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0:55 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
the prfecional yah part one yah yah this iz it it comes yah yah yah lets go
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3:30 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
Steady are you ready? (are you ready?)
What's goin on? (whats goin on?) Steady are you ready? (are you ready) What's goin on? (tell me whats goin on) Cold fresh air feeeel the mellow dip thats in the air Ohhh yeaa, I'm bound take a look around Ohhh, whats goin down? However do you want me? However do you need me? However do you want me? However do you need me? However do you want me? However do you need me? However do you want me? However do you need me? Im living at the very top of the floor Theres no more room for anything more I state my name, my name's to claim AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHh This is M. J. B. [Jadakiss] Uhh yea, now girl step up to Kiss You sippin' red zyphandile, step up to crys The coupe got 19's, the chain's got nice gleam Girlfriend, you been scooped like ice cream Your ass is fat, your frame is little Got the door knockers on with your name in the middle On the dance floor gettin it in with me Might let you and your friend hit me Soon as the wind hit me I live dare, legendary the top of the globe So there is no more room for anything more And I state my name, my names to claim Jadakiss I done came here and changed the game Now we at the point where your birthdays is costly Got you a scotted outfit and a teacup yorkey Head so crazy that its killing me softly Sit down tell me how you want and how you need me Its the bomb Mary and Clue please believe me [Mary J. Blige w Soul II Soul in background] - over last lines However do you want me? However do you need me? However do you want me? However do you need me? How |
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2:43 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
Old school, new school need to know this
I burn like Left Eye Lisa Lopez Burn slow like blunts of hydro Jigga Man, BK shit, y'all know Jigga Man, ya heard? the fugitive.. allow me to spit on this Clue shit, allow me to thank the people for all of their support, and your prayers and all the people that prejudge me, fuck you, suck my dick.. [Verse 1] D.A. act like a nigga starvin' for Jay if they lock me in a cage, fuck it, party away I'm still hot, I'm still S dot ya'll still got Millions buried in the sock drawer still holdin' my own on the corner nigga what can't kill me can only make me stronger nigga and when I get back home get your ass up out the throne it's just goin' back to the way shit was I'ma stay hot no matter what my shit does I could drop a straight dud, I'ma stay up niggas tryin' to break my will you know that ain't my steel I'm Destiny's Child, my fate's been sealed You're dealin' with a higher power I'm like Dwight Eisenhower My life can move a thousand miles and hour reflect me folks As my world turns like the wheels on a bicycle spoke It's much deeper than a soap, it's a constant drama series All they see is money, they want me to blind the jury All this bullshit can make the mind weary But my theory is the sun shines clearly (The Sun will shine clearly!) [Verse 2] Now everybody wanna rhyme like Hov' 'cause I rhyme like I be rhymin' in the Rov' climbin' in them hoes my minds like the diamonds, I'll blind you at them shows I don't shine, I glow I remind you of that dough don't I? murder niggas won't I? my persona, hustler turned rapper, smell the crack aroma send shots like toma! in any language leave niggas in a coma when I'm bangin' that Fifth get chicks lit off Coronas and bamboo spliffs and get the camcorder to camcord their hand movements and for what? ya'll actin' like ya'll better than Hov' ya'll niggas should open up for the Letterman show (*singin*) niggas is funny, all I do is get money and ya'll niggas sound funny to me everybody's rappin' like they better than Hov' but thats shit's real funny to me (*rappin*) I'm at the forefront of this rap shit, truth is truth look around at all the platinum, proof is proof listen to how niggas is rappin', thats do to who? but I'ma let niggas live 'cause it's beautiful Live niggas... Jigga Man ya heard? Clue...Duro... |
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3:26 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
When I creep through
Niggaz is see through Just like negligee (Uh!) Verse 1: DMX Ain't no talkin cause there ain't much that the dead can say Long as I'm walking I be strappin my dogs (Uh!) (Whoooo-hooo!) Rackin the hogs Desert Eagle packin the morgues (What?) Metal slabs with yellow tags on toes it's What happens to those that (Uh!) Chose to be foes and (uh-huh!) Bet his man knows But yo, we only get stronger (Uh!) And the amount of time we're facing is only gettin longer Get the mayor on the horn! (Clue!) (What!) It's time for shit to go down (Uh!) Strapped for the show down (Uh!) Wet up yo crib, kick the door down Know you schemin' so I gots to get you first Put you right up in a brand new hearse Could be worse (Whoo!) Shoulda seen what I gave this nigga Two vests couldn't save this nigga (Uh!) The way I laid this nigga Played this nigga But thats what I'm good at (uh-huh!) Layin niggaz out in fightin' pits and f**kin' hoodrats (Ha ha!) Where's my f**kin' hood at? (Whoo!) Cripple niggas like switches (Uh!) Rip on niggas like bitches (Uh!) Then pour niggas in ditches (Uh!) They ain't found half the bodies that a nigga caught Or should I say a nigga bought Cause ain't nothing like getting' paid for, a nigga sport (Aight!) Triple what a nigga thought But thats just how shit be I know that one day they gon' try that shit wit me But just as long as I'm on top of shit You ain't stoppin shit And ain't a motherf**ker droppin' shit Chorus: DMX If it ain't ruff it ain't me (Uhh, c'mon!) If it ain't ruff it ain't D (Uh!) M to the X Most y'all niggas is strait sex (What?) (shots) Next?! Chorus Verse 2: DMX Plenty of niggaz know dirty is how I do 'em Put buck shots, from a thirty right through 'em Cause ain't none of y'all muh'f**kers built for war And I lay down the law (Clueminati!) When I spray down the door F**k around on my name will be 95-B-64-11 (What?) On a three-and-a-half to seven (C'mon!) When even up north I put niggas to waste So you wanna stop the violence? Get the f**k out my face! Parole before peeps hit the board off Bitches is f**kin but I sleep with the sawed off I got shit to do, rules to break, crews to break Before the news to break, I got dudes to take I don't joke cause Jokers is cards And cards are what I pull Infra red with the clip full No leash on the pitbull (Ha ha!) That shit is hot like the wax off a candle stick (C'mon!) But how I handle shit Is to dismantle shit (C'mon!) De-de-de-de-de Like Popeye when it's Spinach time (Clue!) Runnin' through two niggaz like the tape at the finish line What's your crew, gonna do when I put the pressure on And it hurts, wannabe gangstaz in skirts (Aight!) And the bitches comin' all out them niggaz One false move and their moms'll read about them niggas And they wives'll be without them niggas Matter of fact, I'm tired of talkin money Throw your joints up, scrap, bitch (Ha ha!) Chorus 2x Outro: DMX & DJ Clue (DJ Clue!) Niggaz won't creep in the streets with me (Desert Storm!) Cause you know what f**kin with these streets would be The Professional Part 2! Muthaf**ker! (Ha ha!) Uhh, huh-uh (My nigga Ray! DMX! My nigga D-Wha!) Pa-pa-pa-pa nigga! (Yo Ruff Ryders! Word up!) |
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4:02 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. DMX)
[DMX (DJ Clue) {DMX's background vocal's}] (Whaaaat!) When its on {Uhh} Its on {Huh-uh} You motherfuckers done lost your mind! Its another one of those Ahh man (New DMX!) Another one of them, Clue slash X joints {What!} (Who's Next!) Another one of them off the motherfucking hook joints {Ahh you motherfuckers done lost your mind} Bulldog, call a bulldog! (Whaaaat!) When I creep through Niggas is see through Just like negligee {Uhh} Ain't no talkin cause there ain't much that the dead can say Long as I'm walking I be strappin my dogs {Uhh} (Whoooo-hooo!) Rackin the hogs Desert Eagle packin the morgues {What?} Metal slabs with yellow tags on toes it's What happens to those that {Uhh} Chose to be foes and {Huh-uh} Bet his man knows But yo, we only get stronger {Uhh} And the amount of time we're facing is only gettin longer Get the mayor on the horn! (Clue!) {What!} It's time for shit to go down {Uhh!} Strapped for the show down {Uhh!} Wet up yo crib, kick the door down Know you schemin' so I gots to get you first Put you right up in a brand new hearse Could be worse {Whoo!} Shoulda seen what I gave this nigga Two vests couldn't save this nigga {Uhh} The way I laid this nigga Played this nigga But thats what I'm good at {Huh-uh} Layin niggas out in fightin' pits and fuckin' hoodrats(Ha ha!) Where's my fuckin' hood at? {Whoo!} Cripple niggas like switches {Uhh!} Rip on niggas like bitches {Uhh!} Then pour niggas in ditches {Uhh!} They ain't found half the bodies that a nigga caught Or should I say a nigga bought Cause ain't nothing like getting' paid for, a nigga sport {Aight} Triple what a nigga thought But thats just how shit be I know that one day they gon' try that shit wit me But just as long as I'm on top of shit You ain't stoppin shit And ain't a motherfucker droppin' shit [Chorus: DMX {DMX background vocal's}] If it ain't ruff it ain't me {Uhh, c'mon} If it ain't ruff it ain't D {Uhh} M to the X Most y'all niggas is strait sex {What?} (*shots fired*) Next?! [Chorus] [DMX (DJ Clue) {DMX's background vocal's}] Plenty of niggas know dirty is how I do 'em Put buck shots, from a thirty right through 'em Cause ain't none of y'all muh'fuckers built for war And I lay down the law (Clueminati!) When I spray down the door Fuck around on my name will be 95-B-64-11 {What} On a three-and-a-half to seven {C'mon} When even up north I put niggas to waste So you wanna stop the violence? Get the fuck out my face! Parole before peeps hit the board off Bitches is fuckin but I sleep with the sawed off I got shit to do, rules to break, crews to break Before the news to break, I got dudes to take I don't joke cause Jokers is cards And cards are what I pull Infra red with the clip full No leash on the pitbull (Ha ha!) That shit is hot like the wax off a candle stick {C'mon} But how I handle shit Is to dismantle shit {C'mon} De-de-de-de-de Like Popeye when it's Spinach time (Clue!) Runnin' through two niggaz like the tape at the finish line What's your crew, gonna do when I put the pressure on And it hurts, wannabe gangstaz in skirts {Aight} And the bitches comin' all out them niggaz One false move and their moms'll read about them niggas And they wives'll be without them niggas Matter of fact, I'm tired of talkin money Throw your joints up, scrap, bitch (Ha ha!) [Chorus x2] [DMX (DJ Clue)] (DJ Clue!) Niggas won't creep in the streets with me (Desert Storm!) Cause you know what fuckin with these streets would be The Professional Part 2! Muh'fucker! (Ha ha!) Uhh, huh-uh (Fat shout - my nigga Ray! DMX! My nigga D-Wha!) Pa-pa-pa-pa nigga! (Yo Ruff Ryders! Word up!) |
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4:42 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Cam'Ron, Fabolous, The LOX, Nature)
[Nature] Peronas the crib sicker than Madonna's Gettin more press then Elien Gonzalez Some niggas tell me I'm the hottest I never cool off Criticize the shit I write but it's never too soft Snatch channels like I'm Disney Half grizzlie unexplain When niggas see me they duck Hoppin i pass quickley Someone to laugh wit me get acquainted They know exactly when a niggas famous Or livin dangerous The kid got a glow like i just came home Try to dull me Niggas that owe be hiding from me Changin their names Screenin their calls The dreamcast in the crib Never leavin at all Playin NBA 2K for two days straight Fifty dollas a game Ket me polish my gain Withdrawin at the bank Never deposit a thing Yo I gotta make a dolla wit slang [Cam'ron] Back in the day we was slave Whips and chains Its tradition All i got whips and chains All i did Flip some cane Now a nigga sick of the range Only a new six could fix the pain Look at all these goose bumps round my wrist and veins Milton Bradley wanna get my game 5-0 wanna frisk my frame I dont deal wit cheap blow When i shoot no block Sort of like a free throw Cant miss And one of you bitches burn me and i cant piss Got me itchin like its dandrif You gone see the back of cam hand quick you dam bitch Im a stomp you stab you Look at you you dam bitch Ya love I would dumb back out Everybody like "killa When u come back out," Listen I like rap Routine had to stop Met a new connect got it 18 a whop Cops on payroll every block got blow We fight every night Reunite then pop Mo Thats how it is when you deal wit me And I dont feel tv Only real tv Real money real gats real cats real girls MTV I'll show you the real world Cats run up on you Splater your white eyes Thats only to make saturday night live Lookin for a casket got the right size Wanna bake a cake i got the right pies Crashed up the four But now the right five Lookin for beef you found the right guys Old folk say "cam stop ur route Why you gotta get the guns Just box it out" Listen that there is trife Only fightin is the doctor And thats for your life As for your wife Took her out just to tour town Bench press for what I lift four pounds Tear up your car All four doors down Cats wanna box Well heres four more rounds [Styles] Yo, Keep talkin bout convertibles and your ice I'ma smack you yap you and murder you Keep talkin bout your dawgs is this And you leavin out the part that your dawgs is bitch Lets get straight to the point Aint a nigga better than me Im agrivated and im fed to the T If I gotta do joints And im sittin for five When you remeniss about me Say the nigga was live I got twelve arm robberies pendin A dope charge, a gun charge Hard to see holiday bendin Wit a brand new case Twenty niggas, the ride A spot OT And some brand new base Why say names You could get who ever you know I got the gun cocked Ready to blow Dont compare his rhymes to mines Mines is real And his is just words and lines [Sheek] Now I'ma give it to you straight cause I don't cop no pleas Sheek Lush, a nigga who got lots of cheese Wit enough coke to stand on and slide like ski's And you could see your whole body on my H-R vreethe How you wanna do this shit Like the quick and the dead So i could cock back Empty out the back of your head Do a drive-by go head Im quick wit the heater I shoot threw you Your car And threw the parkin meter [Jadakiss] Look it ain't much to talk about, fuck you Fuck where you from, you better wear your gun Won't shoot nothin, but you will appear in court I put your brains everywhere so you could share your thoughts Few hot shells outta the chrome will leave you there Wit a funny smell like gun powder colon Listen everythings about the kiss The new dope out Sky blue CL 6 Wit the new poke outs Tired of the speculation faggit Everything is real here Ya aint gonna get wreck on jason Hold down the fort Could never be baught So I dont flip when the crackers wave checks in my facin Rather start gunnin Cause soon as you start chasin the money Thats when the money start runnin I drive by in a car service Hope out wit mad nigga Pull my phone out Like ya nervous [Fabolous] Like ya dont know the kid stay hittin benches Wit kay's of the cane Leave strays sittin inches Away from your brain In them grey kitted benzes I sway threw the lanes Now the nay's just sit and flinches When they see the chain Ya might not never come out My verses get heard I'm a hustler I dont sleep from the first to the third Take the ???? to Cali But the shots go quickly Put red spots on your neck And they not no hickeys The truck still got those micky's And dont even pass it my way If its not no sticky No matter where Im at I pop regaurdless Cause I get knocked I cut a check Ya gone drop the charges Put three holes in head Make em look like bowlin balls Come threw in spring Wit nikes that dont get sold till fall So I could hardly care Cause the only way I see time behind bars If its a cartier |
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4:15 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Busta Rhymes, Rah Digga)
[DJ Clue] DJ Clue Desert Strom [Busta Rhymes] Yea Flipmode Busta Rhymes Rah Digga The Inauguration (New Busta Rhymes!!!) Yea, yea ha ha ha yea (Feat Rah Digga) What Give it to me All my nggaz Where you at now? [Busta Rhymes] Check me When we arrive in the spot Who the fuck you think fazin' We amazing and we blazin' nigga And while we blow shit every time Fully equipped for the occasion While we dazin', and we grazin' niggaz Make you leak and drip Till your body shelves up faggots Just like a razor say your grace and get the praisin' niggaz Flipmode be the ultimate unit, play your position While he lace it, know your place, while we decreasin' niggaz I have a hard time with wack niggaz talkin' Die slow with all that weak shit, you speak shit, eat shit! Cause when we march and high-step in the spot Niggaz love it when we leak shit, the heat shit, street shit! And while we drop the most miraculous bombs Ya'll niggaz aint really dropin nothin' Rockin nothin', toppin' nothin' (whhaaatttt!) Now to ya'll funny niggaz talkin' your talk Ya'll niggaz aint even really coppin' nothin' Poppin' nothin', stoppin' nothin' [Chorus 1-Busta Rhymes] All my niggaz that be ride in the trucks Getting' money say it! (ho) Niggaz, say it (ho, hoooo!) All my niggaz thata' rep for the street Hold it down say it! (ho) Niggaz, what! I'm sayin' (ho, hoooo!) All my bitches thata' beef with they nigga And hold it down with em' (whaa) Say it, bitches, I'm sayin' (whaa, whaaa!) And to my bitches that be doin' it and get their own money Just say it (whaa) Say it, bitches, I'm sayin' (whaa, whaaa!) [Rah Digga] Say 1 for the dirty 2 for hard core 3 for the trees stashed in my top drawer I be comin' to ya' live! Fuck up your whole circuit Make rappers ask them self if this shit is even worth it Don't really need to brag Cause these streets a tell Stay tight, be polite, and she specks so well Say fuck the world Who ever aint feelin' me Campaignin' through the hood like my name was Hillary The illest with form I'm the illest on the norm The illest on my barn (?) The illest on the song Any type wanna yap or think they can rap I'm a scream on motherfuckas like my name was Big Cap Timbaland, sweat pants, sacks of high dro The dirtiest flow in magazines like Whoa! Make it hot, flow it down Like some hoers, you can lift this And be careful what you write cause I might of already flipped it [Chorus 2-Busta Rhymes] All my niggaz that be ridin' on 20's And gettinn' money say it! (ho) Niggaz, say it (ho, hoooo!) All my niggaz thata' rep for the street Hold it down say it! (ho) Niggaz, what! I'm sayin' (ho, hoooo!) All my bitches thata' beef with they nigga And hold it down with em' (whaa) Say it, bitches, I'm sayin' (whaa, whaaa!) And to my bitches that be doin' it and get their own money Just say it (whaa) Say it, bitches, I'm sayin' (whaa, whaaa!) [Busta Rhymes] Now we don't give a fuck We serious nigga We smokin' trees, stackin' G's, nigga please, nigga what now? Music just for niggaz backin' they jaws Makin' you freeze, beta' eaze, get on your knees, nigga what now? [Rah Digga] Digga, digga, digga Type of swing only Rah could bring I could passion (?) crazy rhymin', and I do my thing Trantin' niggaz to threads, like white boys in kegs Cuss words and verbs Going over niggaz heads [Busta Rhymes] Yo no mercy and we taken no prisoners Pull the trigger, now we bigger, me and digga, in the spot now! Ya'll mothafuckas really think you can manage What we deliver, cause we thicker, and we sick of?what the fuck now! [Rah Digga] Digga, digga, digga Ripped shit since the 80's You taken me like if, and, mazin' Lil' crazy, lil' lazy, sop it up like gravy Couldn't write a wack rhyme if a mothafucka paid me [Chores 1] [DJ Clue] DJ Clue Desert Storm You know how we do things Word up! |
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3:40 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Ghostface Killah, Raekwon)
[Intro: DJ Clue (Raekwon)] Word up, word up New shit.. Raekwon.. Ghostface (Eh-yo, eh-yo, eh-yo..) CREAM.. 2001 (Who you? Who you?) Fetch out.. my nigga RZA (Yea.. yea.. yea..) WHAAAAAAAT? [Raekwon] That's right.. My nigga Clueminatti fuckin wit the intro, to murder somebody We cheque-cash niggas wit four fingers on 'em Callin the Lord, "Help me!", that's us Thrustin through ya hood wit the dust (HOOOOO!) Lord have mercy, niggas look thirsty, yo End the swine, meet the inventor, plus the winter It's mine, gasoline jump, just spiked gloves, nines Watch my wave push, one chain faded out Racin to Spain, half a million dollars in Boyd Willy Aims, slap bop top of ya glocks, plus black Reebox Rockin real nigga shit, callin me Pops Golden pro', kitchen designer shit Chinchilla blankets, H. Winston anklets on Drug dealer banquets, hands out, fire when we spit (Haha) The position is lit, drop fifty out a blimp Roast ya ornaments, Super Bowl ring on each finger Gettin fly, might linger, those of you ride So let the lye sprinkle yo [Chorus x2: Raekwon (Ghostface Killah)] Yo we put together like CREAM Matter of fact like a Jamaican team Sprangler stats, hatin like Mitch Green Off the wall auction that dumb out (We organize exortions) Burn niggas labels down, frostin 'em [Ghostface Killah] Eh-yo, how you like two Ac's? Max in the trunk, lookin real dumb Eighty-eight paper and our nose is numb Prayed over Marvin Gaye's grave He said Ghost, "Pop merked me at an early age Hit ninety in the back of me days" There's supreme fingers all on my dick Loved the way I sung the Cherells "Mercy, mercy, son", made 'em cum I wrote songs for the people Verses that'll make Nixon resign You can do the same thing with rhymes "I swear Ghost is doobie, just imagine" Check out what I started Who's the first to rock 'fros with out a part in it? Featherhats partin it, Gladys was the baddest, she wore a six Pretty-ass foot with an arch in it Big cars, slammin eight-tracks, slammin tracks King died in sixty-five, Motown cried Saw a tear drop from Stevie's eyes Fogged out glasses The plan was to bring together all the masses [Chorus x2] [Break: DJ Clue *during chorus*] DJ Clue.. Desert Storm Fetch out.. Rip Right Loud Records, Steve Rifkin, Epic CLUE! [Raekwon] Money Mohammed Ali niggas who keep clean sneakers on Beef and take niggas eats, streets brought all my features Temped to clog bed rallies, imagine only seventeen wildin Who spent thousand on 'em Ballies? Now I'm just lampin, just stylin out in Cali Actin like raw is the mission, mission is to slap 'em Bang jars, movin in psalms, manipulatin my accountant Relaxin like.. blacks get jobs Slangin in bangles y'all, chillin from all angles Don rock more thank you's, gettin my shit washed Elevator music, Rolex doors with thirty-seven whores Countin the paper, takin y'all to walls [Chorus x2] [Outro: DJ Clue] DJ Clue.. Desert Storm The Professional, Pt. 2 Stupid! Fetch out.. Dame Dash My nigga Jigga, Big Harper You know how we do things, word up |
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3:05 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
[DJ Clue]
Ha haaaaa... *echoes* [Method Man] Now...now...now...unnhhh.. Professional 2 shit...WHAT! Staten Island up in this muthafucka... Mr. Meth rep rep rep rep rep rep... For the cause Wu-Tang Killa Beez forever my niggaz Yeah...we put our draws in it...CLUE! *echoes* [DJ Clue] *talking over above Method Man verse* New Method Man! Eminem... Royce... CLUE! *echoes* [Method Man] Niggaz is like "Oh my God not you!" Yes I'm in the flesh like hollow heads through your vest No contest, M.E.-Eth Man's obsessed With sex, drugs and rock & roll New tecs and calicos! Word has it we move mathematic on rappers Who don't add up, you get broke, battered and slapped up 8 million stories in the nekkid call yo man Method Straight guerilla iller nigga kill a murder record My verbal shooter does it to ya The 16-bar Ruger, bustin' yo funky dope manuevers But I'm not ya Super Lover Cee, I'm the Super Sperm Splash it on your skin rub it in like it's Lubriderm 10 out of 10 I'll be the... Men of all men I mean the... Creme de la creme a schemer... Sippin' on 'Gnac and Zima... True professional 2... (DJ CLUE!) Now that Bush is president nigga we all through [DJ Clue] Wooooooooooord! [Eminem] It's like a jungle sometimes it makes me wonder Why I keep on duckin' under the bed when I hear thunder Cuz I ain't crazy, I say shit that's crazy to crazy people To make 'em believe I'm crazy so they can relate to me And maybe believe in Shady so they can be evil baby I like that! I'm only as crazy as people made me Believe me, there'll be just as many muthafuckin' murderers And heroin users without Marlilyn's music But I figure I make my music I don't care if you use it To murder somebody, I just wanna be there when you do it! Now the parents are suein' cuz little Darren is screwin' Karen and Susan cause I told him to do it on Clue's new shit Now it's all ruined, the whole world is fucked up Cuz of me? Two 12-year old girls is knocked up My attitude's 'fuck it' like Pac's was at one point Wanna come join? Pick up a glock and just point Now everybody's killin' everybody and everybody's bloody And I'm just laughin' like it's funny Cause I don't really give a shit about no-muthafuckin'-body I'm so muthafuckin' nutty I don't give a fuck about nuttin'! [Royce] My wrist is...water and freeze And mix this is...audio Jesus the repent shit gets big Keep it sharp like knife in a pop device So "Duro you gotta let it bump!", I came from a hard knock life They say this kid be rude like this can't be true I suck my own dick like if I had a rib removed Vampire, sun go down I'm still wylin' Bullets travel through the air in the night like Phil Collins Rock City baby knife through your throat 'til you're broke Rise from the underground like sewer smoke It's all shifty, I got all-a my dogs wit' me And they all rich, and still all-a they palms itchy We'll pump, rumble over birds jungle urge Walkin' like we talkin' drunk while we stumble over words Clue *inhale*...Duro *inhale*...Slim *inhale*...Meth *inhale*... Five *inhale*...Nine *inhale*...Hold up *inhale*...breath [Method Man] It's just...Mr. Meth and DJ Clue I ain't crazy, I just do what the beats say do [Eminem] It's just...Slim Shady and DJ Clue I ain't evil, I just do what the beats say do [Royce] Unnh..Royce 5-9 and DJ Clue I ain't bad, I just do what the beats say do..unnh... *kiss noise* [DJ Clue] DJ Clue! Desert Storm! Come oooooooon maaaaaaaan! *echoes* |
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1:08 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
The greatest DJ.. In the whole wide world
Is DJ Clue... Other DJs can't say nothing Because they can't do what he can do.. No one, No one, No one, No one, No........ He the greatest DJ.. Famous DJ Clue... |
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3:06 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
West west yall.
William Holla with the S yall. Yall know what time it is. Woof! Can't spell the west without the "es." DJ Clue. Beyotch! Kurupt! [Snoop] I fall off into a party with a drink in my hand Rocawear pants, but I ain't come here to dance By any chance, has anybody seen DJ Clue? Tell him I'm lookin' for him (What's yo' name?) Big Snoop I'm in the big Coupe, I got that whoop whoop I'm tryin' to get a chicken, I got that big loot Let me slide to the hoop, regroup, and come through I'll bag it up, and serve you and you too I throw strikes like Andy Petitte and Roger Clemens Pitch a shut-out, the whole 9 innings The bulletproof 'Lac with the windows tinted? You mean the one with the pretty bitches sittin in it? Please believe it, we gon' represent it And we gon' bend it and dent it Fuck what it cost, we gon' spend it Buy it, never rent it Now when you suckin my dick, baby girl put yo' face in it Get it get it girl (get it girl), make yo' head swirl Get it get it (get it girl), make my toes curl And get it get it, go on girl, it's a crazy mixed up doggy dogg world [Chorus] And I know that you really can't believe what ya hear and ya see Just put ya hands up and repeat after me Get yo' money, fuck a bitch...and blow a gang of weed And I know that you probably never thought that you could see a true G A nigga like the D-O-double Gizzy But like I said, get yo' money, fuck a bitch, and blow a gang of weed [Kurupt] Yeah, yall the type of suckers we straight through When we skate through, with DJ Clue Hoes gobble on something, swallow on something Throwin' hollows like football passes and football practice Off that dodo, look at the shine comin' off that fo' fo' I want the ki's, the trees, the ice, and the g's What's yours is mines, but you already know though I'm young gotti desodo Let's see how long a body can flow fo' I got my Rocawear leather on, on swoop nigga You know Damien and Jigga laced me and Snoop nigga Them my motherfuckin' homeboys See Beanie's from my hometown Memphis with the full pound Tucked in Amil purse, all you bitches hatin' get a deal first It's hard work, raise off the homegirl bitches Chorus Yeah, you know how we do. Big Snoop Dogg, Kurupt Young Gotti. Rockin these niggas. Rocafella, what?!? Fuckers! Iceberg Slimmin' on these hoes. Doin it big. Aight aight, I'ma take me a trip to Marcy, go fuck with my OG's. And fuck you bitches and you bitch ass niggas. We ain't fuckin' with none of you suckas in 2001. On to the rest, you bitches. |
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4:51 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
[Kurupt] Daz Dillinger
[Jay-Z] Talk to 'em [Kurupt] Kurupt young Gotti [Jay-Z] Talk to 'em [Kurupt] Big Jigga nigga, what? [Kurupt *sung*] Psycho, like no, bitch-ass nigga so When you see the D-O double G sneak creep low [Jay-Z] In the memory of the Notoroious B.I.G., Tupac Shakur [Kurupt *sung*] Psycho, like no, bitch-ass nigga so When you see the R-O-to-the-C sneak creep low [Jay-Z] Young Hova in the house, world wide hustler R-O-C, D-P-G motherfuckers.. .. hold up love You know Jigga Man resum, blow up drugs Blast round, full pound, no mask or gloves Face down on the gravel, have gun will travel Out the blue steel barrel get ya crew killed Perro ass niggaz can't touch I, muh'fucker what's my - - name, Young Hov', gun blow like AC R-O-C (With the D-P-G nigga!!) [Daz] Hold up (hah) wait a minute and All my thugs get (get what?) gangsta with it Gotti Jigga and Daz Dillinger, killin ya with the pound with Roc La Familia {*y'all niggaz ain't feelin us*} [Kurupt] Deep in and out, out gold Daytonas D cut through with 2-way Motorolas Nigga the Dynasty and the Pentagon MOTHERFUCKER Hollow tip, stainless teflon MOTHERFUCKER Jigga trigger, cock-a-poppa, nigga chest rocka with the chrome chopper, glock'll pop a nigga so quick Saddam Niastra, y'all done stepped in the mud and about to feel ery'thing from the flat foot Calicos collective, have you ever seen a four so clean like a brand new nina My nigga Daz (Sigel Sigel) Jigga, Memph, in bad-ass Impalas Butt naked bitches and pop collars The popular scholar, this is the beginnin -acap |
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3:30 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
For my bitchs, bad bitchs
Fuck dem hoes Fuck dem niggas Fuck you too hoe Fuck you nigga I keep a dick in these hoes for my niggas dem I'm bezold out with gats for my bitchs dem Straight muttin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! I demand respect for my bitchs dem Neva' lovin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem I keep you niggas in check that's for my bitchs dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! They wanna know why niggas like me (like me) Talkin' bout bitchs in the street Walk a rock about bitchs don't speak if I say "Hi" I try to fuck ya Knowin' damn well you a young dick sucka' Half dead Half women, half men Gay as fuck Lookin' all toe-up Like you just had woke up Mouth smellin' like ass, dick, shit, and through up Hold up And this is for my niggas dem About them raga-dee bitchs cuz I'm sick of them Home-hoes like Trina going to save your ass But you a grown ass women bitch baze your ass! I demand respect for my bitchs dem Neva' lovin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem I keep you niggas in check that's for my bitchs dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! I keep a dick in these hoes for my niggas dem I'm bezold out with gats for my bitchs dem Straight muttin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! You gots no bucks? You gets no fuck You better find you a foot dragon slow mutt You got big bucks? You like the trick bucks? You lookin' for a quick nut and a dick suck? Nigga please I been touchin' dem Bees And I aint stuck on my knees For no couple of Gz This game aint nothin' to me Got niggas stuntin' for me From the N.Y.C to the Florida keys cuz Lil' momma I'm real one Pussy worth a trillion Pull them V's out nigga stop pillion Now you still wanna fuck I don't think so I aint no corduroy bitch I'm a mink coat I demand respect for my bitchs dem Neva' lovin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem I keep you niggas in check that's for my bitchs dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! I keep a dick in these hoes for my niggas dem I'm bezold out with gats for my bitchs dem Straight muttin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! Ah! You wanna cheap fuck Find a cheap hoe for that You got 10 Gz it takes much more for that You got 30 grand add 15 I'll pull out the handcuffs and the wiped cream Cherry's and strawberries we could do big things Pull the camera out play it on the big screen Lick your lips you know this pussy taste real great The realist one, I'm tryin to get it like Kim Gates Can't no bitch come between me, my flow, my clique Hoes we pimps we aint pimpin' dicks And after we fuck you ganna remember this Wants some up, bling, bald head bitch I be damned if I pimp ya'll hoes I'll damage ya'll scandales ass, amateur ass hoes One pound of cock and one genseen A fifth of Gen, and bitch and let the beatin begin I'm your daddy hoe And bitch I drive a Chevey not a caddie hoe The king dig-a-ling that is You cheap bragin' about the head I wanna see how mean that is I keep a dick in these hoes for my niggas dem I'm bezold out with gats for my bitchs dem Straight muttin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! I demand respect for my bitchs dem Neva' lovin' these hoes that's for my niggas dem I keep you niggas in check that's for my bitchs dem And if you with me Then you's a balla'! Roc-A-Fella! Fresh out! My nigga Gene! Domings! My nigga Damarco! |
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2:47 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Nas)
Yo, this is Nas with my Man DJ Clue The Professional part two Puttin' it down for you fake ass DJ's and shit like that Straight outta Q.B. all the way around the fuckin' world Black Frank Sinatra on yo' ass, Q.B. Braveheart nigga... [Verse 1] Was classified as the bastard who died Rumors say I came back alive with an axe And attacked niggas actin' like Nas My passion is to capitalize Come through my hood you get jacked for your ride Catch you from the passengers side My words turn the sea red Like the eyes of a weed head Ya'll peep my led then hide like Easter eggs I ride 'till the beef is dead, caskets dropped Your soul go further up than astronauts I talk it and live it Ya'll weak dudes should offer forgiveness 'cause frontin' like you ill gets yourself torchered by killers In Newyork I'm the realest Predicted by fortune tellers Sick with the talkin' methods AK's, Berettas My whole team is Steelers like Jerome Bettis Rammin' niggas like St. Louis, we dough getters And ya'll niggas is losers, nothin' fuckin' with us Nothin' but Bravehearts gon' hustle wit' us Ugh! [Verse 2] When ya'll niggas fall And start makin' 800 collect call commercials like Arsenio Hall I'm on times square on New Years with Dick Clark droppin' the ball With Kool and the Gang, doin' my thing Princess cut chains I bend bitches like bike frames My tight game will make Hilary leave Bill quick as lightning I'll have her wearin' tight jeans Givin' nice brains in a white Range Pullin' up to club life, turned her to a thug life dame I'm sayin', you rollin' with Nastradamus We flowin' to St. Thomas Jewelry box full of stones so I can change diamonds Matchin' masterpieces on black sandy beaches Even the paparazzi tries to peep us Disguised with dark shades and fake beards A lucky photographer noticed Tyra Banks here But I showed the tabloids bogus passports I told 'em back off before I flip like Castor Troy. [Verse 3] Live from the Bridge, cliques stay high from the iz' Wear the most popular shit, niggas knockin' my shit Denali's, fat designed rims, 2000 S Benz Watchin' ESPN with two dime lesbians I hit it of course, I did it to floss The last Don, doin' hits like Pepe and Cross Esco, cash long, niggas think I'm Blacula 'cause I'm in a castle with a bitch cold waxin' her I leave my teeth marks in hoes, scoop 'em like a spatula Pass 'em to my peoples and party like a Bachelor 'till I meet a gangsta bitch, give her banks to hit In return all she wants to do is drink the dick Fuck street clothes, we thug it out in Tuxedos Stomp niggas with hard bottoms in casinos A Hundred Bravehearts vest' up, nigga reload We keep low, Hundred Thousand bank ceelo |
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3:38 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Foxy Brown)
[Foxy Brown (DJ Clue)] (And I!) Oooh, Nana (New shit! Foxy Brown!) FO wit the X (So Hot!) Whoa, Brooklyn Alright (Oh!) okay, alright, c'mon Mmm (Fresh out!) I said it's gon' butter (My nigga pretty boy!) Bitch is lethal (Anton!) uhh Whoa, ohh shit, Na Na come through (Clue! [echoes]) Burn big spliff, y'all hoes pop shit I keep my gun cocked (Ha ha!) And my bitch spit Yes, who the ras wan' test me Original, don gargon that bitch I'm the reason bitches ride dick (dun know) I'm the reason why they like cock stiff Fox is the only reason Why them bitch wan' run gwan' buy fake tits like Who the fuck is y'all aimin for? If it's Fox, fuck you ain't name me for? Like I told you before, I'm BK's illest Dangerous bitch, BK's realest Heat play wit niggaz Clap gun, I rap don gargon Rapper slash model The whole round robin, so don't y'all get suspicious I'm big gun cock Foxy, y'all Likkle Vicious Niggaz feel this [1] [Foxy Brown] (sung) (Y'all can't fuck with Fox) So Hot make niggaz say (Y'all can't fuck) So Hot make bitches say (Y'all can't fuck with Fox) So Hot make niggaz say (Y'all can't fuck) So Hot, So Hot (Y'all can't fuck with Fox) So Hot make niggaz say (Y'all can't fuck) So Hot make bitches say (Y'all can't fuck with Fox) So Hot make niggaz say (Y'all can't fuck) So Hot, Fox, So Hot (Y'all can't fuck with Fox) Whoo! [Foxy Brown (DJ Clue)] Who da ras (?) chat but sound like who? And outta all niggaz I'ma please not do Niggaz talk slick then plead to the crew Got some grimy lil niggaz that'll eat y'all food (Haha!) Nigga, don't talk to me 'bout Fox spit rude I'm the same bad gwal, same cocky attitude (Word!) Ain't nothin changed Stunt gal, sick bod' Mash up on mah blood clot Range like And naan bitch fuckin wit Fox like Whoa; original big gun cock bitch And naan bitch wanna see Fox Naan bitch, wanna see me likkle gun pop Like, and if any bitch step on my crocks Thats a automatic hot one through ya Datsun, seen? Make them niggaz drop they toungues and Before they done make 'em drop they ones Tell 'em any nigga comin can't come for free It's a, price you pay if you fuckin wit me As long as ya "Chyna Doll" is indefinitely We H-O-T-T-I-E's, yes Not many can do it like, do it like.. [Repeat 1] [DJ Clue over 1] DJ Clue! Desert Storm! The Professional Part Two! Word up! C'mon! [Foxy Brown (DJ Clue)] Mmm.. I hate niggaz that love to pull rank Can't fuck and when they nut niggaz shoot blanks (Haha!) Whoo! I'm sorta like Jessica Rabbit Fuck who? Bitch don't move without carats, nigga And that's my motto - fuck me today, buy a house tomorrow And I don't feel sorrow, mmm Especially when I wind up my waistline, uhh Make them niggaz L.O.I. to the bass line Make them niggaz pepper seed when they taste mine [Repeat 1] [DJ Clue over 1] DJ Clue! William M. Holla! You know how we do things! Word up! |
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3:29 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
[Lil' Kim]
Yeah How many hitters can stand the rain (Queen Bee Entertainment I'm runnin shit now) This is only a test La la la la la (What We told you it was commin) La la la La la la la la (We in front of the scenes and in back of the scenes so what you gon do now) La la la [Lil' Kim] Bitches wanna front on me But know not to come to me I keep ten glocks Ten rotts up in front of me (grr) Like they sprayin sumin (Sprayin sumin) Like they sayin sumin (Sayin sumin) I gets my bark on like I'm DMX or somethin (What) My reach is like Louis stiff eighty-four Yours is like Evander seventy-seven slow Thanks to Taebo I'm thirty two and O When I catch a knock out bitches bring the cops out Two for five spots I tear the rocks out Pop the tops out then clear the spot out (Yea outta here) Nigga or bitch you don't want no problems (Fuckin assholes) My revolver is a quick problem solver Don't never think I'm slippin (Why) Bitch I ain't dumb I carry a stun gun inside of my hair bun Hatin ass niggas I treat you like a bitch Strap on a fake dick and stick you where you shit I got warriors that's three time felons Leave ya body swellin Leakin from ya melon And it ain't no tellin when the bodies start smellin Somebody took the story and sold it to Helen Kelly The guns and thing you sing about bring em out Like I thought y'all havin a gun drought I'm a millionaire I ain't rhymin for the cash I'ma relax and let my niggas get in ya ass [Banger] All ya'll niggas is narrow straight parrel Nigga like Banger make you swallow the barrel (Swallow it) Criminal I ain't tryna battle (Neva dat) on a ground or gravel Through four make the hollows travel [Bristal] I got Montana nines more tangled lines Who wanna wine and dine with Bris get in line I fight like I rhyme niggas thirsty to shine Can't jack mine I'm one of a kind [Banger] Die slow y'all niggas is dust like pyro You sleep with your eyes close Might as well be blind fold See how much my nine hold blast my one Dos tres to the cuatro cinco Reload bitch [Bristal] How you want it Head or gut You soft like baby butt (I like that) When these Brooklyn niggas come threw Their jewels they tuck For what Intimidated how we hop out the truck Or the S type Jag Y'all niggas straight fag [Chorus: Lil' Cease] This is for my niggas who ain't never have shit Ridin round town with gun in masses Copped out the ten years but only had six All the ghetto hoods with only one bad bitch [Lil' Kim] This is for my bitches who ain't never have shit Settin niggas up for all they stashes Love cats with Roleys and Carti glasses Nasty hoes who take it in they asses [Lil' Cease] I ain't gotta tell y'all niggas where I'm from I ain't never tell no bitch when I cum I'm far from a lame you will never see me run You know how we do it beef jump into it M.A.F.I.A.'s the gang max out the squadron Nine millimeter team Mack 11 mobs men Who said we ain't rich Kim's bling cost a fortune Queen Bee niggas shootin anything crawlin From now on it's on when I catch you niggas snorin Any fresh event you can bet niggas sportin Betta leave town catch a flight in the mornin Get the cold out ya eyes somebody bout to die Three niggas got beef three niggas got to go Hit em all in the row like tic tac toe Where you start is where you finish at Show y'all the meanin of fam Remember dat [Chorus: Lil' Cease] This is for my niggas who ain't never have shit Ridin round town with gun in masses Copped out the ten years but only had six All the ghetto hoods with only one bad bitch [Lil' Kim] This is for my bitches who ain't never have shit Settin niggas up for all they stashes Love cats with Roleys and Carti glasses Nasty hoes who take it in they asses |
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0:56 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Billy Bathgate)
Look... I'm here to make a mil off of fifteen bricks I rob for, can't see me workin' for Job Corps It's Gates, dog A little introduction to me Crack's D unto himself Who else fuckin with me? Who got the shit in a chokehold? Who gettin that powder? Who got the candy red 'Pala Sittin with M. Holla? Its real life and I aint got to act in a flick Or make a skate and play like I'm blackin a bitch Young'n... I like the 5, but feel right in the 6 Its more roomy, so I can feel right in your bitch Shit, I drink Velvey, Henny, and Cris In the hood they call me can't-get-right But I can get right It aint a ho in harlem that can't get piped Or any five boroughs My 9 semi starts trouble I want y'all to act up Go head and play dumb Billy Bathgates my name, huh Nigga, I shot ya (Yeah...DJ Clue...Desert Storm...fat shout: My nigga Just Blaze, Enigma, word up) |
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3:11 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
[Memphis Bleek] (DJ Clue)
(Word up!) Uhh.. I've become accustomed to goin through customs Pound in my pocket hollerin "FUCK THEM!" (What!?) I'm livin that life that you only talk about I'm fuckin them hoes that you only thought about I spend that money but you won't spend about as much that I made off my last single out Whatchu think of that? Niggaz, y'all know that I kill niggaz slow when I live for this dough (Holla!) Got labels sick, I know they hate that I'm makin they artists push them dates back (C'mon!) I don't need tattoos to prove I pack tools Go 'head and act fool and become dog food Memph Man, uh-huh, yeah that's me Same nigga that don't give a "basically" And I'm still smokin, it be like that Ya blunt went out, nigga relight that [Chorus: Memphis Bleek] I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Bleek how? I'm from M.A.R.C.Y. B.K. style, see Geda how? [Chorus] [Geda K] (DJ Clue) Yeah.. I'm finally put in the game, right where I should be And the gat laid right where it should be (Ha ha!) Violate, you be put where you should be Have your family and friends screamin "How could he?" Walk the streets with a body on his back Ride around in a V with the shottie in the back (Uh-huh) And for y'all that swear, that I front for rep Only thing that I front is hoes and coke and clips of tef With a co-d, that's a, menace to the people Yeah we sold D and made a livin off of people (Yeah!) Ghetto, corrupted us, and we taught ourselves How to add and scale plus bag and sell And how to, aim and shoot and I got brain when the wrist locked wherever the dot spot leave the tape You keep actin like you can't die in a blaze and I let sixteen of 'em dive in your wake [Chorus] - repeat 2X [DJ Clue over Chorus] New shit! Memphis Bleek! Geda! Marcy! Fresh out! (?) Tata! B.I.! [Memphis Bleek] (DJ Clue) Picture me rollin in that five hundred Benz I got no love for you niggaz it ain't no need to be friends (Clue!) I give a fuck 'bout 'em, no need to talk 'bout 'em He act bout it, I let the fo'-fo' pound 'em The co-d's, nigga no statements Just shots, empty shell casings No prints, V's no tint Phone, Sprint, Six, no chips nigga R-O yeah M-A Realist hood and clique nigga, comprende? You bitch niggaz know I'm focused right? You still catch M-E-M loc'n right? (Ha ha!) In the black V, wit the gat on my lap Shovel in the trunk, go 'head nigga, front This M dot E-M-P-H-I-S Bleek Coppin out to a one to three, you bitch nigga! [Chorus] - repeat 2X [DJ Clue over Chorus] Fat shout! Cuttino Mobley! Steve Francis! Houston Rockets! My nigga Chris Childs! LaVar Postell! New York Knicks! Word up! [DJ Clue] DJ Clue! Desert Storm! Roc-a-Fella! The Professional Part 2! Ha ha! |
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3:52 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Capone-N-Noreaga)
[Noreaga] Aiyyo these industry niggaz - they startin not to like me I'm too chiesty (chiesty) I'm too fiesty (fiesty) Run up on labels and I beat up kids It's N-O! Ain't no need to ask who that is I'm like Tim Duncan (nigga) close to unstoppable Shoot at your face, kid Whatchu gonna do? I go to Jacob with a hundred thou' While you go up to him with twenty-five hundred, wow!! I throw fifty on the chain (what!!) Fifty on the watch (what!!) I still cock, blow, and throw fifty on the block (what!!) It's thugged out, so my people listen and watch Yo my name "nore" but only fam' call me "flint" My people that smoke weed get high in bed, yo am I a hoe? You can see me at the Tahoe, rockin a shirt that say "Let the Lox go" In L.A. I rock the same shirt at Roscoe [Chorus] Remember if I shot a nigga - I don't care In the club (?) - I don't care You see the way we pop Crist' yo - I don't care It's CNN every thug throughout the atmosphere See us iceberged out yo - I don't care Chromed out the lower twenties yo - I don't care It's CNN every thug throughout the atmosphere [Capone] I'm out of this world, keep a fresh philly to twirl Pretty thug fly nigga, gimme your girl I been on all avenues Strips hot like Malibu's sand I got chips shit Rappers' savan I represent every Ghetto like a broke elevator Piss downstairs, sunny dude Cherry Now and Laters Save her for a favor, one of my favorites When a nigga circum To the slum, I rap one of the greatest Off the kicks I'm rockin' the latest Air Pimps Let me have that scar underneath my shit We thugged out, shit bleed thugged out QB reign as the last stop like the QB train In L.A. I'm with Kurupt South Central with Daz, hot nine's Clue Thug pop wine in the coop Fatigue the suit nigga Still shootin cues Huh? Clue, how we do? (huh? how we do?) [Chorus] [DJ Clue - over Chorus] Fat shout! TDK! Sam Elbridge! Brian Gordon! C'mon! [Noreaga] I'm went from, right (right), and I never forget ('get) Where we sell a lot of coke and we fight off pits The whole block on the run, yo even the chicks I cop every Jordan's, I love them kicks I got hurt when the Spurs beat the New York Knicks I had the gamblin' in the hood Scramblin' the hood (word) When shit got hot, I leave hammers in the hood A thugged-out shirt and bandana in the hood I'm the "Godfather" of the thugs King of the hood King of the 'dro King of the Crist' King of the ass And sayin' what, what? To Grandmaster Flash Hey what? The super thug is back, and I got some shit I'm like a crackhead, can't turn down a hit I keep the chrome out on the four-fifth, Four point six I went from hustlin nicks to hustlin bricks I'm big-timin' this game, I'm small-timin' this [Chorus] [DJ Clue - over Chorus] DJ Clue! Desert Storm! Fat shout! Theo Ratliff! Sixers! Saint Johns! Germ players! Mike Jordan! Alex! DJ Clue! Professional - Part Two!.. ..New York! [Noreaga - over DJ Clue] Yeah, yeah, DJ Clue Duro! CN motherfuckin N Y'know how we fuckin do it Thugged out and you all tittied out Desert Storm, strait form on ya norm' Keep it regular nigga Smoke good weed nigga, not the regular Smoke good weed nigga, not the regular.. |
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3:33 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000) | |||||
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2:47 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Redman)
[Redman] I said y'all niggaz can't come in here tonight P,P,P Get out of here I'm the bouncer here tonight [Verse 1] Your boys are out numbered so plan tomorrow While I do the wild thing like I'm Sam Labardo My crew is grimy enough to ride in cargo Cause brick city beef with more people than y'all bro (A yo dogg what up) Yo the cold is coming So I be up all night like my toilet runnin' As a little boy was know for spoiling somethin' Now it's like fuck you It will be brawl or nothing (Hit the streets 4 in the morning) To run you over The beef we love the steam and cooked in okra Bitchs in the bricks slit the throats of both ya' Walk on T.V live hooking off on Opera I aint buff but got nough' muscle to fight I aint a dog but got enough hustle tonight Here's the facts to you punks And the message is When you buy guns invest in extra clips Ahhhhhhh! [Verse 2] When he went inside the club I flattened his wheels DUI drug addict and I'm back at the wheel You happened to feel This amphibian rappish and back at the gills From back at the hill (chill, chill, chill) It's me on the nine to nine Crashed it Now my sores on the eye-a-dine Po po found the dro but no firearm Cause I look shady like sun visor blind Dangerous I leave a smell That's why the sign read "Don't feed the whale" Doc like +Adabisi+, "I need the bail" Cause I keep my weed locked in the +OZ+ as well Yo what I look like a kid to you? I'm like +Bishop+ gunnin' down my friends in +Juice+ Brick dogg and I'm out to defend my food So fuck the media with the middle tooth (tooth, tooth, tooth) [Verse 3] Now just through your hands up in the motherfuckin' sky Da dirt always bubble pour peroxide You see? Thought I lied Nah dogg the truth I set marine out like my car waterproof You niggaz break day and still y'all broke You minus well get a job use the time to vote I rode crocked like my benz with alignment broke So it's like surprise! With that five behind my coat (So what the fuck you want!?!) Yo I see the problem twin The 38 special need revolvin' Invasion like moving BET to Harlem What are your fly whips and no keys to start em' Yo I open the doa' *door* (Open the doa' yo) I'm smokin' the dro' (smokin' the dro' yo) Bitch get out of line (get out of line) Smackin the hoe (smackin' the hoe) Ahhhhh! |
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3:12 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Lady Luck, Muggs (a.k.a. Paul Cane))
[Muggs (Paul Cane)] Dont get nuthin confused about me, this nigga hea throw clips You think you could hold three, nigga hea go six I bring +Heat+ like Deniro flix, my team lock and load And rock and roll like Aerosmith Fuck cops I got Cochran Shapiro chips One point five in ice in each earlobe shit Fuck who you and your man go get Me and cat take +Pussy's+ on boat rides on some Soprano shit Move wit troops in cougar coupes Like beeno and notes for a G a piece, they'll remove your roof Ya better spread when the ruger shoot Paul Cane got fire, everything ya heard on Clue was the truth It's like who want what what ever Tou and your man play tough ya gon get plucked together At gun point gettin stuck together Black Benz tinted out, buggy headlights stuck together [Chorus 2X: Lady Luck + Muggs (Paul Cane)] We aint jokin no more (This ain't a game to us) Got a lot of hungry niggas that came wit us (We dangerous) Cock back aim and bust (Lady Luck, Paul Cane, who could bang wit us) [Lady Luck] They said I rap like a man, and act like a man So when it come to war she gon clap like a man Short arrogant wit this gat up in my hand Chicks dont play cute I'm still attractin your man Rock many lands, Japan to Philly sands Luck stay ghetto like Rican dolla bands Only thing I take serious is garments and money And late periods [there she is] Screamin in a 2 by 2, too fly 2 seater Too much ice, too cold, 2 heaters Love men but got lesbian guns That love to lick off at you pussies for fun So play dumb in these dum dups Hit you where you pump cum Stick you for your lump sums We the ones you run from Till the day my lungs done for blocks I hit hard like Ronnie Lotts Lady Luck got it locked [Chorus] [Muggs (Paul Cane)] Ya talkin greasy like Paul ain't a nigga wit fire Like I aint got guns or killers for hire Got wolves that'll run through mask and arms Like point break clear the safe out and smash your moms Over 40 years old still blastin chrome Smiles never cross they face till there's cash in palm Cause they still do murders for bucks Gave em put hollow points through you then pass the burner to Luck We like a 2 G Bonnie and Clyde, back to back in beef Wit two heats a piece, mami gon' ryde Spit four, she behind me wit five Y'know Paul Cane and Lady Luck MO catch homo's and slide Before we drop the guns Wipe off the prints push the pedal through the floor And get away back to the bricks, ya don't want nothin wit us Paul Cane, Street Life, Desert Storm, we dangerous [Chorus] |
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1:17 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional 2 (2000)
(feat. Ty Shaun)
[Ty Shaun (via phone)] Yo.. Yo, this Ty Shaun, man Word to mutha, man AKA Ty Nitty AKA William P. Holla Man, this my nigga Clue (Shout Outs) You know how we do this man Word to mutha, man Yo... Yo... [Ty Shaun] It's desert storm motherfucker, hit the floor, times up No question entertainment got ya cap lined up I bag for chips big guns and fly whips Bitches with bright red lips and wide hips Who crazed with thugged-out niggas with long dicks I'ma mad man, you can call me a convict Gunnin niggas down and I'm known for ice picks My cliques some iced out niggas who bomb shit Desert storm, catch your bodies in bare arms Ty Nitty run the city, but Clue is the don QU diplomats, throwin slugs at y'all Niggas floor skirts and clap pom poms Tranvets and wearing ya thong thongs I'm spittin' from the heart tearin' niggas apart Sixteen bars is like sixteen thugs Blow a hole in your face and mail your family the parts Motherfucker! [DJ Clue] DJ Clue... The Professional... Part 2 |
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1:03 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
the prfecional yah part one yah yah this iz it it comes yah yah yah lets go
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3:52 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
This thing right here is for my peoples in the streets
(Uh huh) and this thing right here and get your ass off your feet (Come On) They call me Drag-On, its time to bomb, I'll burn'em all Till they all say turn em off goodie chicks, I'ma hurt'em all Chickenheads know I be the colonel Cuz I burn eternal mixes wit they infernal So be careful 'fore I burn you You better learn dude, yeah I heard you But I'ma hurt you, but you don't know my verses too is a virtue Ruff Ryders be the team, which means a lot cream, lot of schemes Lot of beams to make your stock drop, right on the seams Nigga here is too hot and too much for you to touch Better tell your man cuz I'm too tough inaudibly too dust do you bust Cuz we do you can ask people But quietly but they don't believe until they leave violently Is you buying us cuz niggas that purchase is under the dirt kid They call me Drag-On; I'm the youngest buck at bunkers Collabo' wit my dogs from Yonkers but this Bronx bombers Spitting flame so you better wear your armor Flame on!My dogs gon' stop; your dogs gon' drop And then we go, shut'em down open up shop First we had em like ohh, now they like no Well baby that's how Ruff Ryders roll! [Jadakiss] When I pop up, I lock shop up, pull the drop up Park a block up, hit the alarm, put the top up Stash the drawer in my sock then pull my sock up And keep the burner but if it's hot put my glock up You know what I'm about sliding off get my cocks up Or writing rhymes watching Scarface in the hot tub Wit you on the bed when I pull it out if you don't shout Then every bullet'll go in and ou |
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3:25 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Featuring DMX]
Ugh Dmx Clueminati Is ya'll motherfuckers ready for the Ruff Ride! Grrrrr! When I speak I'm understood my decision is wood See what I'm able to see (ugh) cuz my vision is good It's like I see through the eyes of a wise old man So I chill and when I can kill this guy's whole fam Something better to be thought dumb and remain silent Then to open your mouth and remove (?) cuz if it came violent See I'm gonna give it to you straight, so you don't ask anymore You don't really want what you asking me for It's a war (ugh), when it's on it's on, when I'm long (what) Till I'm gone and I ain't got long But while I'm here, (ugh) ya'll niggaz gonna burn Be (?) after this money (what) and ya'll niggaz gonna learn All this fucking weak you've been talking about that driveby And they did nothing but driveby's Listen shorty I'm telling you this for your own good (Uhh) Everybody is the man in they own hood, for real Yeah cuz if it's on it's on And if you cats keep fronting then your ass is gone Uh huh I always keep my enemies the closest (uhh) Always make sure I know where the toast is (uhh) Always cover my tracks when I creep Always get away when I'm done to relax to D I always know the rules of the game before I play And always keep enough dough to know I'm good for the day Always walk my dogs off the leash and Always get my thoughts off the streets and Always will ever lend a hand in borrow And always no matter what plan for tomorrow I always pay my respects to the dead I always take at least one blood to the head Now always know -- (cut off) is gonna end up getting fucked And always know-- (cut off) is gonna end up getting stuck! I'm always strapped; I'm always cracked I've always rapped; it's always that Always black Never try to knock off rock on the block that ain't yours Never take a man's life cuz you hate yours Never become so involved with something that it blinds you Never forget where you from someone who reminds you Never take for granted what's been given as a gift And if I sleep on -- (cut off) left that nigga stiff Never turn your back on -- you don't trust Never turn your gat on -- and don't bust Never expect to give away with cent -- more than twice Never forget you could get it too for a price Never bring a two and -- if you scared to die Never gonna do it -- if you scared to drive Never gonna be another day it gets dark Never get it -- here for the heart Never say never, cuz I never thought, this never thought never Ever caught better, getting cheddar, with doing better, Dmx! Uhh Dmx Clueminati 9-8 Ruff Ryder's Motherfucker Ya'll niggaz don't know, how it's gonna go, For real (uhh!) It's Dark & Hell is Hot Y-O Motherfucker School Street Home of the Brave we all here baby Mundo! Telemundo! What |
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5:10 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
[Featuring Cam'ron Big Pun Noreaga Canibus]
DJ Clue: *with echo effect* Fantastic Four: Cam'ron Pun Nore Canibus Cam'ron: >You never hear that we buckle Beef? We chuckle Scuffle over a game of pinochle Anything up on my money man I gotta see double Unless you want trouble Oh you realer now? I'm the kind to cut a peace of soap put it on the imbecile Crack the Hen Rock style give me the foul Girls grope then I smile That's when they fall cause they met my balls Right after I played ball No wash-up, no nothin'. Hear what I say y'all? O.K. y'all. Ask AJ y'all I'll turn the baddest bitch gay y'all Like Stacy, damn, she was eatin' Tracy's ass At this other lady's pad To get it on I had to call up Desert Storm My cut-throats scar y'all, while you hope the Don fall But I'll come inside The Tunnel, nigga, wit Pope John Paul Yo, them niggas on the wall frontin', they ain't no harm y'all My crew'll break each shoulder I'm that nigga they talk about on Street Soldiers Cause my street soldiers are heat holders and weed rollers We keep 2 bones and 2 phones in each Rover We all relaxed and any beef we over-reactin Peace to Lorey Actins, but I get buck wild like Corey Jackson Playin' is called off, cause y'all about to get hauled off Y'all all soft from smokin Nicholi (/nicks), nigga, like Volkof Know what I mean yo? Notice the cream grow I fiend though, I'll come fuck up your whole town like El Nino I'm the hottest nigga you've seen though Jumpin outta Lex Coupe With Jimmy Jones right next to me in the Benz Truck too Big Pun: >Fuck all y'all non-believers I roll wit God, the squad & TS Out wit the B.S. We platinum, they even doubted Jesus Niggas is 85%, I'm 400 solid Brainbolic wit knowledge, cock-diesel scholars Holdin' it down, walkin' around wit gold by the pound Frozen down wit diamond bolders all in the crown Talk of the town Soakin' you down wit the toast 'til you drown Ghost you and put your corpse in force that'll open the ground Save the jokes for the clowns I'm on a serious tip You keep playin' and I get furious quick And now I take you for a walk in the ghetto Even spark your metal and get outlined in chalk by the devil I rep the borough that mothered this rap shit I used to clap shit Now I just lay back and mack on some mack shit I used to have to pack a mack in the back of the Ac[ura] Now I relax and stack platinum plaques in my shack It's like that but don't think I won't counter act My niggas is strapped and quick to lay a bitch on his back I'm swift with the mack, quicker than Kung Fu With the reflexes of a cat and the speed of a mongoose Noreaga: talk about huh? That's what we talk about thug shit ( 4x's ) >Now it's a symphony Without me on it, it ain't a symphony My crew shit on cats without Tiffany N-O-R-E, I just lace the heat I don't complain about the track, give me any beat I get hed in the wip on any street I fuck wit Clue, other cats is snakes I've been fuckin' with Clue since he made 60 minute tapes We copped mad bottles and crushed many grapes We from the hood and they from the hood The difference is we get plaques, they go double wood Took the game right over at the time they could Them niggas silly though, knowin' Nore lay pretty low But them niggas is [ho]mos like the Maxwell video I got 2 albums and 2 cars Now bitches on my dick cause of Chico DeBarge Thugged Out's 1st lady (let's go half on a lady) Ya motherfuckers ain't live, don't control the streets I sold 163 thou[sand] on my 1st week That means I got more fans than you Bigger plans than you We buy real coke, your grams is blue Ai yo, the President is like me, he smoke weed too Don't really like to fuck, he just get hed too Stick a broom in your butt, tell you, "go head boo" Thugged Out motherfuckers like the rest of the crew Canibus, Cam'ron and Punisher too And the beats are usually done by Duro and Clue Canibus: >Who in the hell wanna battle, the ill mathematical? My motherfuckin' brain is IBM compatible Techniques are foreign Far from being borin' My style is hard like cancer without McCorman I run threw your crew like the flu when I bomb it My styles like AIDS cause don't nobody want it Niggas frontin' like they hard But I'm a Street Fighter like Jean Claude And I'll split your shit, god Right down the middle Play you like a riddle I got a fetish for titties, I nibble on the nipple Then trespass on your property like Monopoly Subdue your crew and beat that ass properly Welcome to the Desert Storm annual extravaganza Clue rolls deeper than the cart-rides on Bonanza I feed off weed, natural energy sources Lyrics with more power than the horses they put in Porches Can't be tested or F'ed wit I'm too reckless I chop off heads just to take the necklace The type of Canibus (/cannabis) that's side-effectless The type of shit that get the Question-mark Man arrested Take evasive action Flip like reciprocal fractions Turn the heat up on MCs to watch their meat blacken You try get fly, you get electrified and fried Fuck around and get your mouth slapped dry You could battle me and possibly survive But you could never see me and walk away without a black eye Word up hop, CLUEminat call the cops And if the cops ain't tryin' to see me, then the cops call SWAT Scar your whole squad with bullet scars No holds barred I'll even hassle the National Guard Ready or not like the Fugees Crews be steppin' to me But I wipe em' all out like booty I'm so unruly, the police don't say nothin' to me It don't matter whether they on or off duty I murder you brutally when I spit at you My actions are unforgivable Look at what CLUEminati did to you The maximum lyrical Nigga you minimal There's a big hole in the desert, I told the men in blue to dig for you Motherfucker...CLUEminati 98' DJ Clue: *with echo effect* Dj ClueThe Professional |
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3:27 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Slick Rick chains ill nigga
Get brains with the fuckin Hilfiger nah Shit changed I gotta rock somethin' flier McGiver get outta shit smooth like that get higher In these kicks prince sneakas jogs is loose robbin truce while my revolver shoots Chinky eyed devils is grin Purple range rovers wakin up with hangovers God damn I need my brain sober So I jump up in the ride and slide Me and my nigga Jon Clue, just called he got the purple 5 Damn nigga's is live, Queensed out Got to put the card hard jeans on I faked out, til this light green caliweed Henisee dro, use to only cop thug sacks but now I cop a oh Six double oh, I trick a couple hoe's Get em in my car, dirty shit all in the fuckin floor Clean that shit up now throw in outside Took about four hundred G's to cop the bulletproof ride Bentley its on, yo we on the world tall We got a show on, top of the coliseum open doors Let them rock-a-way nigga's in Queens bridge startin' shit, chill, calm it down we got to blend it in School of hard knocks shirts, choppin' hurts >From the Hurst, yo corona play the sideline, yea it works Yo when we put it all in the same fam, yo round up the queen's click Check out the game plan Queens's nigga's rock ice and smoke hydro Keep heat for the beef and don't hide yo Young nigga's get cash and cop rides yo Queens bitches, stepin up with thick thighs yo Queens nigga's rock ice and smoke hydro Keep heat for the beef, we never hide yo Young nigga's gettin cash and copin rides yo Queens bitches, stepin up with thick thighs yo Cause every in brown skin Queensed out from public housin Comes the one known as the garson child, rappers is bowin Look at em, they roll me red carpets praisin me as one of the dead profits When I talk these nigga's heads bobbin Strait out of queens with TNT, they did there first drug stain With one and hundred cop shots, niggas with first scene With D-Days and cop killin, laws was made 10 G's to a witness, you seen a cop get sprayed What's on the AGQ club or club Mercedes Sunrise, movie theaters to chill with our ladies Load up the 80's cause cop killin craz is crazy 40 to basely, Q gardens to woodhaven To AQ that got booted barrel goddy that was made in Whips on the vanwick queens day and shy stadium Anything that's transported to New York got a come through the gates of either 2 airports Kennedy and Luigudia we come through bod of you Bloodhounds follow you; wolves ill get on top of you Push prints Camaro's paper here to Somalia Blaze off double barrels, shall follow you |
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3:08 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
New shit, Nature
(Yo, yo Nate, you gon do this for Queens,this one here for Queens yanawmean?) (Yo Nature gon rip this down, for Clueminatti and the whole Queens) It's the, DJ CLUE (We gon spit this one for the 1999) Aiyyo, I got a bitch buy me 'dro, a bitch buy me clothes A bitch that can't cook, stay burnin Sloppy Joe's Olive Oyl legs, even them stocky hoes Bitches that I used to beep, but forget they codes They stay frontin, no kissin, strictly face fuckin I get em drunk in my room, and keep Mase bumpin The one wit Total, your friends might of told you I violate menage's, pimp game be bi-coastal Officialize one's high fold you, run and tell em next Cuz only some become gremlettes I never spend for sex, strictly rainy days Strictly wit the fat ass, backshots made me spray Like the shotty pump, they tried to tie me up And want to spend the night, every time we fuck Get a snooze on, cum stains in a futon It ain't a game, still you run when the food's gone Now who is wrong When I spit, you spit, hot shh, new shh Exclusive, Nature, Clue shh When you spit, I spit, new shh, hot shh Exclusive, Jungle, watch this When I spit, you spit, hot shh (DJ Clue), new shh (The Professional), exclusive, Nature, Clue shh When you spit, I spit, new shh, hot shh Exclusive (STUPID!!), Jungle watch this Got a fiend that owes me ten, a fiend that owes a buck Got a decent job, pay they debts slow as fuck Catch em in the street, ?mo fit? up, say "come on you bitch" It's only money I'm involved wit Calculations, foreclose homes out in Vegas I run wit TM, meanin bitches pay us, itc |
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4:39 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit?
We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit I understand why y'all niggaz is mad at me Sittin' around like, "Damn, that could be me" All the cars and the bitches, livin' lavishly But there's only one problem: y'all ain't bad as me Who could flip a record company from a half a ki? Then drop a gold album, do the math with me Turn right around and go platinum, that would be Fuck it, I lost count, why don't you tell me the amount? Since you gossip like groupies, notice please I never go broke my name got two G's J I two G A, I flip that Up on the platinum and be on the next day I be right there when your mics blow out I was there when your lights went on and when you lights go out I'm right there with the same ice to light up your house Just bright enough to see the gun 'fo I wipe you out I'm the stuff niggas write about, Jigga's a legend J-Hova, end of the session, fuck with me now Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit We live from the 718 Got my chick in DMV at this very second runnin' your plate Two knocks on your door, one gun in your face Two blocks of C-4, I put one in your safe Place the safe in the bath tub, I got one plyer You better hope this money don't catch fire You so soft, no mask, no rope, one clip and I Let this nigga run around untie, I swear to God You know the type that talk loud, but nigga's white cloud Soft as a baby bottom, you know Jay-Z spot him I haven't heard him in a while and you know how come? His little faggot's in the corner dialing 911 Snatched the phone, get a grip, dog, you 'posed to be tough What you tellin' the cops, huh, I'm takin' your money and drugs? In the underworld we take care of beef ourself And another thing yo, we police ourself Either you follow the codes or don't sell cocaine This life will swallow you whole, so get out the game Go to church every Sunday, nigga, and pray hard And drug dealer, hehe, don't quit your day job Fuck [Incomprehensible] Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangstam gangsta shit Nigga who else pop guns and rap jewels Meanwhile burning in hell, child We the center of attention Show me love for my nigga blazin', my niggas is made men Gangsters, shit, get coke and sugar boughs Got hoes for every home and never fuck they own Even though the Feds got a sweatin' grip in the chrome Commuter case is disclosed, they tappin' the telephones Dialin' a 213 zone now Got some ladies, slap a bitch up and send her down Feelin' me, I wanna put this hustle behind me But every time I look away, he's hittin' me blindly I'm lookin' for the light, baby, and here it is But soon as the nigga smilin', darker the night gets That's why we gangstas and y'all players Take two to the heart, Inc., world most Murderous Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit Who got the gangsta, gangsta shit? We got the gangsta, gangsta shit |
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3:54 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Geah, What?
Niggas Bleek, Duro We live Thugged out Marcy, Smoked out Yeah Uh, yo, yo Im on now Therfore your ready rock Compare to this fishtale baggin rocks Now give me Bill Gates money A little strait money Big or small faces its been in all places I was schooled by them older guys They showed me how to drive these ??? Chop dueces and old rubers Have a nigga rocked up then knocked up Plenty y'all wit his chest out gettin stocked up We trade war stories back on the streets When we played em messhall Niggas get'em on his eats Im a foul little nigga, wild little nigga Dedicated to these streets a pump valve little nigga You hear about my wherabouts? Bitches I don't care about Money Im a man about Drama Im a air it out Niggas hate Bleek cause I live right You'd love to see me broke frontin Wit no chips right? CHORUS: 2x Who wanna hear some more thugged out shit?(what) Who wanna hear that get smoked out shit?(geah) Who want to hear some real live type shit?(huh) Who want it wit that oh, chest out shit?(what) But this Bleek life my young niggas I tell ya I went from a failure, holdin paraphanalia Weight scales, twelve-twelves, dimes and fishtales Cooked up and bagged up My life was f**ked up, but I looked at it this way If I dont make it this way, then im a do it this way Blaze my heat, while Im after them nickels F**k six I chase nine f**ken zeros Digits I got four of them, want five more of them Bitches when I told'em flies bring more of them I f**k'em never call'em,my dough must have spoiled em Nigga blew roll wit'em but now im ignoring them This street life kept Bleek tight with heat right On the ten-speed herbed up, nigga word up You saw me, but if not your man did I know I pull gats on y'all for crack shit Yeah uh-huh CHORUS:2x My niggaz roll dice in the back park We sip bacardi darked wit sprite all night Till the sky get bruised or thug nigga lose Pull out two-two's only catch two, hundred Half the crowd skated ?when? which you wanted This nigga got shaky and panic when you fronted When he saw the black kron I thought the nigga wore a thong The way he froze his arm Dukes said its on He stripped to his drawers when he heard one raw Took off half ass when the nigga spit more And we all spit game you niggas ?heard free? game By soft motherf**kers, you lame mothef**kers I fall, I get back To test my worth I tell heads to hit that, its raw get rid of that My worker take thirty off a bundle Dodging the bikers, and'em D's When they rush the jungle So we stash in the fences Sit low on the benches Keep a small gun in case its on in the trenches Yo CHORUS:2x We live For the thugged niggas, Marcy What? We out |
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3:00 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999) | |||||
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0:21 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999) | |||||
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4:07 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Busta:
Uh-uh Fears, real fears The universal Flipmode Squad Known to every existing life form as the Imperial 6 Has formed an alliance with the official Cluemannatti Whatever you want, we do whatever you want (in the background as Busta speaks) Whatever you you want (4x) Do whatever you want, whatever you want (5x) Baby Sham: Yo it's time to make these moves Me and my Flipmode crew Baby Sham spit the hot shit just for you Make you get off your seat so you can cop the Clue Q.B.C. and killer kids never obey these rules That's why we roll deep and always carry the two Smack a nigga face, f**k up his mood EXCUSE YOU When we perform, bitches stand still like statues Borrow this game, so y'all can proceed to move Rah Digga: Uh-uh the ruggedest thing as far as chics go Watch nigga grow away faster than a pit bull I tell them all they ain't got nothing for 'em Platinum and album with no singing in the chorus You get ate like you was peanut butter and swarma Go tell yo' people I got a shitty karma BRICK CITY Home of the crush MC's and my shit be the joint like I was Black Eyed Peas Hook (Busta Rhymes and Lord Have Mercy) Wiggle how you want, shake it how you want When you get a lot of money, spend it how you want We always got the new, always coming through Buck wild, do whatever that y'all wanna do Wiggle how you want, shake it how you want When you get a lot of money, spend it how you want We always got the new, always coming through With my nigga Clue, rapping with my Flipmode crew Rampage: Ramp, I'm still jig I'm in the party taking a swig I'm rich, yo I gotta think big Holding the bar, me and Busta Bus, Lord Have and Spliff Star Driving foreign cars, open club speed Sham and Rah Digga had the weed, pass the duche That all a nigga need Twenty to one, y'all know the whole gamble All my life I had to scramble WHAT Spliff Star: I be that thug back in the club Puffin' on bud, chics eyein' me Niggaz through the street show me love Gettin' paper now, Bill Gates is my neighbor now Chics all flavors now, cause a nigga kinda famous now This here, my year turn millionaire If it's well, cop a beach house, kick a seashell If I got it, Imma flaunt it That Brooklyn shit, I'm on it Spliff Star, America's nightmare most wanted Hook (DJ Clue shout outs) Busta Rhymes: You want beef, my name Beef Steak Charles With deeper frequency than Lou Rawls Drop like Niagara Falls Soft like Quaker Oats whippin' in speed boats Make y'all niggaz BA-AH-AH like a bunch of billygoats BA-AH-AH back to you, while you take notes Rippin' shit down from the arena to parade floats YO Yo, Flipmode Squad lock yo' house up Quick to talk shit, nigga we lock yo mouths up Lord Have Mercy: Landlord confusing you chumps Doing it up off rhymes Scarring, shooting up the club Like pharmaceutical drugs You stupid as f**k, doing 'em up Losing your blood It's a cold world, with beautiful sluts screwing for ones King of the jungle(jungle), swing on a humble(humble) Stay grippin' on bundles, scattered in pieces Chatted with Jesus Niggaz salute the dead and gone, the dead and gone Flipmode and Desert Storm, Desert Storm Hook (2x) DJ Clue: DJ CLUE Busta Rhymes(talking): It only gets better motherf**kers Flipmode the Imperial, Cluemanati Do whatever the f**k y'all wanna do |
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4:31 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999) | |||||
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3:48 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
[DJ Clue]
New Missy Featuring Mocha Nicole D-J-Clue [Mocha] What hot, we droppin' What not, we stoppin' Ya'll rock toppin', we bottle poppin' Ya'll block watchin', we watch coppin' Ya'll car hoppin', cause now we got it locked and We dedicate for ya'll feather weight You better skate cause we never late Gon' replicate then bet I set it straight But you can't bet what you never make I'm the same cat from the same tracks That hadda bring crack when you played that When I spit move way back, you get sprayed at I write my own shit bitch, can you say that? 1 - [Missy] Alot of ya'll MC's talk mo' shit Talkin' bout hits and all the whips you dip I know most of ya'll rappers live dead broke I go to your accountant and he say, "No dough" Rappinbout the weed and you can't even roll If I blow you a gun nigga, can you smoke? Why you gotta front when you whack as shit Me and Mocha, we ain't braggin' bitch I ain't gotta rap about the dough I hold And I ain't 'bout to talk about the cars I drove And I ain't gotta front about the shows I blow Turn on your radio, see me control [Mocha] It's best that thee put on the bets wit' me And testin' me? I hit your chest wit' three Let's make it clear that we gon' take it there The way it appears, there ain't a club shakin' rears Mocha here, call me the richest chick With the thickest chips, and the quickest whip Get a grip, why can't you try wit' me Dumb variety, I get it done lively 2 - [Nicole] My rhymes, they like They really, really like They for it, adore it So come let them enjoy My rhymes, they like They really, really like They for it, adore it So come let them enjoy it [Missy] Wooo, I get it hot like heat You the MC that 'posed to scare me? Ahhh, scream 'till my voice get hoarse Spit on the mic, make all ya'll moist Hey, you don't wanna f**k with me And if you do, then you've been practicing And no one even told you who I was Well I'mma set it off, show you who I am God damn, I got skills like a thief And while you sleep I snatch out all ya teeth Hey, you don't really want that beef I repeat, you don't really want that beef I said hey, you don't really want that beef Now you know not to mess with me, hah hah Uh uh uh uh uh, uh uh (mmm mmmm) Repeat 1 Repeat 2 to fade [DJ Clue adlibs] Missy My nigga Timbaland Aaliyah The whole VA Crew Word up DJ Clue The Professional Niggas don't want it Word up, word up |
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3:23 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Dj Clue: Whaaaaaaaaaaaat!!!
Chorus 2X R.O.C. (J.D.): Now all my niggas say what(what) We dont give a f**k(uh-huh), gotta let a bitch be a ho(hoooo) Now all my niggas say what We dont give a f**k Gotta let a nigga stack dough(money, money) [J.D.] All the niggas f**kin in between, be the the main man Never get stuck on the scene without a game plan, understand I went from pop lock into tops droppin To one of the reasons why the day parties keep rockin No stoppin niggas is like (wa-what?) And shorty from the south keep f**kin it up I'm the glitter and the gliss of this industry Makin hits, is how ya'll remember me Niggas dream to be like this one here JD type cat dont dissapear I'm the J to the E, R to the M A-I-N-E, got so many Bitches I should set up shop Bettin against me, Please! my bank dont stop I come through, bumpin Clue, with a 7-5-0 Screamin, I gots to have it, I love the dough Chorus 2X [R.O.C.] Nobody wanna f**k with the R.O.C. Young G from the streets And he's banned from t.v. Nobody said life was easy Out on the block I got shot And nobody came to see me Back on my feet Packed my heat Got back in the beef Blazed it up Are ya muthaf**kas lookin for me Raized it up And now they see I'm makin rap songs All I ask is my real doggs smash on... I said yea and ya dont stop 'cause its a 1-8-7 when ya f**k wit R.O.C.!! I said yea and ya dont quit I'm comin live from the Bricks wit the gangsta shit All my niggas on the corner at the end of the block Infront of the stores, shakin my dick at the lady cop Shakin my clip Til the hatas drop And I'm in a drop-top, bumpin down ya block And I'm dumpin Chorus 2X [J.D.] I seen a lot of niggas go down the wrong path And I learned from they mistakes, how to keep cash In this world it's snakes, I dont care, I dont break, Pushin Benz, 'cause a nigga know how to create On and on like a jeep go Any nigga standin in my way of my papers, automatically fonito Suckin on the end of Rosco pico's Trained to name Deleted from the muthaf**kin game Ain't no mo shoppin throught the glass Beggin for ass If it ain't 1st class I let it pass Ya'll that dont got it talkin all that trash Tryin to play tough ya'll when ya really bitch-ass I'm the cream of the crop The dream of the top I'm the one they come and see when they dont want it to stop I'm the bass, The snare, The one that dont care Rip shit the f**k up then I'm outta here Chorus 2X |
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4:03 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
(Fabolous)
(F-A-B-O) (L-O-U-S) (Dj Clue) New hit Fabulous straight from Desert Storm Whaaaaaat! I don't understand how niggas insist to knows bout How we spend car money to glist our rolls out Play bars and buy the cris and moes out Flash benjies just to twist the hoes out Fabolous the one from the menatti mix Known to have more kicks than karate flicks Slim nigga in a big body six Wit enough dough and pull to Gotti fixed If I wasn't rappin I'd have a ??? Down south in a town you never heard before Dealin wit weight Columbians would murder for ??? cats I keep burnin for furthermore I'm the nigga every freak press be in a sleek S That's gon need week rest after greekfest Jump in private jets just to sneak west Bet these calico shots rip through ya weak flesh (chorus) Niggas want it Now they get it Bitches on it Now they wit it flooded up and custom fitted Tinted up and BB kinted Y'all gon wonder how we did it Y'all gon wonder how we get it Y'all gon wonder how we did it Y'all gon wonder how we get it Now sports the kind of nigga you could spot everyday Sip lots of cherry 'Ze in a hot chevy 'Le I know's a few niggas that plot to bury J Wanna scar my face put a shot in my derrier What you gon do when we send shots from every way We got perion while y'all got perrier I strut past in diamonds that could cut glass Wit dime bitches that'll make a nigga nut fast Now I gotta fiend bout to throw some chrome on a quarter Cop a crown and put stones on a border Smoke the trees now that's grown underwater Still keep 9's that'll put ya bones out of order Got the condo cats will leave ya dead for Chicks givin sarges and crucial head for That make local cops go to feds for Anything you want nigga now I got the bread for (chorus) (Dj Clue) My nigga lil' Rob I see ya! Carlyle My nigga model boy Slade My nigga Miller Jason Jungle Clue! (Fabolous) New York is getting money Va is getting money LA is getting money Fabolous is getting money (Fabolous) Fabolous so cool I could play Texas In Avirex's light gray lexus Rockin white diamonds wit a gray necklace F**k and bounce don't even stay for breakfast We doin shit that'll make maid neck twist Wit a fancy chick we pay to pet kiss F**k studs I'm bout to throw bagettes in my ear And be getting head from brunettes in a lear If you ain't talkin money I don't wanna chit chat Throwin partys in Jamaica when I hit plat Receivin chips thugs catch cases for Make bitches beat me til my waist is sore Sport come through nigga like checks on the first Doin the bump drivin a lex in reverse Now we don't pop it unless it's a hundred a wop And I'ma keep hittin y'all like an abusive pops (chorus) (Dj Clue) DJ Clue, Fabolous Fresh out York Star Concords Bronx entertainment D-O-S A-T-L Y'all gon wonder how we did it Y'all gon wonder how we get it Y'all gon wonder how we did it Y'all gon wonder how we get it F-A-B-O-L-O-U-S F-A-B-O-L-O-U-S (Dj Clue) My Nigga Lou, Willies You know how we do it That platinum shit Word up! |
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0:29 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999) | |||||
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3:40 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
DJ Clue
echoing New shit Mobb Deep featuring Noyd (like this dunn) The Professional used from my nigga Vic Haha Prodigy Yo you catch chills P stimulates your eardrum Tastebuds more higher than drugs my song take all I blastoff on the track law My shit is pure satisfaction what more could you ask for Wit facts like an ?ansaw? I pour fire on earth I been to hot raw Do Queens tires get burnt, let's peel through the real Slide through my terrain, take a ride wit me Check out my lifestyle, it's a off-road course I stay challenged, but that's a good thing Cuz it creates balance, Infamous wild life federation My congress, sit down and conversate ya fate Derate barracks, don't get yourself embarrassed My click savage, y'all niggaz is average I'm handling your Most V.P., put em in P.C. Nigga, it's the I-M-D nigga (CLUE) 2x Havoc Cuz we plottin, leave the cats wit one option Start hoppin, cuz when it's on we ain't stoppin The click'll get the message when shit start droppin Don't got a gat stashed, you better start coppin Havoc Now you can talk about a nigga, criticize my faults But in New York, got it locked wit bolts, blow the vote Overdose, while you cop block and cut throats Me and my click's champagning, and campaigning While you rhyme about your jewels, and sniff that shit up in your nostrils I'll be plottin on your life, to put one up in your fossil Niggaz think they gully, on the inside sweet like honey Niggaz want the bitches, we just want the money Federal notes, flipped blue, keys of coke store frontin watchin his dough Tourin the coast, pardon wife due, gettin babies drunk Call me foul, deep down, you gotta admit, you like my style Put holes in your Polo, I know your M-O, you half homo Joinin my team, that's a no-no Say what you want, don't let it talk for you And that's my word, I'll have this hollow tip stored for you 2x Noyd One time nigga, two times nigga yo I dig the way Clueminatti got the beats rollin through the body The type of tracks, got me killin these cats Twenty-one and black, mental inner city minds be exact When niggas in the hood ain't no good, carry gats And leave you on your back in a hurry Especially, dealin wit the money Rockin Pelle fuckin wit the Spanish mami cheffin up by dellis Now we got the guns pumpin jums out the back of a deli Really, these chumps gettin slummed on the daily Forty days, forty weeks, either these raps are back in the streets Stackin cracks up in the fleece, so Hav blaze the bees And pass that to me, and I'll bless piece So this way the whole fam eat Be the Infamous of this shit, pioneers of this Survival of the Fittest, nobody's fuckin wit this So fuck around wit Hav, you fuck around wit me You fuck around wit me, then you fuck around wit P You fuck around wit us, then you fuck around wit three Mothafuckers from the NYC, what nigga uh, what nigga Clueminatti 2x |
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3:16 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
Yo man what,
Yo y'all niggas know Yo you know all that bullshit man Yeah, some niggas don't even These niggas man, What's the matter wid these niggas man? Nah man I'm puttin this shit up F**k dat man Ya'll niggas want me to be a crook again I know how to do that man don't even play wid me like that, Yo Verse 1: We spit rap and fire brown paper bag gat rap go whack and float acrooss the map floss that anything yell endorse that Electric company money honey Gin Romie wrap 'em like a mummy his style bummy Puffy Johnson Charles Bronson mix fly deuce flicks new and improved clicks Wu-kit Blood on the barrel of a desert out in the desert no shade'll live in my square blow the present Clue Red meat Shallah want adapt to collect acting like you iller on some serial killer you wack duke shirt off react like I'm bagging up stabbing up what collect a brick pop shit in the six trunk Nah nah man, Nah man you wanna have that shit again Why you ain't taking this shit to be something that it really is man? This you life man, Shoalin and desert storm This mic man he he acting stupid on me man What What What Verse 2: Yo, Aiyyo, yo Moseyin thousand dollar uniform you want Celine Dion chickenheads yo straight out of Houston Big ballers wall to wall brawlers die for us Lie for us, snatch white man money cry for us Creepin' through the halls on a keyboard Friendly blessed dress and all Fendi voice rock don't offend me intimidation make me blow for the station rep for one nation Ghetto bust like revelation, analyse losin' two wives livin' two lives Crew rise American Cream new guys Two hundred pies get rich and plan sweet Rappin' like mines you writing like mines they lines Grab my dick stay in line we come to whip nines Hold lot of carrying time and teaching crackers how to shine, oh yeah one thing recognise f**king wit the young keep 'em organised rest in peace Donny my soul cries, What I dunn hold it, hold it, hold it, hold it Natural light up, light up, that's my word This is this is for Clue right here dunn Verse 3: I'm third rail though half seal and I blow Robert Deniro dough gundelero let the steel blow Here me yo wild Trump style dunns connect three hundred ones while floating like a ?macual chest bloaw? most craziest laziest All I seeing blazes majorness mechanic wreckor on a beige disc payin whether level bank rolls freakin' plain clothes Lex big six arrange those snotty nose pose dark skinned hoes crazy ill fly jersey exposed neck rolls f**k your set flash let those stare the Lex nose watching vet po posing wit the most fly livest gortex made in Mexico, Brancs fifteen five Celine Dion ties two thousand nine bubble eye shit *talking by Raekwon and DJ Clue* Clue Killuminati John Gotti story right here fella Huh, Yeah, Word up |
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3:27 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
featuring Lord Tariq & Muggs
(Lord Tariq & Muggs talking) Trying to tell you man I'm going up in there Trying to dig into niggas pockets Fuck that man {Lord Tariq} Either you be real or you be dead Hey killer be a killer That's the rules to this game In the court of the law With let niggas that feel ya They know cat dealers But with some new shit like Clue shit We strap for this thriller You hit the crack house, you pull a mack out Cock the mack back, blow his back out And take the back route And that's what that's about Understand? I wan't cans in hand This shit is real, never phony Don't come short with my mo-ney I'll only tell you once Tony "Don't fuck me, don't you ever try to fuck me" If so, trust me, you outta luck B And try to sit high where them drugs be Filthy rich looking broke Fuck a bitch I wan't the world thust Keeping feds of my ass I gotta think fast 'Cause black man white town you know this shit won't last We try to bumble like ass Stay low, got to hurl that cash Into the trouble blow past, that's how you do it Chorus: We got cops and robbers Niggas and spicks Flashy cars, ghetto stars Moving stones and bricks It ain't over on the streets We got blocks to get So heads up, guns cock Don't get rocked to this (2X) -{Lord Tariq}- Now if the good die young Then what the fuck that makes me? And who the fuck are you to rape me? Less then the best, bulletproof love The thugs holding it down in the decks And for the frauds I got techs Heading straight for your chest Feel me on this My word is priceless You can't pawn this I might diss drop jewels The way I cop jewels The way my nine drops flues The way my mind influes What's a nigga to do a murder Type of shit you never heard of >From jimbos to fat burger On some last long shit I be doing this forever like that nigga Von Zeil Plus I calm shit, I bomb shit I had alot of Brooklyn niggas Saying "Yeah them Bronx niggas they get down" So hold your heat up, and move fast You got to keep Because Clue, Minnesota, Lord Tariq run these streets what Nigga peep up, talking to the sidewalk And there's nothing to comprehend When my nine talks Chorus(2X) -{Muggs}- I peep the devil screaming BK 'Cause I rock for B.I.G. Live like pop did, shells couldn't stop the kid In some rap I pack, used to be in passing for crack Molka type of lid with a passing for stacks Dreads call me African Black named after my medicine Street veteran with one gun Killed eleven men It's too crazy, y'all fake tough guys with full gazi's Blue mercedes, three pounds under the blue avy Bomb crews my mind power beyond you Now I push your hair line back Do what the con do I warned you, and sworn no talking Bring the thing out Got the block surrounded like cops And shots rang out Animal instinct, blood type is therobreed Run with thero heads Leave you in another burough bed Respect my hood, like the heats do Be k to the Bronx Poor kane, Lord Tariq & Clue Chorus(2x) DJ Clue: Uh-huh DJ Clue, Professional Roc-A-Fella! |
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2:42 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
[Intro]
Extraordinary (New shit, Made Men) The undisputed Made Men [Verse One] Ey yo retreat your betallion quick, before your time run out (Nigga) I see you sweatin', don't try a reachable gunout We take no prisoneers, never leavin' witnesses deadly venoms, on contact, my team strikes first My squad'll attack u in threes, no need for darkman we last man standing, who dead man walkin' It's five fingers to death, when I clutch the microphone in my hand I know you niggas don't understand Play my position, hold it down just like De Niro one of the coldest, Mortal Kombat, Sub-Zero I shot the shit outly, whippin the hantle clinch fisted Don't get it twisted, I'm livin and dyin by the biscuit But I risk it, I mean my life, I sacrifice So f**k y'all twice, thats right I'm actin sheist When shots pop off, you betta duck when I done with the automatic pump and I'm never in the shootin slum My face isn't definately the law in the jigsaw, puzzle while I screw and muscle on my six-saw Bringin it to ya ass, in a way you never felt it Yo whole f**kin' staff, who get they wigs melted When I'm rushed out, fresh out verbal bash-out P.D.'s that made man ready to get off for some action [Interlude] (You wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) ... when you dealin' with some made men (You wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) ... don't be sleepin' on these made men (You wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) ... when you f**kin' with some made men (You wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) [Verse Two] Yo, its warfare, I'm splittin your hair, with a missle cos I be squezzin' that type of shit up out my pistol Don't talk that tone, if you ain't gon' spark the chrome you shook and ain't got no tests, starts the roam Yo, we man of respect, with our own dialect elements surprise, wise guys, skill you ain't acquirin' yet I'm on that, hot rock and punk contact combat, doubt that can so you contract close casket, with the eight by ten sittin on top of the coffin never again f**k with made men Your last breath, the kiss of death, from the Smith&Wess splittin' flesh and I still got a mission left I keep they thinkin' second guess and Mr. Unpredictable, I'm askin', spittin' loogies from my weapon With indestructable niggas that called made man He grabbin' shit, I grab mine, so now we blazin' Tomorrow never dies, we suicid missionaries (Come on cops) smokin' hats keeps my visions blurry My right hand nigga be my nickel nine on my ways never hesitate to pull a gun so now you gotta face These never-minded motherf**kers with advances mean I try to hear you, leave those shells in your heads, man My man, ok probably unmistakently Motherf**kers, who make a homicide and never mystery [Outro] (You wanna roam in these streets cousin', every man for themselves) ... when you dealin' with some made men ... |
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4:12 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
M.O.P.
First Family Firing Squad and you know they make it happen And it's gonna be til' infinity Firing Hard sendin' up to all those thugs now Babe (Chorus)[All singin](Repeat 2x) [Why] They don't show my people no pasion [Why] Do They Love when These thugs be blastin' [Why] It's da Firing Squad and Yo' we askin [Why] They show no Love [What up] Remember me I participated in the one of the hottest joints in 1-9-9-3 [M.O.P] First Family [That's Right] Bd [ohhh] And I'm loved all ova' Believe What I told ya, When I told ya imma soldia [No Doubt] I get down Son ask around I've sipped drugs from Brownsville to Bricktown [Bricktown] Why you decied how a man should be Imma set [aside] my [pride] and [ride] wit' my family That's how I move [It won't change] **Still my love for Burbank is piller than chump change** [Yeah] >From mid range [Bill] To all you cats thats thinkin I'm chump change Don't know how these chest pains feel [Show em' da deel] I dun traveled in different dementions with good intentions Of keepin' it real so (Chorus)(repeat 1x) [The Last man standing] Fame neva missed Quick wit' game and sickin da Brame terrorist [Put ya arms down] Before I drop a bomb down Make ya whole staff calm down Nevamind wit dat cat talkin' Im off to rap Fisio blow em' off the track If it's a melody [uhhh] I bring out my energy And da remede Wipes out da enemy Get down for myne Mom duke call me Jambo I scramble wit fake thugs Thinkin' they Rambo [Ya'll see it] Home team Rock well pesisted [For instance]-(Bill sayin it) Use the first verse as my intrance I present to you [Who] The brownsville slugga nucka on top of his game [Homegrounce] I present to you [Who] The brownsville slugga nucka put one in ya brain [Hold dat down] (Chorus) Repeat 2x Hey yo, my family ties connect me to guys that's into Whateva's quick a quick wit ghetto potential [second against you] Look, it's more than just a hit [The Firing Squad] Produce sugaful shit And what I'm spittin shows my mission is saficiant [Neva wash em']------(1 Person sings) Sometime I clock em' Rockin' and listenin [alright now] It's da hometeam Were back So you should get ya gat and let ya chrome steam These rap dudes sabitage [That ain't reyal] Your rap styles carolouge [I can't Feyal] Feelers rockin this from New York to Providence Give the tape replay from D.C to VA Move like McGyver Dealt wit' conivas True monified gangstas Safe survivors In the meantime Mas Destruction It's a [Rapid Fire] Production When you look in my eyes tell me what you see You know how it feels to be rappin with ya fam I am retard as you and those thing you do Firing squad sendin up to all those thugs now babe (Chorus) Repeat 2x |
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4:32 | ||||
from Dj Clue? - The Professional (1999)
[Rock]
Come on (BCC) Come on (MFC) Come on (BCC) Come on (YEAH!) Aiyyo Rock, Rock, Rock Everybody say Rock, not Lou from suburbs to PJ's So watch ya hootchie, groupies get dudes beat up Or heat is leave the scene and BLAZE to get ya fleece stuck See me on the streets 'bra, I'll break yo' teeth up and take yo' beeper Two piece your man and let Big Noc put him in a sleeper Then see ya, catch me in a club on a wall Spliff in my hand, big-booty broad winin on my balls Surrounded my thugs, maybe two or two times ten Plus the other nine cats, my Rapper Card got in (Your Rapper Card?) Yeah my Rapper Card, it works in live sessions Plus barbecues, hoes, clubs, weed spots ecetera [Buckshot] Buckshot rock knots wit fists Niggas stay high while I rock wit this Mobb on y'all niggas like The Infamous Too close wit the dillinger, two shots I don't miss I'm wiggin out while I'm diggin out backs Run from the gun claps, run three laps Perhaps, them niggas you sent to carjack Buckshot got stopped in they tracks wit macs Now this is what I act like when I smoke on black Stay high wit the lazy-eye, bomb wit facts >From the, street Bible or the street Quran Fake thugs ride the dick when my shit comes on I'm a nappy little nigga, still goin strong You can eat a dick while I eat a thong (CLUE!) But still the bomb [Tek] It's the wave-king, rock the two tone Wallees strip-ons Don't wanna end up miss-on, then play your positi-on My grimy Brooklyn niggas stay flippin ya chick While my crew from New Jerus stay vickin ya whips Tek is the shit, ain't nobody spittin like this Deep impact steez been like a chromed out six Wit the AMG kit, Ericsson wit the chip Y'all stockin-cap copy-cats, get off the dick I keep the livin quarter held down wit two nines One in the bed, one in the bathroom at all times So while I'm takin a shit, I'm at route and plan a hit The amount we flip depends on what we get It's like a Wall Street trick, dirty money move quick My mans wear stones you can tip the scales wit On they ears and wrists alone for every deaf one's bone Look, ain't no tellin how many gats I've thrown [Rock] (Steele) Come on (yo for all my dogs gettin wild) Come on (yo yo for all the shorties on the prowl) Come on (yo yo for all the soldiers on the streets) Come on (yo yo it's yo' time to eat) [Lidu Rock] Yo the set I claim is the set that bang To the muthaf**kin end, I be doin my thing (YEAH!) Lidu Rock, know the name in New York we G stackin First the Bloods and the Crips, now bitches is carjackin Like my nigga Craig and em say, "F**k that shit!" Rockin shines in the 'Ville, you better tuck that shit Or watch yo' step baby, watch where you walk I put a slug up in yo' mouth so that ass won't talk For real son, now we got mad cops on the block 'cause we hold it down for Doc and I keep my heat cocked Lidu Rock, what the f**k I know y'all niggas mad at me So if you rep for yours go 'head take a stab at me, muthaf**ker [Ruck] You a many style copy-cat, ?bendy mile? stockin cap Fake nigga from the projects who ain't got a gat Ruck reign supreme, aim the steam When the gun click, your ass shit navy beans Maybe these, niggas ain't ready for the Magnum Force, the Holocaust, balls I just dragged them Off lost in the sauce and of course I'm glad them Monkey niggas don't f**k wit the Ruck 'cause they fags, son The last one, to step to Sean P caught a bad one Quincy toes tagged em after somebody stabbed em Cornball niggas wit drugs thinkin they weight great Still bummin money for stoges and a Drakes cake [Steele] Get it straight, y'all niggas f**kin wit some heavyweights Boot Camp-ion champions on point like paper mates Demonstrate, spectacular venacular Smackin ya upside the back of ya head wit a spatula Snatchin ya, off the street like police Next week, they find your body washin up on the beach Don't speak if you ain't at norm (ain't got nuttin to say fool) Tally on, be gone, as we rally strong See me in Brook-lyn where crooks be armed Terrorial disputes leave you in memorial suites Callin your troops, I shoot straight stay in ya place We the type you love to hate 'cause we stay in your face Sayin our grace before we put our hands in our plates Carnivorous lyricist, niggas fish like fillet My mind spray like a murderer's nine spray The crime way, get mine three-hundred sixty-five day [DJ Clue] DJ Clue, The Professional Part One, you know how we do it Word up, rest in peace my nigga Donnie Brasco My nigga B.I.G. word up And we out, till next time For all parties Big Skane 800-570-3657 Aight then |
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4:31 | ||||
from Def Jam 25: Vol. 10 (Feature Presentation) (2009)
I thought Duro was an old man before I met her
Yo, check this out, this is me M A dollar sign E Cluemanati, Harlem World, Devo Too thorough, Harlem World be the borough Cool to Blood up above Can't forget my family, who that be Cardan and KFC, Blinky Blink and D R E Shock the world Cluemanati, we like it Mase too smooth, call me debonair Hits every year, so shake your derriere, c'mon Cops pull me over, what they don't feel it fair What a brother, too black, me living here We don't stare, I don't care, I'm know I'm there Twenty years old and about to be a millionaire What you think, 'cause Mase be young, Mase be dumb And if you get Mase strung, that'll be no pre-num Ever since Big died, my whole life changed I done blew, I'm your boo, it seem quite strange I get nice things, way out your price range Half these girls, don't even know my right name I'm fly rolie, mink made of coyote Love a ghetto hoe, I know she die fo' me You got me confused, see Cam the freak Mase never the the nigga to bring sand to the beach I some that an average hoe's hand couldn't reach Living in expenses, 20 grand a week You know me, I be O T, low-key, Icy roli, smoke a O-z I'm a baby face nigga, without no goatee And I'm 2 point 8 and about to blow 3 Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Now you can tell I blew, push the 740 L I through Eyes low, from the L I Q If you was hot, you'd be going through the cell I do Give alias to any female, I screw One running with Fabolous, who knew as well as I do Every fed in the country wanna nail my crew Before I hit the tens, I'm getting bailed by crew Be back downtown, bagging chicks at L I U 'Cause money ain't a thing no more, I use to sling the raw Now I'm off in spring to tour, in Singapore Might catch me getting head from a bilingual hoe Who never seen so many diamonds in her ring before I'm a boasting fly bro, soon to lay on a coast of Cairo Roast the hydro, type of cat you would say is supposed to lie low And V two shades with the toast and the Tahoe We the niggas that be getting it, and throwing minks on Cubans to the belly, and still throwing links on Ya'll cats know me, I be throwing clinks on And be loving the bitches, we be throwing drinks on Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Did you know that I simply got these cats where I want 'em and See the 6 then I want 'em in It ain't a secret, bet that I slide 'em with something I could Freak with and do that freak shit And I'm stepping in hotter, like Don Dada Snatch my Prada, ya hoes done done nada Make you never wanna flash your shit Like when you see my crew you wanna stash your shit If do find me, then I will crash your shit If you think you was 'aight, I will blast your shit Ya know me, chick that ride the dick slowly Used to be O T, now I'm 2.3, uh Same bitch that ya'll loving to hate Be that same chick, that you praying will fake And I solemnly swear, we'll rep to the death Ya heard? Fuck you think this is? (Uh,uh,uh) If you broke, then I be off, do mine, ski off And, ain't no love, just trying to get my thing off Unless there's some princesses on the wrist Or some chrome on the 6, he ain't seeing my shit Oh yeah, it's not a game, I do my thing Scan to a change, cop a platinum range Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) Now that's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) That's the way (Uh huh, uh huh) We like it (Uh huh, uh huh) We are stupid niggaz Bolder |
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1:57 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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3:54 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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5:29 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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2:48 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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4:33 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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2:48 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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3:19 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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4:16 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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3:43 | ||||
from DJ Clue - The Professional 3 (2007) | |||||
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 1 (Explicit Ver.) (2003) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) | |||||
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from DJ Clue, Fabolous - Friday Night Freestyles (Mixtape) (2016) |