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Block Work

Original and similar lyrics
[Jadakiss:] Yeah, ride out, they ain't got no money I'm losin' weight, uh, ride out [Jadakiss & Styles P:] Gather 'round, y'all, it's goin' down, y'all Block work, twenty-eight for the pound, y'all If he the king, I put a round in his crown, y'all He just talkin', but he pussy in the town, y'all I air 'em out, then put 'em in the ground, y'all Hit 'em in the church if he prayin' on my downfall It's either this or you wicked with a round ball It's a burial whenever we sound off Hands to the no-hander right after the round off Peanut butter guts, chocolate brown Porsche Word to Spanish, José, we was movin' the most yay Had my boys runnin' and gunnin', sound like 'Coach K' Listen, duke, you be shoot, but you know that it's both ways My gun splash brothers, I call 'em Curry and Klay In a hurry to get buried ever fuckin' with J Ah, Dave, come on, nigga, I see you ridin' the wave Brave like the crackers that helped hire the slaves Keep talkin', I kill you, then slide in your bae You got a homie up top, I have him die in a cage And you trigger-happy, you can't wait to fire the guage Go out on your shield, though you die in a blaze Gunfire, one liar, gon' put the truth in a maze I got the truck off the sour, got a coupe from the haze In the telly down south, I got me a few dames We ain't fuckin', but we stuffin' they pussy with cocaine Whipped out, fuck around and hop on the 2 train Robbed the first and last car to show you some true pain Wolf on the phone when I show you a few fangs It's a different kind of hot, my nigga, it's blue flames Dudes is startin' to get out of pocket; loose change Hard part: tryin' to stay still, move things Right before you about to murder someone, your mood change We came up like ninety bricks We had the city under siege since '96 Go online: you still won't find these kicks Like Frank White when he did the Chinese hit That's it, it's us, then everybody else after Our part of the good books a rough chapter Everything dead serious, enough laughter Fronto leaves, Raw papers and Dutch Masters, yeah You read more, you see more They tearin' shit up on the streets in B'more Some people don't know what it's like to be poor The hood is a one-way, ain't no detour You know the love course, the hate come free, y'all Those who protect and serve will knock your seed off The energy is negative, it's not to feed off Shit'll cool down when we knock the heat off [Jadakiss:] Get it? R.I.P. Freddie Gray Rest in peace homie that they shot in the back in South Carolina Eric Garner, Mike Brown, Glennis, rest in peace, baby girl And all y'all rappers one

Rite Now

Das EFX "Generation EFX"
From the floor keep it raw Yeah yo yo yo yo Verse 1: Dray Skoob I heard that one man's loss is the next man's gain I came to drop the shit like rain and bring the pain to your brain We leave a stain ain't prayin (why?) cos the game's for kids It's diggity Das no doubt back to shatter your wigs These pegs be all on my back cats be actin too brave I think they better just relax before we dig em a grave You blow the spot, baby face it, kids can't erase it or trace it, ya get'cha face lit, Books come lace it, what? Bringin it straight from the lands of the crooks where heat, Books to heat em Keepin em raw from these Brooklyn streets, where Books defeats em Flippin these lines like a polygraph, y'all niggas lolly dat Freakin a style from Brooklyn, the home of the bodybags And kids with no fear, bitches with no hair Low gear Benz's wit chrome wears, what we all here So don't stare, we there to interfere with the heads of ????? What you didn't know, this miggity might hurt Chorus: It's diggy Das, raw breed Make moves at top speed It's the niggas from the sewer Drink brew and puff weed Giggity get wit it Sewer rats stay twisted Many people tell me this style is terrific It's diggy Das, raw breed Make moves at top speed It's the niggas from the sewer Drink brew and puff weed Giggity get wit it Sewer rats stay twisted Aiyo, many people tell me this style is terrific Verse 2: Dray, Skoob Yo Well yo, in Glocks we trust, and at the cops we bust We just be hustlin for cash and makin lashes of muss They went from AZ to Jay-Z, Nas back to Krayzie To Drayzie, I fuck up your knot and then I'm swayze Word, yeah, yo, yo Well yo, figgity fuck a fear, wanna bust like a flare gun, beware, son, my sons keep guns in the air None of y'all bitches can sue me, all my niggas twenty one gun salute me Pick up the vine and rock the Kufi Well, all I heard was Versucci, coochie for the lucci The Gucci, but I just stay raw just like some sushi My crew be ill, time to move these mill's And all the drunken mawfuckers best to show they skills Yeah, yo, yo Well yo, the shit I talk, it be the shit I walk Some faggots try to get wild, they bit my style but got caught Like me and my man caught, slippin up at the crimescene Fuckin lime green, you fuckin wart, this is my team Chorus

El Moro

OUTLANDISH "Bread Barrels Of Water"
[Chorus] Out to change the game - el Moro Withstand the pain - el Moro Knock them out' the frame - el Moro If ya don't settle for less - el Moro Always God bless - el Moro Take out the best - el Moro We are Moro's - Outland Moro's [Rapverse1 (Majid)] Face the fear 'Cause you will never make it here I'm making it clear You better disappear Something rotten in Denmark like in Shakespeare I suggest you hold tight to the ones you hold dear Damn I'm getting tired of these motherfucking snakes Who's really jealous who's the ones that hates Claiming the got backs but they never share their cake Talking 'bout sharing but all they do is take The ultimate the illest shit popping you any tournament Take your rap and furnish it Majid the name you heard of it Calm your asses down the general screams at ease You practice no justice I convert no peace [Chorus] [Rapverse2 (Isam)] Once 3 kings Biggie, Pac and young Hov 9 out of 10 would put it 2 down and one to go Hearts full of hatred when it comes to this rap Got a classic (Oh oh) ya best be strapped Everyday the game is growing mo' money mo' problems Mo' concern on pushing big units mo' violent Hip hops changed, ain't a black thing anymore G Young kids in Baghdad showing 2 on 3 Holla West coast! Naah West bank for life Upside down, holla for my moros aight Spit rhymes in Arabic on the same level like Jada You wouldn't know if you should head bang or belly dance playa I'm that sand nigga type of Johnny Cochran yaw dig World wide like H.C. Andersen, I won't quit Don't depend on the rap game, I depend on my brain Ya stereotype me; I knock you out like prince Naseem [Rapverse3 (Lenny)] Ya lo sabes...... Estan fuera de quicio Ambicionando nuestro escano Inalcanzable pretension Es, pan o muerte en esta selva soy tacano Somos los Quijotes Frios cuando esto es necesario Luz en lo oscuro que dicen que es mi barrio Hemos inculcado sabor en concreto Pintando mi sangre y mi suburbio por supuesto Vieja foto de lo existente Y si ha estado en la portada se me ha ido de la mente Soy bohemia de las letras Contemporaneo y sincero Y dentro de mi casa soy todo un pionero Asi que todos de aqui al horizonte Alcen la M por El Moro Anche no capisci niente [Translation] You know it.... They're out of line Pursue our bench Unattainable pretension It's bread or dead and in this jungle I'm niggardly We're the Quixotes Colds when we need to be it Light in the dark they say me hometown is We have inculcated flavour in the concrete Painting my blood and my suburb of course An old photo of the already existing And if it had been in the cover then I overlooked it I'm the bohemian of words Contemporary and sincere And inside my house I'm a pioneer So everyone from here to the horizon Raise the M for El Moro Though you don't get this [Chorus] [Rapverse4 (Waqas)] I stay on target like a stinger You call me Jinnah Never lost focus still I came out a sinner I'm not here to change the world just clean my house And scoop up my mom in a coup 'cause she needs a new couch Its outlandmoro you can't run or hide 'Cause we come across like the truth I tell you no lie At first underrated these kids won't last In no time they will be over as quick as a finger snap We beat the critics now look who run rap It feels good even your sister be faking my autograph At shows hugs and kisses Afterwards you diss us You can't give us scars that we can't heal with stiches

Above The Law

(Eazy E) All right I know the shit is fly I know Dre didn't do the motherfucka But it ain't right unless I'm rappin on this muthafucka (DJ Total K-Oss) You got something for it? (Eazy E) You gotdang right I got something for it I got the motherfucka right here in my pocket! Give me a motherfucking beat. Batter up And let me hit you with some crazy ass Shit Welcome To the E's bottomless pit As I play the role of the executioner Labelled by a bee sting as a murderer Yes the menace of all Back in the book no less of World Guiness Still smokin mother fukcas you see Cuz theres only one E-A-Z-Y-E And I'm kicking the Chronic On this ATL LP So one motherfuckin two Motherfuckin threee All you punk bitches Better respect me as a gee Cuz I got tha dope sack And thats without a motherfuckin doubt And when shit hits the fan Its outta my mouth With the gangsta shit Boy you crazed And if you got the budha Then motherfucker blaze And hit it for the city of Compton Shots go out to those That remain foes Cuz I like to be the motherfuckin underdog And if we got beef [bullets spraying sound] Then leap like a frog I used to be the quicker picker Of a bitch But I took recess And its time to break out Thats how I earn my dap And its always on if a nigga Wanna scrap And you don't stop! (187) Yeah yeah That was cool E But we gotta let Kokane Up in here So he can do his thing.

Midwest Swing

CHORUS: (Nelly) It's a Midwest thang y'all And ain't got a clue (Ain't got a clue) Why my Cutlass blue And I got them thangs On that motherfucker too It's a Midwest Swang y'all Ain't gotta trip (Ain't gotta trip) While we swing and dip (Ay, ay, ay, ay, ay) 'Cause we do big thangs On the motherfuckin' hip (Nelly) What you think, we live on a farm? Nigga, be for real We got Benz's, Rovers' and Jag's Hummer's and Deville's Got a green S Class Ain't broke the do' seal Shit ain't been the same Since I signed Fo' Reel This shit got ill, when I hit 4 mil Five and countin', dirty six at will Did seven on the slide, 8 worldwide I'll be on my third Bentley By the time I'm at 9 I hear 'em cryin' 'You gon' sell out' Ya damn right I done sold out before And re-caught the same night Straight hopped the next flight Too Icey for sunlight Dunkin' without Sprite Yeah you heard me dirty I'm from the Show-Me State Show me seven I'll show you eight Karats in one Ring Heavily starched jeans Representin' St. Louis Everytime I breathe Every city I touch down And I bob and weave, ay Repeat chorus (Murphy Lee:) I sport my beeper on my boots That's why I be a buzz when I kick Maybe it's on my lips It's chaos when I spit Quarter man, quarter Schoolboy, half Lunatic Quarter rubber, quarter dick Other half in yo chick Keep a quarter of some sh*t I'm the Pookey of the backyard All colors and all types like a junkyard High young boy with high young ways 'Cause I connect three blunts And be high for three days You can tell by the way I walk I ain't from 'round hurr (here) Probably couldn't tell 'cause I ain't walkin' nowhurr (nowhere) I got a old-school Cutlass With a hole in the urr (air) TV's urrwhurr (everywhere) Wood grain to sturr (stare) I Don't Carr(care) Hell naw I ain't cuttin' my hurr (hair) To the half in them Airforce 1's Give me two purr (pair) ugh I'm from the Lou and What I do is a Lou thang One rapper, two rings And three chains (Kyjuan) Nothing but some ole country boys That ride V12 horses Saddle up and put Spurs on my Airforce's Back porches made for Hide and go seek We got space out here We can ride and cheif Ain't gotta worry 'bout Nobody approachin' us By the time they catchin' up We smoked it up And my eyes be red My lips a lil' dark The Lou is more' the Rams Cardnals and lil' Arch My dirty's love to spark And love to sparkle Love homies Vokal coats With matchin' car do's (doors) We racin' down Skinker See how fast a car go Granny be like 'Ay, ya ya' Like Ricky Ricardo I know you wanna know Why we do what we do You cats ain't got a clue Why the Cutlass blue Brand new 22's on new UP's With one, two, three Four, five TV's Repeat chorus (Big Lee A.K.A. Ali:) I'm sittin' on the front porch Writin' a hood rhyme Waitin' on my connect To deliver that good line Wish I would find One seed in my weed Sticks and shit If I do somebody bleed Pull right here Eight pounds of Chinamen Two stank bitches Some blunts and Heineken Hidin' in the back with the po' po' Kicked in my do'do' Man they some ho' hooo's They put the gun to my earr You know the Lord don't fear Nann nigga, nann hoe Let's keep that bullshit clearr They had me face Down in the skreet (street) Errbody (everybody) Watchin', thinkin' I'mma pull the heat And leave the D-tects with A leak in the skreet (street) And that, pussy ass nigga That set me up my peeps Gon' give it to this nigga like NYPD Beat the K, fuck coke Now I'm back on my Range closed coustidy (chorus)

What They Do

T.I. "Urban Legend"
[T.I.] Yea You already know what it is pimp (ay ay ay) T.I.P king of the motherfuckin' South (B Gezzy let's do it homie) Grand Hustle pimp (Choppa City in here) Got my nigga Block in this bitch Eastside represent (yeah) Westside Bankhead nigga Zone 1 A-town nigga (ay ay ay ay ay ay) You know what it is Zone 3 Mechanicville Summer Hill nigga Pittsburgh (KLC let's ride) all my real niggaz ride ya'll know what's happenin' P.$.C. nigga [Verse 1: T.I.] Hey I could give you what you want, T.I.P.'s the hottest Gain what ya need, I could tell you all about it You could up in the streets, but it ain't no gettin' out it When I tell you I'ma G, pimp I'm really bein' modest I could tell bout the dope boyz, hoes, and the ballers (ho) The pimps and the macks, real niggaz dat what they call us Hangin' in the trap cause dat's what our daddies' taught us ?? on a Lac to a Benz on?? Standin' on the corner, slagin' crack and stackin' dollars Till it's time to cop a brick and I'm tired of movin' quarters My dad wasn't a doctor and my momma wasn't a lawyer I ain't neva had shit, congratulation is in order (still trappin') Tryin' ta get a meal fo my sons and my daughter If I call a bad bitch wit connects down in Florida Say her daddy and her uncle still gettin cross the wall ?? I'd be a motherfuckin' fool if I don't call her [Chorus] Ah what it is my nigga, what it do? (ay what it do) I gotta grip a twin, I'm finna buss a move (ah buss a move) Ah what it is my nigga, what it do? (ay what it do) I got the tool and I'm finna cut a fool (ah cut a fool) Ay what it do, what it do, what it do, ay what it do What it do my nigga what it do, ay what it do Ay what it do, what it do, what it do, ay what it do What it do my nigga what it do, ay what it do [Verse 2: B.G.] I'ma H-U-S-T-L-E-Rah If I don't know you then fuck ya If I know you then I front ya (proper) But you gotta break me off You don't, I catch ya slippin' on the block and knock you off I know people, I get nice deals Get 'em $5 sell 'em $10 a pill I know people, big ki's for 13 If I fuck witcha, ya get 'em for 16 I know people, get 'em 300 a pound Give 'em to ya for 500 if you my round I'ma hustler, holla at me Uptown I'm well connected with weed, white, slangin' dat brown Come see a nigga want a nice 60 You real we swap work you fake its 20 g's It's like dat, I done been thru the struggle I'm runnin' Choppa City an fuckin' with Grand Hustle [Chorus] [Verse 3: T.I.] I got the eye of a tiger and the heart of a bear I'm the king of the jungle, you can follow me there Or you can hear it from these niggaz who was hardly there Or take it from niggaz who fought to make it a star to get here Several years ago I told myself I solemnly swear Forever be hard to kill, even harder to scare One reason why me and other cats is hard to compare Cuz I'm fact, dat's fiction, it hardly compares Bein' hated part of the game, pimp it's hard but it's fair Well I'ma be the best, hate me, see if I care But just know I'm raisin' the bar and I'm keepin' there And I'ma still ride clean, blowin' weed in the air With 2 or 3 bad bitches got they feet in the air Say they like when I smack on they ass and skeet in they hair Listen, I don't care if you got the song of the year Ya whole show shutin' down when the don appear [Chorus]

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