My Diary lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Denise Weeks)
Pardon the Syzzrup...
[Jim Jones]
Now we try corners
Old folks try and warn us
The cops try and swarm us
Blocks hot like saunas
Well fuck it I'ma risk it
Got a bunt nigga twist it
Imma get drunk with my biscuit
5 cent cup, take a sip kid
Imma product of the p-jects
My teachers always told me that I'd prolly be a reject
I came up by my lonely now I'm a product of that D-Set
Two twelvin with my homie, he caught a homy of that d-wreck
He said it had him zonin' left the body in bulding three steps
The project now on fire every where you see the detects
His high is coming down cause now he's nervous smokin bogeys
And now he findin out that fuckin murder was his co-D
And this the shit that happens all too often up in Harlem
No shit you smell a rat you better off him whats the problem
In this business sellin crack we cook that raw shit up to hard shit
And tell my fellas that and to my coffin steady mobbin' to my coffin
steady mobbin'
[Chorus: Denise Weeks]
Take a look into my eyes and you'll see all the pain the ghetto brings
Take a journey through my soul and lets
roll through the streets of reality
They tell me slow down I'm livin' life fast See they don't all wanna
ride with me
I know it ain't right but this is my life
It's just a piece of my diary yeah
[Jim Jones]
Now, we ran wreckless, no grown-ups to guide us
So it's the man what you expect, I've grown-up to violence
I had my eye up on the pushers, the ones that stay fly
Fiends got high off the suga, you know that ain't riiight
That sweet cane, some got buried to the street game
My niggaz only worried bout the jewelry and the street fame
And what the bitches thought of them, it's all about the money
Well shit I cop some Porsche or trucks
'Member I was hungry, I was whippin in the Corsica
Hoopty muthafucka, hoppin the double four's
My pants droopy muthafuckas
And pardon my grammar, my nana died '95
So I done left my heart wit my grandma
I hid outside and played the park wit the hammer
And I'm watchin for the narcs, they movin cars with antennas
Thug and respect, for all my goons behind bars in the slammas
To my G's on rikers, to all my three time lifers
[Chorus]
[Bridge - 2X]
This is my life we die young cause we livin fast
So I'ma let you read my diary I'ma let you read my dairy
[Jim Jones]
Now lets ride (to where), to Harlem, the Westside
I show you blocks and murals, dawg where some of the best died
(Like who...like who?) Like Porter and them
I heard Po put the order on him, now that's more than a friend!
But he stitched of course, now let's talk about Fritz the boss
And he got rich off snort, they said 500 bricks was brought
So in hindsight, it's a shorty who couldn't get a gist of his thought
But if you grind right wit the snorpy, a whip could be bought
Now think about po-9, if it caught me, how it get you in court
But now the feds, they still tailin me, DA think he nailin me
I had to turn in the goons come and post the bail for me
Still in the Byrd Gang myself, you say Byrd Gang is wealth
And all the liquor stores, man the Syzzurp on the shelf
I rose from the dump you see, now it's Dipset, Byrd Gang the company
[Chorus]
[Bridge 2X]
Zeke (Interlude) lyrics - Jim Jones
Jim, Jim, Fucks up nigga nawmean, the beat all good you feel me, Doin Me as Usual man, good looking for that glock, but you know its glock time again, Set that out for your boy, You Smell me? Fuckin Niggas Man, I'm sick of all these piss ant niggaz up in here, got me hot like lava in this motha fucka, Bout to slap slob out one of these faggets that keep fuckin with me, word is born, got all these coward ass niggaz sweatin like it aint no A/C in this motha fucka, Fuckin With me Freekey, Any motha fuckin way man, I aint even really wanna holla at you about that bullshit, I really wanna talk about that phantom shit you was talking bout, that shit aint me son, word is born im too gangsta for that shit, want no motha fuckin phantom, nawmean, I need some low key inexpensive shit, you know wut I sayin, Cop the boy a lil Ashton Martin or something, Black on Black with the black tint, you know what im sayin, The Rims, let me see, put my face on them rims, You know what im sayin that's how I like to do it you know what im sayin. Have all these bitches connected to my dick like nuts. You know what im sayin, Its ya boy man, doin what he does best, Fuck wit you hard, You know what im sayin. I Fucked With You Hard Nigga, You Know What Im Sayin, Get At me
G's Up lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Max B)
[Chorus:]
G's up nigga, ho's down
If the bitch can't swim she gon'drown
Runnin the streets totin' the 4 pound
U didn't know we was them niggas, the nigga u know now (dipset)
[2x]
[MAx B:]
I had to fade 'm into black
Hit 'm with the crossover made 'm jump back
And before all that
I used to make 'm pump crack
Ridin'shotgun in the ?? slum back
Max leave the streets, please the don't want that
They need me in the shit
The .40 cals is mine, the nina's we could split
Cock back, squeeze off, started feedin 'm with the 5th
And u couldn't really hide, cause i seen that nigga trip
U ain't seen a nigga flip
Untill they bank 50 g's and u feed a nigga shrimps
39, 40 and u feed a nigga strips
Beat the nigga bitch,
Till she bleedin from the lips...yeah
Got me speedin in the six
Drunk off the hen, breezin in the mist
Chicks believin in the dick, dick
Feenin'for a sniff
Got me needin for a spliff
Ain't a thing funny, when u fucking with this money
I'ma lean u off a cliff.....g's up
[CHORUS]
[Jim Jones:]
The picture gettin clearer
If it was bricks than the strip we had to tear it up
If it's beef, the .45th we had to gear
Lookin at my life through this rear viewer mirror
Burnin in the pike in this brand new Carrera
The game funny, mo' money it's gets weirder
My gang hungry, no money that we scared off
And do us both a favor my nigga, and don't compare us
We still loosin soldiers at this war
Like every other week i'm pourin cold drinks at the floor
We just lost iky, he was going to the store
That's why i roll around the fully loaded in the door
Majority time, i'm tryna stay above the poverty line
And that's a major part of my grind
I still hit the hood and park my car in the nine
While the little niggas pump hard with dimes
[CHORUS]
[J:]
The say succes is like amen (pray for me)
U see police will arrest us while we rollin'
We stay on heat so if u press we ain't foldin
U see me in the streets so there ain't no question bout ??
[M:]
We pimpin easy
Niggas hate, come teach me
The niggas with the big cake they couldn't reach me (I KNOW)
Now when they see us, they kick game, everything all peachy
Snitch niggas put 'm beneath me, believe me
[J:]
Fuck 'em i can't let them break me
A ?? and a man is what it makes me
I rather ride in the lambo's and the AC
Top down, stoppin for nothing, coming through frollin'
[M:]
I tryna to be, one of these niggas that do it for nuttin
I got a passion for this shit cause i love it
Like a piece of pussy when i'm fuckin, waitin to come
Runnin the streets at lennox ave, waving the gun
[CHORUS]
[Jones talkin' until end]
J.I.M.M.Y. lyrics - Jim Jones
[altered voice (Jim Jones)]
(Jimmy) Capo. . .whats my mothafuckin name?. . .Dipset. . .(Jimmy) Eastside (Jimmy) Cool chris. . .Say what. . .(Jimmy)
Ugh...Whats my mothafuckin name? (Jimmy) Dipset Dipset (Jimmy, Jimmy jones) Byrd gang. . .
[Chorus]
Catch that boy capo (uh), cruisin up 8th wit the top blowin and caps low (roll out!)
I'm a Dipset boss, you don't wanna get clapped, get caught up in the cross (tch no)
and I'm caught in the floss, chain 500 hundred thou cause i'm caught up in the gloss (ballin!)
and im caught up in the cause, i'm a winner i aint tryin to get caught up wit a loss (no way)
Now, when the hell will it stop (never)
i keep evadin the law, gettin tailed by the cops (fuck em)
i keep breakin the law, got a bail on spot (fuck em)
and you can't cool me off, try to tell you i'm hot (sizzlin!)
goin hard since 16, livin that fast life like i majored the big screen (nice he can rap)
y'all kno how i get in the club, them nigga knew them bouncas fo' i flip in the club (and then what?)
im tryin to 2 step fo' i flip Cam bud, so i'm posted in the back while im twistin up bud (hey)
got some hoes in the back, and they sippin on suds, blowin smoke on the dough, poppin crys' wit tha thugs, shit...(now come over here...)
ima boss i said, a dipset gangsta i dont cross my legs (what else?)
G's up, eastside, code red
be frontin, we probly blow lead
[Chorus]
what they gon do wit tha capo (nothin!)
got a hardbody clique, gotta that'll shoot for the capo (thas right!)
when i drive by the strip, they salutin the capo (eastside)
keep 1 fly bitch up in the coup wit tha capo (you know!)
nowadays all the babes think im cute and im macho (say what?)
my otha half must think im souped cuz i gato (fuck em!)
or maybe its because i keep my pants off my ass (kiss)
i am my own boss i only hear is the cash (ya hear that?)
i only fear the law so fuck a man wit a badge (fuck the police!)
and im tryin to duck the law dog from gettin indicted
and they show me the money shit the kid got excited
so if the kid get a inch, well im takin a yard
and if the kid do ya bitch, well im takin ya yard
(thats right, for life nigga)
thats to the day that im charged, we be leavin out the club
my crew racin the cars. . .who got ya neighborhood paused
[Chorus]
i done ran through most clubs that they had in my city (what else?)
while dancin in the spot, while my hamma gettin pissy (click clack)
one hand up on the bitch, otha hand on my blicky (thats gangsta)
i kick my G mac, try and slip her a mickey (this niggas sly tonight!)
lord help the boy that try and get me (what else?)
always pull me ova, they be dyin to frisk me (fuck em)
car smell like weed and ive been drinkin the liqour (ALWAYS)
told me i was speedin, plus he see im a nigga (you just mad at meee)
it got him even more bitter (what else?) i said im from a hood where police get hit up (get up)
lets not make it a issue, but if a nigga piss me off, im goin straight to the pistol (thats fo sho)
shit, but we can make it official, next time you see yo momma be awake when she kiss you (my baaaaby)
im just tryin to get some paper (hoo!), ha, aint no boy or a nigga. . .
What Is This lyrics - Jim Jones
[Jim Jones:]
What is this, that gangsta gangsta lets get back to business
you gotta kill 'em dead so they dont ask the witness
no questions on the stand is there especially to the BLAM
yeah, I let 'em talk to the stainless
if it's beef lets keep it G we don't talk wit disclaimers
we say names we ain't playin we leave ya corpse on the pavement
and I ain't hard to find I'm in New York like the Rangers
my team, what, we all are nice
we pack guns and go to clubs and we ball all night
crack sales in the slums break the law all night
so the glock stay stashed up it's cops tryin to harass us
these pretty cars seem to grab they attention
they know these pretty cars cost more cash than they pinchen
plus the city's ours plus I'm back with a vision
DipSet in this bitch you know I'm a menace, nigga
[Hook:]
It's uhhh
what is this
DipSet
what is this
byrd game
what is this
that certified G lets get back to business
say what say what say what
you heard me
say what say what say what
you heard me
say what say what say what
you heard me
man get a set of wings so you can fly wit the birdies
Harlem,(Harlem) across the 1-1-0, (thou-hundred)
where it all seems to rain and the sun dont show, (sun don't shine)
as long as it's white caine oh you know we gon blow, (get money)
shit these dice games we bet lump sums on roll, (can't stop)
wear white tees but the guns don't show, (got it on me)
and my advice where I'm from dont go, (be careful)
and we all love this life but we must follow codes, (follow that code)
it's a sequel society all we ask, trust
police keep on eyein' me now thats fucked up, (fuck 'em)
enemies know the deal we will clap shit up, (what's good)
we hit niggaz with heaters
watch the morgue come and get 'em put them niggaz in freezers, (them black
ziplock bags)
shit, he bit off more than he could chew, (no homo)
he did what he could but that was more than he could do, (stupid)
DipSet, shit we more than just a crew, (power)
we thick up in the hood, all aboard we on the move, (eastside)
now y'all expect us to stop, (nope)
I just cost 3 mill. of them records off Koch, (I'm still sellin')
what you can expect, expect for a drop, (watch this)
[?] bubble back with the sky as my ceiling
[Hook]
Nigga I'm laughin' now I'm shoppin' on Madison, (why?)
just was in a hustle fiends was coppin of Madison, (nicks and dimes)
thats uptown though I was posted on 5th ave, (pollo)
12th street movin' all the poker that Rich had, (hustler)
I'm 17 I was bumpin' up mixed slabs
word, me I stashed every pack in this bitch lab, (stupid bitch)
I should've told her now the shit where ya kids at, (dummy)
don't get high on your own supply, (ya hear that)
it's the rules in life that we must apply,(well name a couple of them)
well we must get fly
through this concrete jungle big chunks wit tribes, (shoutouts to the homeys)
blow my fairy side
Honey Dip lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Hell Rell, Juelz, Latiff)
[Chorus: Latiff]
When I'm dippin on the grind I get my money quick
But sometimes I wanna lay up wit my honey dip
She be wit me cause she aint like all them other chicks
Let you hit, then she split, that's why I got a honey dip
From the club to the telly you know how it is
Most of the chicks I never tell em where a nigga live
Tryna reach me at my mansion or my mother crib
Hit my cell, hit my two, now I'm at my honey dips
[Verse 1: Jim Jones]
Yo we talked about 8, said I was comin thru to hit
Now its wee hours in the mornin and I'm drunker than a bitch
Stumblin and shit, I jumped up in the whip
Flipped open the horn like where's my honey dip
And bitch fuck ya man tonite, you know my steelo
Sizzurp wit the Cristal, the corners playin cee-lo
You see me well you jus smile you know we on the le-low
I'm whippin thru the town like we boilin up a kilo
Huh, I'm tryna dip up in the tele
Dip up in the room, then dip up in her belly
Dip off on Pirelli's, Dip-Sets Fonzarelli
My white t-shirt, lookin dip up in my Pelle
Smokin weed up in the Range
Full speed left lane
Its me against the world, M.O.B. up in my vein
Wit another nigga girl, gettin low to give me brain
If the bitch about the cause you aint gotta spit no game
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Jr Writer]
You know I'm lookin for a honey dip
But I'm no dummy, most these bunnies
are money hungry and lookin for a money clip
So after the brother hit
I'll tell a honey dip
She won't see a contact, address nor buddy list
I aint on some hubby shit
That lovey dovey shit its nuttin trick I'm suttin slick you couldn't get
enough of it
How a slugger jus slide up thru the check in
Wit that linin on the Wesson
Hundred diamonds on my neck and wrist shit
I'm rich bitch, rhymings my profession
Watch how I do this stupid grindin and perfectin
Who's flyer when I step in got em spyin every second, cause that 06
Charger remind em of a 7
Yes man I'm so fresh the pro mess wit bread honey
My jeans 800, these are called Red Munkey
The flossin is gone, come talk to a Don fly enough to belong on a
catwalk in Mulan.....holla
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Juelz Santana]
I got me a lovely chick, I got me a slutty chick, I got em all, but my
favorite one is my honey dip
She get drunk wit me, roll the piff up wit me
Throw singles at other hoes in the strip club wit me
She do anything for jus one quicky
She a nympho chick
For this slow dick
She give no lip, she jus go get
The paper I ask her for, my bitch so quick
Plus she know every Santana song and she don't mind puttin the damn bandana on
Slap her ass tell her dance in this thong
She do it all for daddy
She move it all for daddy...Aye Aye
She get a brick and she boof it all for daddy
Hit the road shake the State Troopers off for daddy
And she bring all that paper back
No short paper back, she sure don't play wit that
[Chorus]
Ride Wit' Me lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Juelz Santana)
[Juelz Santana]
Uh huh, Dipset Bitch..
Yeah... you know?
Yeh yeh, yeah, okay
[Hook - Juelz]
Niggaz come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Bitches come along would you ride with me? (Go, come on)
People come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Ride wit me, Ride wit me, Ride wit me..(C'mon)
Niggaz come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Bitches come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
People come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Ride wit me, Ride wit me, Ride wit me..(C'mon)
[Juelz Santana]
I'm overdosin again, I'm oversmokin again
That potent smoke I'm smokin is comatose in my wind
And I only know a few friends that's oh so loco to man (C'Mon)
They will C4 the whole Volvo you in
And ladies let me zoom, zoom
All through your poon, poon
And this will be Santana's boom boom Boom Room (Yup)
I'm a new breed or what y'all call true G's
I'ma start to make you fleas, start to salute me (Come On)
Swim fish I'm a shark in this blue sea
Hungry, I swam from Antartica's blue sea (Whoa)
Override the pressure for coke I buy compressors
Oversize the stretcher 'til it's oversized then sell it
Oversize the shellin to oversize the swellin
Overpop the led in to oversize his melon (Go, Come On)
That's what you call overshot you get it?
I'm over hot you get it? Like coke in pots you get it?
[Hook]
Niggaz come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Bitches come along would you ride with me? (Go, come on)
People come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Ride wit me, Ride wit me, Ride wit me..(C'mon)
Niggaz come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Bitches come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
People come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Ride wit me, Ride wit me, Ride wit me..(C'mon)
[Jim Jones]
Your ride ain't safe (Warning) As I flyin up 8th (Warning)
Gettin high like space (Warning) .45 on waaiiisssst ('Jects, nigga!)
We don't need to see no badge
Cause we racin up on this highway
Speedin like we gon' craaaash (Fuck Police)
Let's go sightseein, but this cold night scene
Got my homey shot dead, he was only 19 (19! RIP)
They blew his brains off his shoulders
That petty money over slangin them boulders (Continues everyday)
Pumpin grams off the stoop (Uh-huh)
Cold nights, sold white
Duckin a van full of spooks (Watch the squalies)
Hundred gram on them coupes
Blow Dice, rolled dice
Underhand to the deuce (Life's a gamble)
I done spent some days
In the midst of the 'Jects
Gettin bent some days (Twisted, backwards)
With my trip, below set
Runnin up on you niggaz cause that rent had to be paid (That's right)
[Hook - short version]
Niggaz come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Bitches come along would you ride with me? (Go, come on)
People come along would you ride wit me? (Go, come on)
Ride wit me, Ride wit me, Ride wit me.. (C'mon)
Penitentiary Chances lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Hell Rell)
[Intro: Jim Jones]
Rell fresh home
How it feel to back where the bricks my nigga
Ya heard, I got the D.A. on my ass right now
All my soldiers behind the G Wall
Inhale, exhale... fuck the police
[Verse 1: Hell Rell]
I'm up early on the strip while the birds chirpin
I had to turn my fone off too many birds chirpin
Damn my homies gotta sit in the bing
So for them, I flood my chain and piss in my ring
Yea, shit on these niggaz 'til I sit wit the Lord
I woulda been home last year but I got hit at the board, nigga
Yea you spotted man, now you red dotted man
You fuckin wit Hell Rell, New York City's rider man
[Bridge: Jim Jones]
Now is these niggaz some killers like us
No
They say the real, well they realer than us
No, no, no
Is my set good
Yes
Is my bet good
Yes
Is my threat good
Yes, yes, yes
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
Since you've been home they done indicted ya boy
Due to the circumstances of this life we enjoy
Niggaz start snitchin they Sammy the Bullin
Til my niggaz start grippin these hammers and pull 'em
That's when these niggaz start switchin turnin Islamic and Muslim
Cause they seein my position is straight savage and hoodlums
Shit, who suffered and lost, my new truck is a Porsche
This is One-Eye Willie and I'm from fuckin New York
[Chorus: Jim Jones]
Who them niggaz paintin the town red
Dip-Set
Banks stop and we lay down bets
Byrd-Gang
Who them niggaz gettin that money man
Dip-Set, Dip-Set, Dip-Set, Dip-Set, Dip-Set
Who them niggaz leave wit ya bitch nigga
Byrd-Gang
Who them niggaz squeezin at bitch niggaz
Dip-Set
Who them niggaz that gotta get rich nigga
Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang
[Bridge 2: Jim Jones]
Now do these niggaz be bangin like me
No
They say they G is they gangstas like me
No, no, no
Is my guns good
Yes
Is my ones good
Yes
Do we run hoods
Yes, yes, yes
[Verse 3: Jim Jones]
My pistol game been tight
Since chicken lo mein and rice
Tryna get that paper, flippin that caine for a price
Fiends goin crazy, hittin that caine thru the pipe
Niggaz that bang to the right
I'm jus sayin this is life
So we adore and survive
Cause thru this war we gon ride wit two 4'z on our side
Shit, man I'm riskin it all
Cause for this love and this money man, I jus wanna ball
[Chorus: Jim Jones]
Who them niggaz paintin the town red
Dip-Set
Banks stop and we lay down bets
Byrd-Gang
Who them niggaz gettin that money man
Dip-Set, Dip-Set, Dip-Set, Dip-Set, Dip-Set
Who them niggaz leave wit ya bitch nigga
Byrd-Gang
Who them niggaz squeezin at bitch niggaz
Dip-Set
Who them niggaz that gotta get rich nigga
Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang, Byrd-Gang
[Verse 4: Hell Rell]
These niggaz want me to slow down and switch my speed
And these bitches pokin holes in the condom tryna get my seed
Leave me alone lemme twist my weed
Two things I never seen a U.F.O. and a bitch I need
The beamer shinin on B.B.'z, niggaz tryin to be me
You gangsta on the streets dawg, north signin to P.C
These niggaz washed up callin it quits
It don't matter, Porsche to 6, they be all my dick
I, slaughter the strip wit a quarter a brick
I got Florida chicks comin to N.Y. for the dick
I only been home for a month but I'm still fresh y'all
Up in this booth and still smellin like the mess hall
[Bridge: Hell Rell then Jim Jones]
Now is these niggaz more liver than me
No
He kinda hot but is he spittin more fire than me
No, no, no, no
Is my dope good
Yes
Is my coke good
Yes
Am I so hood
Yes, yes, yes, yes
Now is these niggaz some killas like us
No
They say the real, well they realer than us
No, no, no
Is my set good
Yes
Is my bet good
Yes
Is my threat good
Yes, yes, yes
We Just Ballin lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. T.K.)
I wear a mean dark pair of shades
Aint you cant see my eyes unless my head is bent , you dig
[Chrous:]
[Jim Jones:]
We fly high, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Foreign rides, outside, its like showbiz (We in the building)
[Girl:]
We stay fly, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Hips and Thighs, Oh my, Stay focus
[Jim Jones:]
Ya boy gettin paper (Money), I buy big cars (Foreign)
I need fly rides to drive in my garage (Choose 1)
Stay sky high (Twisted), Fly wit the stars (Twinkle ,Twinkle)
T 4 ? Flights , 80 grand large (BALLIN!)
So we lean with it, pop with it (Bankhead)
'Vertible jones, mean with the top listen (Flossin)
I'm sayin clean with the bottom ?(Do It)
I Hop'd out saggy jeans and my rock glistenin(BALLIN!)
But I spent bout 8 grand
Mami on stage doin the rain dance (I think she like me)
She let it hit the floor, made it pop (What Else !?)
Got my pedal to the floor screamin fuck the cops(Do It!)
[Chrous:]
[Jim Jones:]
We fly high, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Foreign rides, outside, its like showbiz
[Girl:]
We fly high, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Hips and Thighs, Oh my, Stay focus
Slow Down, Tonight may be gone tommorow (One Chance!)
So I speed thu life like theres no tommorow (Speedin!)
100 g's worth of ice on the Auto? (Flossy)
And we in the street life until they call the law(BALLIN!)
I made the whip get naked (What Happen !?)
While I switch gears, Bitch lookin at the bracelet (Got Em)
Step out, show me what your all about
Flashbacks of last night of me ballin out (Harlem!)
1 a.m. we was at the club (What Happen !?)
2 a.m. Ten bottles of bub (Money ain't a thing)
And about 3 somethin I was thinkin about grub
So I stumbled to the car, threw the drinks and the drugs (Twisted)
[Chrous:]
[Jim Jones:]
We fly high, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Foreign rides, outside, its like showbiz
[Girl:]
We stay fly, No Lie ,You know this
Hips and Thighs, Oh my, Stay focus
Nigga could you buy that
I keep 20 in the pocket (Light Change)
Talk a buck 80 If the bentley is the topic (That grey poupon)
But of course gotta fly ...? (Where?)
To the hood to roll dice on the side of the curb
But I know a G Bent' may sound obsurd (Get Your Money Up)
Drive 80 up Lennox cause I got an urge (Speedin)
The rap game like the crack game
Lifestyles, rich and famous livin in the fast lane (BALLIN!)
So when i bleep shorty bleep back
Lou Vutton Belt where im keep all the heat strapped
I beat the trial over rucker (Lets Do It)
All guns loaded in the back motherfucker (Dipset)
[Chrous:]
[Jim Jones:]
We fly high, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Foreign rides, outside, its like showbiz (We in the building) [2x]
[Girl:]
We stay fly, No Lie ,You know this (BALLIN!)
Hips and Thighs, Oh my, Stay focus
You niggas need to stay focus
When your dealin with a motherfuckin G
You know my name, Jones, One Eye, Capo Status
Only above motherfucka
This Dipset ByrdGang We Born To Fly
Ya'll know the rules fall back or fall back
Someone tell my bitch summer I'm lookin for her
Ya dig, Another day another dollar
Fast life fucker
What You Been Drankin On? lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. P. Diddy, Paul Wall, Jha' Jha)
[P. Diddy Talkin' Intro]
Dipset motherfuckers
Jha Jha, Jim Jones, Paul Wall... they call me Diddy
You all motherfuckers must have lost your mind
AH!!!!
[Hook - Jha Jha]
[2x]
What you been drinking on
What you been sippin on
What got you bumpin in the funk wit all that gator on
[1x]
'cause you ain't drunk hoe
you ain't drunk hoe
you ain't riding you ain't live you ain't drunk hoe
[Verse 1 - Jha Jha]
I was up in the club vibing, sipping on sizzurp vibing
Getting a little flow for my man wanna just slow to the jams these girls wanna start wylin
They got to start tripping, they got the crowd listening,
you know the type wanna get into a fight when it's light them chicks just need attention
They playing "Get from Round", I'm saying get from round me
If you spill that drink on my brand new mink I'm gonna split every bitch that's around me
We can buck if you want to
I'm the type that'll give you what you want boo
You all chicks can't stand me
I bet a bunch of Gees, just wait 'til I bust to the roof
[Hook - P. Diddy]
[1x]
'cause you ain't drunk nigga
you ain't drunk nigga
'til that sizzurp and henny is in your cup nigga
[1x]
What you been sipping on?
What you been hitting on?
you see them chicks in Bakinies we're spilling Chrisses on
[Verse 2 - P. Diddy]
(Call me Diddy) Let's ride that out
Stop that talk outside your mouth
I'll put guys outside your house
We're the hottest in the south
Badboy, Dipset
Baby girl, get your lips wet
Maybach like that shoffa
Money ain't to far from Oprah's
you should've seen what I paid my shoffer
It's enough to buy you a Roadster
This toaster, supposed to, take you on a rollercoaster
you ain't popping like Diddy baby, I'm rocking witg Diddy baby
The Drops is terrific kid, the watches cost 80 motherfucker...
[Hook - Jim Jones]
[1x]
What you been drinking on
Who you been smocking with
What got you acting all silly doing stupid shit
[1x]
'cause you ain't drunk nigga
you little fuck nigga
you ain't bad, you're a fagg, you ain't tough nigga
[Verse 3 - Jim Jones]
You all know the deal,
Long John shirt don't show the steel
Ski mask when we're gone to kill
We blast and you know we will
We don't mash just olds-mobiles
Ride to your block slow as hell
Look for you fucks than unload the shells,
A nigga get caught than please post bail
Eastside to my homies in jail
Know how it be that lonely S.L.
Full of turf that smokey S.L.
you cooking it than you going to hell
I'm with a bitch in the front seat holding the steal
Doc, I'm so for real
Move the candy ring to get the candycane,
For them pretty Range Rova wheels
[Hook - Paul Wall]
[1x]
What you been sippin on?
Whats in that white cup?
It's that promethazine, codeine, not purple tub!
[1x]
'cause you ain't leaning bitch
you ain't codieneing bitch
That cup and money, you ain't high, you ain't sleepy bitch
[Verse 3 - Paul Wall]
Cock the 4, pour the deuce
Mix the sprite made a juice
Prepare to lean off that codeine
Prescription cough syrup gets me loose
White cup that's full of that oil
Texas T we call it drank
Sitting sideways on them 4's lavish dripping wet candy paint
Who's the man, who's the G
Houston, Texas and 7 1 3
I'm on the block that we call south-lee
Sipping oil with the thugs and G's
Paul Wall what you know about me
I'm on the grind and I'm slanging leash
When I mix the sprite wit this sizzurp I'll show you how to make a sprite remix
[Music Fades As P. Diddy talking......]
Dipset, BadBoy, Jim Jones, Jah Jah, Paul Wall...
They call me diddy!... Harlem "stand up"
Dirty South "stand up", "Midwest stand up"
Westcoast "stand up"... Yeah... (come on, come on)
[fades out....]
Harlem lyrics - Jim Jones
[Chorus: repeat 2X]
7th Lennox and what about the east side
El Barrio we blowin' smoke while we G ride
Washington Heights dime lo tato you know
Todo bien tato capo uh oh
[Jim Jones]
Shot out to Taft where them killas is made
We was out on the Ave. young dealin' that gay
Tryin' to get cash pumpin' crills to get payed
Alcohol in my glass blunt filled up with haze
We congregated infront them grocery stores
Sellin' crack held gats and conversate while we smoked the raw
And sit on crates like they lay-z boys
The strip we wait like the 80's boy
And whip up 8th in the latest toy
Like it's the only thing to do
You know the house parties you had to bring your crew
And you know we stay fly Pelle leather with the boots
And niggaz shake the dice and call you bet out 'fore you shoot
You lookin' scared money fall better to the deuce
We would set up on the stoop
Gettin' wet up on the stoop
And watch the dust fiends gettin' wet up off the juice
Tryin' to get up off that loot
So we could get up on the coupes
[Chorus]
[Jim Jones]
I wish Harlem Lee was still around
You know the jam packed traffic buggin out infront of Willie's Lounge
I been doing this since Nucleus was open
Coppin' they black well who knew what we was smokin'
Took a few pulls had you movin' slow motion
Walkin' pass the Carter now it's pokie still smokin'
And I could still picture the sports bar
Niggaz think they hot shit whippin' up in the sports car
State bulding jams
Remember Farraqan had that fake million man
Copped the fly jackets from Carlos at the mall
Or be in King Domes poppin' bottles in the park
Don't play on 40th cause they'll rob you after dark
Wolf pack gang don't jog central park
F.T.W fuck the world
Drinkin 40's got us fucked up till we earl
In this hustlers world
[Chorus]
[Jim Jones]
Somebody tell Cuda let me in this cherry lounge
This ain't Queens homie you surrounded by deadly grounds
And I was downtown just watchin' the caine flip
Heard a nigga from the west side was fuckin' my same bitch
But them bitches didn't care
Just tryin to get some cash buy some sneakers fix they hair
Ride up Lennox Ave. you smell the reffer in the air
3rd Ave. viva Puerto Rico the boricua fair
African parade every year the whole block is there
You want raw yay Broadway you go cop it there
Shit, and we can cruise autobahn
Go buy the rawest chron
Or around the clock baby even 4 in the morn'
The summer time we still illin' on them, God They clear the whole 7th
poppin' wheelies on them squads
Terror Squad still got the hottest team in the Rucker
Look real close you can see it from the brucker
[Chorus]
Confront Ya Babe lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Cardan, Max B)
[Max B]
I gotta see how that thing sound but I got it
I'ma come right in wit it Dipset, uh
[Chorus: repeat 2x]
If theres a need to confront ya babe
I'll let the nina come punch ya babe (DIPSET!!)
Fur beavers big blunts and things
Byrd Gang Byrd Gang (OW!)
[Verse 1: Max B]
Nigga I'll leave you bleedin on ya door slot
Max B look like Derek Jeter on the short stop (uh)
I'll put the heater to ya soft spot
Waive the nina and make ya adiddas do the short stop (uh)
You don't want it wit me b
Dickie under the snorkel heat and the mean v
Bend ya main bitches over give'em the wee wee
Big gun up close in ya face 3-D (uh)
I'll put the thing near ya ear Let it bang near ya ear
Fivic grand crew haters linger in the air
Clothes fit right like the finger in ya beer
Last week hit anger in the rear
Jim came threw he gave me the chain and couple of 'guettes in my ear
Now the bird swingin off the thermo
Tre pound tucked bitch I don't give a fuck bitch
[Chorus]
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
Shit I treats this game like it's 88
Nauti' sweats no socks hopped out the range wit the paper plates
Hopped on the plane wit the bathing apes
Hopped off the plane ta see the hatian face so pound nigga (sa pa say!)
We gangsta rappin gettin dough from this violence (east side!)
I'm talkin G4's blowin haze smoke from the piolet (purple!)
I chartered that flight cause it was lookin kinda rainy
Now i'm known ta bring the goons out like that nigga John Chaney (Goonies!)
Or catch me up on the hill in the whip doing 80 (Dimelo!)
Till the police pulled me over and the whip smelled all hazy
What you know about that cash get you thrown up in the trash
I'll put a gun up in ya mouth and have you blow it out yo ass
Blunt up in my mouth blowin out the grass
show you how to stunt, pockets loaded wit the cash
show you how to dump semi loaded ready ta blast
I'll roll up on you chumps I got this whole shit in a smash
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: Cardan]
Yo Now when I'm crusin threw harlem I get my bunky charn on
Gotta dunny dunk broad wit a dunky dunk car
I get all that chronic straight from them honky tonk guys
You junior muthafuckas I'm donkey don kong
I just left Jacob and he got me chunky on arm
now I'm on my way to go smoke a dunky don bong
I brought DA BAND out and I ain't talkin puffy sean combs
Dem drums turn into guns goin brrrrump ba bump bump
Now ya mind out ya body
You wonder I got nine in the party I was high in it prolly
Doggy, I put the kam in the kazi you need it pa
Holla I might go guide you, poppy its the guy
Call me cardan tho
been passed dem, bust, if, aint
We ain't wit the village fags nah we on lennox ave
you mad, go get ya dad you fag, you fit for drag
and that nina'll bump you, or if it's a need I confront you fucker
[Chorus - 2X]
Summer Wit' Miami lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Trey Songz)
[Jim Jones Talking]
See rap music is subliminal
But the music for us is like our own diary
Something like a confession
They tell me 'life is a bitch'
She's something like the seasons, just like mother nature
She comes and goes as she please
That's why they get their period once a month
I say that to say this
If you think that bitch
Summer is yours
She could be cheating on you
Ya heard
[Verse 1 (Jim Jones)]
Got me feeling like opium
I'm tryna dance with the loaded M
Open a bottle and it goes around
I'm leaving drunk by 4 am
And watch me jump in a dolce benz
Top down with the pokey rims
And now i'm swerving so you know i'm bent
I lost count so who knows what I spent
I recall nine {?}
Bitches stepping on my nice sneakers with
One hand in the sky and the other hand was on her
Thigh
I was grinding to the beat with my hammer on my side
Now the g's only as we speed to the rolex
And three or four g's is what we sneeze on the rolex
Playing some cards it's about 6 am
You think the is over but if just begin
They say clubs pacing like bad boys 2
You can see the snow bunnies doing what bad girls do
That's esctasy weed that had girl to
Scoop the bitch that had ki's selling fast off blue
Now i'm speeding to the telly got the porshe behind
Trying to get in her belly the only thought on my mind
Like damn; not trying to be pushy or nothing but
Since the strip joint girl I should have been fucking
[Chorus (Trey Songz)]
Spending the summer with the top dropped low
Throwing my hundreds at the top notch hoes
Smoking on the top notch dro...
That's a summer with Miami
Bottle in the air
I'm living without a care
Shorty beside me
The wind blowing threw her hair
That's a summer with Miami
[Verse 2 (Jim Jones)]
I can't keep it low anymore
I'll be with my girl when it starts snow and get bored
When you love three women
It's hard to keep up with the lies
You see spring my first love I started creeping with
July
Used to say I had some shows
Catch a plane to M-I then
I started tricking dough and bought a range for july
But i said I'm love sick over this hot ass hoochie and
First seen her when I told NAS I'd Slap off his Koofi
We don't play disrespect but that was the day we met
Summer jam o-2 I hit the stage with my set but her man
Was from brooklyn she still slipped me the number
She said he's on vacation she get with me this summer
Then i been flirting over the past two years now she
Hates seeing me in the winter
Ain't gonna last through the years
Now i'm looking at winter like life's an adventure
And then when june comes i'll be gone till september
Now would you hate me for that
I know your heart's cold could you wait till i'm back
I'm just a sucker for love
But a nigga hold me down if you wanna fuck with a thug
[Chorus (2x)]
Spending the summer with the top dropped low
Throwing my hundreds at the top notch hoes
Smoking on the top notch dro
That's a summer wit Miami
Bottle in the air
I'm living without a care
Shorty beside me
The wind blowing threw her hair
That's a summer with Miami
I'm In Love With A Thug lyrics - Jim Jones
[Jim Jones talking]
Hello, oh' whats up baby,
Aint doing nothing im on my way home right now,
What?!? Im in tha studio
Yo i gotta get ready and go home man
[Woman Singing]
I'm in love...With a thug
I'm in love...With a GanGsta, Yeh
[Jim Jones]
Now my wife she won't stop blowin' my phone up
Every Bitch conversation they keep throwin' tha Jones up..(They Lien)
It makes it hard im tryna show her Iv grown up
But deep down inside she know i will never give them ho's up
She talk marriage but ya boy froze up, cold feet
Man she know im in love wit' these cold streets
So im flowin' threw tha night, just left my bitch house
Im going home to my wife, as i live this double life
[Woman singing]
I'm in love....With a thug
I'm in love.....With a GanGsta, Yeh [X2]
[Jim Jones]
It started as a crush for years wishin' i could fuck her
Next thing i got caught up, she had me trippin' like a mushroom
Shit became fucked up cause we both became love-struck
I be out commitin' crimes, she be still up on my mind
Now im tryna shake it off, she still drippin' through tha brain
You know i fean for her like a hit of that Cocain
She say my thug is like drugs and she need her a rehab
And she strung out over love when she see me see relapse
[Woman singing]
I'm in love....With a thug
I'm in love....With a GanGsta, yeh [x2]
No matter what, no one can judge me or tell me how i could feel
Lord knows this man, Is ryde or die, he keeps it so so real
Even if his pants hang low, or some times he'll even roc tha corn rows
Lord knows my everything, and i gotta GOTTA let'em LET'EM know
[Jim Jones]
Now that we argue every night, tha most horrible of fights
If i get caught cheatin', U gon' carve me wit' a knife
But let's take it back, when we use to party every night
I thought you of all people would know its hard to live my life
I say Im in tha studio, You say You wit' some groupie ho
We going back and forth, GAWW-DAMN, this aint a movie yo
I'm not tha one for complainin', be mentally drainin'
But some times just listen, its only one thing im sayin'.......I Love You
[Woman singing]
I'm in love....With a thug
I'm In love....With a GanGsta, Yeh [x2]
I'm In Love With A Thug Print
Correct
[Jim Jones talking]
Hello, oh' whats up baby,
Aint doing nothing im on my way home right now,
What?!? Im in tha studio
Yo i gotta get ready and go home man
[Woman Singing]
I'm in love...With a thug
I'm in love...With a GanGsta, Yeh
[Jim Jones]
Now my wife she won't stop blowin' my phone up
Every Bitch conversation they keep throwin' tha Jones up..(They Lien)
It makes it hard im tryna show her Iv grown up
But deep down inside she know i will never give them ho's up
She talk marriage but ya boy froze up, cold feet
Man she know im in love wit' these cold streets
So im flowin' threw tha night, just left my bitch house
Im going home to my wife, as i live this double life
[Woman singing]
I'm in love....With a thug
I'm in love.....With a GanGsta, Yeh [X2]
[Jim Jones]
It started as a crush for years wishin' i could fuck her
Next thing i got caught up, she had me trippin' like a mushroom
Shit became fucked up cause we both became love-struck
I be out commitin' crimes, she be still up on my mind
Now im tryna shake it off, she still drippin' through tha brain
You know i fean for her like a hit of that Cocain
She say my thug is like drugs and she need her a rehab
And she strung out over love when she see me see relapse
[Woman singing]
I'm in love....With a thug
I'm in love....With a GanGsta, yeh [x2]
No matter what, no one can judge me or tell me how i could feel
Lord knows this man, Is ryde or die, he keeps it so so real
Even if his pants hang low, or some times he'll even roc tha corn rows
Lord knows my everything, and i gotta GOTTA let'em LET'EM know
[Jim Jones]
Now that we argue every night, tha most horrible of fights
If i get caught cheatin', U gon' carve me wit' a knife
But let's take it back, when we use to party every night
I thought you of all people would know its hard to live my life
I say Im in tha studio, You say You wit' some groupie ho
We going back and forth, GAWW-DAMN, this aint a movie yo
I'm not tha one for complainin', be mentally drainin'
But some times just listen, its only one thing im sayin'.......I Love You
[Woman singing]
I'm in love....With a thug
I'm In love....With a GanGsta, Yeh [x2]
Tupac Joint lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. 40 Cal, Fatal Hussein)
[Verse 1: Jim Jones]
Rumors that were said, shot in cold blood
Two up in my head, can't talk phone bugged
Somebody want me dead, but I'm still flossin'
I rock my jewelry through the scurriest streets
I keep my ears to the streets
And I ain't scared of police
Lord knows that I got various beefs
So could you pray for the week
You know the rules play on the sheet
So we hustle everyday of the week
That's why we fuck up all the paper we see
We hit the clubs, fuckin ladies for free
Getting drunk, off and hazin' the V
And every couple days we get sweeped
Around the clock we bumpin' and clickin'
You gotta watch cause when they come they be blitzin'
[Chorus: Jim Jones]
Now this is for my homies and my thugs
One million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!)
You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!)
I'm a ghetto nigga for life
The streets is in my blood (DIPSET!)
Now this is for my homies and my thugs
One million in the truck, and the chrome full of sluts (Fully Automatic!)
You fuckin phonies you'll get plugged (Boom!..Bang!)
I'm a ghetto nigga for life
The streets is in my blood (BYRDGANG!)
[Verse 2: Fatal Hussein]
Ya niggaz dyin', while you other niggaz is hidin'
Might be strapped, but you runnin' and ain't ridin'
So I'm slidin' to the place down the hill
Where the homies is murda and when its poppin' down to kill
On the real
The only way a motherfucker try to survive
Is knowin' that he 'bout to die, and ride
I told Face he was the realest in the game
And he smiled and told me 'Pac was the realest that they came
In the jungle, I walk like I'm the king of the beasts
So when you duck huntin', keep movin' cause I'm swingin' the heat
I might go out of town, move fakin' is none of that
And never leave up out the hood, the way I can't come back
Fuck that
Hussein in the street game frame
Life is a struggle, so with the heat take aim
I'm ghetto, don't ever think I'm him its not me
Cuz I love this motherfucker like pills in a hot tea
[Chorus]
[Verse 3: 40 Cal]
Why ya act like I'm new to this?
Mack to the uzi clip
When it comes to beef, we all packed like Luis Rich
Battlin' is ludacris, half of ya uterus
Matter fact, Jimmy, pass me the "Kufi List"
What you think niggaz got goons for?
The mass menace at ya door like a costume ball (hello)
My flow is like when you throw a 'Pac tune on
The only time you get tax is when you cop new 'gords, dog
I make it happen with no sarcasm
So it ain't the station wagon, when you see me dodge magnums (get it?)
If I don't hit you when the clip fills
Like the show off the blind date, ya know the fifth will
Break niggaz like big bills, when it peels
Sit still, shit's real, listen you a kid's meal
And I eat those, reload, heat blown
Keep those kilos, cause we go beast mode
[Chorus]
Baby Girl lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Max B)
[Intro: Jim Jones]
Clap, Byrd Gang, clap, Byrd Gang, clap Dip-Set!!!
Can I get a G clap, Byrd Gang, clap, Byrd Gang
Clap, Byrd Gang
Can I get a G clap
[Verse: 1 Jim Jones]
I be like hoooold up, wait a minute
I'm in the coupe, laiiiiid up in it
Sunk in the seat, suede all in it
Drop top roof blowin haze all in it
And yall know imma straight up menace
Run up in ya crib there's a safe up in it
New York City yall aint safe up in it
Yall niggaz fugaze, my niggaz authentic
The game like bitches that need make-up
These niggaz beefin and kissin and then they make-up
Shit, I still prowl through the gutta
All you hear em say is that's a wild muthafucka
Its been a while muhfucker
Had to fall back, face trial cause of Rucker
One-Eyed Willie, you can come try kill me
Still ridin that 5, you can get hung high silly
[Chorus: Max B]
Baby girl, you tryna be down with the Dip-Set?
Well then you gotta get ya lips wet
Baby girl we gettin them big checks, tre-pound, sawed-off, we splittin
Them big checks
Yall aint thought he posed ta flow
Thought he posed ta go
Thought he posed ta blooooooow
Its Dip-set baby, DIP-SET!!!
Nigga its Jim Jones
[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
Now everybody know me
Usually in the club wit a bunch of O.G'z
We pop bottles and we all smoke weed
And we'll burn this bitch down, better call po-lice
And yall know yall don't want that beef
I'm tryna G-Mack look at all these freaks
Besides, the dance floor look sweet
So like Lil' Jon we can all skeet skeet
I'm tryna bag this bimbo
Mad she spilled her drink on the tan Timbo's
Stuntin' hard in my B-Boy pose
You aint got nuttin on me dogz aint V I aint drove
Fuck about the law top-speed on the road
.44 squeeze, breathe, relooooaad
And if I gotta take it that far
That mean I left the club nigga and went straight to the car
[Chorus: Max B]
Baby girl, you tryna be down with the Dip-Set?
Well then you gotta get ya lips wet
Baby girl we gettin them big checks, tre-pound, sawed-off, we splittin
them big checks
Yall aint thought he posed ta flow
Thought he posed ta blooooooow
Its Dip-set baby, DIP-SET!!!
Nigga its Jim Jones
[Verse 3: Jim Jones]
I live a hard rock life
Mix a whole pot til that hard rock white
Six 4-5, hard top white
Big 4-5 for you hard rocks aite
And my advice to the buyers
Although the City's hot I rock ice thru the fire
Listenin to Pac, live life like rider when I pull up to the block fiends
wipin off the tires
So I got to be the hardest
15th and Lennox when my posse in the projects
500 on the tennis, I'm like Gotti in the projects
Jewish lawyers niggaz so I gots to be the charges
So how's that for starters
.40cal niggaz, blow back ya starter
New Jack City 2 blocks from the carter
Foul hunreds double up a.ka. this is harlem
[Chorus: Max B]
Baby girl, you tryna be down with the Dip-Set?
Well then you gotta get ya lips wet
Baby girl we gettin them big checks, tre-pound, sawed-off, we splittin
them big checks
Yall aint thought he posed ta flow
Thought he posed ta blooooooow
Its Dip-set baby, DIP-SET!!!
Nigga its Jim Jones
Only One Way Up lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Cam'Ron, Juelz Santana)
[Jim Jones]
We set them presidents, to get them presidents
Over the ones that are dead, we'll put guns to your head
Put dots on your loaf like you was wonder the bread
Sheek, Zeke, Hell Rell, and I got some in the Feds
I contradict what ever the government says
For them boys on my back wit them bugs by my bed
They still thinkin' that we coppin' sellin raw
Tryin' to put us through them Rico and them Rockefeller' laws
I'm in LA the top down the pedals floored
Wit a hot stiletto whore, suck my cock tell the law
For all you faggots I see past all your cheap stares
Nowadays I see my past from a beach chair
I the fellin' so relaxed and refreshin' when chillin'
A total change from movin crack off the steps of the buildin's
Rollin wit gangs in the back of the ' jects where the killin'
In Park Ave. where young Chris body found
A number is all to add to task body count
Watch it boy they'll show you how that shotty bounce, bounce
[Juelz]
I'm the most incredible, to ever do what you cats'll never do, or be able to
I'm ahead of you, cause I spit like I never ate, and if I did then I'm just never full
Stop the hoe jokes, I'm not a homo, better believe I'll cock the 4-4
I ain't Mexican, but I'll stretch your man, yes I am a fuckin' vato loco
I went from the pot with cocoa
To the block with cocoa
To gettin' locked, catchin' a charge dealin' wit the cops and cocoa
Now I'm just hot like cocoa
You can catch me on the block, being watched, in a drop
The same color as chocolate cocoa
I done walked in the street, with so much raw in my sneaks
God dam, got home and had corns on my feet
I see the lord when I sleep, and often he speaks
He says Juelz you better than all of these creeps
So I got all my shit light, got on my shit right
Not a lot of thems this nice
But the games funny so I gotta do shit right
So to the ball drop, and the world blow up, I'm a twirl shit up
Until my peeps come home, Zeke come home, better believe I'm a keep on beastin' on
[Cam'Ron]
Where should I began our pompous
A thousand wins accomplished
Known throughout the atlas, honest been accomplished
You'll be abolished
Men, children, women astonished
The Don is the one, jewelry way beyond it
Chunky blessed on the chest
Funky S when I dress
Thunder storm damn
Monkey wrenching' her fresh
But I cope wit the rain, mad I can't float with my dame, down to the coastal wit caine
Maine, my boat is a plane
I land on the water, here I go boastin' again
I keep toast, give a toast, inhale smoke for the pain
Girls gone wild, nope
They goin' insane
All doped off the fame
Jump rope with my chain
Now thats off the chain, Ma take off your chain
the 40 will off your brain, kids will be lost and claimed
Cause of Walton James, now in the orphan game
Whether adoption or foster its all the same
Jim's the rider of riders
JR's the writer of writers
Juelz you know him well, hell he the fire of fire
I'm the supplier, baffled thats the hustler
Trife got a knife for that apple inside your jugular
The Big Apple, I tackle all the customers
Put it on the apple at the castle, come and fuck with us
And further more, got the birds of raw, I deserve a tour
Hey, hey holla' back, swallow that
Thats murda' whore
In a Persian turban, swervin', that Suburban mergein', curvin', herb in the air
Yeah, yeah I'm hurtin y'all
See I crash and cop it, mash and mop it, blast a rocket
Natural born hustler, yeah crack I stocked it
Now my drugs are legal, so just pass the profit
Three months alone Sizzurp will smash the ' Notic
We them B boys in one year a quarter billion
Here come the clothin' line, I got your order children
And thats more than illin'
Long as the Lord is willin'
I'm a pour in millions, so applaud a villain
Killa
This Is Jim Jones lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Cam'Ron)
[Cam'Ron]
Killa
This my man Jim Jones
You know we been through a lot of devistation, larceny
Defeat, misconceptions
Man, fuck all that, I don't know what that's about
But fuck all that
Jim, I'm in the building
Dipset, it's your turn, you up nigga!
Let's go!
[Jim Jones]
I'm puffin my weed and these niggaz, they mad
I'm frontin' this season (Dipset!)
As far as they hoes, they want me to see 'em
I fuck 'em and then they don't want me to leave 'em (Don't go!)
An addictive obsession, I twist 'em, I sex 'em
My dick's an obsession (Yeah!)
They call me, they miss me, they stressin' (Jones!)
I call 'em, they miss me, they stressin' (Jones!)
These hoes, they sayin' that shit that'll kill ya
I'm rich now, this kid look familiar (Oh yeah?)
As far as my Dips, we rich
The cars and the whips
We spent what you spent on your car on my wrist
Don't bother me bitch
In the midst of this grind, i'm twistin' my lime (Yeah!)
I'm 'bout to get cash, and you can kiss ass
Dipset got this shit up on smash (Smash)
[Hook- Cam'Ron]
This is Jim Jones, he's breezin' on chrome
Ya best bet is leave him alone
O.G. in them stones, spent g's on them stones
Now mami just send me the tone
[Jim Jones]
These are true stories
I used to live poorly
And now man I live in two stories (That's the law)
Get suited in Maury
The coupe is Ferrari
The coupe cost 140, you don't wanna race
I will move on you shorty
Look good on them cameras
They love me, I put my whole hood up on cameras
They bloody, niggaz in hood with them blamas
Tell me, so do it for grandma (Sally!)
We did it from druggin' and (?) (We did it)
We did it from hustlin' and comin' up wrong (We did it)
We did it from strugglin' and comin' up strong (We did it, we did it)
Still runnin' with cons, with guns in their palms
You front on Dipset, we will dump on your moms (Boom!)
Or come through with bombs
And stop and park, and set off them bombs (Boom!)
[Hook]
[Jim Jones]
You got to admit (Yeah)
I'm hot when I spit
Like a summertime's tropic's eclipse (Sizzlin')
Like a drop on the strip with no top on the whip
A block (?) with them cops on the strips (Hot, hot)
With glocks on their hip (Yeah)
Like shells when they drop when them shots get dismissed (Boom!)
The pain in my heart been my aim from the start
We started when we came from the star
Now we all gainin' on charts (You know)
With back to back hits, like Yankees an' shit (Uh)
Dipset, we gangsta as shit (That's right)
But I credit my ghetto
'Cause now we rock platinum, the preciousest metal (Bling!)
Don't press us, we'll press on this metal
And blow you apart
Shoulda known from the start (Yeah!)
My jewels, they glow in the dark
You fools, keep playin' ya part
[Hook]
Let's Ride lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. J.R. Writer)
[Jim Jones (talking)]
Yea, Jones...Capo Status
You know what this is about! Its about riders...
all my states around the countries
all my niggaz from ghetto to ghetto, my niggaz ready to ride..
R.I.P Biggie Smalls this one's for you..
[Chorus 2X: Jim Jones]
Let's ride, here go some riders, I hope you know the riders
Them holding, rollin riders, lock and load my riders
You know we riders, that ride out and get high, and just ride
And get high and just ride
[Jim Jones]
Lock and load the clip, see po-po then slow the whip
Big ass guns in a stolen whip, but if you got weed then roll the shit
You rollin with
Them rollin Dips, straight up weed no poofin these
Straight up G's no doopin me, brazy b's that shoot up shit
Major cheese off of movin bricks
From cuttin up rain to shuflin rain
Baggin these hoes fuckin some dames
Waking up morning and fuckin the dame
I'm in restaurants Mr. Chows, stuntin hard like 50 thou
I keep my goons my niggaz wild, shootin that thing til ya shit go BLAOW!
The palmin weed cant come my needs, Hatian niggaz bombin weed
Gats mo-mo, techs gon blow, all in these streets
Shots with a four pound, AK when it go round
Dont play when it go round
In little Haiti them niggaz crazy like "get 'em baby!"
[Chorus: Jim Jones 2x]
Let's ride, here go some riders, I hope you know the riders
Them holding, rollin riders, lock and load my riders
You know we riders, that ride out and get high, and just ride
And get high and just ride
[Jim Jones]
Call my gang to bust, know you fags aint dangerous
Must be high off angel dust, to think that you can bang wit us hang wit us
Tape you to the hood no thang with us, shoot up ya club get ya mangled up
I call my gangstas up, and get ya faggot ass tangled up
Now what you bitches, step on the corner wit a bunch of G's
Tryna dump the heat, while you duck police
Me myself I run the streets wit no regard
(They) like "OH MY GOD!"
We just sittin here not to lose, high off weed and lots of booze
Call my G's when I got to move, cause I drop 100 G's when I copped the Coupe
Niggaz round the way tryna take my life, cause I run round the way wit a neck full of ice
Gotta bunch of doggs and I set 'em to bite, if you niggaz want war we can do it tonight
I'm prayin to the Lord that optimize, DipSet ByrdGang know I'ma ride
And I'ma rep til my last breath, take a pull of my last hit
Pull up on these niggaz and blast the bitch, eastside when I mask the bitch
We ride on some panther shit, gotta go prac, lotta load gats
If a niggaz run on me then I gotta go back...back...(and we gon ride out and get high)
[Chorus: Jim Jones 2x]
Let's ride, here go some riders, I hope you know the riders
Them holding, rollin riders, lock and load my riders
You know we riders, that ride out and get high, and just ride
And get high and just ride
[Chorus 2X: J.R. Writer]
You know we riders, I hope you know we riders
You think you roll wit liars, you'll hear them 4's wit fire
Listen lame, I'm insane, to this game, get this flame in ya brain
Like "BANG BANG BANG BANG..."
[J.R. Writer]
Yo, who is realer than us? we'll turn jailors to sluts
I'm too real chill, you can't inhale what I puff
Peep it duke, me to you's, like a whale to a gup
Keep ya Chuck Taylors, I'ma go taylor my Chucks
You'll get whaled on the snuck, gat for ice, match it twice
Faggot dyke, mag to bite, there go ya appetite
My niggaz blast the pipe, black ya lights, flag the kite
Shout to my man Tito Lino facin natural life
I'm just natural nice
You's hermaphrodite, my man Zeke be home 3 nigga pass the kite (Freeky!)
This the facts of life, facts of ice, scrap ya right
Cabbage sliced, matchin chain, matchin Nikes
You's a coward please, I keep the power squeezed
Creep this thunder'll leave you under them flower trees
I done crowd the pease, wit about a thousand keys
Ask about me, I aint gotta break a smile to cheese
Certified Gangsta lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Cam'Ron, Bezel)
[Verse: Jim Jones]
You know I keep my eyes wide
East side high risers
West side low riders
vest with the four-fire
Yes I fo sho fire
D-I-P low rider
See police, slow the ride
See scwalay , nigga
'Cause they be thinking that the ride stolen
Keep your head up and your eyes open
Load the lead up while the ride rollin
Creep up on a motha like what you say fucka
Well fuck him and if he live smoke him
We don't appeal to the law
You know we ride this motherfucker till them wheels fall off
And the first bastard get fly
You know blad, blad, blad, was my reply
89 wolf pack and we wylin
P-89 pull gats 'cause we violent, shit, yea
We put coke on the strip
Don't quote me boy 'cause I ain't said shit
[Chorus: Bezel]
Since I made a gang of bucks
Nah I ain't been hanging much
Still slide through fly coupes, and the chains is plush
Keep the banger tucked 'case I had to bang a fuck
'Cause we Certified Gangstas
All day we hanging smut, dog with a gang of ducks
Hundred grand on the hand, Game got the range of trucks
Kill wit the deal, still got cane to cut
'Cause we Certified Gangstas
[Verse: Cam'Ron]
We still in ages of glocks
Razors or octs
'Cause I lay in the drop
Pump the base on the pocket
Move the H on our block, in front of H&R Block
See the face on our watch, put your face on our cock
I keep the looga hug
Show you how to use the snub
Whoop-te-woo, fuck around be you I plug
I don't do the drugs, baby I move the drugs
Right on the computer love, it sound like computer love
Duck the cop-cappers
And them top-hatters
Fock flavors, harlem world we got gators
Not dead I said they alive
Lions, Tigers, Bears, oh my
It's a straight zoo
A to Z, May to April
Bring the Apes through
Fuck around you be ape food, baked food
9 bitches 8 dudes
Diamond visions, great cubes
Get it straight fool
[Chorus]
[Verse: Jim Jones]
You know I ride through Lennox
All eyes on my pendant
But I'm moving like oh dog was ridding a menace
With that automatic weapon, blowing live through my tennant
While I'm breezin' through the jects, blowing live on the tennants
I'm pouring liquor for the dead and gone
And we retaly same night, load the blinkers with the leaders on
We come to get you till the dead and morn
(Knock, Knock wake up mothafucker, you know who it is)
Killa and Jones coppin one dawn
Big birds, the rocks and our charms
He got the bird, the glocks in my palm
I got the word from King Joffrey the bomb
My nigga zeekey surely a hard rock
How he survived them 40-sum-odd shots
As we ride he screamed out eastside
All the time as I reply
[Chorus]
Jamaican Joint lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Cam'ron & Juelz Santana)
[Cam'Ron]
Clowns don't come around, pound pounds I pump in town
Do like House of Pain, Kriss Kross, jump around
Jumpin' down, stuntin style, over those I polly
Then merk-o from squalie, ducati and Roberto Cavali mami
We feelin' them scoobies, you stealin' them gucci's booby
Get it right, its Emilio Pucci, hoochie (hoochie)
Write for sci-fi, I'll be pipin' five pies, the cat went like the nine lives
Ten halves, five pies, ten cars, five drives, ten bars, fi-fi
That's fifty-five thou, sha-na-na, bye bye
My fittings touched tailored, joined by Chuck Taylors
On the yacht with glocks, we sum thug sailors
You drinkin' old gold, rockin that old gold
We in rose gold, at the Rose Bowl
Send you a bowl of roses, we dun sold souls
Slow toes, I'm so cold, my dough folds
Killa!
[Chorus: Jim Jones]
So get your parachute, and row your boat nigga
Signal your plane, yes we get on them planes and fly high
We fly high, like bo! Bo! bo!
Now your row your boat nigga, and get your parachute
Signal your plane, yes we get on them planes and fly high
Bo! Bo! and fly high like Bo! Bo!
[Jim Jones]
So on this road to success, I grew up in the boat o'y'all
Gettin closed by the jets
I learned my code from the set, I took my oath to the death
I risked the quarter to bing, I bet this forty a ring
Cams from the 40th wing, the westside of harlem
And rat roach infested, them black po's in vests's
They stack most impressive, ride through Tana's town
That's where them grams be found, breeze through the broadway side
And where they always reside, and so much raw yay,
You know all them boys be outside
With them sirens and guns, all the noise be outside,
And yes we scour the slums
You know our toys be outside, co-co boy to ride,
Five-hundred thou on the block
the ones when we ride on the block, pumpin them bow's for the rocks
Look I came up from that, cookin' that came from crack
New boys shinin' man, New York's ryder man, look how I got'em Damn!
[Chorus: Jim Jones]
So get your parachute, and row your boat nigga
Signal your plane, yes we get on them planes and fly high
We fly high, like bo! Bo! bo!
Now your row your boat nigga, and get your parachute
Signal your plane, yes we get on them planes and fly high
Bo! Bo! and fly high like Bo! Bo!
[Juelz Santana]
I'm a, boy shotta, born poppa, y'all liars, y'all notta
I squeeze more fire, call coppers, squalie!
Hear that, pumper squeeze, yeah that, pumper be
Shoved in your mouth for talkin' all the fuck-a-ree
We move with the tune boy, we shoot'em and move boy
Yes you could say we are the Rudest of rude boys
Move that, do that, juke that girl, who dat who dat who dat girl
I wanna meet her, I wanna see her, I wanna skeet skeet
I wanna juice that girl
Grippin good, pimpin good, livin' good, shit is good, test me, lets see
I wish a nigga would (aye)
Y'all kids is a waste, when I spark clips is a waste
When alcoholics spit in your face, quick get a tatse
Nigga I ride high, drive high, fly high, sky high, high high I'm high
So high, so fly, float by, oh why, oh my, and I don't know why
Whoaa...
[Chorus: Jim Jones]
So get your parachute, and row your boat nigga
Signal your plane, yes we get on them planes and fly high
We fly high, like bo! Bo! bo!
Now your row your boat nigga, and get your parachute
Signal your plane, yes we get on them planes and fly high
Bo! Bo! and fly high like Bo! Bo!
End Of The Road lyrics - Jim Jones (feat. Bun-B, T.I.)
[T.I. talking]
Jim Jones what it is homie
Killa Cam, Freekz Zeeky, Juelz whats happ'nin
Hey 'a aye... yea yea yea 'a aye
T.I.P. nigga y 'a y yeeah. Aye a aye
I'm up in Harlem to put it down wit my muthafuckin folks
Dipset bitch. A town to muthafuckin NY
nigga you already know what it is. Bankhead
C-rod, Grand Hustle, Diplomats
you dont like it kill yaself nigga. Lets go
[verse 1 T.I.]
Late night straight white fa ya base pipe
No mo quarter O's get ya weight right
Crack rock black glock kept it waist height (hey)
It hit ya mug you dont imagine what ya face like
American pie I'm tellin you guys
you want beef wit us well who the fucks preparin you guys
We sparin you guys get buried alive
What you rushin fa, act like you in a hurry to die
Some I let 'em fly 'fore I let that ride
I paralize ya like Supermans horseback ride nigga
Walk up on ya car and scorch dat ride
Flat tires, glass shattered wit a corpse inside
A town break down straight pounds of dro'
Still deal if you want 10 birds or mo
Pimp Squad, Dipset I know ya heard before
If we called you a bitch you deserved it hoe. Aye
[verse 2 Jim Jones]
I cop bricks of the crack (dat yayo)
And take it to my block, strip or my trap, my block strip is so trapped
Cops quick wit a strap, and you'll be scared shitless
How they where the big fifth and load up flares and biscuits
I'll take ya bitch from you, bring her back wit smeared lipstick (She Mine)
You can compare ballistics, but it's mere physics (Pimpin)
I'm 2-3's on drops, I used to play hoopties on blocks
plottin man like who he gon pop
In this tragic city, now I'm Bankheadin
4 tens headin down in ATL's Magic City
Yes the stash is pretty, and the mag hold 50
We take ova towns, then send the Rovers 'round
Lookin fa hoes to pound, ya local hoochie spot
Lookin fa hoochies hot, to get they coochie popped
I love the titty bars, I love my niggaz pa
Dipset, Pimp Squad yo lets get it pa
[Bun-B talking]
Yeah already trill niggaz in this bitch
UGK know what I'm sayin. Thats off top fool
You already know. Wreck it boyz. Go down like that
What up Jones. Dipset nigga
[verse 3 Bun B]
Bitch my Cadillac is candy and my pistol is pearl
My best friend is a pimp and his bottom bitch is ya girl
I got them 84's that clank, the big diamonds that blank
Plus them hoes that pop pills, smoke kill, and sip drank
Fuck what ya think I'm tryin to tell you how life is give it and take it
My lil brotha in the pen, where niggaz shiv'rin and shakin
We got a million dollar team, wit one gone
So I'm takin my 500 to flip in the game
to have somethin for 'em when he come home
My two older brothers locked up, both of 'em smokin
Principals gon be fucked up my lil neices and nephew heartbroken
Seein Daddy in a cage at that age, it fuck ya mind up
So at this stage in the game I gots to really get my grind up
So you gon see me in yo city doin a verse or a show
Or maybe even servin these niggaz a couple of dem thangs on the low
Dipset affiliated so you can hate it or love it
But it you keep pushin ya luck bitch my middle fingers gon shove it
Know what I'm sayin
Shotgun Fire lyrics - Jim Jones
[Intro / Chorus]
Dip-Set, uh
(Jones) Money on mind
(Capo Status) Mind on my money
(Dip-set nigga) My money on mind
(You know the streets is what it is nigga) Mind on my money
(Watch ya step and watch ya moves) My money on mind
Mind on my money
My money on mind
[Verse 1]
Shit, make 'em believe in this prophecy (movement)
You can see I'm tryin to lead my democracy (Dip-Set)
To get money and rip sleeve off of my city (New York)
And slow down, then try to breeze thru the projects B (Taft)
And how I speeds in velocity (160)
We came up movin keys of that knotty B (that Yae-Yo)
My man caught 10, couldn't find the keys to the lobby B
The boys rushed him, 2 keys of mahogany (Damn!)
In my life you can't see me not possibly (Nooo!)
How we swoop up in Harlem, 20 Coupes when we mobbin'
40 troops if it's problems (What Nowww!)
Cause 1 nigga you know is a shotgun driver (jus 1 nigga)
Ready to dump triggers, that shotgun fire (blakka!)
I ain't gone front nigga I shot some guys up
(didn't kill 'em though, fuck 'em though)
And they came back to my block like riders (Yop!)
But I'm like "Crouching Tiger", spin, roll, crouch and fire (Boom, Yea!)
A fast retally (Uh Huh!)
Now it's cash we tally
Miami, Atlanta, fuck it we smash to Cali (L.A.X.!)
Back on L.A. Ave, you know the Lennox strip
Where they Henny sip
Beef we let the semi rip
[Chorus]
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit Dip-Set, I will press on this .9
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
Mind on my money, my money on mind
You fuck wit my paper, I'll press on this .9
[Verse 2]
And yeah we world renowned (U.S.)
And I might twirl thru town (uh huh)
And in a Dip-Set mansion is where ya girl be found (hollaaa!)
How can a pearl be drowned (yea)
How can a diamond not shine (uh huh)
Man I'm on my G mack
I scoop up dimes all the time (bad bitches)
They love my pimp juice (yeah)
I let my crimps loose
They get a glimpse, ooooooo
Some went and cinch douche'
Scoop her feed her feed her shrimp soup (that's right)
Mind fuck her, brain fuck her
mouth screw her 'til it hurt, uh, (then what?) shit
She scream "Do me it hurt" (uh huh)
Ill have her movin' that work
I mean 2 of them chirps
Up in her Dooney and Bourke (gettin' money)
So ruthless it hurts
I mean I'm truely bezerk
When I scoop up my cash man, I swoop up and murk (errrrrrrrr!)
Yea, a trick and a bag bitch (uh huh)
2 bricks and a bad bitch
Shit, them bitches mackin' (they love me)
I'm as sick as maggot (rite)
But I don't fuck wit no bitch if she ain't worth no chips or no cabbage
[Chorus]
[Verse 3]
I'm so problematic (yeah)
And do to servin' Harlem-matics (damn)
My fame and fortune still revolve wit' static (that beef)
Still involve wit' savage types that move drugs
365 all around set every nite (perrico)
I ain't the passive type (nope)
On the benches where I crashed them nites (movin')
Blowin' hemp, movin' slabs of white (hustlin')
Spend days up in court
How I shaved weight to snort
Give that to the press or Dave Mays in the source (suttin to read about)
Yes, since success it has changed
Since we, stepped up in this game and stepped up wit' our game (ballin')
No more chef cuttin' cain
Hoes X'd up in they brain
Lemme sex up in the Range
So much princess cuts in my chains (Bling!)
[Chorus]
Lovely Daze / Memory Lane lyrics - Jim Jones
[Intro / Chorus fading in and out in background]
Ok, ok, (heeeyyyy) yeah
We back in this bitch (Lovely Daze like this...)
Jim Jones nigga (you know!), Capo Status (COOFIE SMACKA!)
A.k.a Jim Caso (lovely painter), and I jus love it man (Lovely Daze like this...)
I love paintin' these pictures for the hood, you dig
(that's where I'm at Eastside)
Its Dip-Set, Eastside (come on!), lets ride
[Verse 1]
They got me livin' like (what!), I aint worried 'bout my well being
I used to hurry up and sell fee (2 for 5!)
Like I aint worried for the jail scene (fuck cops)
'Til I got knocked, yeah observed in my cell C (ya honor)
I was young and was restless
Run around wit' my gun and my vestes
Yeah I'm hungry and reckless (what)
But no one better test us (no way)
Cause I got nuttin to lose, suttin to prove, I'm screamin' EASTSIDE
(EASTSIDE!!!)
While I dump on you dudes (Dip-Set!)
And what we live by (yeah), what we gon' die by (Dip-Set)
So these rules I abide by
I'm duckin' shots on a driveby, finger the cops, yeah when they ride by
(Byrdgang!)
Squally, is what they scream, fuck it
As I polly wit' my team puff it
We on the scene rugged
Yeah, we get our green thuggin'
Fuck it, I scream out, yo I'm uh G, fuck it
[Chorus: As well as Jones speaking in between]
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(Lovely Daze man. When I say Lovely Daze I'm talkin' bout.)
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(Fresh in High School, fresh with that freedom. You know explorin' the
streets nigga)
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(You know, takin' no prisoners man, ready to do whatever whenever)
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(Fuck what they talkin' bout man, you jus doin you man. Find yaself!)
[Verse 2]
You know how kids scheme (how they shceme?), we had big dreams (yeah!)
Of coppin' them Benzez up on big scene (bling bling)
All glittered in jewels just like Liberraci (mmm!)
Look at my dipped posse (yeah!)
Look how this shit done got me (Crazy!)
I'm some paranoid shit (yop!)
Its kinda scary I carry the 4 fifth (who want it!)
Its kinda brazy that it be like that
Aint no play me and you be right back
You better blaze me if it be like that (get me nigga!)
They got some issues with views I got (uh huh)
I carry pistols when I cruise my block (lets ride!)
Its uh issue if I cruise ya block
My dogs 'ill get you, know the rules or not (wut up now fool!)
Uh, yeah, we will cruise ya parameters (where they at?)
You caught slippin', no rules or parameters (where they at?)
Fuck the crews, fuck the cameras (fuck police)
I tell you now, aint no dudes that can handle us (bllllddddaat!)
[Chorus]
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(Ok, now it done got lovlier, you know. We done did the hustlin' thing)
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(We done had fun on the streets. Now we entered the game and we gettin
millions)
Lovely Daze like this, I miss I miss
(What's more lovlier than that? I'm tellin you I'm loving this shit. It
aint no taking me back man)
Lovely Daze like this, I miss..
(I'm tellin you man. Its Lovely Daze from here on end, you hear me.)
[Verse 3]
Can't forget about my born pos' (Nope!)
Can't forget about my night gangs
Bet it all to the dice game (yea)
Bet I brawl wit' my light frame (Fo' sho)
I get it on like I'm Ty-sane (Lets Brawl!)
And every year more niggaz deceased (R.I.P.)
I shed a tear and pour liquor on streets (jus 4 u)
And burn a fear to raw spliffs of the leaf (and get high)
And say a prayer, Lord where's the relief (my dudes)
I'm burnin' purple jus' watchin my ghetto birds (ok)
And peep the circle Ill tell you its several birds (peep game)
We gettin' guac, we hustlin' peddle birds (that yae)
And fuck the cops, we bustin' our metal birds (Desert Eag'z)
We from the block we love our Stiletto birds (hey baby!)
That's why we hustle and grind
So we can pluck us a dime
And feed her some game and fuck up her mind
And she give me brain, I'm puffin' my lime
So lovely (Dip-Set!)
[Chorus]
Lovely Daze like this, wit my Dips, with my Dips
Fuckin wit my Dips, wit my Dips, gettin' chips
Fuckin wit my Dips, my Dips, buyin' whips
Jus fuckin' wit Dips, my Dips...
[Outro and fades into next song Memory Lane]
Haha ha, yeah, its Lovely Daze man (that's right). Jim Jones, fuck it
shit, Capo Status. What's fuckin wit that man (Coofie smacka). For my
Dip-Set, from hear on end its Lovely Daze. That's what this song is
about. For my riders, ride out.................................
Fireman
[Chorus (repeat 2x)]
'Cuse me ma, we cruise around this strip down Memory Lane
Lets take this time to rekindle
Puffin on this purple, sippin Hennessy, thats trippin like Dame
Pour out ya liquor, light ya candles
[Verse]
I was rippin and runnin while I'm grippin my gun (outdoors)
And I use to, play wit my heat I was waitin to bust (fuck that)
And I say, fuck the police they better take me in cuffs (til I go)
Cause I'm in, love wit the streets yea I'm shakin my nuts (hold it tight)
And it was, regular shit havin fun wit my troops (uhh huh)
Yeah, get in the party have our guns in boots (stash that)
And, New Years 'ill come we bustin guns off the roof (you got that)
Cause, we pissy drunk up off that 100 proof (twisted)
Plus, we pitchin packs jus to get us some sneakers (paper)
While, we sippin yak and we twistin up reefa (gettin right)
Youthful offenders on the stoop gettin bent up dodging police in them
juvenile centers, my life is brazy (ooooo!)
Teenagers are wild, they charged like adults we pray it loud "Dear God
we in Hell", Lord can you save me
One of the pictures that he stuck in my brain
As I'm cruisin down the strip of ghettos Memory Lane
[Chorus until it fades out]
'Cuse me ma, we cruise around this strip down Memory Lane
Lets take this time to rekindle
Puffin on this purple, sippin Hennessy, thats trippin like Dame
Pour out ya, liquor light candles
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