Hip-Hop/Rap/Funk/Soul/Rn b

So I fucked your bitch
You fat mutha-fucka {Take Money}
West Side
Bad Boy Killers {Take Money}
You know who the realist is
Niggas we bring it to {Take Money}
(Ha ha, that's alright)

First off, fuck your bitch
And the click you claim
West side when we ride
Come equipped with game
You claim to be a playa
But, I fucked your wife
We bust on Bad Boys
Niggas fuck for Life
Plus Puffy tryin' to see me weak
Hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior Mafia
Some mark ass bitches
We keep on coming
While we running for yah jewels
Steady gunning
Keep on busting at them fools
You know the rules
Little Ceasar go ask you homie
How i'll leave yah
Cut your young ass up
See yah in pieces
Now be deceased
Little Kim,
Don't fuck with real ass G's
Quick to snatch your ugly ass, off the streets
So fuck peace
I'll let them niggas know
It's on for Life
Don't let the west side
Ride the night (Ha ha)
Bad Boys murdered on Wax and kill
Fuck with me
And get your caps peeled
You know, See

Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh
Who shot me,
But, your punks didn't finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit 'em up

Check this out
You mutha-fuckas know what time it is
I don't know why I'm even on this track
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'm going to let my little homies
Ride on yah
Bitch made ass Bad Boys bitches
{Ahh yo, yo, hold the fuck up}

Get out the way yo
Get out the way yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little move pass the mac
And let me hit 'em in his back
Frank White needs to get spanked right
For setting up traps
Little accident murderers
And I ain't never heard of yah
Poise less gats attack when I'm serving yah
Spank the shank
Your whole style when I gank
Gaurd your rank
Cause I'm a slam your ass in a pang
Puffy weaker than a fuckin' block
I'm running through nigga
And I'm smoking Junior Mafia
In front of yah nigga
With the ready power
Tucked in my Guess
Under my Eddie Bower
Your clout petty sour
I push packages ever hour
I hit 'em up

Grab your glocks when you see 2pac
Call the cops when you see 2pac, Uhh
Who shot me,
But, your punks didn't finish
Now, you 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, We hit 'em up

Peep how we do it
Keep it real
Its penitentary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas getting killed
With your mouths open
Tryin' to come up off of me
You and the clouds hoping
Smoking dope
It's like a Shermine
Niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn mutha-fucka you deserve to die
Talking about you Getting Money
But its funny to me
All you niggas living bummy
While you fucking with me?
I'm a self made Millioniare
Thug livin', out of prison
Pistols in the Air {Air} (Ha Ha)
Biggie remember when I use to let you sleep on the couch
And beg the bitch to let you sleep on the house
Now its all about versace
You copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me
I took it and smiled
Now I'm back to set the record straight
With my A-K
I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Mutha-fucka I'll Hit 'Em Up

I'm from N E W jers.
Where plenty of murders occurs
No points to come
We bring drama to all you herds
Now go check the scenerio
Little Ceas'
I'll bring you fake G's to yah knees
Copin' pleas with these
Little Kim is yah
Coked up or doped up
Get your little Junior Whopper click smoked up
What the fuck?
Is you stupid?
I take money,
crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my click looting, shooting, and polluting your block
With fifteen shot,
Cocked glock to your knot
Outlaw Mafia click moving up another knotch
And your (?'Pop stars' pops?) and get dropped and mopped
And all your fake ass east coast props
Brainstormed and locked

You's a B-writer
Pac style taker
I'll tell you to face, you ain't nothing shit but a faker
Soften the Alize with a chaser
Bout to get murdered for the paper
Idi Amin approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with little Ceas' in a choke (Uhh)
Toting smoke, we ain't no mutha-fuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
Be approaching
In the wide open, gun smoking
No need for hoping
It's a battle lost
I gottem crossed as soon as the funk is boping off
Nigga, I hit 'em up

Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (Ha ha)
They don't wanna see us
Whole Junior Mafia click
Dressing up to be us
How the fuck they gonna be the Mob?
When we always on out job
We millionaire's
Killing ain't fair
But somebody got to do it

Oh yah Mobb Deep (Uhh)
You wanna fuck with us
You Little young ass mutha-fuckas
Don't one of you niggas got sickle-cell or something
You fucking with me, nigga ?
You fuck around and catch a siezure or a heart-attack
You better back the fuck up
Before you get smacked the fuck up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that want to bring it,
Bring it.
But we ain't singing,
We bringing drama
Fuck you and your mother fucking mama.
We gonna kill all you mother fuckers.
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about biggie.
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a mother fuckin opinion
Well this is how we gon' do this:
Fuck Mobb Deep,
Fuck Biggie,
Fuck Bad Boy as a staff, record label, and as a mother fuckin crew.
And if you want to be down with Bad Boy,
Then fuck you too.
Chino XL, fuck you too.
All you mother fuckers,
Fuck you too.
(take money, take money)
All of y'all mother fuckers,
Fuck you, die slow mother fucker.
My fo' fo' (.44 magnum) make sure all yo' kids don't grow.
You mother fuckers can't be us or see us.
We mother fuckin' Thug Life riders.
West Side till' we die.
Out here in California, nigga
We warned ya'
We'll bomb on you mother fuckers.
We do our job.
You think you the mob, nigga, we the mother fuckin' mob
Ain't nuttin' but killers
And the real niggas, all you mother fuckers feel us.
Our shit goes tripple and four quadruple
You niggas laugh cuz our staff got guns under they mother fuckin' belts
You know how it is and we drop records they felt
You niggas can't feel it
We the realist
Fuck 'em.
We Bad Boy killas.

Word up son, word..
Yeah, to all the killers and the hundred dollar billers
For real, niggas who ain't got no feelings
Check it out now

[Prodigy]
I got you stuck off the realness
We be the infamous, you heard of us
Official Queens bridge murderers
The Mobb comes equipped with warfare
Beware of my crime family,
Who got 'nuff shots to share
For all of those who wanna profile and pose
Rock you in your face,
Stab your brain with your nosebone
You're all alone in these streets, cousin
Every man for theirself in this land we be gunnin'
And keep them shook crews runnin',
Like they supposed to
They come around but they never come close to
I can see it inside your face
You're in the wrong place
Cowards like you just get they're whole body laced up
With bullet holes and such
Speak the wrong words man and you will get touched
You can put your whole army against my team and
I guarantee you it'll be your very last time breathin'
Your simple words just don't move me
You're minor, we're major
You all up in the game and don't deserve to be a playa
Don't make me have to call your name out
Your crew is featherweight
My gunshots'll make you levitate
I'm only nineteen but my mind is older
And when the things get for real,
My warm heart turns cold
Another nigga deceased, another story gets told
It ain't nuttin' really, ay yo dun, fuck the Philly
So I can get my mind off these yellow backed niggas
Why they still alive? I don't know, go figure
Meanwhile back in Queens the realness is foundation
If I die, I couldn't choose a better location
When the slugs penetrate, you feel a burning sensation
Getting closer to God, in a tight situation
Now, take these words home and think it through
Or the next rhyme I write might be about you

Son, they shook,
Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
Scared to death and scared to look
They shook
Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
Scared to death and scared to look

Livin' the live, that of diamonds and guns
There's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds
Some of 'em get shot, locked down
And turn nuns
Cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones, shook ones
He ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one

[Havoc]
For every rhyme I write, it's 25 to life
Yo, it's a must the gats we trust safeguardin' my life
Ain't no time for hesitation
That only leads to incarceration
You don't know me, there's no relation
Queens bridge niggas don't play
I don't got time for your petty thinking mind
Son, I'm bigga than those
Claimin' that you pack heat,
But you're scared to hold
And when the smoke clears,
You'll be left with one in your dome
13 years in the projects, my mentality is what, kid
You talk a good one, but you don't want it
Sometimes I wonder: Do I deserve to live,
Or am I going to burn in hell for all the things I did
No time to dwell on that cause my brain reacts
Front if you want kid, lay on your back
I don't fake jacks kid, you know I bring it to you live
Stay in a child's place, kid you out of line
Criminal minds thirsty for recognition
I'm sippin', E&J, got my mind flippin'
I'm buggin', think I'm how bizarre to hold my hustlin'
Get that loot kid, you know my function
Cause long as I'm alive I'ma live illegal
And once I get on I'ma put on on my people
React mixed to lyrics
Like Macs I hit your dome up
When I roll up, don't be caught sleepin',
Cause I'm creepin'

Son, they shook,
Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
Scared to death and scared to look
They shook
Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
Scared to death and scared to look
They shook,
Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks
Scared to death and scared to look
They shook
Cause ain't no such things as halfway crooks

Livin' the live, that of diamonds and guns
There's numerous ways you can choose to earn funds
Some of 'em get shot, locked down
And turn nuns
Cowardly hearts end straight up shook ones, shook ones
He ain't a crook son, he's just a shook one

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
To all the villains and the hundred dollar billers
To real brothers who ain't got no feelings
Yeah, the whole Bridge, Queens get the money
41st side keepin' it real, you know
Queens get the money

(Mannie Fresh)
You need a hot one I got one, I take and bend
Shake it down, break it down, with me and a friend
Biggity bounce, slide, ride, work that thing to the right
Push it down, push it up, boom you dynamite
Lick it up like ice cream, nigga you know
to make me bow bow bow bow (Rocky Balboa)
See I lovin it when you thuggin, baby just don't stop
you could wobledee wobledee (drop drop it like it's hot)
Beat it up and eat it up, love that's yo dick
And if you ain't from the ghetto, then ride out bitch
Arms, legs, backs, and breast
you better read her fucking tats
Nigga Mannie Fresh
suck it up and yuck it up, baby work on that pole
Got them niggaz in a circle hollerin here we go-o
Back that azz up hea all the way to the zipper
I really love you hot girl but I got to flip her

Chorus:

(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl
(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl

(Baby)
I need a hot-n-spicy hoe I can shop with
Give my hoe 10 G's, tell her to spend the shit
See my hot girl ride Lexus Coupe, bitch
and she got the matchin Roley-o, floss your shit
and she got the matching links for the winter bitch
See a real hot girl can't be faded bitch
Roll the dice, hit the sev', no crap no bitch
Got the brand new Rover out the showroom quick
Customized TV's all through that bitch
Yokahama 20-inch dubs on that bitch
See my Cash Money hot girl floss her shit
Ridin Uptown bumpin hot boys ya bitch
and that blue faced Rolex I bought that bitch
Keep big head Benjamins on through her shit
Fuck a "Thug Girl", them hoes can come and suck my dick
I need a hot girl to represent this Uptown shit

Chorus: repeat 2X

(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl
(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl

(B.G)
Where my bitch at? Look a hot girl is a silent hoe
If a bitch get outta line she a violent hoe
Ain't no pest, far from being a whining hoe
Fuck up she confess, she ain't no lyin hoe
That's what I need, a hot girl is a jazzy bitch
I'd take her any day for a classy bitch
On the down low for her nigga she a nasty bitch
I tell her touch it, she gon' reach down and grab the dick
I bust a nut, it's soft, she get it back hard
The police kick in the door she take the charge
If a nigga goto jail she run for a nigga
Money orders, business, and go run for a nigga
she be a nigga ballin, would get bout it for her nigga
lemme come thorugh, hit the stash, and walk up by the nigga
I can't see no other bitch for the B.G.
but a hot girl fo sho call her a H.G. (a hot girl)

Chorus: repeat 2X

(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl
(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl

(Turk)
I like'em hot, the ones that don't tell me to stop
Eat dick swallow the cum, and they know how to pop
I need a project bitch, a hoodrat bitch
One that don't give a fuck and say she took that bitch

(Lil' Wayne)
She a doggy wit it, she gon wobbledee
Then she know im da want it wit it
Open her legs and squeeze a nigga
like she want me in it
Now turn around and back it up
then throw it at a nigga
Tell her I say, "Ohh that's enough"

(Turk)
Give me a gansta ho, one that don't give a fuck
and thata shank the hoe
the one that'll slang still, and keep it on the low
One that'll do time for me, and say fuck the po'
To all you know

(Lil' Wayne)
Lil' Wayne in the twat have it hurtin and thumpin
They be like, "That nigga small girl but he workin wit somethin"
Lil' Wayne on fire I'll smash on your boo before a hot girl bang
What's the matter with you?

Chorus: repeat 2x

(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl
(What you need boy?)
I need a hot girl
(What you want boy?)
I want a hot girl

(B.G.)
Understand look, that's a motherfuckin Hot Boys
definition of a motherfuckin hot girl
Do you see what I'm saying?
It's all gravy
If you fit the description, then come on get with a nigga
Come on get with a nigga
If you think it's ???, come get wit a nigga

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
Singing my life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song,
killing me softly,
With his song telling my whole life
With his words,
Killing me softly,
With his song

[Wyclef]
Yo,put cha hands together for l L boogie yah yaey yaey
l boogie up in here (u know how we do)

[LAURYN]
One time, One time, (one time) hey yo L you know you got the lyrics

I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style,
And so I came to see him and listen for a while.
And there he was this young bwoy, stranger to my eyes,

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
(one time,one time)
Singing my life with his words,
(two times. two times)
Killing me softly with this song,
killing me softly,
With his song, telling my whole life,
With his words,
Killing me softly with his song.

I felt all flushed with fever,
Embarrassed by the crowd,
I felt he found my letters then read each one out loud.
I prayed that he would finish,
But he just kept right on-

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
(One Time, one time!)
Singing my life with his words,
(Two Times, two times!)
Killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly
With his song,
Tellin' my whole life
With his words,
Killing me softly, with his song

[CLEF]
Yo L-Boogie, boy L boy L, take it to the bridge

[LAURYN]
(busted)
wooahhh......woooooahh.....la la la la la la ....wooooah.. laaaaahhh... woooah..laaaaahhh Ah ah Ah ah Ah ah Ah

Strumming my pain with his fingers,
yes he was Singing my life with his words,
killing me softly with his song,
Killing me softly with his song,
Telling my whole life with his words,
Killing me softly with his song.

Fake thug, no love, you get the slug, CB4 Gusto
Your luck low, I didn't know til I was drunk though
You freak niggaz played out, get fucked and ate out
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out
96 ways I made out, Montana way
The Good-F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray
Dipped attache, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A glass of 'ze make a man Cassius Clay
Red dot plots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns
Regulate wit my Dunn's, 17 rocks gleam from one ring
Yo let me let y'all niggaz know one thing
There's one life, one love, so there can only be one King
The highlights of livin, Vegas style roll dice in linen
Antera spinnin on Milleniums, twenty G bets I'm winnin them
Threats I'm sendin them, Lex with TV sets the minimum
Ill sex adrenaline
Party with villians, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny
Wet any clique, with the semi-tech who want it
Diamonds I flaunt it, chickenheads flock I lace em
Fried broiled with basil, taste em, crack the legs
way out of formation, it's horizontal how I have em
fuckin me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon
Grab your gun it's on though
Shit is grimy, real niggaz buck in broad daylight
with the broke Mac it won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit, as long as the drama's lit
Yo, overnight thugs, bug cause they ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit

[Chorus: samples from "New York State of Mind" (repeat 4X)]

"I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death" -> [Nas]
"I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin" -> [Nas]

[Nas]
I peeped you frontin, I was in the Jeep
Sunk in the seat, tinted with heat, beats bumpin
Across the streat you was wildin
Talkin bout how you ran the Island in eighty-nine
Layin up, playin the yard with crazy shine
I cocked a baby 9 that nigga grave be mine, clanked him
What was he thinkin on my corner when it's pay me time
Dug em you owe me cousin somethin told me plug him
So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb
Spun around and shot one, heard shots and dropped son
Caught a hot one, somebody take this biscuit 'fore the cops come
Then they came askin me my name, what the fuck
I got stitched up and went through
Left the hospital that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had to drop so how the fuck I get clapped
Black was in the Jeep watchin all these scenes speed by
It was a brown Datsun, and yo nobody in my hood got one
That clown nigga's through, blazin at his crew daily
The 'Bridge touched me up severely hear me?
So when I rhyme it's sincerely yours
Be lightin L's sippin Coors, on all floors in project halls
Contemplatin war niggaz I was cool with before
We used to score together, Uptown coppin the raw
But uhh, a thug changes, and love changes
and best friends become strangers, word up

[Chorus: first from "New York State of Mind", then "Halftime" (repeat 4X)]

"Y'all know my steelo" -> [Nas]
"There ain't an army that could strike back" -> [Nas]

[Nas]
Thug niggaz
Yo, to them thug niggaz gettin it on in the world you know?
To them niggaz that's locked down
doin they thing survivin yaknowmsayin?
To my thorough niggaz, New York and world wide
Yo to the Queensbridge Militia
9-6 shit.. The Firm clique, Illmatic nigga
It Was Written though
It's been a long time comin
Y'all fake niggaz, tryin to copy
better come with the real though
Fake ass niggaz yo..
(They throw us slugs we throwin em back, what?)
Bring the shit man, live man
(Fuck that son)
Nine-six shit..