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ARETHA FRANKLIN lyrics - Aretha (With The Ray Bryant Combo)

Who Needs You?

Original and similar lyrics
If you ever need me You know where to call me And if you ever want me You know where to write me But you never call me And no, you never write me So, who needs you? Who needs you? Take a pen, a pencil A hand, a little item Or the telephone, dear Why you want to fight'em How much can it cost you Why don't you get lost, dear? Who needs you? Who needs you? You came on like a big deal And all that you could beg me Listen Mister Big Wheel All you do is drag me When I really need you You just can't be found, dear And when I really want you You're nowhere around, dear So, all this big production Leads to one deduction Who needs you? Who needs you? You came on like a big deal And all that you could beg me But listen Mister Big Wheel All you do is drag me When I really need you You just can't be found, dear And when I really want you You're nowhere around, dear So, all this big production Just leads to one deduction Who needs you? Who needs you now? Who needs you? Who needs you now? Who needs you? Who needs you?

Maintenance

AESOP ROCK "Daylight"
[Aesop Rock] Count that for me...thanks [Robotic voice 4x] One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Well any asshole with a book of matches can light a fire fresh Make that sucker burn for days, I'll be impressed Circlin past the culture's bigot, procreation baked in advanceable Then ball and scurry up the grass to roll his marbles off the anthill I know gerth and nature but recognize absentee ballot And sappy ballads couldn't fill the void This game's in the giant Tugboat Complex and HE'S ANNOYED! (No one's asking you to feel the narc, brother!) Hmm, it's fashion I'll find my own bullies to shake a finger wrapped in Realigned mine knives in divine justice Plus this uncontrollable laugh with those ample waves of brain finally crash Brimstone clone with legs and dim poems Ten little Zen crafts Things cooperate like paper dog participants litigans Picket well or ride or burner style clinic Acid with the basics P-H imbalance to burn the malice martyrs spaceless Then fabricate daytrips I want to be the halo that jumps off the brain Of the genius who decided some pictures deserved frames (God and I are on a first name basis) Yeah I call him God, he calls me Jesus When I lost my religion, he fell to pieces Blade, dragon, up hell's creek Interrupting a devil pagent Starfighter settling to madness I keep my ghoul spirit concealed Until the warriors return to the Coney Isle Wonder Wheel [Chorus 4x] My momma told me there'd be days like this Days like this, days like this, days like this (yes she did) [Robotic voice 4x] One, two, one, two, three, four [Aesop Rock] Okay, tell me who you chill with and I'll tell you who you are I walk a mile with a leash attached to your freak seminar It's a modern sensation on the boulevard of maintenance To sweep your broken hopes under the rugs then hug the playpen This revolution pushing through the loose pins and a strait jacket A maverick classed in a bunk category They had him parallel with a tattered glory division (I could devil drink dreams out of thermos) Yeah, with a whiskey afterburn It's like, nine o'clock wake (I'm up) spit obscentities My girl ties on my cape, smoke a bone then work my dental tree The clear day's laced with a classic mother nature thunderchaser set That got my papergrain's wings wet Voyeurist amendments lack expansive coverage in the syllabus I dance with shuckles while you man the keyhole grilling code I've done my chores according to God's schedule With coffee holding the wheel and nicotine working the pedals Metal edge kings that tends to rapel the pebble Kettle screaching out the operetta I live to autograph the iron curtain with doveback feather pens Spurting magma, cursing television urns to burn until my Cleopatra Minor (Major) dispersed slap on the wrist For the tennants lacking the arms to harbor the rarity of thick friendship Stuck with a "Yes sir" Change of fatigue to ankle Each beneath the angle I'ma call home until the rock meets the angels [Chorus 4x] [Robotic voice - repeat to fade] One, two, one, two, three, four

Project Boy

JOELL ORTIZ
[Intro:] Uh. Slow the music down just a tad [Nas:] "The projects" [Flava Flav:] "Bwoyyyy" Uh. Yeah. That sound good right there Joell Ortiz. Yaowa! Premier what up man? Uh "The projects" [Verse 1:] God damn it, I done did it again I swear them cameras flash every time I pick up a pen What y'all spit sugar coated, I be spittin' that phlegm Cause where I come from, little dudes got guns bigger than them And crack heads smoke anything that fit in that stem And little girls do grown men just to sit in that Benz I'm from the projects boy (what) I'm from the projects boy (what) If you're not from there listen close I drop some knowledge boy Night, time you hear thunder from the hottest toy If you upstairs you sayin' prayers hopin' it's not your boy With police around, it ain't just to lock you up (naw) They hope somethin' look like a gun so they can pop you up See me, I play it smooth like a hockey puck If I ain't writin', I'm in the room with a stocky slut It ain't friendly outside Cause like 'rybody po' for that doe you can go Let me let 'rybody know this [Chorus: scratch] "Now this here is for the projects" [Flava Flav:] "Bwoy!" "Now this here is for the projects" [Royce Da 5'9":] "It's wrong or not" [Royce Da 5'9":] "This is rap" [Royce Da 5'9":] "That's all you got" [Verse 2:] See where I come from Motherfuckers get home from up top And the kids they used to send to the store own the spot And them young boys don't give a what if you old or not You talk that "listen shorty" shit and he will roast your knot While you was gone, he got it on and moved that dope and rock But before them roosters cock-a-doodle-do he post the block Yeah that's a projects boy (what) Yeah that's a projects boy (what) If you ain't from here listen close I'll drop some knowledge boy Snitchin'? We don't allow that Man, you tell and you dead The repercussion be disgustin' Put Joell in the Fed Somebody clothes and shottie smoke till their melon is red In the streets my name hold weight like elephant legs I'm a projects boy Crooper's P's be here They let me in and now it's locked like pezzy hair Oh you don't get it? Let's please be clear It's like I went celibate Cause ain't nobody fuckin' with Ortiz this year [Chorus: scratch] "Now this here is for the projects" [Flava Flav:] "Bwoy!" "Now this here is for the projects" [Royce Da 5'9":] "It's wrong or not" [Royce Da 5'9":] "This is rap" [Royce Da 5'9":] "That's all you got" [Verse 3:] Man, I love where I'm from You can call it the hood Call it the ghetto, call it the gutter, call it the slum I'm callin' it home That's where I roamed all my life This trouble is all I know so that's all I write (listen) My family my friends, we are not all alright (nope) So when I pick up this mic, I rhyme with all of my might I'm from the projects boy (what) I'm from the projects boy (what) If you ain't from there, listen close, I'll drop some knowledge boy See I ain't got to listen close You make a lot of noise I hear your whole conversation Every word The project walls thinner than my Blackberry Curve When I was young my moms and pops got on my every nerve With all that arguin' Until that check hit And them food stamps held them down like a tec clip Then daddy made an exit Mommy couldn't accept it In and out the crib for that next hit That project shit nigga [Chorus: scratch] "Now this here is for the projects" [Flava Flav:] "Bwoy!" "Now this here is for the projects" [Royce Da 5'9":] "It's wrong or not" [Royce Da 5'9":] "This is rap" [Royce Da 5'9":] "That's all you got"

I'm Me Freestyle

ACE HOOD "Ace Won't Fold"
A say hello to mister cutthroat bodys on the damn flo All about the cash flow like my money in bank rolls These haters pissed they know I'm the shit like my asshole And I'm from the city were fuckin snitches don't last long And I'm in the city were u keep it real or get mashed on Yes that be broward county I love it it's still home If they don't like it a say fuckem still they walls gone And to my city got to meet up with yo mans homes For lot of dell pumping for browder be my damn zone Feel that anyway with it you can get serviced like a cell phone They got that coke it's brightest whitest like a snow cone And I'm me give my all behind this microphone I give my blood sweat in tears in till my casket closed In tell then I'm a givem wat they askin for Hope up out that newest shit louie kicks wavin makon six See me with that square in I'll blow a kiss at yo ladys kid Fuck the politics I am all the shit that I say I am Yes I know I'm blessed am bonnies angel I'm heaven sent That's word to mother mommy never see yo baby quit And know matter how many blocks of haters yo youngin get So f'em all I'm taking over let me in this bitch It's buck buck bang it throw grenades wen I am in the mix I got my hand over they throat in now they shitten bricks I'm climbing to the top and every one is like who is this tellem who the shit ace hood homie And now I'm back I signed my deala for a couple m's And I am next to be the best up in this southern limit And I'm from the city were ther is no mister millionaires And now I'm back I signed my deala for a couple m's And I'm next to be the best up in this southern limit And I'm next to be the best up in the southern limit I'm from the city were there ain't know mister millionaires That's why today I got my deal I cried a hundred tears Cause once I got it promised momma that we out of here My swag changed in I lit up like the city fair I started doing interviews and photo shoots to death These niggas seen it and they hollin bout this shit ain't fair Why he ain't chose me how come he chose him Well play this song back in listen to this shit again Well play this song back in listen to this shit again Well play this song back in listen to this shit again Make sure you comprehend make sure you understand do that just do that do that I am the fuckin man

Know The Rep

JOHN CENA "You Can't See Me"
[Freddie Foxxx a.k.a. Bumpy Knuckles] Hahahaha... Y'all know the rep, yeah, listen My name is Bumpy Knuckles, I write that fuckin flame And kill for the right price I got a buckin name My forty caliber too fresh, stuck in aim We roll like 18 wheelers in the truckin game I'm nice with mics there's nothin more I like than to paralyze your left side and leave you all right I be layin front of your crib with Tec-y all night Tryin to get them 9 millimeters loaded up tight, listen I'm like a Cadillac, I write a battle rap so smooth contest you'll be out of that Y'all know the beef is stewin, that Bumpy came to ruin You may be signed but you don't know what the fuck you doin I make aight hot, I make dope raw And send you higher than a long Colt four-four You know the only rap pimp that kept a ho poor And slam a fool on his back and break the whole floor [Chorus: Bumpy Knuckles] A yes yes y'all, and you don't stop We keep on, once the cops are gone This is real street spit you best be warned Tell your favorite MC the mic is on A yes yes y'all, and you don't stop We keep on, once the cops are gone [John Cena] Yeah, yeah It's the J daddy, not Hov' or Jam Master My mic is correct, but y'all know the hands faster See you bitch rappers I'm attackin the pile Y'all be cryin foul cause I'm hackin your style I make sure you and your mans done When I see y'all both drop, I'm the cat screamin And1 You see me on the team dog you know the game's over Stones on my wrist, and a chip on my shoulder Sixteens cashin in on another hot beat Go cop me a drop with the butterscotch seats And we better not meet, if we do you gon' see a change Make sure you whole FACE gettin rearranged We rollin up in the blacked out truck dog It's Freddie Foxxx, now you deal with Corrupt Mob It's gas on the fire, any time a track blaze Squad known to beef up the Heat, just like the Shaq trade [Tha Trademarc] This my 9 to 5, this ain't no hobby cat Copycat killers bite styles, my rhyme piles is heavy Give me a beat, man I'll body that Spittin that heat street raps man they nod to that What you smilin at? You R&B, man that's hardly rap You lost the beat, man you bought a map Matter fact, here's my next rap, borrow that Been off the street too long, I want my corner back You ain't a player, you a armchair quarterback You ride the beat like side streets on a flat Don't play dumb, I know where you came from You only seen slugs buddy after the rain come Keep it subtle, Trademarc got you bitch like babies suckin tits talkin 'bout mami let's cuddle It's gon' be what it's gon' be, you duck down A quiet cat with a violent rap, what now? [Chorus]

I Can't Write Left Handed

JOHN LEGEND "Wake Up!"
I can't write left-handed Would you please write a letter, write a letter to my mother? Tell her to tell, tell her to tell, tell her to tell the family lawyer Trying to get, trying to get a deferment for my younger brother Tell the Reverend Harris to pray for me, Lord, Lord, Lord I ain't gonna live, I don't believe I'm going to live to get much older Strange little man over here in Vietnam I ain't, I ain't never seen Bless his heart ain't never done nothing to, He done shot me in my shoulder Boot camp we had classes You know we talked about fighting, fighting everyday And looking through rosy, rosy colored glasses I must admit it seemed exciting anyway Oh, but something that day overlooked to tell me, Lord Bullets look better, I must say Brother when they ain't coming at you But going out the other way And please call up the Reverend, call up, call up the Reverend Harris Tell him to ask the Lord to do some good things for me Tell him I ain't gonna live, I ain't gonna live, I ain't gonna live To get much older, oh Lord Strange little man over here in Vietnam, I ain't never seen Bless his heart ain't never done nothing to, He done shot me in my shoulder Lord

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