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Ant Banks lyrics - Big Thangs

Big Thangs

Original and similar lyrics
[Featuring Too $hort, 2Pac, And MC Breed] Too $hort: If your a real hustler your sure to get rich. Chorus: This is for the hustlaaaas, come on This is for the hustlaaaas, ohh This is for the hustlaaaas, come on This is for the hustlaaaas, ohh Ohh, come on, come on Too $hort: I make money like a motherfucker It ain't no thang to me $hort Dog in the house spittin game wit Breed Ain't no bust partner, that's the thrid week I'm going to pimp these hoes, they can't work me How the hell you think I get to ride a B-12? The phone and TV ended with a green smell I went from Oakland to Atlanta with my top down $hort Dog, my shit is nation wide now You can ask Breed or Pac it don't stop I ain't bull shittin make a mill when I rock Three players in the game and it's a major Bitch you wanna get me better hit me on my pager Today I'm on the westcoast Tommorrow I'm in Texas Flip the Benz and Farri, sold the Lexus $horty drop the bass in the mix You know what's next beitch I'm sure to get rich *Chorus* 2Pac: Haha I'd be the thuggin ass outlaw Til my fuckin casuct drops Fuck around and make me blast on these bastard cops This is for the hustlaaaaas Believe me coming stapped with the gak When you see me Label me a threat to society, but I ain't quitin Thug life motherfucker ain't no bull shittin Born in these projects destined to fate Collecting mail on these broke bitches Slanging that game Now shit done changed It ain't the the same I ain't lyin niggas are dyin Three strikes have you motherfuckers flyin In the penatentary or in the cemetary Gettin high no need to worry Last year niggas knockin up the block and in between shots Pumpin tapes from that nigga Breed and Pac This year bringin you the fix Including Ant Banks in the mix We're sure to get rich Still I ride. *Chorus* MC Breed: I'm a cold-hearted fool I mean a fool at heart, head strong and I won't be headed home if he falls apart Conatact niggas like a part time When I ride the beat Ain't no way to hide from the darkside Man of many mens till the very end and blend in and change my iden Just to mix up with the game They know me by the Breed and they don't know it's my last name It's mind over matter I don't mind, you don't matter Pull a glock and watch the whole block scatter and we can have us a gak to gak talk Do it old style and do a back to back walk Count to ten and say goodbye to your friends and we can put the bull shit to an end I figure if he plays around he lays around and he's a motherfucker ?????? calls a corner when I'm around Bodies are buried and found all around and parish and charish and thoughts just to be true Punk, fellas behave ya and it just might save ya So guard your girl and pickup your pistol cause you can't get wit Breed the weed head lyrical nit wit The shit won't change as long as I'm alive I gotta survive and keep it tight *Chorus*

We Got Panache

You know we got panache Style, sass, gettin mad cash keepin it under wraps Pizazz and class we sit in the back Spendin mad cash money money and we real bad ass You know we got panache style, sass Gettin mad ass keepin it under glass Pizazz and class we kiss in the back Spittin mad trash honey honey and we real bad ass You know we got panache we gettin mad cash Paid a dime a second like Diamond Dave and Damon Dash I spit sonic gas classy psychopath psychotic iconoclast I got an iconic ass It's ironic how erotic my robotic sonnets get girls in bonnets hot like Harry Connicks Sick on gin and tonics we super sonic hook you on our phonics Learned Ebonics by erotic ebony dick and Mantronix Never stoppin it sock electronic shit allotted the whole club up when we spotted it And if we wanted it fill it with men and spawn and shit Ain't nothing wrong with it lets get the party started shit let's get it on and hit High ballin cat callin no alcohol yo we all suck on a straw A certain Je ne sais quoi at the bar I hit it raw never do look back unless we like what we saw Never do look back OK papa On the case like Steve Case estates like Oprah's place Savoir faire and grace every hair in place here's a taste no time to waste Do my makeup in the mirror while I sit up on your face We paid great and when we don't got dates dig in the crates eat steak and masturbate Spin wax make tracks we laid laid back, ladies get laid and stay up late at that Now we getting critical mass sass pinnacle like the citadel not minimal we hospitable Mad kissable it's difficult aristicral princess for instance we invincible never divisible make you invisible Kit in each car Kittens with Kit Kat bars kickin etiquette from Connecticut to Zanzibar Strip malls to big balls 'n concert halls New York Dolls taggin up bathroom stalls We All-Stars make folly North down to Raleigh Follow me suck lollys down in Bali all enthralled dollies arty as Dali And when Mr. Rodgers calls me- We allowed on his trolley

Century Plant

Outside my house is a cactus plant they call the century tree Only once in a hundred years it flowers gracefully and you never know when it will bloom CHORUS: Hey, do you wanna come out and play the game? it's never too late (2x) Clementine Hunter was fifty-four before she packed up the pain Old Uncle Taylor was eighty-one when he rode his bike across the plains of China (uh-huh) And the sun was shining on that day just like today CHORUS: Do you wanna come out and play the game? it's never too late Hey, do you wanna come out and play the game? it's never too late Didn't know how to tell her for all the thirty years kept locked up inside himself and no one saw the tears and then she went away and he woke up that day now he brings roses to his sweetheart she lives most anywhere he sees someone suffering he knows that despair he offers them a rose and some quiet prose 'bout dancin' in a shimmering ballroom 'cause you never know when it will bloom CHORUS: Hey, do you wanna come out and play the game? it's never too late (5x)

My 1st Song

JAY-Z "The Black Album"
[Notorious B.I.G. interview] I'm just, tryin to stay above water y'know Just stay busy, stay workin Puff told me like, the key to this joint The key to staying, on top of things is treat everything like it's your first project, knahmsayin? Like it's your first day like back when you was an intern Like, that's how you try to treat things like, just stay hungry [Verse One: Jay-Z] Uhh, uhh, yes, yes Y'all wanna know, why he don't stop Y'all wanna know, why he don't flop Let me tell you pe-eople why Came from the bottom of the block I When I was born, it was sworn, I was never gon' be shit Had to pull the opposite out this bitch Had to get my ri-ide on Eyes on the prize, Shawn knew I had to Had to had to get these chips Had to make moves like Olajuwon Started out sellin dimes and nicks Graduated to a brick No exaggeration, my infatuation with the strip Legendary like a schoolboy Crushin merely nearly every every chick Heavy shit - that's how schoolboy got whipped And got left on some 'Just +Me, Myself and I+' On some Trugoy shit Had your boys threw place up, to a place of no return Had to play with fire and get burned Only way the boy ever gon' learn Had to lay way in the cut, 'til I finally got my turn Now I'm on top in the spot that I earned [Chorus] It's my life - it's my pain and my struggle The song that I sing to you it's my ev-ery-thing Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first And my thirst is the same as - when I came It's my joy and my tears and the laughter it brings to me It's my ev-ery-thing [Verse Two: Jay-Z] Like I never rode in a limo Like I just dropped flows to a demo Like it's ninety-two again and And I got O's in the rental Back in the Stu' again, no prob' livin was a whole lot simpler When you think back, you thought that you would never make it this far, then you take advantage of the luck you handed Or the talent, you been given Ain't no, half steppin, ain't no, no slippin Ain't no different from a block that's hidden Gotta get it while the getting's good Gotta strike while the iron's hot, 'fore you stop Then you gotta bid it, good riddance Goodbye, this is my second major breakup My first was, with a pager With a hooptie, a cookpot, and the GAME This one's with the stool, with the stage, with the fortune Maybe not the fortune, but certainly the FAME [Chorus] It's my life - my pain and my struggle The song that I sing to you it's my ev-ery-thing Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first And my thirst is the same as - when I came It's my joy and my tears and my laughter it brings to me It's my ev-ery-thing Treat my first like my last, and my last like my first And my thirst like the first song I sang [Outro: Jay-Z] Woo! It's like the blues - we gon' ride out on this one Ta-tah, be-hah Yo Hah, 'member you was makin them dashes for them niggaa at radio and shit? Clark Kent, that was good lookin out nigga Carlene - who ever thought we'd make it this far homey? Sha, they can't stop us, knahmsayin? Lenny S Dame whattup? Robbin the bank Niggaz thought we was crazy man, 'member uhh You had that fucked up ass handwritin You was writin all the numbers that we was spendin now for the videos we was doin ourselves, whattup? Original Flavor, your accountant was crazy wrong and shit But we we still put it together Bigs, whassup? 'Member we went to St. Thomas and uh But y'all my nizzle, your dog peed on homey leg and shit at his crib - I think that was Rudy And they was havin a lil trouble with the pool You and Ta-tah was laughin Emory was there, whattup Emory? What up Ta? Hip-Hop, whattup man? Ay, ay Hobb, you ain't, you ain't have no uhh You ain't have no muh'fuckin seat on your, on your bicycle Now you uhh, the head of black music That's what I'm talkin bout right there homey - G, whattup G? Yessir, e'rybody in the Roc Hey Guru, I know you spoiled man I be takin them shits in one take You gon' have to punch niggaz shit, STICK IT, you gon' be tight OG One, whattup? I'm a little upset that you wasn't involved in this whole process But it's all good - whassup Dash? My whole family, my nephew, cousin Angie, whassup? Te-Tee (B, B, B, B) Mom, you made the album, how crazy is that? Bob Allah, rest in peace My pops, rest in peace (Sup A.J.?) Biggie Smalls, rest in peace Uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh, uh-uh Nigga, I'm bout to go golfin man Ay, I might even have me a cappuccino, fuck it! I'm goin somewhere nice where no mosquitos at nigga Holla at me - it's your boy!

Pouches Of Tuna

[Action Bronson:] Been on the honor roll sculptures of my body out in Nagano My shawty features like Madonna, Low designer Bending these young lola fellana's over ace la tesse Baste the breast with the juices Under the influence of fly shit, I glide like ovechkin Disqus hoody, Puff hibiscus, balance be the crispest Baby girl your wylin if you sniff this You gotta take a piss test, piss right through your fishnets Robbin moses state park lamm in the sand, blam blam When piggie tried to put my fam in the can Strictly coppin golds, until we laid in the Galapagos Eating tacos, higher than a opera note We never ride civcs, the mob blonde scripted lyrics It's like a avant garde to the critics I throw you in the armbar with the quickness Either you with me or bitch you in the shit list [Roc Marciano:] Bitch please picture me in Sicily The hard bottoms gettin slippery I just had an epihany And now I'm shittin on your whole steez ridiculously 45. fire at ya, attire, to break your armor up like fine china Fly designer hoes diggin for gold like a 49er I hit the diner to carolina Pass the lighter to the passanger in the spyder Vagina splash like apple cider So fuck your little 2 cents blue benz bitches jump like Harold Miner I'm in the recliner, trace like eye liner And I escape like McGyver Bank robbers, bank 38's to taste cobbler And lay up with a case of vodka Get cake and prosper ate steak and lobster the frank sinatra Egg you out leave your face some pasta Get laced and dip the chicks in the grey boxter Bitch foxy 88 clogs Ladies identify gangsters posture I'm feeling like jay hoffa Fuck ya'll, eat a fat dick with the monster

Finish Line

This is dedicated to all those who don't see it coming... [Chorus: Busta Rhymes] You can live true baby, you can live trife Whatever way you chose you got to leave your life Aiyyo you're running out of time, and you bout to cross The finish line, the finish line [repeat Chorus] [Verse One: Busta Rhymes] And, yo! I can't afford to waste a second Steppin with my eyes on niggaz checkin on my weapons Every millisecond, motherfuckers say they true to this But when they grab the microphone they shit sound like stupidness *beatboxing* Hah, mad to pull another vicious scandal I know that you can't handle when I flip from other angles now Feel my hot wax, burning from my melting candles You can't take the heat, so you switch from boots to wearing sandals This is for example! Shit will make a nigga curse When worse comes to worse, you be the first to disperse now We don't BELIEVE your man was living like that Hoping to find that nigga see exactly where his heart was at It's a damn shame how Son know your style, know your name Watch how he pull your file, make you wish you never fuckin came NOW Even the hardest motherfucker has his final day So kill that shit you talkin, and be about your fuckin way [Chorus 2X] [Verse Two: Busta Rhymes] Yo, everyday I see you on the block smoking With a bunch of niggaz scoping on how they can split you WIDE open You don't even know what's going on up in your circle Awful murder niggaz itch to leave you black blue and purple Ahh, your man came to put you on and tried to make you bleed Hit you with some shit that left you flippin mad in disbelief You just can't believe that niggaz that you smoke with is on it And the way they rass they really got to bust yo' shit! Thought your man was joking, paid no attention to the situation Got with your crew and just continued smoking Now your man sit and watch you panic In any other situation you'd be fronting like you gigantic I guess all that fronting is your main talent It's apparent, he can see right through you like you transparent Hah, aiyyo you need to watch your back you running out of time Watch your step, cuz you only inches from the finish line [Chorus 2X] [Verse Three: Busta Rhymes] Now, there's about a million motherfuckers on your trail Quick to bust your shit for every single time your words failed I'm watchin all the moves you makin fuck the speculatin Super-bitch nigga you just be fakin if I'm not mistakin Every move you fake you dig your grave a little deeper Come around me with that shit I'ma flip it to my brother's keeper Listen to this: overstress my emphasis I insist to fix and bring the noise as long as I exist Now you walk around the streets with all that shit you speak And step inside the club just to receive the illest ass beating HOO! Take a look around you get no type of sympathy Impatiently, I sit and watch you die in your own iniquity Hah, now you out dead and stinkin, and your eyes are no longer blinkin Time caught up quick, with your little BITCH way of thinkin Ahh, watch you diminish, while your niggaz have to put a finish On your misleading false image [Chorus 5X] Word is bond, bond is life You shall be willing to give your life Before your words shall fail All those who out there frontin, misleading they peoples Actin other than they really are It will catch up to you player, word is bond So that's, specifically, to all those fake motherfuckers Living out here on that bullshit Trying to act like they know what the fuck's going on

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