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Twister lyrics

Let's Go

Original and similar lyrics
[Lil Jon:] Yeah (Yeaaaahhhh!) Theres a lotta fuck niggas in the club tonight, (fuck em, fuck em, fuck em) But its gonna be aight, (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) Cuz me and my clique we dont give a fuck nigga. Trick Daddy, Jim Johnson, Big D, Lil Jon [Hook:] Lets Gooooo! (Lets Gooooo!) If you want it you can get it let me know (let me know), I'm bout to fuck a nigga up, Lets Gooooo! (Lets Gooooo!) If you want it you can get it let me know (let me know), I'm bout to fuck a nigga up, Lets Gooooo! (Lets Gooooo!) [Trick Daddy:] If you want some, come get some, Cuz where I'm from we tote big guns, And everybody know somebody that Know somebody that know somethin bout it, And I want answers now who, what, where, When and why, See, a lotta dudes like to act a fool And all get all loud but that aint my style, And he who he gonna get and what he gonna do, Run up on me if he want to, Out there impressin his homies, But he stood up in front of his mama, I mop up the flo wit em, And I kick in the door and let the .44 get em, I got fools that'll go get em, This for him, the crew and the dudes that run wit em. [Hook] [Twista:] Gotta spit for the murderas, And the killas, And the thugstas, That be fuckin up the ballas, And the dealas, And the hustlas, Got me comin at you bogus in the V.I. While they bumpin lil jon I'm a brush ya, Its the psycho nigga twista from Chicago rollin with the Miami nigga that'll crush ya, We already been lookin for drama If a nigga try to get it to, but what if, still gotta get em, Feelin fury from my tough shit that cant never be true And no penicillin I'm telling you Trick I'm fitna steal em Got me swingin crysie and hennessy bottles, In the club with my thug homies goin for the skrilla, Don't get it twisted with that Overnight celebrity you better be scared Of me in my city I'm a killa. [Hook] [Trick Daddy:] I ain't that rappin type arright, And I that actin type arright, This sulphane in my script, I'm a play on you and you just a square, See, once that hennessy into Me the whole industry is my enemy, If you aint no ten to me or friend to me, Bitch don't pretend to be, I'm strictly for the thugs, I'm part of the streets and straight out the hood, That moments ghetto (ghetto), Got me deep in gats for you wheezly cats, I'm straight out the county of Dade, Played on fire nigga M-I-A, Never gone south of the border, Americas most wanted you gonna get slaughtered. [Hook 2x] [Trick Daddy:] The AK go chop, chop, chop, chop The SK go fire, fire, fire, fire The AK go chop, chop, chop, chop The SK go fire, fire, fire, fire

Show You How

JAY-Z "The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse"
[Jay-Z] Catch up, niggas Damn you fadin' hov, how you gave 'em that All the martika, with the alligator strap Sick of y'all niggaz with ya now or later raps Rap about it now, hope you get it later Do a couple shows, hope you niggas is savin' up I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS SON This particular watch be a one of one That means none before it, none to come The homie that's rappin' be the only one that has it I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS SON You ain't heard I push the sixes when the fives is out You can't fight me, in the porsche I'll box you out I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS SON We don't drive X5's we give 'em to baby-mammas Push the big top that shake like the canvas, chickens snackbox I get it crackin' when I'm backing out the garage A 360 drop farage, shutdown manhattan Bucket low, like fuck it, though Nights on, daytime, lights on, hell yeah I'm frontin' but you love it, though I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS SON Nigga I'm a check writer your royalty recievers Y'all eaten off Pa Dem, on the low like a cesar Pay ya taxes, you niggaz is husttlin' backwards I cop and crash whips, Jay is a bastard I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS SON How you want it, my jeans is 300 This ain't Diesel, nigga, these is Evisu Top is rock, you know the rest A big bucket of frozen water on my chest I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS SON Get a crate, some crack, and some house slippers A newspaper, look out boy, and get ya chips up Or get a gun, a mask an escape route Some ducktape'll make 'em take you to the house And ma don't give him nothin', unless he treatin' you special Soon he'll get desperate, and go down and bless you And when he come up for air, with a mouth full of hair Just grab your coach bag and get the fuck outta there, yeah I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS HON Look, think big, fuck getting your nails done Think cars, cribs, jewels, some shit for your son Don't let 'em give you, hard dick and bubble gum Make him cop the Lex bubble, 2001 hon I'LL SHOW YOU HOW TO DO THIS HON And if your man got you bangin' up, it could be worse Just put a little in the baggy, put a little in the purse

How U Luv That

BIG TYMERS "How U Luv That?"
Awww man, Man I sure believe this one here man, gon' be so beautiful I know everyone out there gon' hafta love this one, ya heard that [Verse 1] Now, who the fuck cars for days Crazy hoes and momos with the 20 inch blaze Picture me and the missus driving Expeditious The backstabbin' friends blowin' kisses Chrome-struck bitches, wood grain wenches Leather seats, la la la, anything else itches I done done it, the Bubble IGS 300 Anything else around here, playboy I run it Bought the black Yukon, new Storm, microwave with futons She not white, unh unh, she Cub-an Karats on my fingers, fuckin' R&B singers 1998 Lexus, dickslangers Nuts-hang-us from South American Don Perrion, Mil cousin, move on Can you top-uh Nigga with a Calico to helicopter Move, shake, shove that Ask yourself nigga, 'How you luv that' [Chorus] How you luv that 20 cars on chrome, nigga How you luv that 20 shows in the dome, nigga How you luv that 20 hot girls to bone, nigga How you luv that BRRTTT! 20 Primeco phones 2x [Verse 2] Nigga, how you gon' tell me that shit ain't changed When niggas used to play curls now the playin' braids And In my crib I got an elevator fuckin' with these hoes heads With alligator pillows cases in my bed I gotta scream, 'Cheese-y' so bad Playboy, I had to get approval from the city and the motherfuckin' feds I said fuck these white folks 'til I'm dead Cause I'ma ball 'til I fall and spend 20 G's at the mall Now playboy, you can tell me how you luv that I bought my son a rolex with diamonds embezzle When 9 months, a Cash Money medallion with 20 diamonds in each letter, son So peep this, nigga I got a million dollars worth of cars all on chrome, can you compete with this That's beautiful, these 6 ties with that Range Rover Earrings costing 15 G's with T.V.'s Nigga, I'm trying to put a screen on the hood of the Humvee With my face on top, nigga, can you see me I got so much money, I'll never do time I'll play them white bitches like they play me at all times I got 20 G's to put on they leather seat Or for all the coke chargin', 3-time felon on one rap sheet What the fuck I look like Choppin' tree and pickin' cotton When I should be fuckin' hoes and money clockin' I'ma Big Tymer, ask Lac, you can believe that Playboy, nigga, tell me how you luv that [Chorus] [Juvenile] Baby, what you mean that Juvenile ain't bout matin' You besta get yo' mind right and go ahead with that hea-din' What You must think these diamonds ain't real or sumpin, huh All of this shinin' gon' get me killed for nothin' huh Nigga, fuck that, I'ma ball 'til I fall from Carolton by the lake to General Digaul So baby, buy me Cristal, shiny jewel Hit the caddilac, 2 wheel with 20 inches Rolex with diamond bezzles, 20 G cel My floor shinin' from mar-ble, cross-connect In my position, we make nothin' but G's If you rich, then you belong got CMB Don't hate us nigga, cause we beatiful, nigga please You think I'm stun'n now, just wait 'til I come back with them keys Niggas fear this, they hate, but they don't come near this I done wrote a song about the bitches, you wanna hear this They say Juvenile, you motherfucker, you off the heesy I got these hoes pussy poppin' tell they cheesy and greasy Can you see me in that Bubble I, how you luv that Can you see me in that BMW-ah, how you luv that [Chorus the Lil' Wayne talks til end]

Bend N Stretch

JIM JONES "On My Way To Church"
Blackout Music [Chorus: Jim Jones] Bend, Eastside could you stretch then bend Westside could you stretch then bend Southside could you stretch then bend Midwest could you stretch then bend N.Y.C. could you stretch then bend M-I-A could you stretch then bend A-T-L won't you stretch then bend St. Louis won't you stretch then bend [Jim Jones] I guess you hear that I'm a live wire (say what) Loose nigga and a 5 rider Run with the city's biggest drug dealers (DipSet) For you sissy rap fuck niggaz (fuck 'em) Yeah we pistol packin, bust niggaz (bang bang) Never worry 'bout the spotlight (nuh-uh) This star nigga keep the glock tight (that's right) That's for the jackers at the spotlight (watch 'em) To live and die in the streets of New York We gettin by, pumpin diesel and snort I'm gettin high in the seats of my Porsche Federales love to see me in court And tell the Lord I hope you keep me in thought (pray for me) But I'm a G, who gives a fuck what you think And fuck the D's, roll my weed and fill my cup full of drink You got some beef, then we gotta do it You got some ki's, show you how to move it (uh-huh) And four birds'll get a extra pigeon (what else) And that's a bird with an extra clip in We on the curb where my niggaz dealin That's how my niggaz livin [Chorus] [Jim Jones] So now we ballin in the major leagues Yellow bottles and some hazy weed (Cristal) Got some models with that Maybeline (so pretty) Fancy rides, pushin major speeds (Westside) Westside when we race the Beems (Eastside) Break laws 'til the day I leave (no doubt) Hardcore and a brazy G (Eastside) Yo pull the bar when we makin cheese (Harlem) "Harlem World," so "Double Up" (oh) And all my girls still love a thug A heartthrob and a wild rebel I park cars through the foul ghetto (so what) A rolling stone but I hold my own (then what) These golden stones have you niggaz on press I hold the chrome so you niggaz don't step (watch it) You better party, do your bend and your stretch And it's a promise, I ain't sendin no threats (I promise you) Sheeit, DipSet, the new mob niggaz No need to ask cause you know we on our job nigga [Chorus] [Jim Jones] To all my bitches wearin thick incense (hey girl) You know it tickles when you kiss my neck (stop that) Them icicles on my wrist and neck (blingin) Your wife wit you well don't disrespect (sup nigga) Could be an issue, keep yo' bitch in check (fuck that bitch) My thug aura make a bitch loose (uh-uh) It ain't a party 'til the Dips do it (bird game) Smokin reefer, screamin Eastside (purple) Loaded heaters, that's how we ride (we ride) All the time was my reply, I'm from the G-side (G-side) Checkin for hotties that's sexy in {?} Seven jeans and Giuseppes and Noti's, we ask at the party You tryin to slide let me know somethin Hop in the ride we can blow somethin (that purple) Baby no lie I give you no stuntin (no frontin) Duckin pictures from the paparazzi (watch the cameras) Tuck your fifth up in my Maseratti (we loaded) Shit, I park the whip in front of the project lobby I keep it gully and the car all foggy, muh'fuckers just [Chorus]

In The Stars

JUICY J
[Intro: Juicy J] Play me some pimpin', man [Hook: Wiz Khalifa] Uh, hundred thousand for the car, uh Smokin' weed, I'm in the stars, uh Just bought it, now I need a Porsche, uh Juicy geeked up off them bars Smokin' weed, I'm in the stars [x8] [Verse: Juicy J] Taylor Gang in the strip club, ballin' out If you see a pussy nigga, gon' call 'em out My Bugatti outside, that's real money I got niggas in my circle that'll kill for me I take your life savings, spend it on a watch Made an anthem for them strippers, put it on the charts Pass that Grey Poupon, rich nigga talk Gettin' that white folk money, what the fuck you thought? Hell nah, I ain't shit Ain't no broad I can't hit Ain't no weed I haven't smoked Ain't no car I can't get Ain't nowhere I haven't gone No kind of rack I haven't spent If you ain't gon' blow it all, why the fuck you have it then? I make your bitch pay for the zip I let your bitch swallow my dick I let your ho ride in my car I took that bitch straight to the stall I took that bitch down to my greenhouse And let the ho leave with a jar I let the bitch open my rap book, and watched her sniff a bar [Hook: Wiz Khalifa] [Outro: Juicy J] Man, I'm high as a fool, man You know what it is You know I always get this money! 24/7 grind, bruh So, uh, let these hoes know They get more bread More rides Going to the mall And buying everything, all big-faced bills We gon' do that shit high as fuck So damn fucked up We gon' call your bitch, nigga [Hook: Wiz Khalifa]

Open Fire

2PAC "R U Still Down? (Remember Me)"
'Alright now, here we go' [Verse One: 2Pac] Tell me, how many real motherfuckers feel me I smoke a blunt and freak the funk until these jealous motherfuckers kill me I'm out the gutter, pick a hero I'm 165 and staying high til I die, my competion's zero Cause I could give a fuck about you, better duck Or I'll be forced to hit yo ass up I give a fuck I'm sick inside my mind, why you sweatin me It's gonna take an army full of crooked ass cops to come and get me Niggaz know I ain't the one to sleep on, I'm under pressure Gotta sleep with my piece, an extra clip beside my dresser Word to God I've been ready to die since I was born I don't want no shit but niggaz trip and yo it's on Open fire on my adversaries, don't even worry Better have on a vest aim for the chest and then you buried It's a man's world, niggaz get played, another stray Hope I live to see another day, hey I'm getting sweated by these undercovers, who can I trust Got my mama stressin thinkin it's a drug bust Gotta get paid but all the drama that's attached We living a Drug Life, Thug Life, each day could be my last Will I blast when it's time to shoot Don't even ask That's the consequences when ya livin, fast Six bricks of tricks, for my niggaz, I gotta come up and recoup, you keep the dope just bring me six figures Is it a bust I hear the sirens, run for cover over the fence and open fire 'Alright now, here we go' [Verse Two: 2Pac] These motherfuckers on my ass I'm in traffic, will it be tragic I'm comin round the corner like I'm Magic Doin ninety on the freeway, and hittin switches In a high speed chase with these punk bitches Don't turn around I ain't givin up, cause they don't worry me Pussy ass bitches better bury me Runnin outta gas time to park it, I'm on foot We in the hood, how the fuck they gon catch a crook Haha I got away cause I'm clever Went to my neighbors for a favor now you know players stick together I watch the scene from the rooftop, spittin loogies at the coppers that persue me, beotch! I be a hustler til it's over, motherfucker Open fire on you bustas 'Alright now, here we go' [Verse Three: 2Pac] Don't try to follow me, I'm headed outta state I gotta pay my fuckin bills, so I'm transportin weight Change my plates, pick up my nigga, and now we rollin Droppin keys like they stolen, hehe Tell me who do you fear I'm outta town until the coast is clear Enough dope to last a year They got me running from the police, nowhere to go With the lights out, rollin down a dirt road But I ain't goin alive, I'd rather die than be a convict I'd rather fire on my target I hit the corner doing ninety, ahhhh shit! Them bitches right behind me They take a shot and hit my fuckin tires Now, jump out the car then I open fire, sucka! Hahahaha, Thug Life!

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