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4:33 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
My pops came from Bed Stuy, my mom came from Africa I'm more a nigga if you know what I mean They ed up in the '70's when liquor and weed was heavy and had me in Corona, Queens By the time I was seven my mom left my pop Then we moved to the south side of Yonkers, New York Then my mom remarried, had my little brother Gary My sister a year later, let me gather my thoughts By the time I was nine I was outta my mind My step pops didn't like me beat me outta my mind Ten and eleven the same I never would change He still had to hit me, aggravate a little nigga Still wearin' Skippys Bob had Adidas and Pumas, I could a had a pair My mommy said wait 'til Christmas but I needed em sooner If you heard I was broke dawg it wasn't a rumor I said Gangstas ride (Ride with me) Gentlemen live your life (Live it up) Cause Gangstas die (We all gon die) It's only a matter of time (The clock tickin) It was 1986 and I was twelve years old That's right around the time when crack came out It was the best thing that happened to me I swear to God cause I was gettin everything that I was askin about First we started off baggin up, me and golf Then shit start addin up, we gettin smart Now we on Broadway, coppin our own base Bring it home and put it in bottles, send us a rottle Drink an OE and scramble like it wasn't tomorrow I'm gettin kicked out of Junior High, thinkin I'm grown God bust with the yellow rabbit And I had every color dealt we was gettin it on I was out robbin Mexicans six in the morn' Mom said I'd had to ep again, rip it I'm gone Nigga get a little loony and grown, soup in the dome Bump me up worst when I went to the group home I said Gangstas ride (Ride with me) Gentlemen live your life (Live it up) Cause Gangstas die (We all gon die) It's only a matter of time (The clock tickin) I'm leavin out a lotta shit, nigga it's too real My alcoholic backround, the welfare motels Abuse that I had to take struggle at my mom's recruit How the fuck I'm gon bomb wit you And the cases I got up to date told you that I bust a eight My niggas I can't name, outta state (My niggas fuck with weight) Little brother gone but I got a baby angel You fuckin with a dirty name, don't let these niggas change you The present's what you get And the past is what make the man future I can't tell you I ain't God or lil' Superman No there ain't a 'S' on my chest, but it's a 'D' on my block (D Blok) And said life the deepest lesson is death I'm determined and I'm disciplined and destined to rest I'm a Gangsta and a Gentleman, Panero the best When I pass I'm like gas, motherfuckers Cause I'm a leave a stain that you'll never forget I said Gangstas ride (Ride with me) Gentlemen live your life (Live it up) Cause Gangstas die (We all gon die) It's only a matter of time (The clock tickin) |
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4:44 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Walk wit ya nigga, hawk wit ya nigga I came to shut it down Ski mask and four pound Baby grenades, we deep like baby parades D-Block I'm gon sharpen ya blades Let's get it on Videos with bullets flying through Korn Blaow! Footage turn ya camcords on It's the underground nigga with bricks, nigga with dough A nigga fucking all y'all chicks, you know I'm a gangster and a gentleman too, P I'll lay a nigga down and send his moms a bouquet for free I could start a pet store with these birds I'm the rap Donald Goines with words Still rob y'all herbs (And I came to) Hit the club on my dick, light up a blunt Thug a bitch out, I got the mud in the front I got the flight jacket, came with wings When I chase you to the roof Clappin' at ya ass with one of them things I gots to live by my pride 'Cause I came to Ruff Ryde or die And I gots to shut down ya name 'Cause I came to shut down the game And I gots to hold down this heat 'Cause I came to hold down ya streets And I gots to make sure I drop yo ass 'Cause I came to D-Block all ya cash Yo, I was determined to sell And not because I'm just a bunny with a fluffy tail Had to prove that I could live hard and spit hard Just a bonus that I'm cute and get ya dick hard See, I ain't never lettin' mine go I'ma be here forever with my dogs as the time go And I know we makin' niggas sick We in they face everyday every way and they can't handle it Streets choosin' Double R realest niggas out no confusion Cats don't want it over here--have you heard S.P. ain't for games little boy lesson learned I suggest you stay far from my nigga's face Hop back go hard all day in a nigga's face You see, you cowards ain't a threat to us really Just figured that we let you know that testin' us is silly Good luck, y'all---Naw forreal, fuck y'all ( Eve & Styles) I gots to live by my pride 'Cause I came to Ruff Ryde or die And I gots to shut down ya name 'Cause I came to shut down the game (Sheek) And I gots to hold down this heat 'Cause I came to hold down ya streets And I gots to make sure I drop yo ass 'Cause I came to D-Block all ya cash (Styles) I live by my pride, I could never be broke I'ma Ruff Ryde or die catch me bein' with dope Smokin' weed in the hoopty with the three in the coat 'Cause my ace boon-koon got a connect Told me send a hundred bundles to the day room soon If the shit go right, he know that it will We'll be cash, he'll be movin' straight weight through June But back to this rap shit who thug it the most It'll take the whole coast just to fuck wth the ghost He done shut down the game, shit on ya name If you ain't hold down the street or bust off ya heat Then me and you is different, we ain't get it the same And I represent niggas who live it, keep askin' for it And I represent niggas who give it This a D-Block Ruff Ryder, Holiday Styles Cock sucker and I don't give a fuck about you I gots to live by my pride 'Cause I came to Ruff Ryde or die And I gots to shut down ya name 'Cause I came to shut down the game And I gots to hold down this heat 'Cause I came to hold down ya streets And I gots to make sure I drop yo ass 'Cause I came to D-Block all ya cash |
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2:01 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002) | |||||
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3:43 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002) | |||||
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4:29 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Angie Stone in background You... Wha, wha yeah It's like a team over here daddy One for all, and one for one let it flow, flow, flow... ahh yeah... If it aint that then it aint right If you be knowin that, you'll be aight My heart goes out to the homeless and poor and my niggas in the bing that didn't go to the board wit a 25 to L on your back the shit is too cold and for the kids that didn't get they school clothes For the gods that lost they earth The world's a song you'll get it back you just lost your It's P the demons, that's why I'm feenin for weed Cuz I don't wanna forfeit first I could even bust my gun and do some office work But I still wanna off this jerk shit... I can't leave it out my rhymes why cuz it be part of my dreams, to see 20 porsches murk Three houses for the family, two for the niggas When I die I was true to the niggas true soldier and I never practice voodoo But it's like Black Magic how I spit this fluid to niggas Angie Stone How do you move on his way When taking all this stress and pain There's gotta be a better way There's gotta be a better way yeah If I should give up hope today P won't you help me find my way All I really want... Is to live my life so we can just get high yeah, yeah Ask God when he stoppin the pain A fiend got a shoelace on his arm and he poppin his vein and the needle look dirty but I'm close to reaching thirty and the only thing I know it's a profit to gain I might cry but I'm still cold I might be cold but I still cry and bottomline I'ma still die I can see the doors openin now I can see the ghost floatin around That's why P come down with the potenest sound spit the shit that'll open the ground crack the ground My third eye got a horoscope see it all So if you wanna know my horoscope, listen to the bars I wrote Build and destroy Come through the strip wit, bricks of the girl and keys of the boy Cuz all I really want what Was a gun and blunt, a lil money and some keys to a toy My whole life been a sacrifice So if my nigga need my help he aint never gotta ask me twice I'm the nigga you could kick it wit You gotta spot you wanna rob I'm the nigga you could stick it wit I'm in the studio, I'm droppin pain on the beat I'm famous indeed, but those is two differences They tryin to understand me, but I overstand 'em I'm the flowin phanthom, til we blowin random and to my corner niggas holdin cannons that want the money and jewels and everything cuz we so demanding To the hoes that think I'm handsome that know a gangster when she see one ma, yeah money that's the anthem Callin niggas like that's the ransom you could take 'em you could leave 'em but your man aint a happy camper If P flowin then that's the cancer Holiday the hottest shit point blank dog that's the answer - 2X |
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3:40 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Styles P... It's Lil' Mo, holla at me Get that cash daddy If it's you versus me - think about it They gon yell my name when they announce the winner And I ain't bout to sell much I got my honeys on the plane but the birds flyin south for the winter Go get ya self familiated I'm so gangsta that, just know'n myself makes me affiliated What chu think honey hold 'em hammers for? So she can spend 10 cent at Jill Sander store? We gon hit the day off, drive on Beverly Hills Though I love her, so I'm spendin like 70 bills I bringin what she be on went, keep ya payroll big Light a blunt, and just beg me to chill Ain't a player but my life is real all of the time So she went and copped a gun a little smaller than mine That's a down ass chick, and she keep it real So I'ma keep it real back all of the time Lil' Mo (Styles) Daddy gotta get that cash (I'm gonna get it, I'm gonna get it) Daddy gotta get that cash (I'm gonna get it, I'm gonna get it) Daddy gotta get that cash (I'm gonna get it, I'm gonna get it) Daddy gotta get that cash (I'm gonna get it, I'm gonna get it) Daddy go and get that cash Go and get the black suit, grab the burner plus get that match She said "Tell my where you goin" It's no doubt I'm comin in Cause she could fit a little 9 or a 22 right inside her bra or Calvin Klein underwear Mami you could stay home and bag up the work I'm just goin out to play chrome or nag up a jerk If I kiss it then the heart'll melt Listen dogg, you don't understand the work that she carry in the garter belt No doubt I love her, I'ma tell you the truth But dont' get it fucked up, and get fucked up Only thing sweet about P is his tooth And she could sleep with another dude She gon tell me where the safe at the coke at, how to rob his mother too "Daddy go and get that cash"... That's what my honey holla'd out every time I hit that ass Since you helped daddy get that cash Get the condom and the mink, and the ring and the gift wrapped Jag And you still got the bomb ass, I pay the phone and the rent But keep it real Boo, you pay the Conair If I get knoced, she in the BI room With some money on my books, give weed to a nigga Don't worry about shit, cause I be out soon No doubt that's my Booby-cat She drop my bricks off right on Broadway and she go and get a doobie wrapped Lookin at the God, like "We all a little" One pop for the pasta, one pop for the coke Holiday Styles, dick one shot for the door And it's sorta like we Bonnie and Clyde I load the ouie up, she gon roll the gouie up, then mami abide And she said "Daddy get that cash" She know I would but had no idea that I would skip that fast |
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0:43 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002) | |||||
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3:43 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Can Holiday get some of this motherfucking paper around here please? Shit, I'm fucked up I aint the lyin type Can I get paid I'm just tryin to make some cash I'm just tryin to make some cash I told you I ball for dope I'm in a Caucasian Jag wit a bag knockin hauler notes Spendin 200 G's in the fall for coats You could call me alotta things but don't call me broke and I told you I bust my steel I stay cuffed in the bullpen like P you bout to fuck up your deal but I told you I make my bail I'm at home in the alcohol bath tryin to shake the jail and I'm pickin up my automatics, automatically I got a bad habit, makin people mad at me Dog, I'm just tryin to get paid Cop some jewels too, act like a fool too, run and get laid Ten million for the crib put the gun on the maid Weed on the chefs, so I can get high with the meal Got to get my head right 'fore I fly to Brazil Make my sheets outta hundreds so I can lie in a mil, what up Can I get paid I'm just tryin to make some cash I'm just tryin to make some cash Can I get paid I'm just tryin to make some cash I'm just tryin to make some cash Dog, you'd be pleased to kick it I'ma call up my NBA niggas get some season tickets Catch me in the skybox in any arena I won't be happy til I cop my niggas 50 medinas But I'm tryin to be realistic, and I get really twisted So I'm settlin for seventy beamers Somebody call Bill Gates, tell him meet with the streets One on one so I can get some real cake Tryin to see my shit in the Forbes, Trump tower for 'self so you know I'm still pitchin the boy and the niggas need lottery numbers Charge this ?? freak DeCalis and Hummers Blow smoke in the sky till the Air Force come Cop 50,000 pair of Air Force Ones and if I can't live it up, then I'm runnin up in the record label tellin everybody give it up, what up I kill lemonade peeps It's Holiday with the fruit punch Ferarri and the lemonade seats Face look really aggy, jeans really baggy Fitted hat, white T and some Bruno Maglies Doublin and flippin You understand I need a house so big I need a shuttle to the kitchen That's why I keep the 45 government edition sofa costs a hundred, so do the love seat The big screen is crazy and I'm lovin the conditions I got a vision and it's cash involved Can I get paid, or you get sprayed It be the only damn question that I'm askin y'all, what up |
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3:32 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
I Get High, I Get High I Get High, I Get High I Get High, I Get High I Get High on your memories High on your memories High on your memories I Get High, high, high, high (Everyday) I Get High, high, high, high (Everynight) I Get High, high, high, high (All the time) Highhhh (In background thoughout song) - Styles Everyday I need an ounce and a half S.P.: the only flow'er that you know with a bounce in a half Listen kid, I need a mountain of cash So I could roll up, hop in the whip and like, bounce to the ave I get, high cuz I'm in the hood, the guns in around It take a blunt just to ease the pain that humble me now And I'd rather roll somethin up Cuz if I'm sober dogg, I just might flip, grab my guns and hold somethin up I get high as a kite I'm in the zone all alone, muthafucka 'case I'm dyin tonight So I roll em up back to back, fat as I could You got beef with Styles P, I come to slide to the hood I Get High, high, high, high (Everyday) I Get High, high, high, high (Everynight) I Get High, high, high, high (All the time) High, high, high, high (Everyday) I Get High, high, high, high (Everynight) I Get High, high, high, high (All the time) I Get High, high, high, high Highhhh - Styles Ayo, I smoke like a chim-in-ney Matta fact I, smoke like a gun When a killa see his enemy I smoke like Bob Marley did Add to that, that I smoke like the Hippies did back in the 70's Spit with the finishing touch Get this, that I'ma finish you before I finish the dutch I get high like the birds and the planes I get high when, bullets hit faces after words exchanged I get a rush off the blunt and the walls, you understand Like the M-5 pedal when its touchin the floor I get high cuz fuck it, what's better to do And I'ma neva give a fuck cuz I'm better than you - Styles I'ma smoke til my lungs collapse I'm from a era where Niggas cause terror over guns and crack Where a dolla bill is powerful I smoke weed cuz time seem precious, and I know what a hour do High for a livin, gots ta ride for a livin Wit my real gangsta niggas that'll die for a livin Shit I get as high as I could Cuz if you see things like I see things Cuz I'ma die in the hood Muthafucka understand its full service to you I don't smoke the weed if it aint purple or blue And you could name any rapper, if you want he could die This is S.P. dump it in, you bitch I get high Til Fade |
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3:45 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Talk, Holiday Styles, S-P or whatever you choose A pound of weed, four guns and a liter of booze Whup you niggas out they shoes, what Come and fuck with me, I can guarantee you'll be makin a lose P flows like NO NIGGA, twenty-six but I'm a old nigga Don't make me fuck around and show niggas How to leave a room flat, twenty niggas dead No money, no jewels, bullets in they head Ain't a nigga you know could fuck with the god I said that was just a hobby, gun bust in the job But the sickest niggas out is the bitchest niggas out And I could take em on the street and straight whip em in the house Come through in the prettiest Porshe, the grittiest morse State gotta talk till the city get hoarse I'm the icin on the cake, gangsta of the state Guns, money you wait, who you fuckin wit dawg? Uh, I'm a Ruff Ryder Weed smokin, gun totin' heroin supplier I'm a Ruff Ryder On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired I'm a Ruff Ryder Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors I'm a Ruff Ryder You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire Styles - You'll steal with the tension and stress Understand I'm from the School of Hard Knock and my suspension is death I keep the P-89 twenty shot in the coat Better squeeze soon as you see me, you plottin to loat I'm a little more than itchy Motherfucker, when it's time to splatter your mask I burst your kidneys So go head and get your sons on me Like I give a fuck, like I'm givin up I got four guns on me Get down and dirty, all time aloney I leave your brains on your block all around your homies Live by the code of honor, stay holdin armor I treat beef like a album I could poke a drama Stay bustin a hammer, sweatin a smile And I make sure these motherfuckers'll regret while I'm wildin I'm the hustler on the block With money on his mind and some bricks in his hand, P can't be stopped, what - Jadakiss Styles - You're dealin with the ghost of the past You could sleep if you want, and get fucked with this toast in your ass I'm the gangsta and a gentleman, I hope you the best And tell them clear the front seat and then choke you to death Throw the gun to the chair try to open your chest Get blood on the driver's face, window and dash Burn the car with the body in it, bring you the ash I get down on yo head like I'm Sigel the cold That nigga sniffed up yo coat I could bring you his nose If he stole money from you P could bring you his hands The nigga talk too much I bring the ears of his fans Need weed to calm down, need money to leave light Fuck a watch cause my time is tickin Fuck a chain I'm already hangin Fuck a gang I'm already bangin Robbin niggas is my only form of steady payment Play it sweet I might be in your house L-O-X black mob Holiday and I'm out What...bitch? - Jadakiss Uh, I'm a Ruff Ryder Weed smokin, gun totin' heroin supplier I'm a Ruff Ryder On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired I'm a Ruff Ryder Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors I'm a Ruff Ryder You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire I'm a Ruff Ryder Weed smokin, gun totin' heroin supplier I'm a Ruff Ryder On the low dawg, no phone calls, got my shit wired I'm a Ruff Ryder Bust for my niggas, shh, hush for my niggas, all of us survivors I'm a Ruff Ryder You got a gun on you, I got a gun on me, both of us could fire I'm a Ruff Ryder, uhh, faggots |
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0:33 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
(breathing in) ya ya what up my niggas, you know who it is, its your nigga Styles, Holiday, the Ghost Pinero, I go by many names, I am just glad to be doing this motherfucking album, I am happy to be alive, Its been awhile, I got a lot of shit to say, I just want everbody in this motherfucking world to hear me out, real street nigger, I am a badass motherfucker |
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4:24 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Lick a shot for the predicate felons And gangster niggas that know that Doing their time is better than tellin Don't tell dog, lick a shot for the graveyard shift And all the hustlers on ninety-five for the graveyard prick Lick a shot for this weed I need Just to see clear, to tell the truth I can't breathe a ki Lick a shot for the stick up kids that twist up wigs Thats the shit that happens when you pick up bids Lick a shot for the foreign car, American trucks Old timers that'll throw a stack of presidents up Got dice shooter slang, need a pistol to hang But the P understand cause the ghetto is fucked Lick a shot for the fiends That got to go see the minors on the block to get medicined up Lick a shot for the sake of licking a shot And everytime I'm far away from home I'll be missing my block D-Block nigga Lick shots for the hood Yeah nigga we good Lick shots for the poor We still gotta run from the law Lick shots for the rich I-95 moving them bricks Lick shots for the crew My niggas'll ride and I ride too Someone lick a shot for D-Block cause thats what I'm on Lick a shot for the niggas that ain't survive the storm Lick a shot for all my niggas on the run And lick a shot for all my real niggas that got bodies on they gun Lick a shot for my niggas cause I know they'll do the same For my niggas that run through the flames and walk through the rain Lick a shot for all the niggas growing up in the slums Blowing they spliffs with they razor blades under they tongue Lick a shot for all my niggas that be banging they hammers Sticking up stores, taking the tape out the video cameras Lick a shot at all yall haters whether smaller or bigger Lick a shot cause Hood ain't never been scared to pull a trigger Lick a shot for all my niggas that be pumping they crills When the beef start cooking they be bustin they steel Lick a shot cause I ain't scared to And lick a shot cause I'm prepared to Crack a buckle with the matching hair due I lick shots for my niggas in jail 23 hours in the hole, on life parole My jackmack niggas, octopus wildin Closest food they ever gettin to is city island I lick shots for cos that hit niggas off for weed and don't care if you bleed Just mind they business and go the other way For the right price they could get you the yay I lick shots for my thug ass niggas that'll put something in you From they car and hit your face through the diner menu Your body get numb, you swallow your tongue Cough up blood, thats the work I do, what I lick shots for my niggas thats not on tour And gotta hustle to eat its the motherfuckin way of the streets Pay attention Lick shots for the little babies in the projects Running around unsupervised with sharp objects Lick shots for papi that give you the yay half price And niggas that ain't ever been heard but they mad nice Nobody tell when I squeeze at your men Lick shots when your diesels at ten, I'ma see you again Lick shots cause my record is clean Middle of the street, broad day lettin it scream If I'm lucky they'll squirt through your back And after that I'll make sure I lick shots for the purple and yack Lick shots just to guard your grill To my nigga T and Green and my uncle and Arthur Kill Lick shots for the S-L 6 Cherry red with them chrome things on it with the x-l lips Lick shots for the niggas who got shot and ain't here They say life goes on but it ain't fair |
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2:58 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
I gotta few things I wanna ask the Lord Why my people gotta be so poor, feel me and why's it so rough when you're young and black They say you go to jail or get strung on crack Why the girl have a baby she was twelve years old Ask the state why the cell's gotta be so cold and why these niggas here with so many years whole family in court crying so many tears can you picture us living with hope [hell no] when the same ones hanging us is giving us dope shit, it's hard to get by I pray to God it's still hard to get by Just wanna hold my son [my man] but I can't leave my house until I load my gun I gotta grab my sword and when I die I got some things I wanna ask the Lord like, why we dying from AIDS and why on TV it's aight to be gay aint that sorta like my gun got the right to be waved if I could sit back and watch a whole cipher of slaves ask my man where the blacks at ask myself where the next Malcolm X at [I don't know] Is he makin Salat, or upstate like a ape in a box am I a human or a fallen angel got to pray by myself cuz I'm out of angle I aint facin the east, tell the brothers I was shakin the beast had the nine and the eight in the streets open your eyes, stay wise, cuz even Satan is deep I pray for a better living even though I think I'm better dying why, cuz I'd rather hear the angels singing why, and I don't wanna hear my people crying, feel me black [HOOK] We aint gotta die no more, I said we aint gotta die no more Black woman Listen You aint gotta cry no more, I said you aint gotta cry no more Black child Listen We gotta provide for y'all, I said we gotta provide for y'all Devil man Listen We got a surprise for y'all, I said we got a surprise for y'all Black man Listen 'Bout to be on some clever shit [I got to be] I gotta think if the president is prejudice and that's another eight years down the 500 year warn, that's a eight year round I don't really mean to sweat it but the war been on before they came on your TV and settle They don't need lead to shoot ya why would a man make a computer to head the future I think about it in a weed session They said better technology, all I see is regressin blew up our buildings in fact [blow us all up] but if they live under the sun then them children is black 'fore the devil get more time I'd rather see the world cease hit the afterlife of world peace where black men don't die, the women don't cry and the little kids get provided for and play in the sky, what [HOOK] |
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4:35 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
(Answering machine): I'm not the only one living here, please be considerate and leave a nice message after the tone. One! I just wanted to speak to him.... I got too much words... I got a lot of words... let's see.. yo, yo Life is a circle of pain The darkest clouds, end up like the purplest rain They say patience is a virtue in the game Fuck it, I guess I died when my brother died Cause to tell you the truth, I feel like I'm the curse in the game My vision is blurred, dreams is shattered, my heart is broke Pain so deep I find it hard to cope Missin your smile and missing your style I figured I'm the next one dead so we could kick it a while Cause your name lives on, the sun still shine Every time your baby mom life up your child I guess I gotta switch my angle now Take a positive look, hit a blunt my little brothers with the angels now Some of us fall and some of us fly But at the end of the book baby all of us die Word, my nigga There's my brother I could smile, cause I know he right next to Allah Right next to the prophets and the soldiers that died And all the angels in the heaven that be holdin the sky There's my brother I could cry, for the fact I can't hug him no more But my tears go to heaven and I know the nigga feel me And the good thing is he aint got to worry no more I said there's my brother, wit Allah Best place he could be If I could get my miracle on Listen to me, I would bring my brother back in the physical form Cause the spirit still here, but the visual gone And sometimes I gotta think if I'ma live to the morn I guess it's no more schooling you I know it's something in our blood, because us niggas in the street as usual Left with a robbery charge, pack and a stash Crushed a lot of niggas that it happened to gav But I'ma just light a blunt, look in the clouds And I'ma ask my little nigga what's happening hav You died on mothers day, mom it's a gift I know god took my brother cause his honor and strength And we all gonna die Allah tally us up While you there say what's up to lil malla and duck And I know yall niggas restin in peace You might be gone, but your soul is still here and is blessin the streets There's my brother (My niggas) I could smile, cause I know he right next to Allah Right next to the prophet and the soldiers that died And all the angels in the heaven that be holdin the sky There's my brother (My brother) I could cry, for the fact I can't hug him no more But my tears go to heaven and I know the nigga feel me And the good thing is he aint got to worry no more I said there's my brother, wit Allah Best place he could be I could see you when I'm all alone ( I see you) So I guess I'm not all alone, I know my little nigga callin home The good die young, so they could get to heaven early And watch over the rest of the slums (watch over us please) Move the clouds so we could see the rest of the sun You might've died, but you in heaven that's a blessing in one Nigga Robert to the death, Gary died wit a close friend You and Allen together, smiling together It's like now I could hear the world I understand that, I'm in the physical you're in the spirit world I see you when I get home They can't separate brothers, so I still see you when the spit flown You died, I died ( you still here) But I'm alive, you alive, so we gotta keep the shit going Now I got a new ghost And a baby brother angel I could feel, everytime the wind blows There's my brother (My niggas) I could smile, cause I know he right next to Allah Right next to the prophet and the soldiers that died And all the angels in the heaven that be holdin the sky There's my brother (My brother) I could cry, for the fact I can't hug him no more But my tears go to heaven and I know the nigga feel me And the good thing is he aint got to worry no more I said there's my brother This is where all the people we lost Right here, they aint goin no where It's all love This is just the first right daddy The next one is the next one Do the best you could, hold your head You know; you lost somebody, you gain a angel |
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1:12 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002) | |||||
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3:49 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Ahh... today's narrator, the Ghost, ha ha ha ha ha... This is a true story ladies and gentlemen You might not believe it though But fuck it, thats why I'm the ghost I'm about to open up Listen, one day I fell asleep and my knife woke me up He said Your gun is in the closet flippin Talkin bout I get the most action he about to soak me up So I went to the closet said "Hammer what's wrong with you?" You ain't busting me off, it's like I don't belong to you I said I just beat a case daddy And I'm trying to take it easy cause I gotta move this weight daddy Then the hammer said Man listen, used the knife twice in a row Tell me if the plan switchin Cause we used to get around together We used to put niggas down together, tell me if it's now or never I said hammer take it easy baby Cause I got niggas to kill and I would never do you greasy baby And all you gotta do is chill a while And then the hammer said "cool" cuz you know that I feel you Styles I got a story to tell, my knife talk to me But nobody believe that my knife talk to me I got a story to tell, my hammer talk to me But nobody believe that my hammer talk to me I got a story to tell, my haze talk to me But nobody believe that my haze talk to me I got a story to tell, my money talk to me But nobody believe that my money talk to me (Styles) My knife said to me (Cross) I hawk niggas down, bust arteries (Styles) And he get bright red for me Knife you my nigga but leave me alone I got to talk to my man Haze to get in the zone I said "Haze what the hell is up?" He said You know how we do, you know that we crew So where's the vanilla dutch Rolling something up, Thinking about killing every rapper in the game And holding something up My haze said to me You need to calm down when the rage come to you 'Fore a grave or a cage or a gauge come to you But you don't give a fuck So just open up your book and let your page come to you Even though I'm humble and noble I don't give a fuck You ain't tryin to hear me I'ma shoot through your mobile It's funny, I'll stalk you Hold up my niggas, it aint a convo 'less your money start talking My money spoke to me It said shit that if it wasn't for his ass there wouldn't be no hope for me Money ain't everything, and then he laughed at me And said the hammer oughta blast at me He said I got you out of jail, paid for the lawyer and bail Take a look at the cars and the crib I keep the clothes on your back, food in your mouth Even paid for the birds when you moved niggas south Shit, I'm the reason why the block jumping Let a nigga try to stop something, D-Block'll pop something And I'm the reason why you ride or die Keep a lot of me by your side, shoot niggas in the eye I said money you the root of evil How they print "In God We Trust" knowing what you do to people But I'm a hard felon So I grabbed two stacks, dirty and bloody cause I heard my car yelling |
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2:34 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Yeah my niggaz, just spend a little bit of time with the ghost holiday, styles, pinero, well you listen to me real niggaz feel me, some real nggaz probably won't feel me but as you know me, I don't really give a fuck before I leave I'd like to give a word to the shorties despite what I say, despite what you see in the streets dspite what you influenced by, the life of crime has many downs A little bit of ups, and everything you do got consequences and repercussions, so you're best bet better be to stay in school hit the books, stay off the streets if possble to those on the streets, who feel stuck in the game to those in jail, thats just how shit goes sometimes we make do wit what we got. to all mc's, poets, lyricists, people such as myself, ghostly individuals you should listen to my album, and listen and listen and listen I dont know what i'ma sell or none or that shit I would say i dont give a fuck but i'd probably be lying I love to get money and break it down wit my niggaz but in case i don't, the most important thing is respect and honor and i got plenty of that, so until sheek lou child, next l.o.x. album and all the mtherfucking rest of the albums we do from the double R to the d block, to anybody else whose our motherfucking family putting down an album, we gon crush yall motherfuckers Well this one is the ghost, my lil niggaz stay outta trouble, my big niggaz who in trouble, hold ya head and everybody in the motherfucking struggle, I love you and if you love me, shit i'll see you when I get there, One. |
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2:07 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002) | |||||
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3:19 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
I'ma drink til I drop on my ass, this is Holiday I'ma go and celebrate and hop on the ass That's one more chance, Dick Frank White aint dead Think you the shit, leave me your chick, the light aint red matter fact just wanna leave cuz the fights is on I'ma still be here when the lights is on Got a fat ass in front of me, Dutch in my mouth wit a Corona in my left hand you try to front I'll coma your best man I keep a trick on my sleeve, more like a two fifth on my sleeve then I switch it to the trey-duce in my back pocket, so me and love can stay loose It's like thugs aint partyin, I smoke 20 dimes I seen 20 dimes I love they body and P tryin to score for the night and to tell you the truth, my shit blown if we war for the night We gon' drink til we drunk, dance til we drop and aint nobody leavin til the music stop Can I get a Soul Clap [gun clicks] Can I get a Soul Clap [gun clicks] Ayo shit is still gravy though I keep a open case, the block hot I need a song for the radio P at the club, niggas scared to let they lady go Foot Locker 4 for 20's Coulda had her some jeans, Nike Airs, I keep all my money Still slide out the club wit a gorgeous honey I don't care if it's a hole in the wall, I feel comfortable Violate P, that's a hole in your jaw All I want is cranberry and Courvoisier I'm trying to talk to a dime Motherfucker, but I still take my time cocksucker, to rob y'all niggas for y'all Cardiers I got a flow that you hardly hear and a gun wit a silencer, why cuz they hardly hear I got honies flockin around, smoke in the air wit a cool ass bomb like Bob Marley there I'm the gentleman to hold the door I'm the gangsta that's lettin off the three while loadin the four rather get a Soul Clap than clap your soul honey askin how many blunts I have to roll I'ma smoke til I'm high, drink til I'm drunk I'm on my tour, shit and I aint get a wink in a month My favorite color is green but I'm stacked for the moment so I'ma pick pink for the month If you could take a hint, then after this party if you want, hop in the Viper limo with the tints Got the fifty Cal, so hold that Tell 'em roll back I show niggas the real meaning of Soul Clap |
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3:55 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Yeah, Holiday, Gary I don't want y'all to compare me to niggas no more Unless they got a case pending Unless they poke somethin up Unless they keepin it real gutter, y'know SP I'm the closest thing to poison it is you think you hot, I'ma boil your kid you think you cool, I'ma throw you in the river wit some cement shoes you could sleep with the fishes Niggas actin funny so I gotta keep it movin I dont speak to the bitches We could handle this like gangstas Dog, I'll kidnap your little man and send you to the banker That money get dropped off, so do he Right off the booth of his mama' building Feel the drama building Told y'all niggas don't fuck wit P I said fuck rap and a verse I get down like the bishops, wit the way you clap at the hearse I get it crunk wit a blunt and a package of verc I'm in the shottie of the Cadillac wit niggas that'll take twenty a body, the shottie will handle that [HOOK: Styles and Jadakiss] Styles Paniro the most, you hearin the Ghost Styles Holiday shit, it's robbery shit Nigga talkin funny then body the kid, let's go Styles Mafia boss, rockin the corpse Styles Pullin the three, cockin the four Styles We're closin the windows and lockin the doors You could die today Or you could die tomorrow, baby boy the option is yours, c'mon I smoke weed cuz the future is grim I'm knockin this ash off the dutch on the roof of your Benz my lil man been runnin since the shootin begin y'all niggas talk about cases of Crist' I talk about cases where niggas get life of the shit and your girl visit two years, mom come forever but near one of your mans aint right wit his shit but like corn I'ma flip, smokin weed influenced by the fix and old timers with the toolies by the hips So come and creep wit me and I aint lyin when I tell these motherfuckers that I got the streets in me one felony, wit two cases beat so be about your business when you come and beef wit me I got coke for sale and I got dope for sale if you wanna cop some work you oughta come and speak wit me [HOOK] Y'all niggas know my name, but you don't know my style What make it all ironic is the shit is the same Keep a milli in the coat, puffin on the chronic in the hood wit my niggas that's distributin 'caine If your man get bodied, number one rule is you body somethin back then live with the pain young guns of this shit, so when I get hit I'ma yell Sheek and 'Kiss let's finish the game I got discipline and dedication I'm the boss of the S N F, that's the Shootin Niggas Federation Light a blunt and get cloudy wit me Go get your gun and get rowdy wit me It's a Holiday dog, mouth big, you could swallow the four Don't you ask me what I'm robbing you for, what cuz you was talkin big money and I'm a little broke and I'm a firm believer in equality dog, what [HOOK] - 2X |
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4:04 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
All for one, one for all This is motherfucking beautiful Talk to 'em baby... This for the cold D's that won't snitch For the murderers that won't miss For the hustlers that'll front bricks For the hoodrats that want chips For the stick-up kids creepin with they Pump's ripped For lil' shorty with his rhyme books Black girls going to school, carrying like 9 books For the hood niggas... That go to work because parole, but they tryin to be good niggas For all the poor mothers... Thats always goin through the struggle, still screamin at the Lord "Love us" For the ghetto life... For having to hold your medal tight lookin for a better life For the family... For if I'm rich you rich and that shit's a guarentee For the best of life... For if I ride you ride the motherfucking rest of life We thugs, my niggas Ride to the death with my man cause I motherfucking love my niggas We ghetto, my niggas Any time, any place, we don't give a fuck we bust metal, my niggas We gangsta my niggas You oughta keep your mouth shut watch what you sayin cause we shank you, my niggas We D-Block niggas, we don't play games We just hit you in your frame cause we pop niggas Aiyyo, yo, I'ma shed blood for mine, that's one ritual That's how you keep the love unconditional That's why we the only one the thugs listen to Bitches buy records but niggas do what bitches do I know a few dudes doin life bids in jail And they way smarter then the white kids in Yale But that how life is And that how the gun and the knife is It's a shame but it's real when your enemies like ya When ya come through and fishtail in Hennesey Viper Listen, it ain't the rappers it's the rats that worry me Double R for life, D-Block til they bury me Scared niggas shed off or stand in the back and aim they gat up in the air and... Let off Througho niggas tear nigga head off, then let the blood keep drippin... And just wipe the sweat off Fuck with P, the thug'll come out The slug'll come out You don't put in enough work, I got chu No doubt They don't want Sheek to wild Betta cover ya child With two guns out the sun-roof... Stop us now Who that kid? Black mask on with the latch on, the AK swing on my shoulder like a Louie bag You get it in a hurry All up in your Burberry Through your assisstant You'll be set fucking kerntary All y'all do me a favor... Walk with me If you want money or drugs... Talk with me Know I got my niggas my guns Now hawk with me Guess who? Jada, P, and The Sheek Three bricks Three whips Three motherfucking ouies a week Ten spots OT Two blew off late My niggas cop... Pop and talk, and we applying the pressure So when you address us... It's Boss... Boss... And Boss |
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4:35 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
My style's louder than a stereo Fouler than the snake when I kill these fuckin rappers then show up at the burials I don't mean to worry y'all, but I want y'all gone and this M-16 is the only way to hurry y'all Here's my last proposition, I'm treatin rap like crack If I don't sell the most, I gotta kill the competition Don't take it personal gotta go to jail and if I come back and don't have my cash then I'm hurtin you Got a business gun, wit industry bullets when it hit you motherfucker guaranteed it be jerkin you rings is so my contact will break up your man I'm a gentleman, my contract's a shake of a hand I make it hard so, only God could wake up your man cuz I do things the Don way it's Paniro the Ghost, Goodfella like, fucking Jim Conway leave no evidence Fuck a dead man, when I can leave off the scene wit dead presidents what, motherfucker, yeah Don't you ever try to fuck wit M.O.P. and Styles BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! This is for the hood and niggas that's wild BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! If you 'bout to die or you blowin the trial BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! We're gangsta ass niggas that been flowin awhile BUCKAH-BUCKAH-BU-BUCKA-BU-BUCKA-BUCKA-BLAOW!!! Ayo let's do it for the hood Where there's alotta homicides at Where killers ride at, and OG's reside at It's rugged son, I love it son I see it every day Fuck that, we'll find another way to play so don't mistake me for no rap artist missin old dude is from the old school he abide by the old rules and our |
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3:49 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
Y'all gon die, so who gon cry for us hop in they whip and ride for us pop niggas in the skull in they frame, shit it's a body for a body for the love of the game But niggas'll call the precinct with your government name but I'm still loadin my guns, gettin it on and if a nigga bury my man, I bury his mom I was trained to dump in your face, jump over the gate hop in the hoop', grab a bird, get outta the state stay in the dirt, dog we like pieces of shit dealin coke like cars, come lease you a brick Holiday bitch, I show you what a 38 special do Turn niggas vegetable, salad ass niggas Never send a coward around violent ass niggas I'ma always bust my gun, use my knife ride or die, til the day I lose my life Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] Y'all know we in here! [YO!] Tell me who's in here! [YO!] You dealin with the streets, [YO!] you dealin with the thugs! [YO!] You dealin with the set, [YO!] so y'all throw it up! It don't matter who you are, or what you say aint no rapper you name fuckin wit Styles and I'll probably die young, shot in the war but I aint never give a fuck, and I always was wild and I'd rather have a open case, than an open face kill every witness, I aint goin to trial and everybody's a gangsta, nobody's pussy there's alotta niggas lying and I know who you are Next time I go to jail, I aint gettin the bail I'ma kill a hundred niggas, right in front of niggas When cops come through, they gettin it too Goin out wit a bang, 'bout to start up a gang cocksucker, it's the Holiday crew get money, kill niggas, do robberies too cuz you fuckin wit the grimiest, sheistiest can't wait to die dog, life's a bitch I'ma die screamin, fuck you, meet me in hell cuz I still got beef on my chest, and it gets no deeper look at the ink on my arm, I tattooed the reaper of death and they call me Holiday, I let a slug go in your shirt and wait for the leak in your chest I'll probably black out, think about my welfare days and times I had to sleep on the steps Niggas don't want it wit me, you could call me arrogant dog until you get stabbed in the jaw P'll run up in the hospital, stab you some more don't you fuck wit no nigga that be plannin for war I got slugs that go through you, put your man on the floor purplest Porsche, mahogany seats, body your peeps project was pussy and the lobby was sweet niggas had alotta mouth, but they body was weak |
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3:09 | ||||
from Styles - A Gangster And A Gentleman (2002)
f Pharoahe Monch My life.. Pharoahe Monch.. Ayatollah.. Holiday Styles.. Double R.. Rawkus Records.. Pharoahe talk to 'em.. let 'em try to understand.. Let 'em try.. let 'em try now... My life is all I have My rhymes, my pen, my pad And I done made it through the struggle, don't judge me What you say now, won't budge me Cuz where I come from, so often People you grew up with, layin in a coffin But I done made it through the pain in spite It's my time now, my world, my life My life... Is based on, lightin blunts, loadin guns tellin my lawyers to get the case gone (uh-huh) I need the bills that the presidents got they face on so I can switch my residence - get a truck and a Lex Fuck a check, I no longer have to wait for 'em I made a couple ends, lost a couple friends I light a blunt cuz never will the struggle end So you can judge a nigga, but you ain't got it, you ain't in the role so you really can't budge a nigga - you oughta love a nigga For the fact that it's my world and my life but still I'm a rugged nigga They say you buggin nigga, fuck it, I'm a thuggin nigga You talkin bullshit then kick it with another nigga I got a bigger bed and I need a cover nigga And I ain't got friends - I got enemies So if they with me, then that means they my brother niggaz Is a blunt to the head, a prayer for the dead Run around hustlin, scared of the feds They said death is eternal sleep but the only thing is you ain't really sure if you prepared for the bed So often we get merked in the head, instead of big money They got big momma hurtin instead M |
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4:08 | ||||
from Exit Wounds (엑시트 운즈) [ost] (2001) |