shit go hard too) No comment, no comment Ta-ha, whole bunch of yappin Jersey! That M.J. bullshit Let me talk to 'em, l-look look look [Verse 1] Since the world don't revolve around me (Then what?) Hoodie on, revolver on me I'm the wrong one you wanna amp (why?) Cause niggaz could get missin like you straight out of LeBron's summer camp (ohh!) Anytime the fed's see me I tell 'em that the only thing FUCKERY here gets you an STD My life, should be sold as a movie From the (Slum dog) tryin to be a (Millionaire), no groupies When did the civilians decide to be a thug? Motivated by the hate (BUT) inspired by the love Rappers sayin my name like it's a bright tactic Jackson 5, put your (Mike) in a casket Let the fans gas you and tell you you're nice Be a legend in RAP, but a failure in life For real, I don't think these dudes is spectacular Pretty Ricky thugs who move like spectacular, nigga! [Chorus:] What up with you and so-and-so? Heard you got a diss Don't know about THAT, but I know about this nigga No comment (what) no comment (what) No comment, I ain't got a comment Bloggers, Twitter, Budden TV No comment, y'all ain't gettin nothin from me I said, no comment (what) no comment No comment, I ain't got a comment [Verse 2] So I been called a snitch (BUT) But I been called worse by better so let's skip over the lecture That's a common lie (why?) Cause if I ever call the cops it's only gon' be to report a homicide How am I in beef? I walk about free They only talk about YOU, when you talk about ME So go ahead and act hard And somebody gon' grab chalk (and) and turn the streets into a blackboard So I'm supposed to put niggaz on a pedestal for rappin 'bout a bunch of bullshit that they don't ever do You look stupid when you go there Say I'm only hot online you ain't heatin up nowhere SHOT-gun in SHOT-gun, ride right past ya Windows down, got every right to blast ya No wonder he thinkin he'll provide a disaster Cause bitches keep tellin him that size don't matter (ta-ha) [Chorus w/ ad libs] Things niggaz say I don't mind it Say they lost respect for me, who the FRUCK is askin you to find it? This is me practicin censorship Since the new definition of real nigga is sensitive In his interview, say I'm askin for a hearse But couple months BACK he was askin for a verse Only hurts is the team used to bump you Now he look like a fiend, I should slump you [Outro - ad libs to the end]

Parole Violaters

Capone-N-Noreaga/Noreaga/N.O.R.E. "The War Report"
Chorus: Havoc Yo, parole violating fugitives on the run, son Live by the gun, son, die by the gun, son We can make it happen if we want to Jakes'll get that ass quick if they really want you. [Noreaga] Capone, you stay on street, and keep the cipher complete 2 5 circle, caught you snitching now we hurt you Fake Scarface, coming out your mouth all loose He think he thugging it, ice mugging it 'Cause he drugging it My rap loop, I still shoot Ask Iraq (Lefrak), you better bust back, Keep it like that Real fact - my life revolve around gat The heat is god Guard me, like bodyguard TNT, ESPN, CNN We each bring 10, stick em up and break wind Pumps he rule, run through, yo god - you I got God-U, for him and you Greg Tate(asshole), leave his mouth taped Eliminate, news on BET, got pictures of me Killer ki, the F.B.I. scanned the blocks Use photography, want me and my team out the country(stay low) Kilargo, shipped the cargo, back to Vehardo In P.R., kid I came home on my C R, Crisis, 2-5-to, we rock ices, Castro castrate, put the bogie out in his face Leave him scraped, you fake nigga move fake In Lefrak we regulate...what, what, what, buck-buck, what [Havoc] Chorus [Tradegy Khadafi] Khadafi L-I-C, that ol' fly shit Coming from the Bridge, Kuwait, do or die shit Jose Luis and Iraq recognize it, You get laced before the jakes realize it Guerrilla form all in your dorm Don't be surprised, kid, Weak trick - go 'head and snitch like your man did War Report, cut ya life short Babe Ruth niggas ain't ready for blood sport Yo we masked up, pointing the heat Duct taping her, gag her mouth so she can't scream Start [raping her - backwards masked] Camcorder, you won't miss it 'cause we taping her... Fed Ex, you got the tape next day in the mail Now you organize your team with gats, ready to bail But you 180, my reactions 360 You ass-betting, know where I'll be So come get me Khadafi, gun-play Artie Clay, use illegal aid Tryin to go to trial with the DA What!

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