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PROOF lyrics

Ja In A Bra

Original and similar lyrics
[Verse 1] Word on the street is I murdered this INC Your wack with your hands, not deserving the heat Your nervous in beef, to Irv and his peeps I ain't rapping no more, I speak through the curb in the streets Ya henchman got this bitch to get a poor job That makes the Cookie Monster hanging from a door knob Ya lucky I don't like touching women And don't send no peace talks coming through Russel Simmons Got the right connections, mic conceptions Yo, with beef you sleep, your life is definately GONE... Don't ever seep at least a woof of rap You'll need more than a Bush attack to push me back You think it's just 50 and Sha Listen up Ja, no kissing or not, Detroit city wishin you die I know you wanna just rap and be pop But before it's said and done your gonna see Pac [Ritornello] Ya'll don't want war, ya'll want talk In the dark my doggs all bark like ROOF Proof n.igga, I'm a wolf Got you all shook About to get your brains pushed back [Verse 2] Chris Gotti This nigga had the nerve to have 10 niggas sneek me Just to get wit me I'm only 160, and the fact is Murder INC is Dj's and kittens I only walked out with scratches Wearing a Rolex Shirt So if thats your streets speaking, your threats don't hurt You cowards, do something before we do ours I could write a Ja Rule album in two hours Right down on your back, run your pockets flat Like federal tax, put your head on a rack It's so bad, only be good is death In LA, G Unit Posted and Suge Left Fat Bitch I'm from Detroit, went to holla in Hollis Niggas is like 'Ja's garbage, don't even bother' Plus your over, gangstas is ? 50 made wanksta, and wanksta's definition is ain't tough With bitches with ya'll wanna brawl with a paint brush Painting his war marks, I'm losing my patience It ain't just D-12 and Obie Homie cancel your shows, respect, and act like you know me If you say Hailies name again, I'm catching a jet 911 style, to your face and your chest 911 style, to your face and your chest It's over nigga getting wet on the set

Wasteland Warriors

BONE THUGS-N-HARMONY "The Art Of War"
Krayzie: Yeah, got my niggas from St. Clair up in this muthafucka, nigga. P.O.D.'d, my nigga, Sin, fin to put this shit down like this, nigga. [We off to the ghetto, ghetto, ghetto . . .] What if we slowed it down? Then, nigga, you would hear me. I know niggas would fuck around and say we tried to steal your style. Come on to funky town, that's where we gets the rawest, thuggish ruggish Bone, so sho' nuff, that's what they call us. My niggas is older, now, so they know when to unload. So, when them funky, funky jump me, gon' be ready to roll [ready to roll]. It's part of no static, see, we just out to get paid, but, oh no, niggas heard the flow and wanted a piece of the cake. It kinda pissed me off that (?) figured they could get skills, but when kept on disrespectin', make 'em think we shit's real, nigga. I'm from the Land where every nigga's plan is schemin' for the money, man, so we packin', and they don't understand them niggas rappin' but still they actin' like criminals. (?) reciprocal, they don't know it, even though. Oh, no, no, can't let you go. When I pop pop pop [pop, pop], that funk'll gon' blow you away. Playa hation strikes a nerve everyday. Oh, gotta say fuck all y'all, all y'all. Wasteland warriors, we stressed, we stressed, we stressed. Warriors ride. [Bloody murder, bloody mo' murder murder, murder, murder, baby.] Wasteland warriors ride. [Bloody murder, bloody mo' murder murder, murder, murder, baby.] War corruptin' my mind. Souljah Boy: You know it is, what it's gotta be, ain't no stoppin' me when I be droppin', and these Mo Thug roll the sword from the front and back, don't stop, but the Double Glock they don't look out for these (...?...) where your troops is down to get loose, bitch, sue these stupid muthafuckas, don't make me huff and puff and start some ruckus, 'cause the niggas be down for the count, and the first nigga step up, get shut down. You shouldna been takin' my fuckin' style that's how we still gon' do it in the C-Town, arrest me on the rebound. It's the P to the O to the D from the T to the H to the U to the G. You hoes ain't got mo' killas than me, so muthafuck what you speakin', brothas don't hit, they're weak and wrapped up in white sheet, while your bullethole still be bleedin', but here's the reason for the season's on my muthafuckin' bank. Why you lame, be actin' strange? Boom to bangs, nigga insanes, out to rearrange this muthafuckin' figure, knowin' damn well, I'm a muthafuckin' killa. Nigga, bow down, and I'm outta your picture. Just might killa, got a cap peela, nine rounds spiller, we done muthafuck you and you don't wanna see fade 'em all with the blood heater, streetsweeper get your ass deceased. Warriors ride. [Bloody murder, bloody mo' murder murder, murder, murder, baby.] Wasteland warriors ride. [Bloody murder, bloody mo' murder murder, murder, murder, baby.] War corruptin' my mind. Bizzy: Rip quick to kill ya, fill ya, and I hits that quick, nigga, what you saw was half the war (when a we beat your hoes) somebody's issuin' out my car, beat 'em and get long gone with a pistol in my (?) through me, runnin' through my pores, star, and they call war, ready for the cause, clones get the gun, end up gettin' them pinned, so (...?...) gotta break, your face be on that table, ready for more, y'all clone him, and what if I got my peeps to flip in and vote and go ahead and smoke 'em, open 'em up, and your luck get fucked-up, ready me buck buck buck, I'm still runnin' from feds, horror all across Rip's face, but I won't get caught in love. Uh-uh, when I makes you want it, yes, some are (?), I 'm thinkin' 'bout bloody, sip of the drink and roll, but I had gun before you knows, don't roll, and I gotta go and face it, so picture me nearly dearly gettin' judged, roll. Layzie: Aw, shit! Nowhere to run; here come judgement day. Let's make these jealous bitches pay, uh-huh. I'm off in the midst, and runnin' and chasin' and casin' your set, feelin' it might save me, baby, gotta be goin' through this life, I snatch your life just like it's a day, which type'll it be? Come and roll with this #l nigga in my 500 Benz, you know I got ends to spend, top ten (?), count dividends, and I'm rollin' still real. Attitude like, ''Nigga, what?'' And me Mo Thug Souljah Boy like all of 'em niggas Mo Thug employ in my city, destroy y'all, how wicked is this? It may be, nigga just gotta keep real, baby, lately. Little Lay been dodgin' hits, try to keep all my people safe and outta the way. And you know I get greater later, so I continue grindin'. It's all about perfect timin', feel me, it's about perfect timin', hear me. What's on my muthafuckin' mind in this: these playa haters got me pissed, bitch. But let me get my gauge. Leatherface, go get your mask. We gon' blast and roll on these muthafuckin' niggas, everlastin', everlastin', everlastin', everlastin'--the #l Assassin. Warriors ride. [Bloody murder, bloody mo' murder murder, murder, murder, baby.] Wasteland warriors ride. [Bloody murder, bloody mo' murder murder, murder, murder, baby.] War corruptin' my mind. Oh, gotta say fuck all y'all, all y'all. Wasteland warriors, we stressed, we stressed, we stressed. War corruptin' my mind. Wasteland warriors ride. War corruptin' my mind. Wasteland warriors ride. War corruptin' my mind.

G.H.E.T.T.O.

TQ "Second Coming"
G.H.E.T.T.O. [Intro] G-H-E-T-T-O This is how you start one Where you started from On a mission to check No doubt, got that I need a couple of minutes to bring the thought back Got that I never let another mothafucka Tell me what to sang about Especially when my only intention Is to tell you what I'm thinkin' now Sang a song to tell you about hustlin' Another one to tell you 'bout the Lord My duty is to give 'em something funky That's the only thing I do it for 1 - And I can't tell you 'bout shit I don't know shit about Go on, holla, scream it loud The only thing I'm all about 2 - I got that G-H-E-T-T-O Take all of my niggas everywhere I go In the green Range Rover, or the Lex to go With my Iceburgs rollin' the flow My people are G-H-E-T-T-O And we don't give a fuck if everybody know Cuz I'm [na na na] baby that's for sure Take the bullshit back to the store I got the G-H-E-T-T-O Do it for the figgas, magazines and videos If you wanna find another nigga This one do it for the soul Always used to dream of gettin' bigger Only for my people That's why I'm always checkin' fake niggas On forgettin' where they came from Repeat 1 Repeat 2 Made me believe in the hustle Told me to get my money Weed gon' be my muscle Well here we go now In my neighborhood, eastside Compton California My homies all like to spend the night under lights Streamin' dice and fight So this nigga just happen to write about it Make a point to spit flames at the names who disrespect the game I was a down ass youngster and I'm still the same And I can see right through you niggas Before the fame and TV, you was a real nigga just like me On my block, I ain't never seen a nigga wear high heeled shoes I ain't never seen a nigga dance with no groom I ain't never seen a nigga get his hair all bleached And if he did, he'd get his ass beat for bein' a punk nigga Repeat 2 to fade

Bump Dat Street Mix

G-UNIT
[Tony Yayo] New Shit Tony Yayo, 50 Cent c'mon [HOOK: 50 Cent] Bump Dat Niggas try to stunt on my click Then when I get on that shit I bring it to 'em where they pump at 12 Gauge mashberg No shell in the head Before you put in work, you gotta pump that You done hit a nigga with it and you runnin to polices Come and take my advice, nigga, dump that This is serious, these rap niggas, I'm just havin fun with it 50 Cent, nigga, Bump Dat [50 Cent] My son ask 'Daddy why carry a gun, you ain't a cop' Looked at him and said 'Sometimes you gotta shoot or get shot' Wanna go to show-and-tell and show the class my glock? Show 'em the clip Show 'em the beam Show 'em how Daddy lean In the convertible Jag 22 inch mags For a high school drop out, shit, that ain't bag I'm not a blood or a crip, I'm doing my own thang G-UNIT Shit, I done started my own gang I don't go that funny dance I don't throw gang signs But I'm a gangsta to the core so I stay with a nine Think all I do is rap, then you don't know me good Have Smurf hangin out the sun roof to light up your hood, man Cause Lethal ain't never seen Blaco comin' But if he did .. you think he woulda started runnin? And I move with the Doublemint Twins and two macs And leave you flat your back BRRAT Take that [HOOK] [Tony Yayo] I gotta half a mil deal with no diploma Ice so blind it give your ass glaucoma Its hard to live, but its easy to die So I'm going through life lookin death in the eye These rappers ain't gun slingers They R&B singers G-Unit, come thru with some guerilla niggas Minimum wage ain't gonna pay the rent Cause the seats in the coupe got the Fendi print And this shit right here for the listeners pleasure I'm still on the strip with the fifth and my ever Its T-O-N-Y Stay with a semi Milk your crack spot - till the shit be bone dry You think you pump hard? Nigga I pump harder My phone ring so much, I walk around with the charger When the D's come around, I'ma swallow my crack Shit the work out later, and hit 'em with that If it's a direct sale I'ma change the bill Tryin to push the new Range cause they changed the grille Look nigga we icey thugs We stay with them things so we stay with some Nike gloves [HOOK] [Tony Yayo] Just havin fun with this rap shit, man It never stops My man 50 done put out, what, three albums on the street? And y'all ain't even hear the new shit Just keep goin' and goin' and goin' Motherfuckin' Duracell Battery It never stops Word up G-Unit Sha Money XL

Bump Dat Street Mix

50 CENT "50 Cent Is The Future"
[Tony Yayo] New Shit Tony Yayo, 50 Cent c'mon [HOOK: 50 Cent] Bump Dat Niggas try to stunt on my click Then when I get on that shit I bring it to 'em where they pump at 12 Gauge mashberg No shell in the head Before you put in work, you gotta pump that You done hit a nigga with it and you runnin to polices Come and take my advice, nigga, dump that This is serious, these rap niggas, I'm just havin fun with it 50 Cent, nigga, Bump Dat [50 Cent] My son ask 'Daddy why carry a gun, you ain't a cop' Looked at him and said 'Sometimes you gotta shoot or get shot' Wanna go to show-and-tell and show the class my glock Show 'em the clip Show 'em the beam Show 'em how Daddy lean In the convertible Jag 22 inch mags For a high school drop out, shit, that ain't bag I'm not a blood or a crip, I'm doing my own thang G-UNIT Shit, I done started my own gang I don't go that funny dance I don't throw gang signs But I'm a gangsta to the core so I stay with a nine Think all I do is rap, then you don't know me good Have Smurf hangin out the sun roof to light up your hood, man Cause Lethal ain't never seen Blaco comin' But if he did .. you think he woulda started runnin And I move with the Doublemint Twins and two macs And leave you flat your back BRRAT Take that [HOOK] [Tony Yayo] I gotta half a mil deal with no diploma Ice so blind it give your ass glaucoma Its hard to live, but its easy to die So I'm going through life lookin death in the eye These rappers ain't gun slingers They R&B singers G-Unit, come thru with some guerilla niggas Minimum wage ain't gonna pay the rent Cause the seats in the coupe got the Fendi print And this shit right here for the listeners pleasure I'm still on the strip with the fifth and my ever Its T-O-N-Y Stay with a semi Milk your crack spot - till the shit be bone dry You think you pump hard Nigga I pump harder My phone ring so much, I walk around with the charger When the D's come around, I'ma swallow my crack Shit the work out later, and hit 'em with that If it's a direct sale I'ma change the bill Tryin to push the new Range cause they changed the grille Look nigga we icey thugs We stay with them things so we stay with some Nike gloves [HOOK] [Tony Yayo] Just havin fun with this rap shit, man It never stops My man 50 done put out, what, three albums on the street And y'all ain't even hear the new shit Just keep goin' and goin' and goin' Motherfuckin' Duracell Battery It never stops Word up G-Unit Sha Money XL

Mo' Murda

BONE THUGS-N-HARMONY "E. 1999 Eternal"
Krayzie/Wish: Them callin' me Mr. Bill Collector, needin' me money, know he's up tonight. Layzie/Bizzy: See niggas can't stand us, so they label us scandalous. Krayzie/Wish: And if them runnin' off with me cash, that ass gonna have to pay the price. Layzie/Bizzy: Meet a muthafuckin' po-po; gotta hit 'em with the fo'-fo' Krayzie: Don't be fuckin' with my money. Nigga, no. See when Krayzie pull the pump, then I kill 'em all. Pump slugs. When blood hit the wall, watch 'em fall, now, dog, who ya gonna call? Puttin' niggas in the coffin where they probably better off, and Leatherface is not a punk, bitch, so a nigga just can't fuck me. Nigga better have me cash, or I kill his whole family when the twelve gauge pump blast. Now, test me. Never ever let a nigga ride. When he think he fin to slide, pump him in the spine. Get him for the money. Nigga tried to play me and dash, and that's why me thugs should put slugs in that ass. (...?...) And me never want to see no, oh jealous muthafucka tried to keep a nigga's ends low. If he scared to smoke a primo, gotta go with my fiends and my click is a no no. Gotta make that money, man. Gimme all my change. It's a murder thang, now. Even in the dummy game, niggas comin' up slain for collectin' they claim. Now, Leatherface, me pick up me gauge, leather mask, and, nigga, me blast, so ya better respect us, when you see the bill collector rippin', killin' niggas for that mad money thang. Layzie: Niggas steady payin' them dues, runnin' with trues, nothin' to lose, everything to prove. Little thug from the C-Town, never caught sleepin', always on the come up creepin', runnin' this shit, now, puttin' that Bone down. Gotta let a nigga know for the love of cheese, movin' thangs in the nine-five, rollin' with Ruthless, thuggin' with my niggas from the Clair, and we smokin' them green leaves. Fuck with me, now. Oh, nigga, don't test Rest, Strate, Leatherface in the place on a mission. Don't be messin' with my bankroll. Niggas wanna gank on Bone, so I stack them prank hoes, and I'm bettin' on me takin' no more losses, put 'em in a coffin, and they life is better off, and these niggas--they don't know me--they can't know me. Thought you had a homie, but ya fuckin' with the muthafuckin' Bone, see. Nigga, gotta get me mine on the nine-nine. In the nine-five, bodies droppin'. When you hear my pistol select ya dome, respect that true house or underground shit, Mr. Bill Collector--Bone. Krayzie/Wish: Them callin' me Mr. Bill Collector, needin' me money, know he's up tonight. Layzie/Bizzy: See niggas can't stand us, so they label us scandalous. Krayzie/Wish: And if them runnin' off with me cash, that ass gonna have to pay the price. Layzie/Bizzy: Meet a muthafuckin' po-po; gotta hit 'em with the fo'-fo' Wish: Nigga, take it off. Thank you. Please don't make me stack ya. Time to pay the bill, write your checks up all night, catch a slug or chill, bill collectors, better respect them Mo Thug sellin' drugs, pumpin' slugs all up in that rectum, check 'em. Click-click, fall to the ground. When the glock pop, nigga's chest pump blood, and takin' too long, better drop it on down, or ya catchin' two to the head. Shoulda gave 'em up, bitch, to the Mo Thug lunatic quick to pop, now, you're dead. Gotta pull that nine on the niggas everytime, sellin' rocks on the nine-nine. Gotta put him on the pave. If ya want to die, put 'em in the grave, better give me all them dimes. Krayzie: I didn't want to take his life, but the nigga tried to run and get away with me llello. Layzie: I see me, the murderer. Bizzy: Sawed-off pumpin', dumpin' steadily. All the way to the other side we ride. Sherm, when I hit that chrome and now, niggas is 'bout to die. Thugsta theivin' off in Cleveland, and I couldn't sell out my city. Murder now to come up, move, Bone'll be bringin' that city, with me, pin me. Nigga, this the team, by the way, don't fuck with brains. Put in my mind all off on my murder. Murder y'all all, and I flees the scene clean, and I'm out to fade 'em. Hey, and I'm out for money, gauged 'em, better pray to save 'em, but it won't any good, now. Bang, bang. Caution to loss in me brain, get 'em up off the 'cane. Bang. Kill a nigga. Bang. Peel a trigger. Bang. Comin' up out to wet 'em, man. Off with the blood, put 'em in the mud with a slug, thug gotta get paid. Reachin' on back as we bail to pick up me shells. I slip in the buck, and the gauge spray. Sawed-off on the block, cocked, ready to pop ya, now, 'cause broke gets played, this dope get paid, and nigga, come drop it down. [Laughs.] Krayzie/Wish: Them callin' me Mr. Bill Collector, needin' me money, know he's up tonight. Layzie/Bizzy: See niggas can't stand us, so they label us scandalous. Krayzie/Wish: And if them runnin' off with me cash, that ass gonna have to pay the price. Layzie/Bizzy: Meet a muthafuckin' po-po; gotta hit 'em with the fo'-fo' Bill Collector: Your rent's due, muthafucka!

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