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Du Husker lyrics

The Biggest Lie

Original and similar lyrics
you think you've made it to the top because people know your name, it's still the same. your daydreams aren't forever, better get your shit together for a new game. back to your day job, back to your girlfriend, back to your hometown, the biggest lie. passing harsher judgement, but you brought it on yourself by being you. your respect for ne sucess, you tried to be a hero, but you end up nothing

Rolling With Heat

THE ROOTS
[Chorus: Kweli & Dice Raw] Downtown everybody move to the beat Uptown everybody moving the heat Cross-town the party where both sides meet Eastside, westside, there's always beef X2 [Kweli] I tattoo the page with the permanent ink Mr. Rourke on your Fantasy Island The umbrella in your tropical drinks Still run it up it, liquor in your cup Fucking you up Hang over the banister You feel the rush of the blood going straight to your brain Ain't no love, you only love bringing hate to the game Taking my name in vain, mistaking license for freedom He make music for the people, people dying to meet him People! We still abuse it, while the rich is made of music He probably driving a Buick and be rocking van--- ? G-U-E relevant, see how his man do it Fucking with niggas from illa fifth, see how we ran through it The river in the valley The nigga in the alley Rolling with the heat from BK to killer Cali The hands will fake the clapping You'll be collasping You softer than the land on legs Transforming the landscape Like a sandstorm in the Sahara I am the truest nigga I do more shows than The Roots to Carol Lewis Creative artist, never play the targets of game hunters You may want to test this product like cane smugglers Dis disco shit Popping like Crisco Hitting your face Spit in your face like pistol shit My style, wild like wipple whip I go back like a pistol grip It's pro-black, Kweli! [Chorus] w/o Kweli [Black Thought] I'm a FED like Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms Willy gank, spit the killer dank dialogue Pyro-maniac like Dr. Molotov I knock the bottle off And knock the model off Gots some non-believers here Some how I'll save y'all Or stop y'all worries, you makin me vexed Hit up gekko, this ain't got gold correct I'll fuck around and hit your body like ? Cuz you a toy not a soldier yet You better hold your neck You dick smokers get no respect With the blood, ice your watch, rock your rocks Better rock it on the screen and not the blocks Cuz them crews don't stop them shots It's so many that fly, they chase down, I just stop and watch I'm from the south side of philly, it's known to get gruesome Heavy hitter villians these alleyways produce them Heavy hitter on a pocket we find a way to juice them They may as well pay, schmuck Introducing the B-to L-A see me the king splitter Then analyze this dime, the main thing glitter Then analyze the taste in your mouth, it seem bitter Ganster, valid dick torian, graduate of I dare you If you are paper thin I'm a tear you I'm a come take care of you put a part in your hairdo You barking like I'm a starting to scare you But speak up like a man nigga so your body guards can hear you [Chorus] w/o Kweli

As One

JAY-Z "The Blueprint 2: The Gift & The Curse"
(feat. Freeway, Memphis Bleek, Sparks & others) [Rell] We're the ones with the flame ([Jay-Z:] 'Yeah') We're the fire that remains ([Jay-Z:] 'Turn Rell up a little bit') We're controllin' the game from now on ([Jay-Z:] 'Huh') [Jay-Z] Yeah! It's the world reknown Internationally connected Locally accepted Roc-A-Fella Records Don't get it confused ([Rell:] 'Roc, baby') Doin' what we do ([Rell:] 'It's The Roc, baby') B. Sig., Rell, Peedi Crakk, Free, Young H-O, Bleek ([Rell:] 'You understand') Introducin' [Young Chris] It's Young C ([Neef:] 'Young C!') Home of Philly, young and hungry All the girlies wanna fall in lust with me And every hood in the world discussin' me I hated once when I didn't give it up to Neef [Neef] It's Neef Buck ([Chris:] 'Neef Buck!') Out the cut ([Chris:] 'Out the cut!') All the haters wanna claim that they fuck with us It ain't a game, niggas know that they Toys R Us They can't fuck with us [Young Chris] AAAWWWWWW [Sparks] I'm the one Man I'm money, hoes, clothes and shows To do with your ho all wrapped in one I'm not done Man, I'm the shit after its all said and done The one to cop one, come back for another one Quick fast, like rapid refund I'm the grrrrrrr mean green out the money machine I'm not done I'm Omilio, and interviews thought you could hold Sparks in the hood [Jay-Z] And you like it [Young Chris] All those haters talkin shit we don't like it [Beanie Sigel] We love it That black mask, black glove shit Roll up on him don't budge, bitch With my mack, and my tech And my vest, just like that For them niggas thinkin' Mack Milli not really from the streets I'm that gallstone trapped in the belly of the beast [Rell] Those seen here we'll lead you forever And we will not leave you, never And our voices will ring ([Sparks:] 'rrriinngg') together As one [Young Chris] AAAWWWWW [Freeway] It's young Free Move, workin' the wheel Hand jerkin' the V Busters don't let you crossed the line Thinkin I'm off my job But I'm on like Chris when he popped his cuz Thinkin them slugs'll fly [Peedi Crakk] Call me P.C. Tempers feelin', I peel Look how I'm killin' the wheel The fitted tilt to the left The shirt blend with the sweats Your girls skirts invest She undressin', don't stare Check the picture nigga [Jay-Z] I'm the one Young H-O, a game of one What you think I'd do to the brain of that dame you brung Listen hon, twist one, this Armi, sip some It's only 40 proof, it feel like 151 When I'm done Make a run with The Roc Rock Air Force 1's Rock a bun, hide shit in her hair when I come Through customs, cops can't bust him It's Hov the Hustler, I'm having one hell of a run [Jay-Z] And you like it [Young Chris] All those haters talkin' shit we don't like it [Memphis Bleek] No, we love it I got a mommy with a body, don't touch it You can't fuck wit Young Easy, I on the Just Blaze production You get nothin' We get enough spins Can't stop us from coppin bottles while we clubbin' It's the R-O-C forever, tell the public, huh! [Rell] Those seen here we'll lead you forever And we will not leave you, never And our voices will ring ([Sparks:] 'rrriinngg') together As one [Young Chris] AAAWWWWW

Heated

TRINA
2004 Shit.. You know the name (Triinna!!) [Guy] This is a world premiere. Trina, talk to em. -Chorus- ×2 (pick It up) You don't want to see me heated ya'll (pick it up) You don't want to see me heated ya'll (pick it up) You don't want to see me heated ya'll [tell em why girl] Bitch I'll fuck your ass up -Verse 1- Bad bitch, from the south keep shit locked Any bitch run her mouth will get dropped See me ride in the 6 Drop You aint heard? My nookie's so good It could resurrect Pac Trina ride on the track, never take a pit stop You only on the radio cause you fucked the disc jock It's Saturday, let the cryss pop Me and lil Bre Von Dutch head to the flip-flops Hop out the G5, and off to the jet You in that Nissan, that's why you don't get respect Everywhere I go, I got cameras flashing You the preview, I'm the main attraction And your man is watchin, you gettin all mad Your heart beat fast, everytime I walk past, My hand real hard, but I got a soft ass I play the sweet role, don't make me get off glass -Chorus- ×2 -Verse 2- Shit can't stop, Franky B Jeans, with the matchin tank top, Tell me I aint hot, If you think not, lame whore catch shots, This nigga thinking I'm sweatin his rolex watch You need more than that to get in my thighs, A car that flies, maybe a house in the sky I know you wanna beat it up right quick And I was the first bitch Kobe cheated on his wife with. (Ohhh!) Tight Shit – Diamond Princess Don't be the first name on my hit list Trust me, that's not a good look I'm a vet you a rook, hoes better get shook Bitch go read a book, find something to slob You workin my nerves like a part time job 5 Years in the game, still undefeated We could do the damn thing, don't get me heated -Chorus- ×2 Miss Trina, ahead of the game Act up, hoes better get ready for pain No talk, I'ont let em explain Off the chain from the city in the south Where the weather the same Drunk niggas in the club stay spittin the game He wanna make sweet love, but I'd rather the brains Better eat it till I can't walk straight And if Chingy ever tried he'll probly talk straight I'm that bitch that you hate – getting paid to rap Busta got his rhymes when I made it clap I'm the first girl to put Jade on the map I touched my toes – your man came in his lap Hypno and cryss might have me fuckin tonite And if you can't feel this, you ain't touchin it right I know Cali got my back and when he turn it up and hit the lights bitch watch yo back -Chorus- ×2

Imported Goods

ACTION BRONSON
[Verse 1:] Orlando Magic warm-up suits and black Shaqs '95: younger Bronson on the fast track To blast gat, now I'm looking past that I want the cash stack higher than the NASDAQ I put the work in, the downtime I'm cooking lamb A thousand Dutches in the air like it's a reefer jam Aretha Jan you better R-E-S-P-E-C-T me Or risk the forest where the motherfucking resutine be Peking duck, and large liver, goose carver Swiss Bally's, smoke cigar just like a new father You know the motto, jacket to the knee I can't help if I'm a fiend, I had to tap into the beat, Lord Spark a seance, cause everybody lifted I'm like the strainer with the fucking powder being sifted up This is Queens Day, alleys where the fiends play You cuffed against all the construction, take it easy [Hook:] This for my people making sales until they back hurt See the beast on the creep, they let the Mac squirt Bitch on the backs, that do the dippies on the bikes, and Loud pipes and rocking leathers like a wild Viking My man who just came home, and some are going up Fiends up in the alley, sippin Balley fucking throwing up Keep your mind straight, focus on the prize Always diving into thighs, blowing smoke into the skies [Verse 2:] Bronsonelli the problem, we got the party reeking Never see us starving, all my people hardly speaking When it's time, though, we form into a single file Spray the fucking ballcourt without hitting a single child Hop in the Beamer, Pigeon popping the nina Getting top in a steamer, scoping rock in a Tina Hooker, that type of looker eat the pussy from the back Take the children to the school, baking cookies, serving packs all day Know the verbal, is Oscar-winning You cop a squat to piss in, only focused on them rocks that glisten Suppositories in the ass of you, the green Fila with a Horsey how this motherfucking bastard do Bet the crib that you ain't fucking with this grown man I'll E. Honda a thousand, slap you with the whole hand Sex a dime, herbally, a blessed time Check the rhyme motherfucker, better recognize [Hook] [Verse 3:] The eyes slanted from the origami, I roll a quarter of the water Near the border, where you oughta find me The Tamborine Man pumping while the Tyson burning Air Tech Challenge, clay court, checks balance Stay endorsing that weak shit, my team spit That mean shit, like stepping in some fiend's shit Now you sick to your stomach because you stunted Word got fronted, another motherfucking jerk confronted Post pattern, Lonnie threw the loaf at 'em Flushing, motherfucker, keep a toast up by the gold Saturn Little doulas on the block we tell 'em "go stab 'em" Relieve him of his shoes, it's easier to toe tag em' Carhartt sets and Horseys like the Preakness Bronson love a freak bitch, dining on that Greek dish That's the a-hole, all my people AWOL Cash inside the case and now the judges want to play ball [Hook]

Whatcha Want

JT Money "Pimping On Wax"
Nigga, be the shit like manure No niggas true'er, gats go boo-ya! Slugs go through ya', give a fuck who ya' claim to be None of y'all niggas can't hang with me Gimme some room, let me slang these bow's Flaw ass niggas, trick ass hoes Pull a blade game, finna get you killed Fuck with mine, I'll split your wig Take no shorts, play no games Put it on your ass boy, it ain't no thang Chickens say J, let em stray Death to them niggas that playa hate Can't apologize nigga, its too late Whatcha want boy, come meet your fate Know when you take, your ass gonna die I'm the last nigga you wanna try hook Whatcha want boy, nigga what you want huh? (x8) I keep my business on the low-down Cause the motherfuckers act like they so down Wait up hoe, sit your ass better slow down Cause I got enough bucks for us to go round' I'm the type of nigga to get in your town Find out where you live, kick your door down Run up in it, lay you and your hoe down Introduce both of y'all to the floor pal Better know pal, J don't play shit Real nigga from the M-I-A bitch Flawed niggas in the game on their last leg ???? Better move that shit, before I come through Cause I'm a hit you with more than the 1-2 I'm who, dat nigga you don't wanna fuck wit' Hit your white ass open like a dove shit Better bust bitch hook It's a dirty game, niggas off the chain Better keep a thang, better bang-bang Gotta lay my hang up in this bitch Flaw ass niggas, I'm a bust your shit Money man comin', better start runnin' Nigga when I'm coming, believe I'm gunnin' Step to plate, I'ma shut you down Got them choppers to cut you down Wassup now, nigga still wanna play Fuck with J, be D.O.A Ain't no game, boy I said that before Put a nigga ass six feet below Nigga whatcha want, nigga whatcha need Don't wanna die, then you better take heed Rotten niggas gettin' beside theyself Nigga like me, get bad for your health boy hook

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