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from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004)
(feat. B-Real, Eminem)
(Intro: Eminem) WAAAAHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOO!!! (laughs) Guess who's back?!?! Mommy! We're home!! Say hello to my little friends DJ Muggs, Soul Assassins, Cypress Hill Everybody! Put your hands where my eyes can see!!! (Verse: Eminem) Everywhere we go people know that we roll deep as fuck Fourty fifty Samoans, they knowing when D-Bo was 50, Tweezy, Obie there won't be no hoe in us They pop shit like they gon do shit but no one does From New York down to Texas, back up to Los Angeles We've changed the way we move so man up if you can't adjust You may end up getting rushed by too many to handle us It's funny, I guess money does have its advantages And it isn't that we just think that we can't be touched It's not like we're just feeling ourselves that much It's just, that if someone ever does put us in the clutch We just know that y'all ain't gon be the one who's gon do it Cause first of all you're pussy and everybody can see that You fuck around, get caught in a spot that you shouldn't be at That you got no business being in, we ain't even gon be in it No one's gunna hear nothing, no one's gunna see this shit And they'll be in and up out of it, them boys is bout it, bout it The noise from (?) be drowned out by the crowd And you'll be laying on the ground getting trampled by people dancing Till the club closes, and clears out And that's when they see you flatened Nobody saw it happen, all cause your jaws are flapping And you couldn't stop yapping and took it past rapping It ain't about the music no more, it's bout trying to show off And it feels like any minute the bomb is bout to go off (Chorus: Eminem) Shit's about to change, cause we ain't playing no games We ain't budging neither are they, we ain't saying no names Shit just ain't the same, when the K's get to scream Hip-hop is in a state of 911 It ain't about hip-hop, cause those days are gone It ain't about trying rip shots, to get props no more It's about trying not to get popped, and get dropped to the floor Cause hip-hop is in a state of 911 (Verse: B-Real) Step off my holster cause shit it's getting serious All theses drugs you be fucking with make you delirious Thinking you coming with heat, yo son, I'm curious How long are you gunna hate us and judge us and jury us? Some people can never fade us, that make us so furious Mistake us for fakers, homie we greater and glorious We living for real and others just making the stories up Allusions are broken, so live it up, you corny fucks If you take a fucking minute to think about what you've done When you stood against a gangsta who live and die by the gun Got a hot one, spraying you bitches til there is none I'm like a rolling stone homie, I got you under my thumb Silly little bitches can end up right up in ditches We cut you and give you stitches, for envy and all my riches Your game's just like a midget, you're clocking a small digit Dealing with the Giant Goliath, people that's how we live it, c'mon (Chorus) (Verse: Ganxsta Ridd) Uh, gangsta Ganxsta who come to pay you a visit On this shit you call hip-hop, this function is where did it When I - put it in motion, my focus is getting branded My appetite for destruction is blasted because I said it Got you - stumbling for cover, this music dying in numbers But you wouldn't pause and wonder, admitting it's all glamour When you - enter the business you thinking you running shit You witness that funny shit, your bitches they ain't shit! We gangstas we blast first, ask questions later All these - imitators parading like they some playas Trying to - save hip-hop the task is something greater Cause we old fashioned coded with loyalty motivaters Get caught, I'm not telling, or more like killing not caring I'm riding a - gangsta feeling, no fearing when gangstas dying I'm in a - full circle with homies that's supposed to bleed On an 8 Mile mission with Cypress and O.G.'s (Chorus) |
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3:00 | 
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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| from Judgment Night (킬러 나이트) [ost] (1992) | |||||
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4:25 |
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from Judgment Night (킬러 나이트) [ost] (1992)
Now I gotta murder da' murder ta' get away
The eyes gotta peer now the fool's gotta pay And if they pay then they pay with they life So watch another man try to hold on to his life Cause' I keep lookin' and huntin' just like a lion Let the sucka' know that it's them that be dyin' I show no remorse to the source of the tales And if they tell then the hungry better battle Aw I keep it comin' and comin' across the table And if I miss, I never miss, cuz Im able I'm lookin' forward and I'm lookin' over my shoulder And I'll make a simple sin to make the bonus But I'll never bless the rest, so never cease I'll do a motherfucker with this restin' piece Cause' what they saw they never seen or even heard of And if they live, it's just another body murdered.... .....another body murdered.... I'm makin' deals for deals that make a kill And anyone looking gonna' get that ass killed I'm livin' like a criminal and criminal I be And I'm respected in the hood like a 'G' But if they think I'm blasted then they gone I'm takin' off they're head with a motherfuckin' chrome I gotta pay the play the pay ta' get crooked And I ain't 'BOO' til' I dump another fool I see the fool runnin' and runnin' but where they goin' ? Had to witness my murder now they knowin' What they blast so blast so at the pad I'll have the thing fixed...My life was goin' in a flash.... If I went to say ---- that'd be my ass Searching for these fools while stepping cross the squares Cause they can't hide and hide and that's real And what you just witnessed with your eyes got ta' kill.... .....another body murdered..... Bang your head to this....Turn me up!....another body murdered ...Faith No More.... I had to get it together to watch a body get murdered, ehh... Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E... I have to get it together to watch a body get murdered Bang your head...come on...Bang your head.... ....Bang your head.......Bang you head to this.... I see a fool an' I try an' test the fool I testify that the fool will have to lose Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. gotta keep it low Cause the brother that was shot with my motherfuckin Uz..ooooh... As I bail with my head up Round they crowd someone kicks my luck and then I get up All these busters on my trail Well they get where I'm at, but the fail cause' they can't bail I keep bailin' I been stickin' my shit ever since they've had me jailed in But it ain't all about servin' time... It's about breakin' down the verd(ict) and servin' mine.... Another pass or passive You wanta' play it by the Ridd did the king start blastin' All these fools goin' up they sigh They try to test mine They never get to know why Oooh how long can you live when a gangster like the Ridd keep smokin' that ass..... Bang your head to this... Turn me up.....I had to get it together to watch a body get murdered..ehh Faith No More......I had to get it together to watch a body get murdered Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E.....Murder well I won... |
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from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004)
(feat. Mack 10)
(chorus) Niggaz wanna fuck with me That's why I gots to bang on you Hater's wanna fuck with the g's That's why we gots bang on you Niggaz wanna fuck with me That's why I gots to bang on you Hater's wanna fuck with the g's That's why I gots bang on you (verse-Ganxta Ridd) I say fuck them all when I bang them on some From Inglewood to my city of Carson Through every hood you should be bangin more often Is your life more then what it is costin Chicken hawker shit talken dogg barker Ghost the scene the snatch of the nath watcher The cock it down blood walker collar blocker Never through it up I through down with the wreath rock SOO WOO set ride on the left put my flag on my shoulder so it lays on my chest The dime piece put the "I" in finess but you can bless that chrome while I bless my fit It's on tell these 5th niggaz its on p-funk I funk or no funk at all Ganxta Ridd Mack tension with the flamedarin Piru 3 street yall ain't ready for this (chorus) (Mack 10) uh HUH eyes forward huh Look (verse Mack 10) Yall don't understand I bang on hoe niggaz Slang blowin in a drive jack foe moe figgaz Walk in the party moe flamed then a arsen Cuz the QSI caught a link with the Carson I'm Gangsta, you ain't tryed it don't knock it Sag when I feel flag in my right pocket The Westin G'z it ain't a new style And the Boo Yaa moe samoans then a luau I fucks with 'em cuz we from the same side And who ever got hit with the cake flame died Always been a rida always stood up Damu niggaz and bitches throw yo hood up (SOO WOO) Get it how you live if you tamper with the sack I go to war over crack like Bush and Iraq (ha ha) It's mack 10 nigga hoo bangin affiliate Stay gangsta all the time and fuck who ain't feelin it (chorus) (verse-Gangxta Ridd) I stay flamed up ritual keep the dickies original Author of the smash through a gang funeral With the G.A.W.T.T.I. belt buckled the west chuckle My bloody knuckles can't stop my hustle They puzzle how the hen get guzzled They tumble tryin to fade through the muscle They in trouble when the mind go humble The debree from the rubble got the whole ben doubled Where they at they go gangsta shit Where you from here we go gangsta hit The rap rolla scrap brawler burgandy maroon Neva visualize unless it go boom G.A.W.T.T.I. get deflan boss of all dons Always outnumber but never outdone Niggaz don't want to march unless we a million Let me p-funk it Westside and make don (chorus x3) |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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3:45 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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4:47 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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4:00 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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3:07 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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3:26 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004)
(feat. Short Khop)
(Ganxta Ridd) Okay Mang This is how it's going to go down Ganxta Ridd and Short Khop We're gonna expand (sniff) Ya know L.A., Chicago, Miami, New York, to the Islands (sniff) At 13 fava Game is Brutal We're gonna make moves (Verse Ganxta Ridd) I gangsta out the border With Short Khop strapped the 4 chicken and two coldaz On a run just to feed our sons and daughtaz The rich get rich the po' get slaughta'd Nobody cares it's the new world orda It aint fair look at all the return soldiaz They all fucked up in the head when they soba Rabblin to self thinkin the war is ova Lets take it back to pulp fiction so you can Paint a betta pikcha of this conversation It all started back in 89 Chris Blackwell said come to my Island and sign Headed to New York for tha progress We said that the nigga that discovered Bob Marley You know no woman no cry But we was out there thinkin everythang gon be all right I'm tired but I'm not tired of livin Just tired of the bullshit this industry was givin I'm not the first to complain I'm just the first to say fuck yall in every which way I love the music guess the music didnt love me Oscilatin champs we been bangin since the 80's If I should die tell the judge just to blame me I stay a rida aint nobody gonna save me Starz peneltonz and bandanaz Represent the gang bangaz cuss words and bad mannaz I'm smashin 110 on the speed scanna Fuck the fedz ATF and the chicken hammaz (chorus) (tell em ganxta) HEATED Dippin down burgandy west galeez Please believe it When they comin to get us (bang at yo own) Stackin lettaz takin no feddaz No one can do it betta When they comin to get us stackin lettaz takin no fettaz stay (tell em ganxta) Heated Dippin down burgandy west galeez Please believe it When they comin to get us (bang at yo own) Stackin lettaz takin no feddaz No one can do it betta When they comin to get us stackin lettaz takin no fettaz stay (tell em ganxta) (Short Khop) Short Khop You can find him on the front line where they was at Yall stay away from that Homies still afraid of that all black raida hat Where the gangstaz at most of yall lay dere But from daycare to gray hair they say poppa stay there With all odds against him this that and some Lose some win some pop knock you miss him But ya niggaz just ridiculous sick as a niggaz syphilis And feelin like you spittin puss fuel to the tip of and you been a par Big homie ive been a nut run around in pony tailz Chest poked out pants saggin like a skinny nut Feelin like I'm big as fuck with the biggest nutz Run up on em get em up I run up on em stick em up And I aint even need that heated where my sleeve at Point where you breath at your gulls and yo teeth at The holes where you see at oh plz believe that (Chorus) (Verse Ganxta Ridd) We headed for the borda Khop and Gangxta on slot foe tha chicken holdaz The industry thought we was ova Premeditated rockin bc powder to Boo Yaa bouldaz Senorita pass by I say hola You know the pisa jose with the corka She took us to the back and I told her She made a move foe tha doe so we showed her Heated when they was comin to get me Cuz imma West side I know the bitch wouldn't let me I put it right in it when the bitch try to check me A str8 G rida from the gawtiest states They come from all around try to test the strength of the unfaded And a portrait of pain Blood its war zone and ya people is in it Yall betta warn home ganxta'z comin to get it you want it I betcha cant get it blood I still got it when I Still pop it in you hit it all you bad bitches Yall takin pictures cuz you feel me Nuh uh you takin pictures cuz yo feddiez wanna kill me (chorus x2) |
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3:50 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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5:33 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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1:54 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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1:31 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004)
(feat. Kurupt)
(Intro: Kurupt) I ain't got a problem with nobody, right? This is Young Gotti, but I got a problem with you Cause you got a problem with me Yeah nigga... keeping it real G'd up Hitting niggaz like +Boo-Yaa!+ punk What the fuck nigga! (Verse 1: Ganxta Ridd) I'm Ridd rhyming, I'm non existant I'm just a daily, first to burn a convalescent I'm the example of learning less I'm spitting possible with two Wesson's, no questions I'm the question with no guessing I'm kind of stressing more pounds than two jurisdictions These rappers don't want prohibition I will convict him I'm the West Coast redemption Target, Coast Ridah, boost eye for an eye My blood line banging until the eight frame die I snuggle up the gun, full grip Them eyes on my dinero, then analyze this Real out the game, send them on their way to re-admit Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., ain't nothing changed, crowned and convinced Pimp slap bitches and hoes and gangster slap pimps And when I went through, it's that GANGSTER SHIT (Chorus: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E., Kurupt) (Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. (Kurupt) You know what I'm talking about (Boo-Yaa) You get them fast then.. (Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. (Boo-Yaa) This one's on me (Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. (Kurupt) Gangsta, right? (Boo-Yaa) You get them fast then.. (Boo-Yaa) Gangsta, gangsta, gangsta, gangsta.. (Boo-Yaa) This one's on me (Verse 2: Kurupt) G's, T's, where y'all at? Riders, that's what y'all are (are) I'm a for real front line folder I fold front lines and then push they backs over Mama ain't raised no busters (busters) And mama ain't raised no punks! We'll meet front to front Left the parking lot nigga, see what y'all want (nigga) Ten toes, ten fingertips Niggaz don't really want to trip They want to catch a nigga twenty deep (deep) And catch niggaz thinking they could sleep (sleep) Ain't no sleeping in a G zone nigga BC rider and they every ball nigga Boo-Yaa and Gotti the original, told y'all nigga Yeah run through this motherfucker, G'd up huh? G cut Timbs from the feet up huh? (Chorus: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. w/ minor variations) (Verse 3: Ganxta Ridd) They love it when I bang through Sex them all like a truce, fade them all like a rendez vous I'm hitting senders like I'm hitting switches Lay bikes like a pipe, play a brick and then they all my bitches Who's that?, y'all niggaz beef It's that motherfucker cause I'm getting plot money Envisioning balls, I'm wishing nuts and jaws Fuck them trick fools that don't want us to ball We street flavor, Blood we all involved I'm all up in the guts quit ticking and crawl Pass the free fall, fuck the free shows Slap the hoe all, paws that explode Motherfuckers die trying mode Ganxta come on call me Ganxta Ridd B.C.D.P. B.T. for sure West West, East Side, .45 reload (Chorus x2: Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. w/ minor variations) |
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2:40 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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3:16 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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4:06 |
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - Angry Samoans (2003) | |||||
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| from Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. - West Koasta Nostra (2004) | |||||
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