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3:26 | 
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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3:37 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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3:51 | 
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
[Verse 1 - Styles P] (Sheek Louch)
When there's beef I'ma ride and won't slide 'til I'm debtin you (P swallow your pride), my pride ain't edible F**k with my life, I'm stressin your death Cut his guts out, wrap his intestines around his neck You wanna gun who (*laughing*), what? Shit it's the ghost and my style's like the art of Water Block Sun Soo It's the ghetto godfather, priest in the hood Cross the line that's your spine, I'm the beast in the hood Don't consider that I rap, just consider I'm strapped And I squeeze at your brain, face, rib and your back Dog we can keep it brief get straight to the beef I'm so deep they see the pain in my eyes when I'm sleep I made a vow to the streets at a very young age That I would always use my knife and I would let my gun blaze Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge with me Nobody in rap, cause all my niggaz thug with me (nigga) [Chorus - Sheek Louch] + (Jadakiss) We gon' keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah Bringin the storm (changin the norm) Niggaz is ass (let's get it on) Walk with me (I) Keep flippin our cars (weighin the odds), uh Bustin our guns (raisin our sons), yeah Bringin the storm (changin the norm) Niggaz is ass (let's get it on) Walk with me (I) [Verse 2 - Sheek Louch] (Styles P) We chase niggaz through malls Clap niggaz through walls Y'all want it with them D-Block boys Put the brown things up in you like Chips Ahoys Listen I'ma thug and I'm proud Y'all niggaz "Fashionably Loud" I don't give a f**k what kind of shirt that is I'll put the barrel to your kids and your wiz Watch them float, fish takin bites of they skin Little holes in they chin You in the mirror tryna see if they spin Niggaz is ass, tell a nigga drop the top and stop Roll the windows down, get rid of the cop I'm in the hood like boots on niggaz cars Gats on niggaz waist, you couldn't even tell that we stars Break down food, pizza, whatever it be I love my niggaz and they love me (get off our dick) What? you ain't gettin the point I think I'll give it to you Right in your waist and hand your f**kin liver to you, yeah [Chorus] [Verse 3 - Jadakiss] (Sheek Louch) Uh, uh, uh, uh, hey yo this is why I claim no slums (why?) Cause I could sit back, knock off a half a brick, and chew Rainblow Gums And the color of the Benz will kill ya, it's gold When it's movin fast it look like silver, I'm low With the trey pound next to my nuts A shotgun ridin shotgun on the seat next to my dutch I swear for God the Mag'll bust Niggaz know 'Kiss flow been crazy like a bag of dust Y'all industry-tuitionalized My niggaz is real, real niggaz see the truth and the lies Aimin for your head (but really tryna shoot out your eyes) With every Tef, then stomp out whatever is left And sometimes I say shit that I shouldn't But I never said that I couldn't Turn your chest plate into pudding And all my niggaz'll spray Except women, so the reason y'all living, cause y'all niggaz is gay, uh [Chorus] |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
[Kay Slay & 50 Cent talking]
Yo, yo, yo What the f**k poppin' man This the Drama King man Yo who there, who dat, who there man? (Yeah, yeah, it's 50 Cent nigga) Muthaf**ka (What's up man) Uh, Harlem to Queens muthaf**kas (Heh, What's up nigga) And I'll smack the f**kin' shit out your favorite DJ man Y'all know what the f**k it is man (Yeah, yeah) (And, and say somethin ya bitch-ass nigga) Yeah, street justice muthaf**ka (Yeah, go ahead, say something) Yo, yo, check it out fifty You handle the bitch-ass rap niggas I'ma handle the bitch-ass DJ niggas (Alright, alright) We gon' bring justice to the game (That's how we gon' put it down) Straight muthaf**kas [50 Cent] That's the sound of the man, cockin' that thang - that thaaaang That's the sound of the man, clappin' that thang - thaaang Yo, in my hood we was taught not to say who shot ya See the flash, you heard the shot, you feel the burnin', I got ya Say a prayer for me if you care for me 'cause I'm on the edge I'm finna put a shell in a nigga head I rock a lot of ice, I dare you to scheme on it The fifth got a rubber grip and a beam on it Homie that took the hit on me couldn't shoot this Say I'm skinny now, but I look big in the coupe-dee My 'causein Uzi out in L.A. done tripped and do the sets again Got shot the f**k up tryin' to rob the wrong Mexicans I write my lifestyle, y'all niggas is cheaters Your lines come from feds, felons and don diva Oh you the black hand of death, then why your name ain't preacher If you a pimp like kid, why them hoes don't treat ya If you wanna ball like Kirk, now shorty let me teach ya This flow's God sent, it's bound to reach ya [Hook] Problem child, I'm familiar with problems I know how to solve em Semi-automatic, luger tray, revolve em Shoot em up, rob em In the hood we starvin, you don't want problems Problem child [Bridge] [Singing] And why can't you be man enough To tell me where you're comin' from [50 Cent] They say you can never repay the price for takin' a man's life I'm in debt with Christ, I done did that twice I'm nice, y'all niggas can't hang wit fifty +Blaaat+, y'all niggas can't bang wit fifty Say I'm born to rhyme, there's a shell and a nine Face stone and the cross, there's a bitch I tossed See the wounds in my skin they from a war of course You can check C-N-N for the "War Report" See the drama got me ridin' with a sawed-off shottie Catch you at the light, I blow ya ass off the Ducati Man, niggas ain't gon' do me like Sammy did Gotti I do it myself, I don't need no help Give me a knife, I'll get rid of your neighborhood bully Give me a minute, I'll take a f**kin' car with a pully See the hood is the deepest stole my innocence young Niggas jumped me 'cause they couldn't beat me one-on-one [Hook] [Bridge] [50 Cent] I must've broke a mirror at three and had bad luck for seven 'cause pops slid, mommy died before I turned eleven This cities split 'posed to let black cats cross your path The footprints in the sand is Satan carryin' your ass I got "God Understand Me" tattooed in my skin When I die, come back, I'ma tattoo it again I'm the young buck that let the gun buck Roll the window down and say: "'Sup up, niggas get ready to duck" My heart is a house homie, fear don't live here Nigga believe me when I say I don't care Muslims mix a lot, God studied they lessons Even when my luck's hard I still count my blessings See that look in my eye, ya betta keep on steppin' Spent time on my cell floor, to sharpen my weapon If you pussy I'ma smell you when you come around here Them boys in Pelican Bay couldn't live in my tier [Hook] |
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3:34 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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3:16 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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4:06 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
[Intro: Nas]
Check {*scratched*} check it out Kay-Slay! (yeah) What up, baby Uh, (check it out) Ame' Haha, Bravehearts, c'mon [Chorus: Amerie] Said it ain't too much for me To have you next to me I can't believe it All the things I do To keep you loving me And it's just too much for me To not have you by my side Cause no matter what you're going through You know that I'm gon' ride yea [Verse: Nas] You a brave girl? I'm a Braveheart In craw heart and Champion Hoodies You in the Benz Buggy with the fullies I ride beside ya, we about to pull a all nighter I'm +Super Freak+ like +Rick James+ Sex in rangers, parked on dangerous blocks You like it when the strangers watch Im' looking out for cops, you a girl with no fear People put ya hands in the air for the GQ man of the year That Bentley or Polstry Leather The leather that be up in the coats I wear Wherever I go so there ya have it Cashmere fabrics, never caught in last years garments Holsters under armpits, chauffers and the charms lit And a coat is holding on the Don's wrist She got the ill Will chain on Turqouise boots saying "God's Son" This the theme song [Chorus] [Verse: Baby] You know the size of this shit, I flips it quickly Lose this trouble 'fore these people get with me Holla at my hoes cause I dip my bitches From gold to platinum from rag to riches I'm the boss of the boss, the pimp shotcaller Worldwide Rider in a Benz with a spoiler In your city tear yo mall up Pimp fly bitches and tear their walls up Dress nice I'm super neat Ice on white wit 3's on her feat Worldwide Rider, I'm coast to coast From Europe, Japan, I gets that dough Send out 2 I get back 4 Yo broad around me I'm a lace that hoe Smoke 'dro, redo my whips Redo my chips this the bird man bitchch [Chorus] [Verse: Foxy Brown] BK I throw it up, if we stay Manoloed up Cris air canary, all these niggaz hear me Lou Vuitton, Lou Batten Bring fever cock sucker when Foxy throw it on I speak how I feel I'm a Fox 5 General Y'all rap bitches is all so subliminal That's why I ones them everytime I pass 'em Frontin wit young G the Fox 5 Captain So which hoe wanna f**k wit huns? So come we dun ta push a dem one by one, whoa Now make me bust off mi big Magnum Spray off in the lobby, call us the Shower Posse The Don Gogen, come through styling hard But 2 goons from the Sherlock Squadron It be a bachelor that Fox them sparring And leave y'all niggaz on the sideline starving [Chorus] [Bridge: Amerie] I-I-I wanna get to know you I-I-I want you with me I-I-I just want to show you You belong to me I-I-I gotta get to know you I-I-I have you with me I-I-I just want to show you You belong to me [Chorus] |
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3:29 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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1:47 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
[Eminem - talking]
I'd be a horrible mixtape DJ I would be really f**kin bad THIS IS MOTHERF**KIN EMINEM! Or just Eminem Whatever you want to call me And your listenin to the motherf**kin easy listenin sounds, or whatever Clear your f**kin ear wax out This is motherf**kin DJ Kay Slay The Drama King and it goes a little somethin like this Yo turn that click off, alright a| (*beat to Eminem, Obie Trice & 50 Cent's "Love Me" starts*) Look .. [Eminem] My music is soothin but it's also been proven That it can put you in the mood to jump outta ya car while it's movin You've been waitin on this moment, my sermon is like a omen, I'm servin, I'm Erick Sermon I saw the window was open and I jumped through it My shit if you don't get pumped to it I quit, here's my rhyme book go head and thumb through it And pick what you want from it, rummage ya find somethin You can use to jump someone and roll up bumpin I'm constantly coppin over you, squatin, shit is gotten to the point, where I'm ain't even writin no more I'm just jottin This is chicken scratch Shit is sickin, I've been kickin ass off bullshit, throw away rhymes, pick a batch I live for the love of rap You crazy? I've made beats for Jay-Z for free Page me, you need a beat You Canibus? then it's Dre's beat You Kay Slay? the fee's waived I stay beefin with JD to the day Dre two-ways me That it's ok to stop blazin him Oops I put it out I apologize now is too late G It's on tape and the tape leaked "Say what you say" motherf**ker Drama King, Kay Slay motherf**ker We dictate these mixtapes motherf**ker Xzibit blaze this little gay midget cocksucker |
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4:01 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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5:38 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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4:09 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
(Poster Boy)
Poster Boy, Fosterville, Kay Slay the Drama King F**k with the kid, gotta throw ya moms over the bridge RP put the hawk to ya over ya ribs Keep thinkin' that the god is chillin' I'm the reason custies is comin' to the Carter Buildin And it aint no tellin what I do They may find ya body on 16th smellin like a (*jew*) I'm the number one stunna when it comes to the east In the Jag with the .40 cal under the seat Nigga this is my block, Name a nigga who run me out Friday come, you and you have your money out Son, my gun'll bring a playboy bunny out Somebody gotta die, I'm a try ya hunny out Send her to ER with half her tummy out No C-section, no infants comin out She cant have babies again Me and Kay gettin money so its feelin like the eighties again Holla! (Shells) Ayo, You boys is silly, i'm next since Pac and Biggie And I'm Bout Major Figgas like Dutch and Gillie Catch Shells all-star weekend down in Philly On my hip, pack heat like a bowl of chilly Look - I Clap milli's, act willy, you a chump Only kid in the hood with elevators in his truck See, I flash bucks, rock all black doors And my watch ice'd out like Jacobs store When you boys gon learn I got this game lock What you got for your deal, I spent on X-Box Keep frontin like you hungry, I'm a feed you a biscuit I got rock and roll bullets, leave limps like bizkit So hey, its ya life involved - act like it is My chain light gray like trash can lids If one of yall take my chain - none of yall live You like, "I aint do it Shells", One of yall did! (Grafh) 'Cause A lot of yall are fakin', one minute is asolama laken 2 minutes later is where's my salamy bacon Niggaz swear the product the makin' requires rockin a aprin They liars cause its Betty Crocker they bakin Not that I'm sayin that I Cook, Cause I dont I keep it as raw as you seen it before it was put on the boat The hookers'll open they jaw for free F**k being a gentleman, ya girlfriend open the door for me When a pimp walk the beat, you shut up one day The day the dick had ya mother next up one way I come up one way drunk pushin a porshe Make beef and i'm cookin the sauce - Gravy! I be lookin like a boss I pop at ya hood on ya snorkle til I have the fur lookin like a scarf Lookin like I robbed 'em Tell cops is easy to find like chinks in a nail shop Holla, cheah! (Cassidy) Ayo, get back get back for I click clack click clack Where that shit at? Get that 'for I bust shots! Get crunk if you want to, drunk if you want to Front if you want to, And get slumped with the gun too Gimme mine cause any time I could run through And put ya brains on the mini blinds in sun roof Try run dog, you can try hide man But when I bust the gun dog, you gon die man I drinkin rum dog and I'm gettin high man Say good bye man or a prayer - "Aman" Look It aint hard to get at you dudes I screw waitresses that'll slip shit in ya food I got yay for sale and I got crazy shells I got it locked from Illadelph to ATL The wait is over, I'm a take it over I'm a bubble like vinegar and baking soda Easy! (Jae Hood) Ayo, I'm a D-Block nigga - I don't respect wack rhymes If you had a gat in a clock, you couldn't kill time Yall cowards don't want beef, why even start? Yall like dicks in the pool - none of yall hard Come thru in the spit white 330 with a mean birdie Holdin my hammer cause she know its dirty You got questions, holla at me - I tell you whats what Lay you on ya back and yall chumps'll really see whats up On the real, yall niggaz better chill Think ya crew spittin flames - I'll put ya hot dogs on the grill It gotta be a conspiracy if niggaz aint feelin me Like a nigga with no eyes - yall not seein me Call me a director - I give clips to ya broad Bullets is like gum - How they stick in ya jaw Go 'head, call the narcs - I put a hole thru ya heart And leave you on the train tracks in a shopping cart This aint just beats and bars, Its things i'll do to you In Compton f**k, I'm tryin to get through to you The gauge'll open ya chest like vics How you went from being soft to hard - niggaz is dicks I don't wanna hear nothin bout ya coke and ya toast Liars get shot in they tongue - I'll put the mack to ya throat motherf**ker! |
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3:39 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
[E A Ski talking]
Yay, Yay Wassup Kay Slay, Its the big homie E A Ski Ya know, And I brought some West Coast riders with me That'll ride on ya bitch ass You got a problem with Kay, You got a problem with us nigga Ya know, Got MC Ren and the West Coast Kam Hey yo Ren spit it [MC Ren] Nigga who tryin to f**k with the Ville' Grab my dick, F**k this trick and slay my scrill Slap the taste right outta ya grill When I'm f**kin' with Kam and Ski nigga shit is fa real Straight blastin' fools with these West Coast shots Compton and Watts, My Bay niggaz got glocks Niggaz runnin' an yellin' an screamin' an shit an cussin' Ren smoked a blunt while Ski and Kam was bustin' Now you bitch ass niggaz ain't sayin nothin' When we pull to the curb, Nigga stop gruntin' This West Coast shit, Cant be f**ked with Or duplicated, You bitches can hate it Mothaf**kin Villian is back with Ski While he blast with his back to me West Coast drive-by, it happens like everyday Bitch ass mothaf**kas gettin' chased away It go [Chorus: MC Ren] Woop, Woop Thats them f**kin' police Woop, Woop Them bitches comin' for me You know the West gone ride Nigga hit'em up Bitches run from the drive-by When we pass by Nigga Woop, Woop Thats them f**kin' police Woop, Woop Them bitches comin' for me You know the West gone ride Nigga hit'em up Bitches run from the drive-by When we pass by [E A Ski] I've been known for the AK, Glocks, and Tech's Hit ya block up, Leave a nigga soakin' wet So I'd watch niggaz scatter like roaches with the lights on You on the block, But you won't make it back home You better hope that this bullet got God in it, (Pray) And I miss, When I got my f**kin' eye on it And I'm shootin' to blow the back and the spine out It's all real, I would hate for you to find out Who the f**k makes it happen Uhh, Its West Side nigga, This drive-by is whats crackin' And the corners is gettin' caught off The funeral homes is gettin' rich off the costs Dogg, Lay you flat down Empty out the clips 'til you hear the (Click) sound Uh-huh, You better know who the f**k you dealin' with, (Who's that) It's Mr. Ski, The West Coast Kill-A-Bitch [Chorus] [Kam] Niggaz hate me for the bank I'm foldin' The rank I'm holdin' The dank I'm polin' They just hate to see a gangsta rollin' I gutter ball like I'm bowling, Collectin' my ends Tryin' to throw strikes at all these redneck white pins In the Beamer or the Benz, Wagon or the truck 'Til my people delevered, Man I don't give a f**k Stay pushin' the line with mine Treat peeps I'm with good Anti-Hollywood and I keep my shit hood A true thug, Ya gotta admit it I bail into a club tennis shoes, jeans, white tee and a fitted Tryin' to get it crackin', Wassup, I'm sayin' You tryin' to go or what, I mean, You playin' Dyke girls actin' like niggas, Niggaz actin' like bitches So I just kick back and keep stackin' my riches Focus on my chips and give niggaz real talk So Bloods can skip to it and the Crips can still walk [Chorus] [MC Ren] It go Woop, Woop Thats them f**kin' police Woop, Woop Them bitches comin' for me You know the West gone ride Nigga hit'em up Bitches run from the drive-by When we pass by Nigga, When we pass by Nigga, When we pass by You bitches run from the drive-by Drive-by, Bitches run from the drive-by Drive-by |
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2:51 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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3:39 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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3:43 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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5:02 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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5:45 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003)
[Sauce Money]
(*Laughing*) Brooklyn This is the set-off Kay Sleezy Take it to the streets nigga Word up Sauce Money Uh, uh Proper set-off Don't get it f**ked up 'cause Sauce calm wit his grandma 'cause I'm like baking soda bitch, I'm armed with a hammer And when I'm strapped fool, f**k your brother 'cause like Jimmy Ivene in Virginia you in the scope like a muthaf**ka Fine, niggas don't wanna let him shine Niggas hate that fact Sauce don't give a f**kin' nine Soon as he ran his mouth, one tre pound seven to nine Guess who's the odd man out I guess we got something in common I'm just a little more calm when I'm about to split your arm in Put a hole so big in your noggin That if you God body, you can fit the whole sun, moon and star in You starvin' for more lyrics I know Steady robbin' all them lyrics I flow I'm Sadam-ing all you niggas fo sho You betta know I'm a true nigga, please do nigga Betta inquire from a few niggas 'cause bitch, I done shit on quite a few and quieted a few niggas Get a grip, dead four-fifth in the hip Slip, never picture me fallin' nigga don't trip [Killer Mike] Stoned is the way of my walk In a mini-mack eleven, the tone when I talk When I spray niggas pray, lay on the sidewalk Color blood red, body outlined in chalk My rhymes, two zigs all nines Hard hit when they spit, split wigs double time This eightball's a strict nine Tear apart body parts when I spark nine At they head hard lodged in they damn spine Leaves emcee's like Christopher Reeves, crippled and cryin' Shittin' in a bag and a breath away from dyin' Nigga I'm - the epitomy of raw rhymes The epitomy of rap rock I make a block party bop to the sounds of a hot glock From New York down to Georgia it don't stop Killer Kill from Addamsville with a hot glock Blaaat! [Bun B] They say murder is the case they wanna throw me I guess these muthaf**kas don't know me O.G. rock called a yay slanger VA's finest Underground muthaf**kin' king call me "Your Highness" I tear your sinus with this gun powder Wipe your tears with the steal, no fear this is real niggas Here is the deal: you clear in this field And ain't stoppin' until every hater here is revealed 'cause we don't need no f**kin' clearance to peel Or shortstoppers runnin' and the fear is revealed So - get off this block homie handle your corner Keep all your heroin, rocks and you mariju-wana I'm like a - character on the Sopranos or the Wire You'se a - big pussy lil' man, it's over, retire 'cause the - clock's tickin', your days is done But we know all them lil' different f**kin' ways you slum But it's trill downtown, your momma's all free Your house is sugar-layin' with your wife and your seed Yes indeed, Big Bun is on a home invasion You gon' bleed on my gun from your dome abrasions 'cause my chrome is blazin', I'm naughty crunk Got the bop gun like Sir Nose D'Voiddoffunk Bitch, I pull a sawed-off from under the waist Open your eyes muthaf**ka, you got thunder to face F**k rest, we gon' lay these muthaf**kas to waste You bit the pully nigga tell me, how the f**k did it taste From my gun... Big guns, big power M. Woods, sixth hour Berettas, Tauruses, Rugers Smith and Wesson's, glocks and lugers AK's, AR 15's Mack elevens and M-16's High caliber, so why try it? You live by it, so you die by it A muthaf**kin' gun... [WC] Who's the man with the strap in his hand Homie's stolen semi-autos and contrabands All day every day, crossin' my hood in day In a six-trey with my nigga Kay Slay Dub the law scan, the infrared scanner Hangin' out the window, hittin' em up with the bandana And I can't stand a snitch so I - clean the lid Just in case them bitch niggas wanna sing with this I stay on the trigger, 'cause lames hate me nigga They can't pay me nigga, where my lay dates nigga Where AK one-on-one so thirty shot Nine millimeter Melindas aimed ready to send ya So put your can on your vest like a Bible and pray slowly 'cause this'll leave your teflon holey With the forty glock ready to ring, bring the trauma to the scene It's the Ghetto Heisman and the Drama King [Joe Buddens] It's about that time nine-milli clappin' Dude, what's really crackin'? I been gettin' it since 'Paid In Full' was really happenin' I gotta do it like that to keep my street name And pride made me kill Wayne Growe when the heat came I don't smut but stimulation is good I keep the hammer with me, Joey's renovatin' the hood Difference between us, I'm gettin' loot on tours Good shoes on the Beem, you got a boot on yours Dudes with no names wanna put an end to me But doggs, I'm readin' between the lines, the whole game's in parenthesis Talk about models and how you with somethin' When you really shootin' air balls, you ain't hittin' nothin' Nathan, through the strip, O.G.'s blazin' Street niggas slowly hatin' on Joey so amazin' And hood niggas knowin' what up Either holdin' you down or holdin' you up, throwin' it up Oh! [Hak Ditty] Aiiyo, f**k the dumb shit, when the guns spit One clip'll have your whole strip laid down Thirty-two shots to your block, I had that shit caged down And before you blink, I let off eight rounds This the ro-yal I ain't playin' I'm takin' this over, so y'all either layin' or dying And I won't hesitate to blaze the iron You cocksuckers is chillin' with a ragin' lion I see them dudes every day, when I'm racin' by 'em Or on the curb poppin' bottles while they hatin' and eyein' Uh, whether the slider or the highrider I keep my block rocker, glock under the blue dosser Far as Philly, it's no question to who's liver I'm hotter, Hak Ditty, block locker Fully prepared I hope y'all fully aware that y'all niggas got a problem this year (*Gunshots*) |
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4:06 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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4:46 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.1 (2003) | |||||
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0:50 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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2:44 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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3:28 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:00 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:19 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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3:55 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:15 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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0:17 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:25 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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3:48 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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1:57 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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5:11 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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2:59 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:58 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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0:35 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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2:32 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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3:34 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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3:26 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:53 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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4:17 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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3:56 |
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| from Dj Greg Street, Dj Kay Slay - The Champions : North Meets South (2006) | |||||
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2:30 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004) | |||||
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3:02 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Ghostface/Scarface)
[Ghostface Killah (Scarface)] Yeah, this Tony Starks Scarface, yeah, we about to switch faces (It's goin' down) Yeah Kay Slay (Right here, right here tonight dawg) (Face Mob in New York City) (Huh, holla atcho goddamn boy!) (Don't fuck wit me, don't get this shit crunk up in here, Kay!) (Cuz you know I'ma goddamn fool wit this shit) [Scarface] I'm creatin' a masterpiece for niggaz Doin' it Kay Slay, all day, ev'y day, steady up in the 12 gauge I'm fuckin' your house up, you and your spouse up You open your mouth up, guarantee you I douce ya Have 'em writin' about ya, daily I'm in the papers for doubtin' a motherfucker Stankin' the speculation, you want it, you got it, baby I'm at you a lifetime, the nigga washin' your window shorten your lifeline You're fuckin' wit white wine, I'm fuckin' wit nitrate I'm emotionless when I get 'em, a nigga wit ice veins Ain't impressed wit status or jewelry, I'm on some street shit Don't believe in sit in front of a jewelry, that's weak shit You talk it, you gotta live it, I live it, that's why I speak it Exposin' these niggaz weakness', Kay I got 'em sleepin' Reality, fuck a record, don't believe in disrespectin' And niggaz will be to see you while your people got you rested' I'm reckless [Chorus] [Ghostface Killah] Mama used to take trips to face to face Now it's face-to-face, Ghost & Face, Scar & Slay We gon' walk the path that mama laid We fail, we gon' see a skull on dollars grave [Ghostface Killah] I remember bustin' out the house from police duckin' the vans Wit them taped-up broken revolvers stuck to my pants That was '88, around the time of Slick Rick era Day to day, rolled chains wit them thick knit sweaters Who gives a fuck what the D.A. say, they wanna see me pay Motherfucker this is G.F.K.! I settle crimes wit metal 9s and I ain't gonna stop 'Til your brains all over the street like ? Marshmellow dimes, brick be the size of cobblestones Acknowledge the throne, it's Pretty Tone I'm legendary and compared to my work on the strip, y'all secondary I'm hittin' these fiends lovely, my shit be extra heavy Like construction workers in Timbs, and plus they two box Two glocks incase I gotta bump a few cops off You know how we do in Staten Island, this is Gaten Island, nigga Not a non-violence sticker [Chorus] [Scarface] I gave you a chance to eat, but you chose to bite the hand that fed You took your shit, nigga, lay in your bed Who'd ever thought this nigga that we sat down at our table and fed Would roll on the street and on wit the feds I used to love this nigga Now I roll around wit a mask and a strap and a grudge for that nigga Fuckin' wit me, this adds the fuel to the fire And I'm about to snap that wire! [Ghostface Killah] We want them new 20s and 100s, Ziplock money Y'all gon' fund it, we gon' eat big like Big Pun did And we goin' all out like Hussein's sons did We stickin' niggaz like New York cops wit plungers So take some advice, there's three bears Cashmere down wit 12 gauges under the table Slay got the shotty, ain't that your label And them other two bears, yo, theys the one that paid you buddy! [Chorus] [gunshots] |
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3:40 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
If, some shots should happen to go off tonight Don't worry about me, I'll be aight Niggaz can waste ten while firin at me Cause I'm God's child, there's angels around me [Young Buck] Life's a bitch and then you die, this couldn't be worse I either don't eat this week, or snatch this purse Clip hangin out the side of my Karl Kani My eyes bloodshot red, I'm high but LET'S RIDE! I ain't scared, if I die it was meant to be He might send for you, before he send for me Gun-butt you with the back of the baretta The three-fifty-seven or, the black mac-11 We drive bulletproof Coupes nigga, go on take your shot We used to shoot hoops nigga, now we shoot up blocks Got them shells with them green tips just for y'all You can run but they comin through them country walls Bang dropped me off and show me where he live at Think he tough? I'ma put six in his six-pack When you hear that click-clack bitch better get back quick One to the chest make niggaz do backflips [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks] You don't think I know you niggaz want me to get murked Get lowered in the dirt in all black with a button-downed shirt Cold with two to the dome - the little niggaz don't get to see Disneyland, they'll settle for a funeral home You don't need hoes to know that the lead's hot I'm prepared for anything tonight as long as it's not a headshot The bigger the rim, the bigger the tire Hollow tips'll make him feel like a nigga on fire Everybody gotta go, it's the truth So I figure while I'm waitin on my turn I'ma blow up the booth I seen niggaz in wheelchairs, eye patches and crutches Arm |
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3:19 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Sauce Money/Memphis Bleek/The Game)
[Intro: DJ KaySlay] Yeah it's DJ KaySlay the Drama King I'm in the house with my nigga Sauce Money Memphis Bleek, holdin it down from the East coast And from the West, I got my nigga Game All you bitch-ass niggaz, y'all better fall the fuck back Y'all know how this shit is about to go down Yo homie, what's your name? [Sauce Money] My name is Money, that much is true Listen up, this what I'm gon' do I won't wait for you to get a lil' bigger I hit you with the tec-9, lil' nigga Look at him - red as a muh'fucker Hah! Dead as a muh'fucker Unassisted - aiyyo you shoulda Been there Bleek, too late, you missed it Cock back my biscuit Like a fat chick and chocolate, I can't resist it Didn't believe you, so for your big ol' ego I got a big ol' Eagle Gotta give the people Not a fuckin chance to see you inside the sequel Son I stay stuck in rude So when they see me comin they like, "Damn, here come this fuckin dude!" You know'm sayin Memph'? Brooklyn what's up? Got to take this shit back Let's hit 'em with the hook son [Chorus: Memphis Bleek] Sawed-off shotgun, hand on the pump Sippin that Arme', puffin on a blunt All I know is my shit better bump La la la la la-la la lahhhh [Memphis Bleek] What, yo yo. You know Bleek always smokin that "La La La" - you right Groupies they be actin too crazy, tell 'em they too hype They want leave with a G like Eas' Educated the bullshit, got a degree in these streets But - I dare a nigga act all crazy The tec'll tear his back all crazy And you know I stay bent off the Arme' Regardless if solo or I'm deep with my amry I rep - straight from the jacked M-P If I put the tec up I gotta tote the D.E But wait! You know I'm ridin with Sauce And we ridin this song from out the Robb Report Dawg, I'm from the street, from the best I'm taught I'll get your man tied and lost, fuck the cost Got a couple of my killers who stand by And I'm G-Force stat' nigga, never fly stand-by Uhh, jeah, you know Put this shit right back in the street, huh? Brooklyn shit, Sauce Let's bring the hook back, here we go yo [Chorus] [The Game] Dip through N-Y, black Impala, matchin interior Cali plates, I'm that serious Niggaz think the kid a joke 'til that .38-revolver spin like hundred spokes Homie I bring the drama (drama) Sleep on The Game and get left in wooden pajamas Nigga I ain't easy son But I break up rock/Roc like DipSet and M-Easy son I'm a B-L-double-O-D Hardest nigga since S-N-double-O-P And all this beef got blood in my eye Aftermath motherfucker, you could love it or die Keep Dre name out your mouth boy Or get your +Bones Crushed+ like them Dirty South boys I'm a "Menace," fuck Kane and O-Dog Since I was ten I had 'caine and O's, dawg I ain't lyin (I ain't lyin) They gave Eazy AIDS, so why should I give a FUCK about dyin? And the day Jay retire I'ma park next to the throne, in a Maybach on gold wires, yeah [Chorus] [Outro: DJ KaySlay] Yeah you bitch-ass motherfuckers "Hands on the Pump" Fuck around, find yo' ass slump One hitta quitta, yes [gunshots] |
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3:09 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
KaySlay! (Yeah) Yo.. Drama King! (Yeah!) Check it out, check it out - O. Trice! (Shady Records nigga, it's goin down once again boy) It's just a scratch man (Let's go Em) [Eminem] I Murder this Inc as soon as I touch the page You ain't gon' have no other choice but to rush the stage and charge the mic, and I hope you got the heart to fight Cause you gon' have to, cause you ain't got the smarts to write somethin that good, to try to come back at me with What you gon' do, try to out-rap me with that happy shit? You motherfuckers crack me up Talkin bout you gonna smack me up, y'all won't even back me up Throw up your paws, you pussies can't even scratch me hard It's like fuckin Castor Claw tryna jack me off You think I'm afraid? What you tryna throw some fear in me? You think I'm dumb enough to roll with no security? {*gun clicks*} I'm doin my best to try to show maturity But don't sit there and stare at me like hoes and sneer at me like it's supposed to be scarin me Like I won't leap clean over this fuckin V.I.P. rope and throw this chair at anyone close or near me tryna approach me physically cause he don't spit lyrically And he knows that my flow's so sick, this hoe's on my dick and he's so sick of hearin me, my posters is starin at him But I don't think he knows the severity of what it could escalate to or that it could grow so seriously if I go hysterically; cause I guarantee there's no one in here that would resort like a childhood any quicker than I would, or hit you with plywood Especially when I'm sippin on this liquor and tonic One swig of this bottle I'ma go upside your head so hard with it the mark |
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4:22 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Cam'ron/Chinky Brown Eyes)
Killa, Killa, Dipset man Aye yo you know I've been all over the motherfucking world man But ain't no place like Harlem man Me break it down man We tie dynamite to the rhino type, whine you might find yo sight Sell the information for a dime a white, that c I'm behind the diner, selling marijuana to a minor minor Elder fella, lookin' for that shine, I'll shine ya My mind designa, you a dime, I dine ya Madonna momma, body bottle, your fine, I'm finer Time to climb her, climb behind vagina Then I hime and grind her, 'til her mom remind her Diamonds blind her, visions gone, kiss her palm Turn her on, lift her arm, notice that her wrists is wrong Gotta get it right ma, we gon' get along Said how don't trip, but yo the trick is wrong First visit warn, day job tick a tron Night time, missed the mom, bootleg Chris and Don Brother Chris and Don, and they sister calm They sell yay, you'll say yay, this s***'s the bomb I'm a hit my man, tell 'em you my bigga pawn The rest, so yes, you'll be blessed to hit the intercom You know kisses mom, she gave him wisdom charm And they father come from a long lista dons And I get it cheaper, I cop bricks like sneakers And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia But I give you an earful, it's tearful Told my mother I hustle, and she said be careful Why I feel like I'm losin' weight? Why I ain't got no money if I'm movin' weight? My life's based upon, what I'mma do this year Cop a boat, Hop a layer, now the army suits cute with my chocolate Airs You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair Still the sweet in me, nothing they can do to me I made sure my mother and girl is smothered in pearls When a nigga under the world Everybody like Cam got the recipe now Not them three girls I got to be Destiny's Child Specially equities, wreckin' we smile In the fear tech the tech and use the tech that we wile The tech with the septa, Receptive affiles Hectic, heckle a koch, helicopters on the set of my sales Nah, I ain't gon' be imbedded in jail Talking to a cell mate in a bed in a jail, dog I broke bread with the wheel, fled from some seals And the house, I was the head of the hills, s*** You get a dumb ho, and get dumb happy Go to the gun show, get gun happy Stuck, killed, mugged, milt Tone flint sticks, bo, Chub's milk Poochi, baba, butta got the hardest shells We the Midwest gun cartel, nigga Ya, well just clap up ya brains, snatch up ya chains See dog? Rap is my aim But I'm a hustla, in my heart, trapped is the game A test of my frame, tapped to my brain, affects that remains It wasn't rap, it was crack that got the racks on the Range Look dog, don't be askin' for dames, see Playboy, I don't own that man In any way homeboy, you a grown ass man, s*** And when I rap, it ain't no punchlines I be on the highway dirty, crunch time N o timeouts homeboy, just one time If they find that stash box, just one time S***, they'll put the dogs in the trunk Side of the road, holding you up, cold as a f*** They want that button, lunge it and push it Soon as they lunge it and push it, I'll run in the bushes That's how I play mine, jump over the grapevine Take my chances, one on one with the K9 Stealin' a clip, for anyone squealin' they lips F*** y'all if y'all ain't feeling the dips Why I feel like I'm losin' weight? Why I ain't got no money if I'm movin' weight? My life's based upon, what I'mma do this year Cop a boat, Hop a layer, now the army suits cute with my chocolate Airs You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair Still the sweet in me, nothing they can do to me I made sure my mother and girl is smothered in pearls When a nigga under the world Killa |
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3:53 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
Okay Slay, you called in the right niggaz man Yeah, JUMP OFF! (Yeah uhh, KaySlizzy) Joey Crack, I see you out there in the B-X baby! (Cook coke crack) [Chorus: Joe] Sweat is our cologne we grindin House-landin homes we ballin Duece to the game we payed 'em Hits for y'all the same we bring 'em Oh my, look what we got Three boss players chillin in one spot It's Joe and then we got Joe and then we got Joe and then - it's whoa-ohhhh-ohhhh [Fat Joe] Yeah, uhh, yo, uhh I gotta be "The Flyest" like my homie from Q-B Niggaz know the Don be the sickest with jewelry Niggaz seen the TS piece, and got they weight up Do you see the size of this charm, Mr. Jacob Nigga get your cake up, wanna get bling'd out Whether sky-blue or chinchill, I'm minked out Down in Miami, bitches say they love me Niggaz gettin mad cause the bitches wanna fuck me Always lend an ear when they man ain't listenin Put somethin mean in they ear to glisten Put 'em in the kitchen, let 'em get they bake on Love it how your ass fallin out of the apron We be makin love on the side of the road in the back of the Maybach, the curtain is closed You know how it go, we be laid back puffin the dro Then it's back to the crib down on Coconut Grove Youuuu know [Chorus] [Joe Budden] Okay, hold up baby sweetie, lady darling It's the, way you treat me; wait nah It's the way I tap that last, she callin me pat that back Ah dios mios when I smack that ass It's that, pimped out demeanor She pimped out with Senior, it's the good limp with the Nina How I spit the 'caine game like I came from Yale How the cops ca |
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3:34 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004) | |||||
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3:40 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
Uhh.. yeah.. See, this is what these mixtapes is all about.. Knah'msayin KaySlay? Talk to the people, with no interruptions and interference.. Put that mic down, admire the technique and tight tight sounds of a Renagade , never been afraid, the time is right now Before I take my bow and finally allow my love affair with rap to fade, I'll sink into the page Pleasur and the pain that came from rulin the game And the half Dominican that gave me brains in the fast lane A seventeen-year reign, simple and plain When I ruled the rap game and all my peers sold cocaine One-three-two Uptown, when Rich Porter told me "See you can push a new car, it's different for a rap star" And AZ was givin 50s to the homeless They never bragged about it "L, we don't condone this" On the back of the bike with Alpo Doin a buck down one-two-five, hopin to stay alive Favorite spot rooftop Me and Big chuckle up when he was hittin up "Juicy" and whatnot Damn, when Dapper Dan got shot up Before they made drops when we had to cut the top up Some cats neglected the fact that L was hot Cause they warm and electin me hot when I stepped in the spot Lyrically reppin the block on Farmers to rock But my sex symbol status made me, corny to cop The microphone strategist ripped the apparatus Left competition embarrassed but I never held malice Kinda saw street literature Used to lose battles on purpose so these cats can dream more I wanna see y'all shine without the use of a nine You might see a nigga, I see a black Einstein A diamond in the rough, he's remidin me as tough Young girls takin X, she's blinded by the stuff Oh my God, where did we go wrong? Are you doin what you're doin cause I ruined you w |
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3:27 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Jaheim/Nore/Nature/Left Gunz)
[Intro: Jaheim] Believe me when I tell ya You don't want the drama [Verse 1: N.O.R.E.] A yo, for years I been buyin' my coke from the same cat Dominican nigga who look black (that's right) This summer I heard that (ha!) I see me always swerve wit a (give it up!) where the bird at (yeah) Apocalyptic, I pop biscuits (apocalypse), my bitch is topless Not too excited I skeet skeet my own boxes Drama King got the drama goods (bluh, bluh, bluh!) Same place as the Domin' Osama Hood Shoot up the thug and still puttin' the dame on it The pimps had to give me a cup wit my name on it I was "Gordito" I'm still Gordo or "Gito" Still know how to get the raw dough for cheap-o (cheap) I'm lastin' all palm wit the connect of a "perico" (parakeet) N.O.R.E. got no manners (no manners!) I take a picture of ya "culo" wit the phone cameras Go into ya own banners (ha!), they say my ballin' so hot like lone candles And port or part of Santiago wit my own hammers (oh!) [Chorus: Jaheim, Left Gunz] [Left Gunz] Believe me when I say (oh!) [Jaheim] You don't want no drama [Left Gunz] It's ghetto die hood, thugged out all day (what?!) [Jaheim] You don't want no problems (oh ohh!) [Left Gunz] Shit is real killer, you could ask KaySlay [Jaheim] Believe me when I tell ya! [Left Gunz] We drama kings nigga we don't play [Jaheim] You don't want the drama [Verse 2: Nature] Nature, alright, the year 2000 and 4 the War Report (port) Niggaz make it out the hood, it's a small reward (ward) We all fucked up and mauled cause that's all we saw (alright) Tryin' to rob from the the rich and let the poor get poor (poor) Or rob the poor cause niggaz be the hungriest (my niggaz) I'm on the Internet - catch me on your Buddy List (I'll be in trouble, ha!) Catch me where the money is, megas and millions (megas) And the barrel got the kick of 11 guerillas (shout!) Seen niggaz get hit and lose a whole lot of blood (what?) When a nigga legit, a nigga knowin' how to stunt (stunt) Uptown, Downtown, go wherever he at (wherever he at) Nigga make it implication, shit better be fat (shit better) Nigga small talk, it's all talk - let it be that (let it be that) I get pussy from my friends (pussy!) give my enemies clap (ha ha!) You don't want me on ya block (you don't want me) niggaz better be strapped So relax nigga [Chorus: Jaheim, Left Gunz] [Verse 3: Left Gunz] My name ring from the Clippers to the Nets (yeah) You could look and see I'm Dirty Jerz down to the zippers on my sweats (oh) Far from the type of cat that pay a bitch's rent I got a +Fox+ like +Vivica+ and never gave her +50 Cent+ (ha ha!) And I bet you ain't ready for war yet (uh) My niggaz got stripes, who walk around like the Barbershop Quartet? (ooh!) It's no way to harm this nigga I don't need no bitch to pump eye until my arms get bigger Still a problem in this the rap game, problem in the street Yo Slay, they havin' problems, we can solve em wit the heat I show em what the drama is That's when ya whole shit splattered all across the front porch in momma crib And wit a couple hot slugs get behind ya ribs (ooh!) You really mean it when ya screamin' , "I'm just tryin' to live!" The game is over now Y'all niggaz slept long enough, time to come up out that coma now, uh [Chorus: Jaheim, Left Gunz] [Verse 4: Jaheim] Yo, straight off the bat You don't want the drama nigga Left Gunz gon' clap When I'm comin' try to run and catch one in ya back Ooh! You don't really want the problems Got a whole lot of family out in Spanish Harlem Pop goes the weasel, out comes the Mack And nothin' to gain but pimpin' the game |
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4:48 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
Aiyyo it's DJ KaySlay the Drama King And for those of y'all that don't know I'm workin with a new artist, he goes by the name of Papoose And for those of y'all that didn't finish school Check this out, it's all good I'ma run y'all through this little Thug-acation right now And what we gon' do, is we gon' scream out the letters in the alphabet And every letter you hear screamed out, from A to Z My man Papoose gon' break it down for you So what you do, is get your pens, your pads, and take notes Yo Papoose, let's go! [Papoose] (A!) Alert, assassins at large allegedly Automatic artillery, angrily aimed and aggressively Accurate AK's angled all ways Adversary afraid as active ammunition abraise Accumulated an alias after arrested Accompanied armed accessory, as an adolescent (B!) Bridge Benz brolic burner bringin brothers Betrayer's bodies briefly be body banged bleedin brothers Blades blastin brave bashin Brooklyn bullet busters Big biscuits barrels blazin beheadin bitch boasts and bluffers Borough barricaders beat bringers brutally blast Bringin blood baths (C!) cover cowards corners collectin cash Confirmed convicts committin crimes clappin cats Creepin cashiers causin characters comas, cappin crabs Chaos causin, clearly commandin Cee-Lo Cocaine capsule caps colored, capturin customer's C-Notes Confiscatin combinatin, countin cream capulatin Cockin calibur chromes creatin casualties compensatin (D!) Dominatin devoted dealer devastatin Determination demonstratin, devine dedication Debatin drug deals, demandin dough distributed Definitely dividin double-digit dollar dividends Drama declarin demolishin domain dozer Directi |
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4:15 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Lil Jon/David Banner/Bun B/Baby D)
[Intro: Lil' Jon, DJ KaySlay] [Lil' Jon] Hey (hey!), what?! (what?!) It's the motherfucking Drama King, KaySlay (yeah!) Me, it's ya boy Lil' Jon, hey (hey!) Let's go (ha!), what?! (what?!) what?! Let's go (ha!), yeah, hey! (hey!) Let's go (ha!) [DJ KaySlay (Lil' Jon)] A yo it's DJ KaySlay the Drama (drama!) King Ain't nothin' but real (yeah) niggaz up on this track (what?) right here A yo Brian, we gots to get up in the mix Like we back on the block in '86 [Chorus: Lil' Jon] If my hood talkin' fake shit, what you gon' catch?! (Drama!! Drama!!) What?! What?! (Drama!! Drama!!) In my face thinkin' "oh he hard!" he'll catch (Drama!! Drama!!) Yeah! (Drama!! Drama!!) Tryin' to say somethin' freak bitch, what he gon' get?! (Drama!!, Drama!!) Hey! Hey! (Drama!! Drama!!) You better back up bitch before you get slapped quick! (Drama!! Drama!!) About that nigga named! (Drama!! Drama!!) [Verse 1: Bun B] Niggaz sayin' what they gon' do when they see that Bun B You tellin' everybody out there all that dumb shit but me Alright, you niggaz want it, I got it FUCK IT, it's his space (space) Soon as I get the work from +Kay+, niggaz is gettin' +Slay+ed (slayed) The 50 Caliber handgun, the Mack (Mack), the Glove (Glove) Catch a nigga off the street, show his bitch-ass some love (bitch-ass some love) Hoe, you ain't gettin' no greater, you's a hater Give him 30 in his grill, feed his ass to the gators Fuck him now, fuck him later, niggaz know cause niggaz seen it (seen it) I'm gettin' my money now or get yo' bitch-ass between it (bitch-ass between it) Rawer than Sushi and still swimmin' in the sea I don't know how shit was but I know how shit is finna be (what?) Killin' off the enemy, short stoppin' ya cuts (yeeah) Cuttin' off ya supply cause now your connect workin' for us (okay) Grab the thang and I'm a bust, I ain't scared to do the time So if you wanna fuck wit us, best of have it on ya mind, nigga [Chorus: Lil' Jon] [Verse 2: David Banner] KaySleezy, man it's easy, look, for me to go and bust On pussy-ass niggaz who can't shut the fuck up The Drama-Slap-Ya-Momma King and Mr. Mississippi If it's problems come and get me man, I'll dump 150 Out the (A) K, blowin' my way, make his momma say, "oh my!" Niggaz die, I roll around high All the dro clicked out bustin' the .44 If ya really buck girl, then you slap that hoe Knock her out Bitch look, ya know what I'm about Born fair If ya real then put it in the air Big guns, big funds and real big wheels Go on hit him in his chest and watch his body windmill Aw FUCK, David Banner is comin' out the cut All I got in this world is my word and my nut - fuck nigga [Lil' Jon talking] + (David Banner) Yo we gotta let these (yeah) niggaz know what they gettin' When they fucking startin' wit that bullshit [Chorus: Lil' Jon] [Verse 3: Baby D] Motherfucker want it, get done up Packin' heat out the summer BLAOW! BLAOW! in the crowd Now watch the crowd go ball And this here (yeeah) about the clip and (hoe) they dug it (hoe) And givin' blood up (come on) I'm too fast for 'em Mr. Potato (oh) Head (ooh), nigga then slid and mash on Clash on 'em (yeeah), harass 'em (yeeah) Flash 'em (yeeah) wit a full tank of gas Then put this (oh) in ya ass Wit acid (yeeah), without a reason (hoe) ain't leakin' But (come on) how my tolerance is limited Got 'em smokin' like chimney, leave ya body dumpin' like Jimmeny You the enemy that envy me (hoe) it's a sin to be (come on) Friends wit these niggaz who ain't kin to me Family, countin' (ooh) the problems, when we jump off probably Hard and he soft (hey), I was taught (hoe) Uh, (come on) when you done wit 'em (what?), they better not be able to walk Don't talk (yeeah) and let your answers speak for ya (for ya) The block ain't hot until it boil I love the block (yeeah) like hot pot did Donald Boyle (ooh) I make bread on the soil [Chorus: Lil' Jon] |
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4:46 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
We Some north side niggaz and we runnin this shit
We some south side niggaz and we runnin this shit We some east side niggaz and we runnin this shit We some west side niggaz and we runnin this shit We some north side niggaz and we runnin this shit We some south side niggaz and we runnin this shit We some east side niggaz and we runnin this shit We some west side niggaz and we runnin this shit [DJ Paul] I'm from that Memphis 10 Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that ATL hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that DC Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from That Clevland Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that nashville Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Jackson 10 Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Shi Town Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Richland VA Who gives a f**k where you from Now you don't want no drama boy cause we the drama kings And you don't want no anna boy cause we the anna kings Dont even talk about guns cause we quick to sling And when it comes to beef boy we some burger kings Catch you with the small 22. that I had in my bouge Had that other hand had pulled first but you was scared to shoot Three 6 Mafia for 12 years We've been getting it crunk The kings from Memphis man riding in my Chevy Truck [Lil Wyte] I'm from the bay I thrown them bows Who gives a f**k where you from F**k you to I be the motherf**ker totin the gun With automatic triggers Chrome handles Red lights to keep you sighted My shit on the rising I'm combining platinum with some diamonds Keep the room rotating like spinners to get you out your seat sensation or vibration as soon as you hear the f**kin beat Its the ones you love to hate same ones you intimidate bring it to the f**kin floor I might respect your f**king state [bitch] I'm from that Birmingham Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Corpres Cristy Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Miami Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Harlem Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Brooklin Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that BX Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Queens Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Statin Island Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from Raise Your Thugs Up [Juicy J] North North Three 6 Mafia Three 6 Mafia Runnin thangs drankin with the drama king Swingin from the left to the right on that purple lean If you got a choppa in your hand than pop that Rob on these cowards tell them D-Boys to drop that Show up at your house disrespecting like a f**king trick Go and get your hood little scary we can handle this Like I told you boys juicy j is on that M-Town Got that cheese coming in choking green by the pound [Frayser Boy] I'm rolling with the Three 6 let em peep this Make the heat spit Leave em speechless You don't won't no beef trick If its ana that you want ana what you get Frayser Boy catch me in that bay and don't you forget Reppin where you comming from Make you duck and run Heckteck when them bullits come They miss you then you lucky son All I do is Raise our thug Know we gon be click tight Aint no understandin when we come Best to get right boy I'm from that Dallas Tx Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Bay Area Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Denver Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Oklahoma City Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Albsany Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Gary Indiana Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Indianapolis Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Milwalkee Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from [Cruncky Black] I deep in in I represent It [east side hoe] For yall hataz that hate to get with me Yal dont want ot go to war now Yall dont want to go against hypnotize now We been taking care of our f**king buisness So your hoes might as well get wicked If you want to swing them thangs then hit me Got them hypnotize soldiers with me [Lord Infamas] In case you havent heard we won the championship And if you say three six aint it you will get smacked in the lip Now don't nothin stop Infamous from getting stoned For the rest of the days I take this dro to the dome Know that your jumpin all around if your bumping this World domination couse when the smoke clears The Unbreakables will come to hit you in yo ear [in yo ear] I'm from that Missassippi Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Carlina Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Michigan Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Caltimore Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Kentucky Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Minnesota Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that California Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Arizona Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that St Luis Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Orlando Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Lil Rock Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that New Orleans Hoe Who gives a f**k where you from I'm from that Houston Bitch Who gives a f**k where you from |
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4:27 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
Uhh, okay, y'all know what this is Jim Capo nigga, we back on this motherfucker Drama King, drama game, bird caine DipSet, Diplomat - y'all know what it is Exclusive nigga, for the streets Harlem, stand up, Eastside representers You know what it is, check it Passed my hood throwin weed out the window Half my hood they be out the window Tell KaySlay throw the key out the window I parked in front so I can see out the window Get inside of the ride, 20 inches piped in the side So I cypher some eyes, hell yeah like bikers we ride Better yet like pilots we fly Trust me you be flyin all high like a bunch of birds and we dump the birds And we bump the birds but "mums" the word Word, word - man bird gang I thought you heard mayne But hold on holmes, I be rollin stones Rocked up like a rollin stone Blocked up and I hold the chrome Pop up I will blow up homes, DipSet, he know it's on Yeah, it ain't even fair I'll squeeze a flare, I'll leave him there Just bleedin there, no breathin air Just leave him there 'til police get there Whoo! That's my kind of work Fucked up buletproof liner shirt Then we grind the work, all kind of work We watch po-po, they tryin alerts Fuck that dough, they dyin of thirst Huh, so we cop it and fry it Chop and divide it, toppers supply it Yeah - hit the block and he try it Yeah - watch the cops when they eye us Yeah - you know our block starts riots [Chorus 2X: Jim Jones, Juelz Santana] If it's drama we can start it Start the drama, get retarded Grab the llama, load the cartridge Turn yo' ass into a target If it's drama we gon' start it If it's problems we gon' solv |
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4:59 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
Yeah, we straight from the census bureau Haha, Runyan Ave We lookin for yo' momma D-12 - where yo' momma at? Miko where yo' momma at? Young Zee, hey Dame - where yo' momma at? I wanna fuck that bitch, her stankin ass Hey Em where yo' momma at? (Ohhhh-ohhhhh) Yo.. [Kon Artis] You know me, Denaun the same ol' nigga I spray paint your car up like Rain-O nigga See me and you are sorta like the same I guess We both rock mics but yours is into our chest You can't do nuttin to me, Runyan Ave's unruly And truly this ain't a movie, you get slapped with the tooly So pass the slimmy and the Hennessy, I got the energy to steal every car in this vicinity, you feelin me? Take it back to when Das EFX was sayin niggity-wiggity-wild Piggity-pow, nigga be out You don't really want war, I'm chillin at your door This uzi will have you bloody windmill-ing on the floor I can't be a punk, my daddy wasn't none I lose a fight after school and I came home and got one You reap what you sew, that shit you oughta know I keep it on the flo' under the seat I ain't a hoe! [Chorus: Kuniva] (Kon Artis) You know it's been a while but we feelin it now (The rough sound muh'fucker, niggaz killin it now) Goddamn! You don't want no problems B (Get your name in the obituary column sheet) It's that same ol' shit, niggaz back again (Yo yo, you fallin off, goin back to smokin crack again) Hit the weed (guzzle your Corona) pass the Gin (Better duck cause they back bustin gats again) [Swifty] A basket case indeed; stronger than a can of mace Slap you in the face while you patty-cakin witcha seed I'll be makin all these nig |
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5:37 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Jae Millz/Angelous/Cashmere/Trife/Manio/True Life/The Bad Seed)
[Chorus x2: Sample] Get this thing through your head And they will never be no more Tell me, tell me, about it, damn it [Jae Millz] Aiyo, I move with a click that's wreckless And they ain't got no problem spraying your ass, like disinfectant So if I feel disrespected, I promise you family Your body gon' be hollow tip infested I come from the slums of the 212 H-Dub, Lennox Ave, fuck you gon' do? We got wild clips duke, with things that'll hit you And leave a hole so big your moms could put a whole wrist through Homes, you don't wanna push me there To the point, I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere Nah, you don't wanna push me there It ain't worth it, dog, homeboy you better - better, huh Before I aim in you -- huh, it's real You heard Millz real, and better believe it stupid cuz -- Nah, come on, Slay you know who to holla at I'm heavy ever where from Harlem to the bottom where the rude boys and shottas sat Hell is what I'm giving em, fuck hurtin', I'm killing em Got legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again [Angelous] I nurture the track, the perfect of rap Its nonsense how the don, get curved it, to clap You miss me, simply, I asserted the track Kay classic, the same game, dog, with packs Mobsters with the arms up, feel the game wit me Bomb up, as I conduct, this is Ang' furry, huh I made berry, the whole league in Jones Beach And bake berry, the H jerry's is so sweet So brief, aim's gone, in the building O.G.'s ain't honor the brilliant, except for the minds That push the breathe, for the best to colide Better yet, I put the X in define Never fret, when it's beef, I put the pep' in the nine From your brain to my watch, you be ahead of my time Aim/shift, your brain wrist, the gate aimed to lift The game will keep going because Angelous exists, bitch [Chorus] [Cashmere] What up, it's Cashmere, ya, your new rap fellow We in hoods like the jam in '86, hello You know what that means? Ya'll the rap queen Bunch of bitch niggaz, bow to your new king And after this there won't be no more You dudes, is full of hype, that's what TV's for So, get it through your head, or the nine'll leave, eight holes in your head Think I'm playing, nigga? I have my peeps pop out my the van And you lookin like, a soldier out of Pakistan Ask them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man Whatever he doing, trust me, I know I can I'm ahead of him, eight miles and running I'm done busting shots, the next hit, the bomb drops You cocksuckers is about to die, and -- let's go, come on [Chorus] [Trife Da God] Either you get it through the head, or you get it through the leg Either way, you graze these bullets, is gonna leave you dead And I ain't freezin' up, when it's time to pull it, you heard what I said It's Theodore nigga, we all about the bread, niggaz And it's time for a reality check, yet I'm celeb in the hood And I ain't even seen a salary yet Ya'll niggaz flee when my calvary's step Staten Island we rep, stylin' to death, pumpin' gallons to wet And like Nick, yeah, I stay with the Cannon Lay in fours, get, kid you stuck wherever you standing Lay you on the strip, play you for a bitch, you punk Pussy, you dealin' with crumbs, so stop actin' like you one tough cookie I'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, ya'll faggots is imitators Air you out like venilators, and bang you like skinned potatoes Cuz most of ya'll faggots is sounding like little Jada's [Maino] Yo, I speak for the Stuy, Brooklyn is mine, get it through your head 'Fore I round these bullets up and send them through your head Last nigga tried to stunt, left his hat full of lead Left the picture that your see, for the inside of F.E.D.S. I want you to think, that my gun don't burst My tech'll make niggaz back up like cars in reverse Definition of a thug, man, put in your work And nigga act up, you put his work in the earth Yeah, I'm hotter than you ever was, real? You never was Hustle hard, nigga, we get you, whatever drugs Bet you none of ya'll seen, machine guns rattle So I let off, and let you feel the heat off the barrel My dogs rocked up, and got you when you hit the gravel Been a hard hitter, before the Mets signed Darryl I'm your reaper, when I blast the street sweeper You bitch niggaz'll crack up like cheap sneakers [Chorus] [True Life] Yo, ya'll niggaz keep talking greasy, like I won't melt ya'll See me in the streets, got more Smilez than Southstar Pull your socks up, homey, you know what I'm about, yo I was pushing rocks, you pushed the Roc, forgot yo's Lot of niggaz thuggin', but not like me Put the fifth to your nose, for being nosey Fuck a throwback jersey, you trying to be Fabolous End your career, have you resurface like Canibus Nigga's shouldn't have let me loose I'm well when I'm sober, imagine off Cran' and Grey Goose I'm liable to clap the tech Make you take that chain off, but I don't want a rash on my necklace Shit, we ain't the same calibur, listen, your don I treat ho's how I wanna, even got a bad blonde Got bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on Get this through your head, 'fore I flip over, your Yukon [Bad Seed] Streetsweeper, cock back, run up, where ya block at Gettin' money, stop that, where the fuck ya'll rocks at Bandana on my face, thirty nine on my waist Shoot you if you try to run, nigga you ain't gettin' chased You was poppin' hella shit, all that shit irrelevant Sittin' on cake, and you waiting on the settlement I'm a grown man, never run, never ran And I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land Brooklyn, fuck that, crackers, where my nuts at? You get bucked at, crew you 'fore I Dutch hat I smoke 'Cocoa Brova', stay with a 'Smif-N-Wessun' Skip J in the Garden, and hit Slay session Bad Seed from the top of the hill It's still real though, Tarantino flow, keep it low, I Kill Bill |
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3:35 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
(Featuring Prodigy/Raekwon/AZ)
[Intro: Raekwon & Prodigy] [Rae] You know how it go. You know how it go [Pro] Uh-huh, uh-huh [Rae] There's many out there Many duplicate faggots [Pro] Check this shit, son [Rae] No question. You know how it go, son Ice Water, Ice Water [Verse 1: Prodigy] Infinite, check it out In-stoppable, in-touchable, you couldn't flex on me If you was right next to me And you wanted to (c'mon) I take you fuckin' bullies - let's do this P is deadly, he's just like his music Come through like the Taliban unit Catch me by myself, I'm only sayin' bullshit I don't switch up, I won't change You gonn' have to catch my body to sell my brain An' that's simply the truth Niggaz wanna flip on me, we makin' the news And hopefully, I'll be makin' it home But if not, it really makes me no dickens, it's whatever, yo Fear's not an option, Min(?)'s childish Squeeze your gun, just make sure I'm finished My style is Porsches and XL trucks But my presence alone'll make the good girls fuck I see they wanna rhyme just like P They wanna copy off me, bite my jury Used to scream on they song Now they rhyme calm Takin' pieces of my verse like I gave Y'all, they wanna be, just like the Mobb They wanna observe us, bite our style of dress Bite our style of rap. I see all of that [echoes] [Verse 2: Raekwon] Aiyyo, aiyyo Shoebox with nothin' but bread The lead fly out the magnet Dragged it by his brain and his leg Where I'm from, niggaz is dead But only bury light niggaz, some that take get outta dead I live like a champ, gun king, thumb ring The joint that Kobe gave his girl, that's my son, bling Sooner or later it's war How many good niggaz die? That's the meaning of New York A powerful armour, ration it, all this is tailor made stuff That's me fuckin' with crackers Chef got a iller mood, real deal dude A hundred bar marksman, shoot up the booth and move What you wann' do, lose? I bet all my niggaz right now be stealin' ya food We come from where the babies get blessed, yes This my proposal : come and buy haircut's fresh I see they wanna rhyme just like Rae They wanna cop me all day, watch me in the Mae Flyin' on my way to the bank Yellin' "Goodness gracious, the hood won't even say thanks" But I got a trick for niggaz 'Cause when these heads get up, it's no friends, just business Problem? Meet me in the yard The Ice Water clique with a hundred bars, let's get involved [Verse 3: AZ] Two-three, I'm back out with big Kay Slay New place here, muh'fuckers screw up his face You wanna hate? I'm alive, nigga, grew to embrace All the tribes and tribulations, only few do escape Been through the chase, the incriminatin', the case No feel, the cold steel still the weight in my waist One of the great, eighty-eight, young with cake Duffel bag full of hustle, cash, gun in the safe Some would relate, others wanted rap replaced The nigga's style is how they know me now, but nothin' is play Involved in violence heavily, indirect In car low, with it tinted up, in our reps Been large before niggaz had to guard they chest Before them boys in L.A. put The God to rest B.I.G.! Get money, or starve to death (Yep) Got killers among me, dodgin' the rest Got my (?) in the hood, disregardin' the press No disrespect, I'm a brother so pardon my (?) Blood blower, rep for my boy to follower She the thrower, the whole jail house roust, they all know her More soldiers, it's a war in the game Some niggaz crossed over, nothin' really more to explain And niggaz can't be like me, I'm A.Z I move inconspicously, I'm on point And beefin' ain't a part of my style I'm a boss, player, mastered the art of morale Man of respect, this war when I handle the check But behind jail walls I'm like Hannibal Lec' Motherfuckers |
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3:56 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004) | |||||
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4:14 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol.2 (2004)
{*"Do it again.."*}
{*"Do it again.."*} (Intro: Sunny) Whattup baby, it's ya girl Sunny Hot 97, a.k.a. the Drama Queen, hahaha Hangin out with the Drama King himself KaySlay, "Streetsweeper Volume 2" Lil' somethin for the ladies right now Noooo drama involved, real sexy "Celebrity Love" - let's go (Chorus: Chinky Brown Eyes) Let's do it in the mornin Let's do it all through the night I wanna feel your sweet face I wanna feel it next to miiiiine I love it when you, hold me My body can't refuuuuse It's the way you make me feel when I'm in love Let's do it again (Lala) Don't wanna ride in your Six tonight I don't want you to trick tonight You ain't gotta pop Cris' tonight I don't care what's on your wrist tonight I just want you to get me right, hit me right I always take care of my baby boy Lay you back on that Laz-E-Boy You get me wet like the Navy boy, goin crazy boy? Twist Lala, come through, blaze me boy? Feel my foreplay all day Let's role play, I'll be the French maid Or the stewardess, jeans fit like {?} Ride and won't move a inch 'til you can't move and shit Homie, I miss the way that you kiss and hold me How you put it on me, never leave me lonely Yeah I want it tonight, I want it all night I want it from him, I wanna do it again (Chorus) (Tiffany) You know I'm starin in the mirror just thinkin 'bout you About the, things you say and things that you do Like when we, on the phone or we, home alone and ya, touch that spot that always, makes me moan You got that energy baby Tiffany can't refuse And I don't know how the hell I can live without ya You make me happy when you leave little, notes around And I know you sincere by the way that you sound Like when I call ya in the mornin and you wake up and ya yawnin but your baby's on the line, and it sounds like she's been cryin (cryin) Then you arrive with your arms open wide Uhh, that's how I know, everything's aight And I love it when you kissin me, holdin and caressin me Slowly undressin me and slidin ever so gently Damn, I'm in love, and I'm head, over heels for a man, that's a man, and knows how, I should feel - f'real (Chorus) (Steph Lova) I'ma be honest y'all, check it I never been in love before baby this is all new to me It's - more than the sex, it's the little things you do for me Like - he makes me laugh when I really wanna cry And - he even helped a bitch stop gettin high And - gave me the down payment on my first whip Then I crashed it a week later; he ain't even trip I said he like the way I lick my lips, and now he's sprung And them other chicks is just too, dum-ditty dumb dumb See, he's my number one fan, and I'm his co-D We Mickey and Mallory, Beyonce and Jay-Z +Crazy in Love+ in the back of the club With the, Drama King and a couple of thugs Here's a, toast to us; they wanna get, close to us "ME AND MY BOYFRIEND!" Dangerous From the "windows to the walls," my +Milkshake+ is +Magic+ We gon' +Do it Again+, cause baby gotta have it (Chorus) |
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2:30 |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004) | |||||
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3:02 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Ghostface/Scarface)
[Ghostface Killah (Scarface)] Yeah, this Tony Starks Scarface, yeah, we about to switch faces (It's goin' down) Yeah Kay Slay (Right here, right here tonight dawg) (Face Mob in New York City) (Huh, holla atcho goddamn boy!) (Don't fuck wit me, don't get this shit crunk up in here, Kay!) (Cuz you know I'ma goddamn fool wit this shit) [Scarface] I'm creatin' a masterpiece for niggaz Doin' it Kay Slay, all day, ev'y day, steady up in the 12 gauge I'm fuckin' your house up, you and your spouse up You open your mouth up, guarantee you I douce ya Have 'em writin' about ya, daily I'm in the papers for doubtin' a motherfucker Stankin' the speculation, you want it, you got it, baby I'm at you a lifetime, the nigga washin' your window shorten your lifeline You're fuckin' wit white wine, I'm fuckin' wit nitrate I'm emotionless when I get 'em, a nigga wit ice veins Ain't impressed wit status or jewelry, I'm on some street shit Don't believe in sit in front of a jewelry, that's weak shit You talk it, you gotta live it, I live it, that's why I speak it Exposin' these niggaz weakness', Kay I got 'em sleepin' Reality, fuck a record, don't believe in disrespectin' And niggaz will be to see you while your people got you rested' I'm reckless [Chorus] [Ghostface Killah] Mama used to take trips to face to face Now it's face-to-face, Ghost & Face, Scar & Slay We gon' walk the path that mama laid We fail, we gon' see a skull on dollars grave [Ghostface Killah] I remember bustin' out the house from police duckin' the vans Wit them taped-up broken revolvers stuck to my pants That was '88, around the time of Slick Rick era Day to day, rolled chains wit them thick knit sweaters Who gives a fuck what the D.A. say, they wanna see me pay Motherfucker this is G.F.K.! I settle crimes wit metal 9s and I ain't gonna stop 'Til your brains all over the street like ? Marshmellow dimes, brick be the size of cobblestones Acknowledge the throne, it's Pretty Tone I'm legendary and compared to my work on the strip, y'all secondary I'm hittin' these fiends lovely, my shit be extra heavy Like construction workers in Timbs, and plus they two box Two glocks incase I gotta bump a few cops off You know how we do in Staten Island, this is Gaten Island, nigga Not a non-violence sticker [Chorus] [Scarface] I gave you a chance to eat, but you chose to bite the hand that fed You took your shit, nigga, lay in your bed Who'd ever thought this nigga that we sat down at our table and fed Would roll on the street and on wit the feds I used to love this nigga Now I roll around wit a mask and a strap and a grudge for that nigga Fuckin' wit me, this adds the fuel to the fire And I'm about to snap that wire! [Ghostface Killah] We want them new 20s and 100s, Ziplock money Y'all gon' fund it, we gon' eat big like Big Pun did And we goin' all out like Hussein's sons did We stickin' niggaz like New York cops wit plungers So take some advice, there's three bears Cashmere down wit 12 gauges under the table Slay got the shotty, ain't that your label And them other two bears, yo, theys the one that paid you buddy! [Chorus] [gunshots] |
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3:40 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
If, some shots should happen to go off tonight Don't worry about me, I'll be aight Niggaz can waste ten while firin at me Cause I'm God's child, there's angels around me [Young Buck] Life's a bitch and then you die, this couldn't be worse I either don't eat this week, or snatch this purse Clip hangin out the side of my Karl Kani My eyes bloodshot red, I'm high but LET'S RIDE! I ain't scared, if I die it was meant to be He might send for you, before he send for me Gun-butt you with the back of the baretta The three-fifty-seven or, the black mac-11 We drive bulletproof Coupes nigga, go on take your shot We used to shoot hoops nigga, now we shoot up blocks Got them shells with them green tips just for y'all You can run but they comin through them country walls Bang dropped me off and show me where he live at Think he tough? I'ma put six in his six-pack When you hear that click-clack bitch better get back quick One to the chest make niggaz do backflips [Chorus] [Lloyd Banks] You don't think I know you niggaz want me to get murked Get lowered in the dirt in all black with a button-downed shirt Cold with two to the dome - the little niggaz don't get to see Disneyland, they'll settle for a funeral home You don't need hoes to know that the lead's hot I'm prepared for anything tonight as long as it's not a headshot The bigger the rim, the bigger the tire Hollow tips'll make him feel like a nigga on fire Everybody gotta go, it's the truth So I figure while I'm waitin on my turn I'ma blow up the booth I seen niggaz in wheelchairs, eye patches and crutches Arm |
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3:19 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Sauce Money/Memphis Bleek/The Game)
[Intro: DJ KaySlay] Yeah it's DJ KaySlay the Drama King I'm in the house with my nigga Sauce Money Memphis Bleek, holdin it down from the East coast And from the West, I got my nigga Game All you bitch-ass niggaz, y'all better fall the fuck back Y'all know how this shit is about to go down Yo homie, what's your name? [Sauce Money] My name is Money, that much is true Listen up, this what I'm gon' do I won't wait for you to get a lil' bigger I hit you with the tec-9, lil' nigga Look at him - red as a muh'fucker Hah! Dead as a muh'fucker Unassisted - aiyyo you shoulda Been there Bleek, too late, you missed it Cock back my biscuit Like a fat chick and chocolate, I can't resist it Didn't believe you, so for your big ol' ego I got a big ol' Eagle Gotta give the people Not a fuckin chance to see you inside the sequel Son I stay stuck in rude So when they see me comin they like, "Damn, here come this fuckin dude!" You know'm sayin Memph'? Brooklyn what's up? Got to take this shit back Let's hit 'em with the hook son [Chorus: Memphis Bleek] Sawed-off shotgun, hand on the pump Sippin that Arme', puffin on a blunt All I know is my shit better bump La la la la la-la la lahhhh [Memphis Bleek] What, yo yo. You know Bleek always smokin that "La La La" - you right Groupies they be actin too crazy, tell 'em they too hype They want leave with a G like Eas' Educated the bullshit, got a degree in these streets But - I dare a nigga act all crazy The tec'll tear his back all crazy And you know I stay bent off the Arme' Regardless if solo or I'm deep with my amry I rep - straight from the jacked M-P If I put the tec up I gotta tote the D.E But wait! You know I'm ridin with Sauce And we ridin this song from out the Robb Report Dawg, I'm from the street, from the best I'm taught I'll get your man tied and lost, fuck the cost Got a couple of my killers who stand by And I'm G-Force stat' nigga, never fly stand-by Uhh, jeah, you know Put this shit right back in the street, huh? Brooklyn shit, Sauce Let's bring the hook back, here we go yo [Chorus] [The Game] Dip through N-Y, black Impala, matchin interior Cali plates, I'm that serious Niggaz think the kid a joke 'til that .38-revolver spin like hundred spokes Homie I bring the drama (drama) Sleep on The Game and get left in wooden pajamas Nigga I ain't easy son But I break up rock/Roc like DipSet and M-Easy son I'm a B-L-double-O-D Hardest nigga since S-N-double-O-P And all this beef got blood in my eye Aftermath motherfucker, you could love it or die Keep Dre name out your mouth boy Or get your +Bones Crushed+ like them Dirty South boys I'm a "Menace," fuck Kane and O-Dog Since I was ten I had 'caine and O's, dawg I ain't lyin (I ain't lyin) They gave Eazy AIDS, so why should I give a FUCK about dyin? And the day Jay retire I'ma park next to the throne, in a Maybach on gold wires, yeah [Chorus] [Outro: DJ KaySlay] Yeah you bitch-ass motherfuckers "Hands on the Pump" Fuck around, find yo' ass slump One hitta quitta, yes [gunshots] |
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3:09 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
[Eminem] + (Obie Trice)
KaySlay! (Yeah) Yo.. Drama King! (Yeah!) Check it out, check it out - O. Trice! (Shady Records nigga, it's goin down once again boy) It's just a scratch man (Let's go Em) [Eminem] I +Murder+ this +Inc+ as soon as I touch the page You ain't gon' have no other choice but to rush the stage and charge the mic, and I hope you got the heart to fight Cause you gon' have to, cause you ain't got the smarts to write somethin that good, to try to come back at me with What you gon' do, try to out-rap me with that happy shit? You motherf**kers crack me up Talkin bout you gonna smack me up, y'all won't even back me up Throw up your paws, you pussies can't even scratch me hard It's like f**kin Castor Claw tryna jack me off You think I'm afraid? What you tryna throw some fear in me? You think I'm dumb enough to roll with no security? {*gun clicks*} I'm doin my best to try to show maturity But don't sit there and stare at me like hoes and sneer at me like it's supposed to be scarin me Like I won't leap clean over this f**kin V.I.P. rope and throw this chair at anyone close or near me tryna approach me physically cause he don't spit lyrically And he knows that my flow's so sick, this hoe's on my dick and he's so sick of hearin me, my posters is starin at him But I don't think he knows the severity of what it could escalate to or that it could grow so seriously if I go hysterically; cause I guarantee there's no one in here that would resort like a childhood any quicker than I would, or hit you with plywood Especially when I'm sippin on this liquor and tonic One swig of this bottle I'ma go upside your head so hard with it the mark from it'll be so dark that it'll leave a scar so big you'll be able to read a label from the motherf**kin sticker that's on it; I'm sick of the nonsense Shit is ridiculous and I refuse to let it get to this point where I'ma let you sit on my conscience - I'm gone bitch, YEAH! [Obie Trice] + (Eminem) I'm gone bitch Shady Records motherf**ker, we gone bitch I said we gone bitch, so long bitch Catch up if you can (whoo!) we movin on bitch (UHH!) [Obie Trice] Now who you know been to Kyoto, Tokyo off of one debut, screamin, "I'm in Janai yo!" Obie Trice, sho' you right He done seen overseas, he's not a prototype (nah) Nobody's protégé, Em only showed O. the way F**k what the media say If you listen to music then you should know that O. Trice fused it in a matter where he speaks how the streets views it Choose, to translate it through the art of music and started usin it reachin the youth influenced by the truth in it (truth!) And as a boy, a man, I ran from boys in vans Do the knowledge, acknowledge and try to comprehend Hand full of contraband A product of my environment, narcotics and violence Inspires the content, but my intent is to retire these tired-ass writers in si-lence (yeah!) Cause haters they hate us cause Shady became famous and claimed the rap game when they thought he'd be nameless (hah!) But racist accusations won't change us Let the truth be told, you think O. will be over here like, "Massa, show 'em you got soul" a" no! Anybody knows us know this not how we roll So, I still push the bucket If I ain't trust it I wouldn't f**k with it But f**k it, I'm gone bitch! {*two gunshots*} |
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4:22 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Cam'ron/Chinky Brown Eyes)
Killa, Killa, Dipset man Aye yo you know I've been all over the motherfucking world man But ain't no place like Harlem man Me break it down man We tie dynamite to the rhino type, whine you might find yo sight Sell the information for a dime a white, that c I'm behind the diner, selling marijuana to a minor minor Elder fella, lookin' for that shine, I'll shine ya My mind designa, you a dime, I dine ya Madonna momma, body bottle, your fine, I'm finer Time to climb her, climb behind vagina Then I hime and grind her, 'til her mom remind her Diamonds blind her, visions gone, kiss her palm Turn her on, lift her arm, notice that her wrists is wrong Gotta get it right ma, we gon' get along Said how don't trip, but yo the trick is wrong First visit warn, day job tick a tron Night time, missed the mom, bootleg Chris and Don Brother Chris and Don, and they sister calm They sell yay, you'll say yay, this s***'s the bomb I'm a hit my man, tell 'em you my bigga pawn The rest, so yes, you'll be blessed to hit the intercom You know kisses mom, she gave him wisdom charm And they father come from a long lista dons And I get it cheaper, I cop bricks like sneakers And if the cops come, I just hit amnesia But I give you an earful, it's tearful Told my mother I hustle, and she said be careful Why I feel like I'm losin' weight? Why I ain't got no money if I'm movin' weight? My life's based upon, what I'mma do this year Cop a boat, Hop a layer, now the army suits cute with my chocolate Airs You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair Still the sweet in me, nothing they can do to me I made sure my mother and girl is smothered in pearls When a nigga under the world Everybody like Cam got the recipe now Not them three girls I got to be Destiny's Child Specially equities, wreckin' we smile In the fear tech the tech and use the tech that we wile The tech with the septa, Receptive affiles Hectic, heckle a koch, helicopters on the set of my sales Nah, I ain't gon' be imbedded in jail Talking to a cell mate in a bed in a jail, dog I broke bread with the wheel, fled from some seals And the house, I was the head of the hills, s*** You get a dumb ho, and get dumb happy Go to the gun show, get gun happy Stuck, killed, mugged, milt Tone flint sticks, bo, Chub's milk Poochi, baba, butta got the hardest shells We the Midwest gun cartel, nigga Ya, well just clap up ya brains, snatch up ya chains See dog? Rap is my aim But I'm a hustla, in my heart, trapped is the game A test of my frame, tapped to my brain, affects that remains It wasn't rap, it was crack that got the racks on the Range Look dog, don't be askin' for dames, see Playboy, I don't own that man In any way homeboy, you a grown ass man, s*** And when I rap, it ain't no punchlines I be on the highway dirty, crunch time N o timeouts homeboy, just one time If they find that stash box, just one time S***, they'll put the dogs in the trunk Side of the road, holding you up, cold as a f*** They want that button, lunge it and push it Soon as they lunge it and push it, I'll run in the bushes That's how I play mine, jump over the grapevine Take my chances, one on one with the K9 Stealin' a clip, for anyone squealin' they lips F*** y'all if y'all ain't feeling the dips Why I feel like I'm losin' weight? Why I ain't got no money if I'm movin' weight? My life's based upon, what I'mma do this year Cop a boat, Hop a layer, now the army suits cute with my chocolate Airs You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair Still the sweet in me, nothing they can do to me I made sure my mother and girl is smothered in pearls When a nigga under the world Killa |
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3:53 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
Okay Slay, you called in the right niggaz man Yeah, JUMP OFF! (Yeah uhh, KaySlizzy) Joey Crack, I see you out there in the B-X baby! (Cook coke crack) [Chorus: Joe] Sweat is our cologne we grindin House-landin homes we ballin Duece to the game we payed 'em Hits for y'all the same we bring 'em Oh my, look what we got Three boss players chillin in one spot It's Joe and then we got Joe and then we got Joe and then - it's whoa-ohhhh-ohhhh [Fat Joe] Yeah, uhh, yo, uhh I gotta be "The Flyest" like my homie from Q-B Niggaz know the Don be the sickest with jewelry Niggaz seen the TS piece, and got they weight up Do you see the size of this charm, Mr. Jacob Nigga get your cake up, wanna get bling'd out Whether sky-blue or chinchill, I'm minked out Down in Miami, bitches say they love me Niggaz gettin mad cause the bitches wanna fuck me Always lend an ear when they man ain't listenin Put somethin mean in they ear to glisten Put 'em in the kitchen, let 'em get they bake on Love it how your ass fallin out of the apron We be makin love on the side of the road in the back of the Maybach, the curtain is closed You know how it go, we be laid back puffin the dro Then it's back to the crib down on Coconut Grove Youuuu know [Chorus] [Joe Budden] Okay, hold up baby sweetie, lady darling It's the, way you treat me; wait nah It's the way I tap that last, she callin me pat that back Ah dios mios when I smack that ass It's that, pimped out demeanor She pimped out with Senior, it's the good limp with the Nina How I spit the 'caine game like I came from Yale How the cops ca |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
[Intro: Lil' Mo]
KaySlay Don't stop, don't stop! (huuuuh!) Don't stop, don't stop! (huuh uuuh huh!) Don't stop, don't stop! (yeah, yeah!) Don't stop the music! Don't stop, don't you stop (don't stop) it (no) Don't you stop it (don't stop) the music! Yeah, yeeah! [Interlude: Lil' Flip] Lil' Flipper, oh no [Verse 1: Lil' Flip] I'm stackin' my dough, it's 2:00 o'clock after the show I ain't got a parkin' lot pimp to snatch me a hoe I just speak my mind and do what I feel (feel) Cause it's the way I been actin' before I got my deal I got my pimp cup, hair braided, car bladed (yup!) I got my lime green gators on so nigga watch where you (step!) You know I'm reppin' H-Town everywhere I go All eyes on me when I walk through the door (ooh wee!) When I pull up on 20's everybody like, "whoa!" That's when I go switch whips and come back on 24's I gotta puff the haze before I touch the stage I need 25 grand before I touch a page Cause I spit hot shit everytime I flow So go get my shit when it come in the sto' (store) Cause after the club it's the after party in my room (ha ha!) And you know what we doin' (yeeah!) [Chorus: Lil' Mo] Just because it's 2:00 o'clock (hey, hey!) Don't stop the music, don't stop the music! Just because it's 2:00 o'clock (oh, oh!) Don't mean we have to stop Don't stop the music, yeah, yeah! [Verse 2: E-40] I stay risked, I'm far from finger f**king and hickeys I'm a grown man, different broad in every city Pop more peas than a little bit, don't stop spit it, spit it Off the block roll up, jetted wit it (jetted wit it) Livin' on the West - it's hard to survive (uh) Damn! I wish my partner Pac was alive (uh) It'll be a whole different ball game let me explain (explain) Niggaz he never f**ked wit stay screamin' his name (name) You get your jaw wired up (uh) disrespectin' the game (respectin' the game) Wishy-Washy niggaz (uh) went against the grain I give the world all my slang, they wanna run wit it (run wit it) Without sayin' 40 Water and Sick Wid It (Sick Wid It) See I don't sound like (uh) everybody else, I'm full of my own (who?) Who without sin? Man, they catch the first stone So when you cats bust a left (uh), I'm makin' a right (right) And just because it's 2:00 o'clock, that ain't the end of the night Biatch! (ahh!), uh (uh) [Chorus: Lil' Mo] [Verse 3: Lil' Flip] I ain't come to dance, I came to chill (I came to chill) So it ain't no need to ice real, cause I got a ice grill (bling!) My life real cause that's all I know (that's all I know) Cali weed, yes indeed that's all I blow (that's all I blow) If you don't know now ya know, we the big shots (yeeah!) We don't f**k wit the cops (uh uh) we just bust wit our glocks (yeeah!) And A.K.'s and Smith & K's slay in ya area (area) So DJ's bump this in ya stereo (yeeah!) [Verse 4: Lil' Mo] Don't stop the music DJ! Yes it's 2:00 o'clock in the mornin' And I still want to party! (yeah!) Don't stop the music DJ! (oh yeah!) [Chorus: Lil' Mo] - (Repeat 2X) |
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3:40 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
Uhh.. yeah.. See, this is what these mixtapes is all about.. Knah'msayin KaySlay? Talk to the people, with no interruptions and interference.. Put that mic down, admire the technique and tight tight sounds of a Renagade , never been afraid, the time is right now Before I take my bow and finally allow my love affair with rap to fade, I'll sink into the page Pleasur and the pain that came from rulin the game And the half Dominican that gave me brains in the fast lane A seventeen-year reign, simple and plain When I ruled the rap game and all my peers sold cocaine One-three-two Uptown, when Rich Porter told me "See you can push a new car, it's different for a rap star" And AZ was givin 50s to the homeless They never bragged about it "L, we don't condone this" On the back of the bike with Alpo Doin a buck down one-two-five, hopin to stay alive Favorite spot rooftop Me and Big chuckle up when he was hittin up "Juicy" and whatnot Damn, when Dapper Dan got shot up Before they made drops when we had to cut the top up Some cats neglected the fact that L was hot Cause they warm and electin me hot when I stepped in the spot Lyrically reppin the block on Farmers to rock But my sex symbol status made me, corny to cop The microphone strategist ripped the apparatus Left competition embarrassed but I never held malice Kinda saw street literature Used to lose battles on purpose so these cats can dream more I wanna see y'all shine without the use of a nine You might see a nigga, I see a black Einstein A diamond in the rough, he's remidin me as tough Young girls takin X, she's blinded by the stuff Oh my God, where did we go wrong? Are you doin what you're doin cause I ruined you w |
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3:27 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Jaheim/Nore/Nature/Left Gunz)
[Intro: Jaheim] Believe me when I tell ya You don't want the drama [Verse 1: N.O.R.E.] A yo, for years I been buyin' my coke from the same cat Dominican nigga who look black (that's right) This summer I heard that (ha!) I see me always swerve wit a (give it up!) where the bird at (yeah) Apocalyptic, I pop biscuits (apocalypse), my bitch is topless Not too excited I skeet skeet my own boxes Drama King got the drama goods (bluh, bluh, bluh!) Same place as the Domin' Osama Hood Shoot up the thug and still puttin' the dame on it The pimps had to give me a cup wit my name on it I was "Gordito" I'm still Gordo or "Gito" Still know how to get the raw dough for cheap-o (cheap) I'm lastin' all palm wit the connect of a "perico" (parakeet) N.O.R.E. got no manners (no manners!) I take a picture of ya "culo" wit the phone cameras Go into ya own banners (ha!), they say my ballin' so hot like lone candles And port or part of Santiago wit my own hammers (oh!) [Chorus: Jaheim, Left Gunz] [Left Gunz] Believe me when I say (oh!) [Jaheim] You don't want no drama [Left Gunz] It's ghetto die hood, thugged out all day (what?!) [Jaheim] You don't want no problems (oh ohh!) [Left Gunz] Shit is real killer, you could ask KaySlay [Jaheim] Believe me when I tell ya! [Left Gunz] We drama kings nigga we don't play [Jaheim] You don't want the drama [Verse 2: Nature] Nature, alright, the year 2000 and 4 the War Report (port) Niggaz make it out the hood, it's a small reward (ward) We all fucked up and mauled cause that's all we saw (alright) Tryin' to rob from the the rich and let the poor get poor (poor) Or rob the poor cause niggaz be the hungriest (my niggaz) I'm on the Internet - catch me on your Buddy List (I'll be in trouble, ha!) Catch me where the money is, megas and millions (megas) And the barrel got the kick of 11 guerillas (shout!) Seen niggaz get hit and lose a whole lot of blood (what?) When a nigga legit, a nigga knowin' how to stunt (stunt) Uptown, Downtown, go wherever he at (wherever he at) Nigga make it implication, shit better be fat (shit better) Nigga small talk, it's all talk - let it be that (let it be that) I get pussy from my friends (pussy!) give my enemies clap (ha ha!) You don't want me on ya block (you don't want me) niggaz better be strapped So relax nigga [Chorus: Jaheim, Left Gunz] [Verse 3: Left Gunz] My name ring from the Clippers to the Nets (yeah) You could look and see I'm Dirty Jerz down to the zippers on my sweats (oh) Far from the type of cat that pay a bitch's rent I got a +Fox+ like +Vivica+ and never gave her +50 Cent+ (ha ha!) And I bet you ain't ready for war yet (uh) My niggaz got stripes, who walk around like the Barbershop Quartet? (ooh!) It's no way to harm this nigga I don't need no bitch to pump eye until my arms get bigger Still a problem in this the rap game, problem in the street Yo Slay, they havin' problems, we can solve em wit the heat I show em what the drama is That's when ya whole shit splattered all across the front porch in momma crib And wit a couple hot slugs get behind ya ribs (ooh!) You really mean it when ya screamin' , "I'm just tryin' to live!" The game is over now Y'all niggaz slept long enough, time to come up out that coma now, uh [Chorus: Jaheim, Left Gunz] [Verse 4: Jaheim] Yo, straight off the bat You don't want the drama nigga Left Gunz gon' clap When I'm comin' try to run and catch one in ya back Ooh! You don't really want the problems Got a whole lot of family out in Spanish Harlem Pop goes the weasel, out comes the Mack And nothin' to gain but pimpin' the game |
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4:48 |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
Aiyyo it's DJ KaySlay the Drama King And for those of y'all that don't know I'm workin with a new artist, he goes by the name of Papoose And for those of y'all that didn't finish school Check this out, it's all good I'ma run y'all through this little Thug-acation right now And what we gon' do, is we gon' scream out the letters in the alphabet And every letter you hear screamed out, from A to Z My man Papoose gon' break it down for you So what you do, is get your pens, your pads, and take notes Yo Papoose, let's go! [Papoose] (A!) Alert, assassins at large allegedly Automatic artillery, angrily aimed and aggressively Accurate AK's angled all ways Adversary afraid as active ammunition abraise Accumulated an alias after arrested Accompanied armed accessory, as an adolescent (B!) Bridge Benz brolic burner bringin brothers Betrayer's bodies briefly be body banged bleedin brothers Blades blastin brave bashin Brooklyn bullet busters Big biscuits barrels blazin beheadin bitch boasts and bluffers Borough barricaders beat bringers brutally blast Bringin blood baths (C!) cover cowards corners collectin cash Confirmed convicts committin crimes clappin cats Creepin cashiers causin characters comas, cappin crabs Chaos causin, clearly commandin Cee-Lo Cocaine capsule caps colored, capturin customer's C-Notes Confiscatin combinatin, countin cream capulatin Cockin calibur chromes creatin casualties compensatin (D!) Dominatin devoted dealer devastatin Determination demonstratin, devine dedication Debatin drug deals, demandin dough distributed Definitely dividin double-digit dollar dividends Drama declarin demolishin domain dozer Directi |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Lil Jon/David Banner/Bun B/Baby D)
[Intro: Lil' Jon, DJ KaySlay] [Lil' Jon] Hey (hey!), what?! (what?!) It's the motherfucking Drama King, KaySlay (yeah!) Me, it's ya boy Lil' Jon, hey (hey!) Let's go (ha!), what?! (what?!) what?! Let's go (ha!), yeah, hey! (hey!) Let's go (ha!) [DJ KaySlay (Lil' Jon)] A yo it's DJ KaySlay the Drama (drama!) King Ain't nothin' but real (yeah) niggaz up on this track (what?) right here A yo Brian, we gots to get up in the mix Like we back on the block in '86 [Chorus: Lil' Jon] If my hood talkin' fake shit, what you gon' catch?! (Drama!! Drama!!) What?! What?! (Drama!! Drama!!) In my face thinkin' "oh he hard!" he'll catch (Drama!! Drama!!) Yeah! (Drama!! Drama!!) Tryin' to say somethin' freak bitch, what he gon' get?! (Drama!!, Drama!!) Hey! Hey! (Drama!! Drama!!) You better back up bitch before you get slapped quick! (Drama!! Drama!!) About that nigga named! (Drama!! Drama!!) [Verse 1: Bun B] Niggaz sayin' what they gon' do when they see that Bun B You tellin' everybody out there all that dumb shit but me Alright, you niggaz want it, I got it FUCK IT, it's his space (space) Soon as I get the work from +Kay+, niggaz is gettin' +Slay+ed (slayed) The 50 Caliber handgun, the Mack (Mack), the Glove (Glove) Catch a nigga off the street, show his bitch-ass some love (bitch-ass some love) Hoe, you ain't gettin' no greater, you's a hater Give him 30 in his grill, feed his ass to the gators Fuck him now, fuck him later, niggaz know cause niggaz seen it (seen it) I'm gettin' my money now or get yo' bitch-ass between it (bitch-ass between it) Rawer than Sushi and still swimmin' in the sea I don't know how shit was but I know how shit is finna be (what?) Killin' off the enemy, short stoppin' ya cuts (yeeah) Cuttin' off ya supply cause now your connect workin' for us (okay) Grab the thang and I'm a bust, I ain't scared to do the time So if you wanna fuck wit us, best of have it on ya mind, nigga [Chorus: Lil' Jon] [Verse 2: David Banner] KaySleezy, man it's easy, look, for me to go and bust On pussy-ass niggaz who can't shut the fuck up The Drama-Slap-Ya-Momma King and Mr. Mississippi If it's problems come and get me man, I'll dump 150 Out the (A) K, blowin' my way, make his momma say, "oh my!" Niggaz die, I roll around high All the dro clicked out bustin' the .44 If ya really buck girl, then you slap that hoe Knock her out Bitch look, ya know what I'm about Born fair If ya real then put it in the air Big guns, big funds and real big wheels Go on hit him in his chest and watch his body windmill Aw FUCK, David Banner is comin' out the cut All I got in this world is my word and my nut - fuck nigga [Lil' Jon talking] + (David Banner) Yo we gotta let these (yeah) niggaz know what they gettin' When they fucking startin' wit that bullshit [Chorus: Lil' Jon] [Verse 3: Baby D] Motherfucker want it, get done up Packin' heat out the summer BLAOW! BLAOW! in the crowd Now watch the crowd go ball And this here (yeeah) about the clip and (hoe) they dug it (hoe) And givin' blood up (come on) I'm too fast for 'em Mr. Potato (oh) Head (ooh), nigga then slid and mash on Clash on 'em (yeeah), harass 'em (yeeah) Flash 'em (yeeah) wit a full tank of gas Then put this (oh) in ya ass Wit acid (yeeah), without a reason (hoe) ain't leakin' But (come on) how my tolerance is limited Got 'em smokin' like chimney, leave ya body dumpin' like Jimmeny You the enemy that envy me (hoe) it's a sin to be (come on) Friends wit these niggaz who ain't kin to me Family, countin' (ooh) the problems, when we jump off probably Hard and he soft (hey), I was taught (hoe) Uh, (come on) when you done wit 'em (what?), they better not be able to walk Don't talk (yeeah) and let your answers speak for ya (for ya) The block ain't hot until it boil I love the block (yeeah) like hot pot did Donald Boyle (ooh) I make bread on the soil [Chorus: Lil' Jon] |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004) | |||||
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
Uhh, okay, y'all know what this is Jim Capo nigga, we back on this motherfucker Drama King, drama game, bird caine DipSet, Diplomat - y'all know what it is Exclusive nigga, for the streets Harlem, stand up, Eastside representers You know what it is, check it Passed my hood throwin weed out the window Half my hood they be out the window Tell KaySlay throw the key out the window I parked in front so I can see out the window Get inside of the ride, 20 inches piped in the side So I cypher some eyes, hell yeah like bikers we ride Better yet like pilots we fly Trust me you be flyin all high like a bunch of birds and we dump the birds And we bump the birds but "mums" the word Word, word - man bird gang I thought you heard mayne But hold on holmes, I be rollin stones Rocked up like a rollin stone Blocked up and I hold the chrome Pop up I will blow up homes, DipSet, he know it's on Yeah, it ain't even fair I'll squeeze a flare, I'll leave him there Just bleedin there, no breathin air Just leave him there 'til police get there Whoo! That's my kind of work Fucked up buletproof liner shirt Then we grind the work, all kind of work We watch po-po, they tryin alerts Fuck that dough, they dyin of thirst Huh, so we cop it and fry it Chop and divide it, toppers supply it Yeah - hit the block and he try it Yeah - watch the cops when they eye us Yeah - you know our block starts riots [Chorus 2X: Jim Jones, Juelz Santana] If it's drama we can start it Start the drama, get retarded Grab the llama, load the cartridge Turn yo' ass into a target If it's drama we gon' start it If it's problems we gon' solv |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
Yeah, we straight from the census bureau Haha, Runyan Ave We lookin for yo' momma D-12 - where yo' momma at? Miko where yo' momma at? Young Zee, hey Dame - where yo' momma at? I wanna fuck that bitch, her stankin ass Hey Em where yo' momma at? (Ohhhh-ohhhhh) Yo.. [Kon Artis] You know me, Denaun the same ol' nigga I spray paint your car up like Rain-O nigga See me and you are sorta like the same I guess We both rock mics but yours is into our chest You can't do nuttin to me, Runyan Ave's unruly And truly this ain't a movie, you get slapped with the tooly So pass the slimmy and the Hennessy, I got the energy to steal every car in this vicinity, you feelin me? Take it back to when Das EFX was sayin niggity-wiggity-wild Piggity-pow, nigga be out You don't really want war, I'm chillin at your door This uzi will have you bloody windmill-ing on the floor I can't be a punk, my daddy wasn't none I lose a fight after school and I came home and got one You reap what you sew, that shit you oughta know I keep it on the flo' under the seat I ain't a hoe! [Chorus: Kuniva] (Kon Artis) You know it's been a while but we feelin it now (The rough sound muh'fucker, niggaz killin it now) Goddamn! You don't want no problems B (Get your name in the obituary column sheet) It's that same ol' shit, niggaz back again (Yo yo, you fallin off, goin back to smokin crack again) Hit the weed (guzzle your Corona) pass the Gin (Better duck cause they back bustin gats again) [Swifty] A basket case indeed; stronger than a can of mace Slap you in the face while you patty-cakin witcha seed I'll be makin all these nig |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Jae Millz/Angelous/Cashmere/Trife/Manio/True Life/The Bad Seed)
[Chorus x2: Sample] Get this thing through your head And they will never be no more Tell me, tell me, about it, damn it [Jae Millz] Aiyo, I move with a click that's wreckless And they ain't got no problem spraying your ass, like disinfectant So if I feel disrespected, I promise you family Your body gon' be hollow tip infested I come from the slums of the 212 H-Dub, Lennox Ave, fuck you gon' do? We got wild clips duke, with things that'll hit you And leave a hole so big your moms could put a whole wrist through Homes, you don't wanna push me there To the point, I gotta leave you in a bush somewhere Nah, you don't wanna push me there It ain't worth it, dog, homeboy you better - better, huh Before I aim in you -- huh, it's real You heard Millz real, and better believe it stupid cuz -- Nah, come on, Slay you know who to holla at I'm heavy ever where from Harlem to the bottom where the rude boys and shottas sat Hell is what I'm giving em, fuck hurtin', I'm killing em Got legends ready to pick back up they pen and spit again [Angelous] I nurture the track, the perfect of rap Its nonsense how the don, get curved it, to clap You miss me, simply, I asserted the track Kay classic, the same game, dog, with packs Mobsters with the arms up, feel the game wit me Bomb up, as I conduct, this is Ang' furry, huh I made berry, the whole league in Jones Beach And bake berry, the H jerry's is so sweet So brief, aim's gone, in the building O.G.'s ain't honor the brilliant, except for the minds That push the breathe, for the best to colide Better yet, I put the X in define Never fret, when it's beef, I put the pep' in the nine From your brain to my watch, you be ahead of my time Aim/shift, your brain wrist, the gate aimed to lift The game will keep going because Angelous exists, bitch [Chorus] [Cashmere] What up, it's Cashmere, ya, your new rap fellow We in hoods like the jam in '86, hello You know what that means? Ya'll the rap queen Bunch of bitch niggaz, bow to your new king And after this there won't be no more You dudes, is full of hype, that's what TV's for So, get it through your head, or the nine'll leave, eight holes in your head Think I'm playing, nigga? I have my peeps pop out my the van And you lookin like, a soldier out of Pakistan Ask them dudes on this track, they'll tell you Cash the man Whatever he doing, trust me, I know I can I'm ahead of him, eight miles and running I'm done busting shots, the next hit, the bomb drops You cocksuckers is about to die, and -- let's go, come on [Chorus] [Trife Da God] Either you get it through the head, or you get it through the leg Either way, you graze these bullets, is gonna leave you dead And I ain't freezin' up, when it's time to pull it, you heard what I said It's Theodore nigga, we all about the bread, niggaz And it's time for a reality check, yet I'm celeb in the hood And I ain't even seen a salary yet Ya'll niggaz flee when my calvary's step Staten Island we rep, stylin' to death, pumpin' gallons to wet And like Nick, yeah, I stay with the Cannon Lay in fours, get, kid you stuck wherever you standing Lay you on the strip, play you for a bitch, you punk Pussy, you dealin' with crumbs, so stop actin' like you one tough cookie I'm not the greatest, I'm the latest, ya'll faggots is imitators Air you out like venilators, and bang you like skinned potatoes Cuz most of ya'll faggots is sounding like little Jada's [Maino] Yo, I speak for the Stuy, Brooklyn is mine, get it through your head 'Fore I round these bullets up and send them through your head Last nigga tried to stunt, left his hat full of lead Left the picture that your see, for the inside of F.E.D.S. I want you to think, that my gun don't burst My tech'll make niggaz back up like cars in reverse Definition of a thug, man, put in your work And nigga act up, you put his work in the earth Yeah, I'm hotter than you ever was, real? You never was Hustle hard, nigga, we get you, whatever drugs Bet you none of ya'll seen, machine guns rattle So I let off, and let you feel the heat off the barrel My dogs rocked up, and got you when you hit the gravel Been a hard hitter, before the Mets signed Darryl I'm your reaper, when I blast the street sweeper You bitch niggaz'll crack up like cheap sneakers [Chorus] [True Life] Yo, ya'll niggaz keep talking greasy, like I won't melt ya'll See me in the streets, got more Smilez than Southstar Pull your socks up, homey, you know what I'm about, yo I was pushing rocks, you pushed the Roc, forgot yo's Lot of niggaz thuggin', but not like me Put the fifth to your nose, for being nosey Fuck a throwback jersey, you trying to be Fabolous End your career, have you resurface like Canibus Nigga's shouldn't have let me loose I'm well when I'm sober, imagine off Cran' and Grey Goose I'm liable to clap the tech Make you take that chain off, but I don't want a rash on my necklace Shit, we ain't the same calibur, listen, your don I treat ho's how I wanna, even got a bad blonde Got bad feet, so I hit her with her shoes on Get this through your head, 'fore I flip over, your Yukon [Bad Seed] Streetsweeper, cock back, run up, where ya block at Gettin' money, stop that, where the fuck ya'll rocks at Bandana on my face, thirty nine on my waist Shoot you if you try to run, nigga you ain't gettin' chased You was poppin' hella shit, all that shit irrelevant Sittin' on cake, and you waiting on the settlement I'm a grown man, never run, never ran And I don't play with kids, this ain't Never Never Land Brooklyn, fuck that, crackers, where my nuts at? You get bucked at, crew you 'fore I Dutch hat I smoke 'Cocoa Brova', stay with a 'Smif-N-Wessun' Skip J in the Garden, and hit Slay session Bad Seed from the top of the hill It's still real though, Tarantino flow, keep it low, I Kill Bill |
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
(Featuring Prodigy/Raekwon/AZ)
[Intro: Raekwon & Prodigy] [Rae] You know how it go. You know how it go [Pro] Uh-huh, uh-huh [Rae] There's many out there Many duplicate faggots [Pro] Check this shit, son [Rae] No question. You know how it go, son Ice Water, Ice Water [Verse 1: Prodigy] Infinite, check it out In-stoppable, in-touchable, you couldn't flex on me If you was right next to me And you wanted to (c'mon) I take you fuckin' bullies - let's do this P is deadly, he's just like his music Come through like the Taliban unit Catch me by myself, I'm only sayin' bullshit I don't switch up, I won't change You gonn' have to catch my body to sell my brain An' that's simply the truth Niggaz wanna flip on me, we makin' the news And hopefully, I'll be makin' it home But if not, it really makes me no dickens, it's whatever, yo Fear's not an option, Min(?)'s childish Squeeze your gun, just make sure I'm finished My style is Porsches and XL trucks But my presence alone'll make the good girls fuck I see they wanna rhyme just like P They wanna copy off me, bite my jury Used to scream on they song Now they rhyme calm Takin' pieces of my verse like I gave Y'all, they wanna be, just like the Mobb They wanna observe us, bite our style of dress Bite our style of rap. I see all of that [echoes] [Verse 2: Raekwon] Aiyyo, aiyyo Shoebox with nothin' but bread The lead fly out the magnet Dragged it by his brain and his leg Where I'm from, niggaz is dead But only bury light niggaz, some that take get outta dead I live like a champ, gun king, thumb ring The joint that Kobe gave his girl, that's my son, bling Sooner or later it's war How many good niggaz die? That's the meaning of New York A powerful armour, ration it, all this is tailor made stuff That's me fuckin' with crackers Chef got a iller mood, real deal dude A hundred bar marksman, shoot up the booth and move What you wann' do, lose? I bet all my niggaz right now be stealin' ya food We come from where the babies get blessed, yes This my proposal : come and buy haircut's fresh I see they wanna rhyme just like Rae They wanna cop me all day, watch me in the Mae Flyin' on my way to the bank Yellin' "Goodness gracious, the hood won't even say thanks" But I got a trick for niggaz 'Cause when these heads get up, it's no friends, just business Problem? Meet me in the yard The Ice Water clique with a hundred bars, let's get involved [Verse 3: AZ] Two-three, I'm back out with big Kay Slay New place here, muh'fuckers screw up his face You wanna hate? I'm alive, nigga, grew to embrace All the tribes and tribulations, only few do escape Been through the chase, the incriminatin', the case No feel, the cold steel still the weight in my waist One of the great, eighty-eight, young with cake Duffel bag full of hustle, cash, gun in the safe Some would relate, others wanted rap replaced The nigga's style is how they know me now, but nothin' is play Involved in violence heavily, indirect In car low, with it tinted up, in our reps Been large before niggaz had to guard they chest Before them boys in L.A. put The God to rest B.I.G.! Get money, or starve to death (Yep) Got killers among me, dodgin' the rest Got my (?) in the hood, disregardin' the press No disrespect, I'm a brother so pardon my (?) Blood blower, rep for my boy to follower She the thrower, the whole jail house roust, they all know her More soldiers, it's a war in the game Some niggaz crossed over, nothin' really more to explain And niggaz can't be like me, I'm A.Z I move inconspicously, I'm on point And beefin' ain't a part of my style I'm a boss, player, mastered the art of morale Man of respect, this war when I handle the check But behind jail walls I'm like Hannibal Lec' Motherfuckers |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004) | |||||
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from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 2 - The Pain From The Game (2004)
{*"Do it again.."*}
{*"Do it again.."*} (Intro: Sunny) Whattup baby, it's ya girl Sunny Hot 97, a.k.a. the Drama Queen, hahaha Hangin out with the Drama King himself KaySlay, "Streetsweeper Volume 2" Lil' somethin for the ladies right now Noooo drama involved, real sexy "Celebrity Love" - let's go (Chorus: Chinky Brown Eyes) Let's do it in the mornin Let's do it all through the night I wanna feel your sweet face I wanna feel it next to miiiiine I love it when you, hold me My body can't refuuuuse It's the way you make me feel when I'm in love Let's do it again (Lala) Don't wanna ride in your Six tonight I don't want you to trick tonight You ain't gotta pop Cris' tonight I don't care what's on your wrist tonight I just want you to get me right, hit me right I always take care of my baby boy Lay you back on that Laz-E-Boy You get me wet like the Navy boy, goin crazy boy? Twist Lala, come through, blaze me boy? Feel my foreplay all day Let's role play, I'll be the French maid Or the stewardess, jeans fit like {?} Ride and won't move a inch 'til you can't move and shit Homie, I miss the way that you kiss and hold me How you put it on me, never leave me lonely Yeah I want it tonight, I want it all night I want it from him, I wanna do it again (Chorus) (Tiffany) You know I'm starin in the mirror just thinkin 'bout you About the, things you say and things that you do Like when we, on the phone or we, home alone and ya, touch that spot that always, makes me moan You got that energy baby Tiffany can't refuse And I don't know how the hell I can live without ya You make me happy when you leave little, notes around And I know you sincere by the way that you sound Like when I call ya in the mornin and you wake up and ya yawnin but your baby's on the line, and it sounds like she's been cryin (cryin) Then you arrive with your arms open wide Uhh, that's how I know, everything's aight And I love it when you kissin me, holdin and caressin me Slowly undressin me and slidin ever so gently Damn, I'm in love, and I'm head, over heels for a man, that's a man, and knows how, I should feel - f'real (Chorus) (Steph Lova) I'ma be honest y'all, check it I never been in love before baby this is all new to me It's - more than the sex, it's the little things you do for me Like - he makes me laugh when I really wanna cry And - he even helped a bitch stop gettin high And - gave me the down payment on my first whip Then I crashed it a week later; he ain't even trip I said he like the way I lick my lips, and now he's sprung And them other chicks is just too, dum-ditty dumb dumb See, he's my number one fan, and I'm his co-D We Mickey and Mallory, Beyonce and Jay-Z +Crazy in Love+ in the back of the club With the, Drama King and a couple of thugs Here's a, toast to us; they wanna get, close to us "ME AND MY BOYFRIEND!" Dangerous From the "windows to the walls," my +Milkshake+ is +Magic+ We gon' +Do it Again+, cause baby gotta have it (Chorus) |
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| from Dj Kayslay - The Streetsweeper Vol. 1 (Explicit Ver.) (2003) | |||||
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