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BUBBA SPARXXX lyrics - Dark Days Bright Nights


Original and similar lyrics
[C.I.] Yeah, ha (B.K.) C.I. (okay) Yo You ever rolled up in a convenience store with a forty-four and told the cashier to drop to the floor But you didn't take anything but a bag of chips a half gallon of milk, some juice, and a box of grits [Bubba] Nah but I might walk up in Kroger, head straight for the DVD's Stuff 'bout four of 'em in my cargo, smile and flee with ease Then hit up the Super Target, exchange 'em for store credit That's sixty dollars worth of grub, some squares and a case of Bud [C.I.] Yo.. yo you ever invested your money in some internet stock Seen how your cheese multiply quicker than sellin rocks [Bubba] I invest in pharmaceuticals like Xanax and Loritabs Take 'em all with alcohol, then hunt for some more to grab [C.I.] Yo.. you ever had a chick with no brains, but liked to give 'em that had the nerve to ask you to scream her name while you hit it [Bubba] Haha.. nah but I know this Betty who licks ass for her enjoyment She also takes golden showers and drinks the piss from out my toilet And when it's time for the deployment of doo-doo from out my anus She likes to catch it in her hands and lick the excess from her fingers [C.I.] Yo, you ever tried to purchase a car with a personal check Have your lady call you a dog, and send you to the vet Ever been in trouble with the cops, for more than three times from tryin to sell digital video cameras to the blind [Bubba] Mannnn fuck purchasin a car, I live on 'New Jersey Drive' Athens Georgia, three-oh-six-oh-five, that ain't no lie And my girl don't even speak cause I get violent when I drink But it's perfect cause she don't talk, I need some silence when I think about the thirty-three times the law tangled me up With chunky tray, legs up, stuck, thinkin we fuck Well screw 'em they ain't enough to stop these Sparxxx from flyin If Bubba ain't the truth that just mean that my heart is lyin [Chorus: repeat 2X] No matter what you ask me, I'm givin you Bubba Kay Just the truth of the matter okay Fuck what you say Nuttin more nuttin less, I'ma get it off my chest C.I., spit what I feel, regardless [Bubba] Would you rather move two thousand units and be critically acclaimed or sell two million out the gate and be labelled lyrically lame In other words, would you prefer to have dem mics in The Source or a Grammy, some jazzy broads, a little ice and a Porsche [C.I.] I ain't gon' lie, I'm tryin to sell three million out the gate (okay) And get six mics in The Source off of lyrical force And push a custom made Porsche and a Range with the woodgrain And spit verses sharp enough to cut straight to your brain [Bubba] Well, you ever fucked a chunky broad, weighin three hundred plus up and actually took some pride to the shit, and didn't rush none [C.I.] Yo.. when it comes to big chicks, C.I. plead the fifth Cause I only weigh a buck-fifty and I don't own a forklift [Bubba] Man have you ever snorted coke 'til your heart sat in your throat then took your whole advance to buy more, and woke up broke [C.I.] Yo.. C.I. don't do drugs, I hang out with corporate thugs that transport microchips and oriental rugs Then sell 'em on the streets for as much as they can The only Coke I mess with comes in sixteen ounce cans [Bubba] But would ever consider dancin with the devil for paper Fly with me and Fred Durst on an embezzlement caper Would you bet on the Lakers if Jordan played for the Clippers or leave yo' girl and move to Vegas with a STABLE of strippers [C.I.] Yo.. I wouldn't dance with the devil, the stocks are too hot And if Jordan played for the Clippers I'd claim Cali like 'Pac And I'm not into embezzlement, I like hostile takeovers Corporate jets, BMW's and Range Rovers cause they're tax writeoffs, they're all business expenses And as far as that stripper, yo I let my man hit her (man c'mon) C to the I, Central Intelligence And if I did touch her believe me you wouldn't find a trace of evidence [Chorus - repeat 2X] [Bubba Sparxxx] Yeah (C.I., and Bubba Sparxx, nonsense) I think in conclusion, it could be said That no matter where the fuck I'm at No matter who the fuck I'm around I'ma do what the fuck +I+ do Ride walk leave it or love it I don't give a fuck Now I fucks with a motherfucker like C.I. 'til we both bleed 'til we can't bleed no more just cause I know he'll do that same type of shit The East, the West, don't forget about the South Don't forget about the motherfuckin South Bubba Kay worldwide, ay Venice to Venezeula, () Y'all know what the fuck it is.. () bitch


OL' DIRTY BASTARD "Trials Tribulations Of Russell Jones"
[Chorus: Ol' Dirty Bastard (singin)] Reunited cuz it feels so good Reunited cuz we're understood There's one perfect thing and children this one is it We both we're so excited cuz we're reunited, hey! hey! [Ol' Dirty Bastard] I'm known on the microphone as the rap professor Casual dresser, you may dress fresher The way that I speak this shit is energetic My physique of meat is quick atheletic Remove all MC's who disapprove that my funky fresh particle always have the groove You're jealous over me because you're not a competitor You're just a donor, I'm the rap editor Tryin to rock the mic when you get an appetite All negative on the mic, I dislike Try to rock the mic but only will reduce Try to get loose, you juice as a youth Not knowin to yourself that you shall be frozen I'm the MC warrior, who has been chosen to rock and shock beats, polite when I recite Sulfur MC's, you are down right, out right Try to be talkative, there's no alternative Hide until I forgive, this motive I am unique with the perfected physique The objective of my rhyme is my own technique I maintain the paradise on this Earth with the shut the fuck up style for what this shit is worth Watch a nigga catch a purse Super-hero niggaz die Do my dirt, get away and multiply You bitches, ya nice guys Always want bitch, because ya need mine I pleased on how I get up on the stage and fuck up the show Cuz nobody can't fuck with me! You bootleggin buyin motherfuckers, don't do that with me with all these child-support cases I got, I needs my money! Earl for ages, a 100 and down, sacrifice ya baby to the underground The best kept secret, how does it feel to be boxin in like a skeleton, growin back ya skin? When I was young, I was taught how to produce the science of babies gettin loose I turned white boys to Springsteen spruce Black to spooks, gave the Chinese Bruce I can't help it if my style is foggy, monster boogie Get ya high on my patio, all come to see me movie Bicthes, you're walkin on my dirt We ain't sayin nuthin I whisper in ya ear, make ya blink cold Pert Love potion, plenty bones I put up What!? What!? What!? What!? You know what time it is, mothefuckers! [Chorus] [Outro: Ol' Dirty Bastard] I want to give a big shout out to the Wu-Tang Clan We holdin it down. YouknowI'msayin? I also want to show mad love to Puffy cuz you holdin it down Master P, you holdin it down KnowI'msayin? Dr.Dre, you holdin it down Give Snoop my love, E-40 MC Eiht, West Coast, word is bond This is family, I don't give a fuck! Striaght up. It's Dirt Dog, nigga! Y'all niggaz know how the fuck I get down! knowI'msayin? I'm here to represent this shit! KnowImean? I love y'all niggaz! Motherfucker, my stomach hurts! Bitch, I got to go! (ah, Wu-Tang motherfuckers...)

What Son What - Capone-n-noreaga

Funkmaster Flex "The Mix Tape, Vol. 4: 60 Minutes of Funk"
[Noreaga - talking] Lets keep it grimy! (get with that shit) What y'all niggaz get man? What y'all gets murder unit (murder unit) or burn unit (burn unit) Get a real fuckin life unit (real life fuckin unit) A real unit; a motherfuckin, CNN shit (CNN!) My nigga Swift on the motherfuckin fours (fours) We thugged out y'all (what!) Yo, yo.. we thugged out y'all! [Chorus: Capone-N-Noreaga] [N] I say I don't really give a fuck [C] Why do don't really give the fuck? [N] Cause I don't really give a fuck [C] So we don't really give the fuck [N] You gon' roll with me? [C] Hell yeah [N] What son what!? You gon' roll with me? [C] Hell yeah [N] What son what!? You gon' roll with me? [C] Hell yeah [N] What son what!? You gon' ride with me? [C] Hell yeah [N] What son what!? You gon' die with me? [C] Hell yeah [N] What son what!? [Capone] Right every bill I stack another war, story and track Settle down for money; hungry cats peddle the crack Some strive to be the man but never make it that's the granted further What part you playin the game, who gonna slash worker Some'll pray to Jesus, I pray to Jes to free us Don't look for bail Rufus bail Criminal Court When a judge holla Father you sure? Cats never sent a nigga to jail, they send him bail I been as real as I stealin free lunch I got the greats from this old man give me hearse and, I made a move from a plan scauwered new land (fuck a blue van) My shoes bang, ficticious niggaz, walk in the path that I lead (I lead) Do crime in New York, money and murder Gentleman talk, ball like Atlanta Hawk No respect, this on the stacks of the court I started off in the street thing, triple it's on [Chorus] [M.A.Z.E.] Ya niggaz livin a lie, spittin the same Its no room, no BI for y'all in the game See me I, stay where it pop Off the chain like my diss and it rocks Movin the same is the strippin the spot I'm hot, rock glizzery from the bottom to top Grizzy, don't let it pop, didn't he spy on these hoes To piss off the killer in me Me and six will slick through it (through it) Bronx river to the con do it I see Don P calm as me, like spazin dead on your cheek Like green to my eye, shit, write it down sincere Get to say my name in the air Niggaz pipe down, put they mic down Niggaz scared that we ain't even drop yet Yet this year we show ya all who the hottest (hottest) The projects, I rep to my death (rep it nigga!) X'd out hoes, we regulate (X'd out hoes!) We ain't sharin or fillin 'boes; see how we go? [Chorus] - with Noreaga adlibs [Noreaga] Keep the Mac under the seat To fast niggaz ready to creep And my niggaz stayin with heat Like the hook go - what son what!? Like the shit go - what son what!? See me in the hood though With a hood though, with a little puppet And we doing no good though Pussy sub, pussy sub, through the club Niggaz don't need no math I rather, get head, I don't need no ass Fuck all of y'all, y'all don't really rep for me I mean you, and you ain't the set for me I'm in different vicinities, gettin high with your enemies So niggaz better stop playin Before I get the M-One and just start sprayin Keep your block on lock, so now you go Nigga, I sell bricks like my name Alpo [Chorus] [Mussolini] It's no rumor what you hear about us in clubs Or freight some young Blood No vest protect the shot for your mug Snake niggaz hear the move, every chance they get Rap niggaz I'ma dead 'em on the advance they get Hustlin niggaz, I catch y'all Uptown Soon as papi hit you, I'm right behind you holding it down Ya niggaz, got it confused Pop bottles and boo's Might fit, make you come out of your jewels A little more richer Every sixteenth spit a little more sicker Rap for M.A.Z.E. cause that's my nigga I spit it for the streets My bitches and freaks, lacking four to twenty G's Thugging every week, stylin out, Violator I'm wildin out MU and thugged out, them hoes talkin about We off the yell dogg, the entire know this song Cause me and M.A.Z.E. bet fire, thugged out strong, motherfucker [Chorus] [Norega] Huh? Huh? We say what son what!? Huh? What? Yeah (stop playing.. motherfucker) Yeah, yeah; we say what son what!? Huh? Huh? Yeah, yeah; we say what son what!? Huh? Huh? Huh? Yeah yeah, we say what son what!? Burn unit, burn unit; my nigga Swift on the motherfuckin four's What what? {*Noreaga continues to adlib in background*} [Funkmaster Flex - over end of Noreaga] Yeah, Capone-N-Nore baby! Thugged Out! Shout to Martin Moore Shout to my man Gina Things is happenin baby Sixty Minutes of Funk Volume Four (okay) Shout to Irv Gotti (ill sound, murder)

Mesu'z Thugz Cry

For the ghetto media don't let the light-skin fool ya' I will fuck you up. This is what it sound like. This is what it sound like.(x9) When thugz cry. When thugz cry.(x9) Nigga we represent th planet get schizophrenic n panic maybe the past would understand if they'd get off their ass and mash. How do you manage? Paranoid ,don't even trust my boyz watch for the plot and deploys envoys scopin like a dope fiend but I'm smokin in the alleyz with these ghetto guns and erase my funds Watts, niggaz in Cali take bullets to the brain still rowdy Jesus really never died, you crucified mutual suicide who am I? Local with vocals goin coast to coast Heaven'll move me right fo' sho' deception weather my brethren but sunny dayz when they parlay get killed when they get tah' steppin 'member the weapon'z close and the doctor said I need time to myself on the ocean those frivolous thoughts but I'm brought up full of this independence caught up sever relentless evil intentions nobody knowz him even the henchman warrior, poet, never to mention I love my lady rebel we can get the stroke on, we can get the stroke on, we can get the stroke on. This is what it sound like. This is what it sound like.(x9) When thugz cry. When thugz cry.(x9) We keepin tha liht on at ruthless and I ain't fuckin the boss lookin at me sexy take your cloths off but my dick'll go soft! never mix business with your sickness enemy see me flippin in panic with your little divide and conquer but my sister was ready to bomb her! Get off the dizznik, and up off my voice me and my boyz give us a choice how could you ever tell Sony that I was the only one makin noise ain't it a breech of trust look in the gutter, unh, never judge yo book by it's cover, word to the mathafucker I......I didn't stutter but what if I lost it and came in the office and nobody noticed with liquid explosives on top of Versace cloths give up the ghost Krayzie's Picasso, lil' Layzie like ceasar, Stacks like lil' Pesci N Casino and Wish don't give a fuck! O I'm Gambino -n- the walkin dead woke up on the wrong side of the bed Bible of survival triple six rivals, triple six rival member you said I read but I roll with killaz ,Niggaz that'll bust in the club you don't feel us strapped in the bed, strapped pickin up the kids in the realist, the realist, the realist. This is what it sound like. This is what it sound like.(x9) When thugz cry. When thugz cry.(x9) It'll make your body shake when it's too late soon as you flipped off the safety baby this we all day don't tell me you crazy, will they sell me? Hell naw! For the reason this weepin widow be the demon so cheap and at least she peepin go peep deep dead in yo pockets no sleep Rollin' with my ccrucifix Lucifer usually uses the rule of these wicked tricks in the school of these ghetto games and the fool of this bitches mist I say shame, shame, shame. Enemies attacking me actually I'm in the grain ask Mr. Majesty these casualties well they're passin me by but I hear death callin' when it's so cold in the room who's stalling better come after me, we say fuck y'all all in the battle we, battle we, battle we. This is what it sound like. This is what it sound like.(x9) When thugz cry. When thugz cry.(x9)


LL COOL J "G.O.A.T. (Greatest Of All Time)"
[LL Cool J] Ayo this is the infinite, intelligent, extravagant and eloquent That shit y'all talkin is irrelevant I put it down from the gutter to the tenement It's LL Cool J nigga, everything I do is excellent And I got to represent, Q-Boro, the thorough Y'knawmean We get down, we get down baby Check this shit out right here, uh E Pluribus Unum is the album I'ma drop It'll make you bitch niggas as hard as rocks Givin head to the glock, pretend it's hard cock Splashin niggas I came slow through the block I'm, the original, visual, individual Ten times platinum your career's lookin critical Reach for this, motherfuck being a criminal Look in your bitch eyes, the vibe is subliminal You wanna freestyle fuck that I need at least seven figures to even touch that But since everybody was underestimatin' my format I dropped Ill Bomb and now niggas want more of that Aint a rapper dead or alive fuckin wit me Ask the last bitch that tried to come and get me Talk about paper, I can talk about broads I can talk about movies, I can talk about awards Fuck the fantasies, yo I got all four And 2001'll be mine, by law Why name the Greatest Of All Times Because for fifteen years I kept y'all standin in line Lovin the way I shine and my lyrics combine With the ruggedest, illest beats that Def Jam can find Fuck them other niggas with their 9 or 10 hits My hits run deep as the emotions of your bitch Back in the days it was the M fast stick But now the Bentley is all get more whores on the dick This ones for Clue and my Riker's Island niggas That remember when I came through The big O B C C H D M 2 C 74 Little Nasi and the crew, y'all niggas come home Word up, the new album gon' be the shit baby Aint no doubt about it, E Pluribus Unum Out of many one, The G.O.A.T., Greatest Of All Time...

Facing Off

M.O.P. "First Family For Life"
Come on, come on Rap dudes, let's rap Rap dudes Yeah, (laughing) Yeah, come on motherfucka Yea I gave ya a hour nigga But now I want my shit back Bring it to ya ass Fizzy Wo Mack, L.A. I'm a continue to bring it to ya ass Motherfucka [Lil Fame] Welcome me back bitch nigga, it's the rapper dude (Slash) No actor dude (Brownsville), snap a dude You listen to gun shots pop, it's murder capitol We all for one boy, where them young boys clappin you And thugs hold the fort down tight, they bust back at you Another nigga drop, tryin to stop drug traffic dude B-Boy's employed decoys, just to trap a fool Any and every individual, this can happen too We move on niggas, rip two's on niggas Cuz ain't no tellin what them fellas about I remain in the cut, comprehendin ya doubts Back up off me, soft me, spit ten then I'm out Silly motherfuckas gettin carried away But they fuck around with Fame and get carried away Cuz I'm a nigga of the Earth, nigga of Sea Nigga of the Sky, the Fire, M.O.P. I'm a front big willie, like I'm runnin this game What I can play, Lil Fame like a mothafucka Say why ya rollin, I'm patrolin, man god on steel Who the fuck you think you are nigga? Ron O'Neal? (fuck outta here) All I really need is respect, that's what I'm mention for (bitch) What you inchin for (clack clack), what ya flinchin fo? And when it jump off don't ask did he know Because he knows who the fuck I am, Fizzy Woe Magnificent, baby [beat changes] Firing Squad One of a kind nigga, top of the line niggas, divine niggas Illest My niggas You know my steez nigga, you know my steez M.O.P., Fizzy Woe [Billy Danze] Yo I'm a Brownsville native junior, I'm talkin born and raised That's where we learn to let the pistol spark bark and blaze (First Family) Suffer for days (come on) And we inheritin them criminal ways I survive with a fist full of hopes and dreams And a hand full of niggas that I call upon team By the time I was thirteen (thirteen) I got myself a 318 and startin makin moves baby It's like I told ya boy, my environment put me on front line (Soldier Boy) Rapid fire the greatest of all time We 'em dance, waitin for Shaq to get back (welcome home my nigga) I done made plans - 96% of this world don't know I exist; that's why my point is gettin missed I walks with my brother Mike Sone, as I stroll thru the ghetto And the sun is like the wind beneath my wings like zeros [Laughing] Nigga Ha ha *several alarms heard*

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