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4:29 | 
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| from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004) | |||||
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
Dear America,
I'm only what you made me, young, black, and fuckin' crazy Please save me I'm dyin' inside, can't you see it in my eyes? I'm hopeless, and fearless on the outside, gun on my side Shit, Maby if yall niggas build schools instead of prison, maybe I'll stop livin' the way I'm livin', probably not. I'm so used to servin' rocks and burnin' blocks, I ain't never gonna stop. Been doin' this shit all my life, I'm a lost cause, And what about the rest? Don't them suckers deserve a chance? Somethin' better then shoot-outs, liquor stores and food stamps? Maybe if y'all teach them niggas a craft an' a trade, they wouldn't have to play that corner, know what i mean? Servin' that yay America, you got a fuckin' problem, an I ain't never goin' away There's about 20 million other mutha fuckers just like me, preperattions is through, y'all gonna pay |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
The lord is my shepherd
Let's get this coke measured And as I walk through the valley of the shadow of gangstas I fears nothin but God and bein broke I stack paper and flow to fast cars in the presence of my enemies Niggas waitin for me to break Shit, aint nothin foldin but my money We them niggas wit big guns and big dicks We afraid of bein broke, so we shed bricks This thing of ours, will never be devoured Bad Boys,we move in silence In the name of power, money, and glory forever and ever Amen. |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
I just wanna move mad bricks for all the days I never had shit Now I'm young heartless and rich Pistols and pussy, straight from the door Brown paper bags full of blood money, need more Too much ain't enough High off dust, greed never endin Catchin bodies I want Gotti was supposed to be It's overwhelmin Face smothered in cocaine, against all odds Life is what you make it, well I made it Leavin motherfuckers naked I get excited watchin niggaz bleed helplessly Put 'em out they misery, selflessly A coward dies a thousand deaths I got a thousand tecs Takin niggaz with me when I got, fo'rilla I'll probably be all pissu when I blow, fo'rilla Adrenaline rushin blood bushin It's nothin long as I'm bustin All gangstas is dead, or in jail except for me I posted bail, all hail *Money be the root of all evil, calico desert eagles Bitch I'm comin to see you, all you niggas gon' die Motherfucker die x2 [Shyne] Fast cars and plea bargains, pictchin niggaz wigs Have they families donatin they fuckin organs What you like, stress you up, press your luck Better hope you hit seven or find yourself in heaven Lost my conscience somewhere in between watchin niggaz die and leavin the murder scene Hot gun in my waist, stockin over my face and I tell you niggaz this, I never miss, check it My point of view is me or you And I'ma burn anyway, what the fuck? Bust seventeen shots up in your guts, truck blood drippin Dead on arrival, leavin my rivals lookin up at the clouds The prodigal son, seein demons and devils through the reflection, of my watch bezel Embezzle, and racket, full metal, jackets Poppin heat and, seekin, niggaz die internal bleedin Hear mom screamin, bury Shyne Cause when I come, motherfuckers all die *Repeat |
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| from Shyne - Shyne (2005) | |||||
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4:31 |
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| from Swizz Beatz - Presents G.H.E.T.T.O. Stories (2002) | |||||
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1:10 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
Dear America,
I'm only what you made me, young, black, and fuckin' crazy Please save me I'm dyin' inside, can't you see it in my eyes? I'm hopeless, and fearless on the outside, gun on my side Shit, Maby if yall niggas build schools instead of prison, maybe I'll stop livin' the way I'm livin', probably not. I'm so used to servin' rocks and burnin' blocks, I ain't never gonna stop. Been doin' this shit all my life, I'm a lost cause, And what about the rest? Don't them suckers deserve a chance? Somethin' better then shoot-outs, liquor stores and food stamps? Maybe if y'all teach them niggas a craft an' a trade, they wouldn't have to play that corner, know what i mean? Servin' that yay America, you got a fuckin' problem, an I ain't never goin' away There's about 20 million other mutha fuckers just like me, preperattions is through, y'all gonna pay |
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4:49 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
Once upon a time, not long ago
When gangstas rocked waves sold dope and sniffed lo' There was a young G by the name of Shyne Poe Puttin' it down, cuttin' it up and cookin' it now It's been a lotta dick ridin' for lack of a betta words Speculations on the guns I hold underneath my furs Similarities in my voice nigga check the words I'm in for winter to doe's that pinch merds from the cur Dodgin' and dippin' the narcs It's the young Frank Matthews the rap version Touch my trap on my smack the gats burstin' That's certain leave ya face and ya chest and ya back jerkin' Uh--y'all got me fucked up like My desert eagle and my sick doom bust right Like my guns is racin',muthafucka don't you know I Make ya heart stop and ya body start shakin' Now you know the bottom line of this rhyme crime 25 to life plus 9 *Whatcha gon' do when shit hit the fed Take it like a man or snitch like a bitch Whatcha gon' do when shit hit the fan Pray to God, go hard or lay up in the morgue x2 Evil grin,dead eyes,walkin wit a bock, monster Best way to describe my posture In this world of sin I'm as wicked as they come Moonlightin' as a rapper get this ticket and I'm done Ain't enough money here I ratha be in the tropics Wit Corsicans where narcotics is the only topic Persian rocks and things the man that made of snow Tiger par And every other form of raw Since a team been handlin, nigga been scramblin' Bettin' on money in Vegas gamblin' Desert in the abdomen, pissy drunk stylin',staggerin' More than you can imaginin Uh--thoughts randomin, runnin through my mind Like who's the best MC's - Biggie, Jay-Z, and Shyne Demented as a young'n, apple 2nd comin' Evil thoughts runnin' through my cerebellum Shyne Poe what the fuck you gon' tell 'em? All you niggas that wanna be fly my gun shots'll propell 'em Leavin' somewhere smellin', repellin' Closed caskets for you fuckin' bastards c'mon *Repeat Only the strong survive, weak niggas bleed And get found, wit they fuckin' face down Numb from the waist down I din been to hell and back Twice and still in crack Stare death in the eyes and never blink Headshots rip through my mink Went to war wit the realist killas Killed friends over jealousy and envy My heart's empty Behind the wheel of my Bentley Coke-d up feelin invincible Bout to take over the world I can't be stopped Not the feds or the fuckin' cops Not even 17 shots Can put a end to this terror I'ma live forever, cause gangstas don't break We just get plastic surgery and relocate To anotha state or island, smilin, money pilin, wildin Yo Puff over done them fuckin violins Uh this shit is bigger than me though ask Oliver North Kill you then use your corpse,to transport horse Leave ya brains hangin' from ya fuckin' car window Any nigga snitch and givin' info Since my motha stomach coke and liquor Was the mixture Betta be prepared when we hit ya *Repeat |
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4:50 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Verse 1]
I done fucked *The Baddest Bitches* ask Trina Give her coke to stuff between her, said she loved my demeanor Felonies and misdemeanors, I'm villified I just, rap on the side, black mafia ties Prolific words, I speak for the unheard Niggas who love guns, money, girls, and furs Sittin up in the mans', runnin shit On the phone moving bricks, orderin hits Perfected the game, diamond infested the chain Niggas think I change I just wanna watch 'em change Livin the American dream Drugs, violence, sex, and loaded magazines That's all I could talk about in these sixteen Cuz that's all I live, ask Tibs It is what is, either graveyards or consecutive life bids, shit *Niggas wanna bang, we could bang Niggas wanna slang, we could slang x4 [Verse 2] Niggas wanna bang we could bang out Til the clip's done, or your vital arteries hang out Ham a cot, Bad Boy, the black Camelot Raise the price and connect the dots Through life's journies, all I need is a couple of mack mils A couple of mils and good attorneys Skatin on big blades, goin out in a blaze in my last days I'll probably die with a bad drug trade or an overdose Without tellin my moms, sorry it was close My wife and my bitch fightin over my notes All my niggas skied north makin a toast Til hell, just gimme bad bitches in Channel Connects wit, Chinese cartels and that new SL And the judge that's gon' set my bail *Repeat [Verse 3] I'm on top of this shit, look at the wrists Too much rocks in this shit, aint that a bitch Make hits, til my last breath With that nigga, the P U double F So lay back in the cut motherfucker 'fore you get shot I kill niggas on the spot like a cop I did it all four seasons suites to a cot Give bitches nothing but breathmints and this cock Call me what, there's a way to eat And all we got is sports, entertainment or the streets I'm in deep, think of Citibank when I sleep Ching, ching like I was from Shaolin Brooklyn nigga what you say, keep stylin My air force ones you couldn't walk a mile in I love politics, narcotics, and violins Bad Boy forever, we move in silence *Repeat *Repeat |
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3:48 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
Shyne
Now tell me who want to fuck with us? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust I bang - and let your fuckin brains hang, snitches Fuck Marla Maple bitches with riches who carry 22's, up in they hosiery A black teller when my father bust and unloaded me Think he just finished sniffin a ki, and dippin the D's Don't hate me, hate Nicky Barnes for hittin my moms Letting the condom pop, nigga I was born in the drop Coke boil in the pot, shake the Feds and bust shots at them street cops Fuck yo' point is? My point is double fours at your fuckin jaws Pointed, hollow point shit Four-point-six, need I say more? Or do you get the point bitch? C'mon *What type of nigga slang and bang in the streets? (Bad Boyz) What type of nigga stay in the Trump for weeks? (Bad Boyz) What type of nigga fly Bentley Coupes? (Bad Boyz) Aim for the sky, cop the shit then shoot .. Shyne Minks draggin on the floor - bangin on your whore Suckin the croissant just examine it for flaws Pour the Cristal on the way to trial, RICO law got a nigga head hurtin squirtin til they pull the curtain Let the money drip dry, hundred dollar bills wipe the tears from my eyes, no love Fuck y'all niggaz, hope you die a slow death as I coke-test and C. DeLores Tucker protest Can't fuck with you weak rap niggaz, witcha gay raps Runnin 'round talkin this and talkin that See me in the streets, tried to give me dap Andrew Cunanan ass niggaz My two cannons blast niggaz, ass niggaz Got me fucked up in the game, get your shirt stained Keep your five mics nigga, give me the 'caine Do the shit to clean my money dummies, gleamed the wrist out Cop the pist-al, nigga, talk shit now, uh *Repeat Shyne Bling bling, it's a Bad Boy thing Bullets heat-seekin, streep sweepin, with an evil grin Watch you die, one love, one life, one Shyne Y'all niggaz ain't sayin nothin, like a mime Every line, I live it, I write it with a pencil so niggaz die of lead poison if they bite it, hate it but recite it It's a G thang, me and Puff in St. Bart's set it off Bitches walkin topless with G-strings, menage' Bust shots at your crew, another charge As the gulf stream fly through the fog Make ya popular Pockets filled with more high notes than the opera Franklins on top of the - Jacksons My nigga Ty leave you tired Bad Boy, repsect it or die, coward *Repeat x2 [Barrington Levy] Man a Bad Boy on the corner So move from on here, cause we a dange-rous Man a Bad Boy on the corner So move from on here, cause we a dange-rous {*Barrington skats and shouts to the fade*} |
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4:31 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Let's go Shyne, pro, bust pipes get right Bang, stop, roll head throw the dice White Air Force Ones, monies in rubber bands America's number one dope man Racin through the city with Uncle Paul and Diddy Hennesey frontin, lookin brock and gritty Tryin to meet somethin, so I can skeeet somethin Five with it, slide with it, P hit it, I hit it What's it all about? Servin yea every day We roll, send a foe mix those and bulletholes Livin in vein, ice flowin through my veins I'm light in the change, 'til they put it in my brain Bulletproof sedans, rich bitches throwin me kisses, takin my pictures License to kill, I ain't with a lot of talkin Try conversatin from the coffin *All my niggaz wildin, let me see your hands (WHOA-O-OH-OHH) All my bitches stylin, let me see your hands (WHOA-O-OH-OHH) x4 [Shyne] Just tossed the bail so now I'm free Bout to get in the kitchen to cook a key Who you know that could double up like me? The hottest nigga up in N-Y-C I'm that nigga comin through, doin what he does Rocks in his ears lookin like light bulbs Desert snubs, pierce your skull Criminal mindstate, I bring sale weight I just happen to rhyme great, pipelines and gates in fifty-nine states, raisin the rates Got my mind right, like Al Pacino and Nino I head to Capitol Hill to kidnap Janet Reno Monster flow, words droppin and shockin Gun cockin and poppin, somebody call Cochran Boats of coke at the port Import, export, have my bitches transport *Repeat [Shyne] Get pussy in a bed full of dough, nose full of blow The feds is in town I gots to get low, uhh Pants saggin low, get at bitches like yo Hop in the truck bitch let's go No time to waste, nine in my waist, ready for war anytime anyplace, fuck it just another case One life to live and I'ma live new bad town Gettin mine, bottom line, we'll be cuttin dimes or rhymes Cold hearts, shootouts and fast cars 'til I'm behind bars or in the graveyard Blast a foe for capital the master flow is masterful y'all vaginal Bling'n hard, bracelets to the necklace Lookin like effect the flow is infectious Pocket fills, multi-million dollars deal Flip more bricks than Tetris, what you feel? *Repeat x2 *Repeat x2 |
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1:02 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
The lord is my shepherd
Let's get this coke measured And as I walk through the valley of the shadow of gangstas I fears nothin but God and bein broke I stack paper and flow to fast cars in the presence of my enemies Niggas waitin for me to break Shit, aint nothin foldin but my money We them niggas wit big guns and big dicks We afraid of bein broke, so we shed bricks This thing of ours, will never be devoured Bad Boys,we move in silence In the name of power, money, and glory forever and ever Amen. |
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5:17 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
It's a new day in the rap game!
Nobody sells records but Shyne Po! [Verse 1] My life had it's ups and downs, but I don't regret nothin' I had the whole tri-state high, nigga I ain't frontin' at Fifteen I sold my first bag of dope used to stick Dominicans, burner under the coat gettin' like 15 grams, a half a Ki at Fifteen man, a nigga just glad to be gettin' some shorts, me and my Man from a Hundred and Fifth he knew some Dominican niggas that wanted a clique to hold 'em down, shoot niggas in the head throw 'em out windows if they were late with the bread basically I'm enforcin' around heavy coke, when nobody's lookin' I'd be dippin' in the portion they wasn't missin' it so I got my hustle on the side, flippin' it sellin' like 500 bottles and Nicks, started minor but I always knew I'd turn a big apple into cider. Niggas...niggas just ain't built like me... stand up niggas...since 15 I been servin' fiends and loadin' magazines... takin' shots..burnin' blocks.. this ain't no fuckin' rap. [Verse 2] Everything was everything 'till my Man got pinched he had a shoot-out with the cops in front of the precinct other than that, I went from enforcer to movin' product, straight white powder now, gettin' it the hardest nigga in the street my first car was a 190 Benz with Louie Vaton seats buyin' out the bar at the rooftop I had a few spots one called the jukebox where I was gettin' like 50 a brick 2 or 3 bricks a day, makin' mothafuckas sick my Cousin Ron a crook from the Brook was torchin' any niggas whisperin' or talkin' 'bout extortion shit was goin' right and only one better when I got my Italian connect, hittin' me with pure Heroin moved to 116th, started seein' real dinero then empire buildin', the shit was takin' flight had my bitches cuttin' up like 10 Ki's a night mixin' lactose, Bonita, and Quenii I was the first Black nigga with mafia ties leased my soul to the Devil with the option to buy. Yo..bangin' for real.. niggas is thinkin' rap, I'm thinkin' laundromat.. we washin' this money... you think this shit is about rhymes... you'll find yourself under the fuckin' ground...you know?.. we get low when the Feds is in town.. this is justice.. we playin' the pop charts and still lettin' them things pop off... [Verse 3] At 21 I was a legend, had the game transformed controllin' manufacturin' and distribution of Heron throughout the tri-state, high stakes I spent Hundreds of Thou's out of paper bags you couldn't name a car I ain't have every minute new tags Seven series to the Five-Sixty drop nigga I was givin' away blocks nigga fast cars, fast money, slow deaths this things of ours had me doin' a hundred miles an hour through the City evadin' the Feds started this shit called the counsel and we all made a pledge not to fuck each others bitches or touch each others riches on top or broke never break this oath every nigga in the counsel was a boss we used to put coke on our dick and make bitches suck it off it was alright 'till I got caught charged with an Eight-Forty-Eight behind Marion steel gates niggas started shittin', actin' bizarre drivin' my cars, fuckin' my broads, breakin' the laws same niggas I took care of and got money wit' was on some funny shit if I was different I'd snitch what would you do if you got Millions with niggas and they had no love for ya? couldn't pay for ya lawyer I figured shit, why sit in a cell to rot? I'll be out in Ten, start over again throw those boys in the pot, but I couldn't do it you couldn't understand it of you ain't been through it there's rules to this shit and I couldn't break 'em death before dishonor 'till I meet Satan...I know he's waitin'. God forgive me...you've never seen a nigga like me in your life... I'm what these lil' niggas rap about... thats me they talkin' 'bout in they rhymes... I did that time...I flipped that dime... shoot-outs, jet planes, cocaine and automobiles... The Life...love it |
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3:48 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Geah, uhh, uhh, uhh Uh-huh, like that Geah, uhh Ten bricks nigga in the air, hold tec It's that motherfuckin nigga named Shyne Nothin but cum for these bitches, love none for these bitches It's that motherfuckin nigga named Shyne What's my motherfuckin name? Put a bullet in your brain Leave your shirt stained, guns and cocaine It's the best of a V&E I'm like homes in Charlie's Angels, y'all never seein me Heavenly indeed, measure me a key My moms was a virgin when she had me I rock flows, top O's, better yet, sell it wet Tape ki's to bitches, I need the riches Scene switches, big bitches, to hide snitches Smile for the feds as they take pictures It's the young G speakin; leavin niggaz leakin Shots repeatin; around the clip somethin bound to hit Y'all motherfuckers was counterfeit Eat a dick and choke, as I sniff coke Shyne pro, watch how you pronounce the shit G'z up, hoes down while you motherfuckers bounce to this *Before your dog you're dyin and bustin your iron Take the stand you're lyin, it's ok If you cook it, cut it, watch - flooded Hit niggaz in public and bitches love it, it's ok If you high right now as they play this in the club lookin for somethin to fuck, it's ok If you startin with her, it's ok If you snotty with him, it's ok [Shyne] With so much blocks in the N-Y-C to burn 'em all down is kinda hard for me But uhh, somehow, someway I keep takin over motherfucker's gates like every single day It's, the, rap, singer Slash, coke, crack, slinger Sling crack sling smack sling dick to dingbats that try to pussy bootchie coochie, I'm in that Kingpin raps, I spit 'em, fed NARC's, I dip 'em Bentley and large rims spinnin, the shit is sickenin My rhymes, my flow, I got all the symptoms Rinks and links and trips to Harry Winston Born sinner; think that model bitch I'm with is slim? You chances of seein me are slimmer I was through with it, before y'all knew what to do with it Put my finger in the ground and turn the world around *Repeat [Shyne] From hip-hop to them hot blocks It ain't never gon' stop; well maybe for three days but then I'll return, more blacks to burn for more yea Get them her way sittin up on Broadway (geah) Livin the life, ridin on Twinkies Thirty inch rims spinnin, bitches is grinnin Roscoe on my left, wonderin where the pussy at so I can scheme the dope, get the pussy and float Big things, live from the Empire State where niggaz, live in fear of a 8-48 Don't owe my favors, jewelers deliberate Shops have me spinnin like you was doin a figure eight Gun in your mouth bitch, got a bitter taste Push up hard on the arms - uhh, bitter face Guerilla pimpin indeed Shit I'm like a perm; somethin every girl in the ghetto need *Repeat x2 |
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3:29 |
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| from Shyne - Shyne (2005) | |||||
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1:03 |
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| from Shyne - Shyne (2005) | |||||
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4:17 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Uhh, uhh In front of Gucci in the winter, I seen ya witcha girl Just walkin uh, in your chinchilla fur I was laid up in the Coupe, back shade up Lookin at cha face just pure wit no makeup A little bit of Mac lip gloss, hair in a bun well done Lookin for a ring, I seen none So I hopped out the Coupe in hot pursuit to stop and, introduce Like I'm Shyne, and you? You my destiny And you're diamond cluster, too much just to touch ya Perfume, down to ya structure Think I'll wait, until the second night to fuck ya I wanna marry you, nah I'm just playin But we can start wit a few nights, out in Malibu Surfin, be layin up on Persians Here's my number; put in ya purse and call me *On the telephone, she heard my voice Tell me to pick her up in my Rolls Royce If my Rolls Royce, is not for ladies Then girl I'm gonna take you in my Mercedes If my Mercedes will not fill up wit the disease Then girl I'm gonna take you in my Firebird If my Firebird cannot take the curve Girl put your ass in the damn Metro bus [Shyne] I'm gettin clo-ser, my player days is o-ver Well maybe not completely But still and all, come here, rest ya head on my bed And let me get between ya legs Lay on ya back, uh - take it from the back like a bad girl suppose to, I know you like that Scream, wake the neighbors from they sleep Grab the sheets witcha teeth, wiggle ya butt cheeks Quarter styles over ya body, lick you up Treat you like a convenience store, stick you up Take you to the balcony, pick you up So you can look at the city, while I'm diggin ya kitty Then we drive into the sunset, pull over Get up on the hood ma, I ain't done yet, uhh *Repeat [Shyne] (Barrington Levy) We've been together for a few months now Did it all, Four Seasons to the Trump Beverly Hills bungalows in ya underclothes In Paris, Eiffel Tower bubble baths and showers In a silindo sheen, sincere is what you seem See me flip a couple things, load up magazines And I - I think you might be the right one, whoa (the right one) Wait press the brakes, gotta investigate What I do know - to you it don't matter Whether my pockets is slim or fatter Whether it's BBQ's or Mr. Child's platter Even if I slip off the success ladder Even if the paragraphs, didn't hit the charts and smash If my car was a train on the surface or back I think you'd be right there (know you'll be right there) Cause we right there, no Cartier charms Just you in my arms, no Sean don Just a bottle of Evian; c'mon, uh *Repeat [Barrington Levy] So I draw from my tonic and I take one sip Should've seen me cause I gallop like a horse'll get whipped Come quick yeahhhhhhhhh, come quick whoaaaaaaaaaa Cause you I love, and not another Although some may change, girl you know I will never I'ma love love love love love love you forever, oh-ii Always be there - for me Always be there Be there for me Ohhhhhhhhh, ayah, ayah, ayah, ayah, ayah Ohhhhhhhhh For me, for me.. |
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2:59 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Look at this nigga, stuntin in front of Justin's, actin silly If it wasn't cops all over, I'd smack him with this milli You hoe niggaz move a brick and think they rich Get a few guns and a click and wanna take over shit Ain't that the same kid that shot Reg in the head? Turned him into a carrot, he might as well have been dead Just came home from doin ten up in the Feds Be extortin kingpins for they horse and they bread Had the whole Brooklyn under pressure, I'm surprised he ain't test ya Mad niggaz know better I ain't comin up offa, no cheddar, no bricks, no nothin I'll kick that motherfucker, FUCK HIM, yeah I'll pay him somethin Pay his ass a visit, blow his brains on the sidewalk Let him collect his thoughts.. .. I'm the strongest force in New York til I'm a corpse, and even then, I'll be buried with bricks and money-filled vaults, seventeen shots and two weeks later I'm in the spot, takin it light Watchin the Tyson fight it's packed, uh with killers and rats Dope dealers, money hungry bitches, malicious Cars pilin up the block for blocks nigga, Bentleys and 6's This the place to be, where all the - gangsters meet As I pick up my drink, I see my man Fat Pete But before I could walk over, two niggaz tapped him on the shoulder and unloaded in his face, bullets flyin all over the place Mirrors shatterin, people scatterin, his bodyguards shot back Missed one but hit the other, in the abdomen, they both fled But who the fuck would do somethin so - brazen and reckless? Had to be some niggaz tryin to send a message {*phone ringing*} Next day I got a call from uptown to, come have a meetin with The Council bout the shit that's been goin down Word is, same kid that killed Fat Pete shot Reg in the head Bottom line he's out of control, he got to be dead He's startin to be a real problem Extortin niggaz, Brooklyn through Harlem But he fucked around and crossed the margin, touched one of ours He got to go, he from your hood, handle it Poe Say no mo', I'm out the do' Went back to the spot to grab the guns Semi-auto check, AK-40 check, shotgun check, revolver - that's perfect Called Tiz and told him meet me in an hour Bring the caravan, you know the plan Ski-masks and stockings, seen him down the ave. boppin Him and a friend, just hopped in a Benz Twenty inches on the rims, let's follow 'em slow, keep 'em in sight Wait til he stop at a red light, then roll the window down and kiss them bitches goodnight - they musta saw somethin cause the Benz busted U and came at us firin shots I threw the revolver, grabbed the tec and left the driver's side wet The Benz ran in a store window and got wrecked I hopped out the van, ran up to the scene, still holdin the tec One nigga's body was split in half, the other nigga still movin Heard sirens comin closer, as I'm bout to shoot him But fuck it, I opened his mouth, and let the tec spray and told him tell Satan I'm on my way - die bitch |
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3:43 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Hustler, bad motherfucker Brooklyn to the rucker, Cali and back Court cases pendin, all the blood drug money spendin Ferrari engines leave your whole fuckin block tremblin I'm what niggaz wanna be, a straight G Whore bitches wanna suck and fuck for free I'm Alpo, before you snitch dog I switch lines and rhymes faster than I switch cars Ghetto star, name ring in every hood Heartless villain, money driven killin and bury my opposition, for a pot to piss in Knickerbock position, listen *A hundred carats in the watch (THAT'S GANGSTA) Gettin skull off in the parkin lot (THAT'S GANGSTA) Bailin out when you locked (THAT'S GANGSTA) Takin over spots and blocks (THAT'S GANGSTA) x2 [Shyne] I got a question; as serious as cancer Where da fuckin safe at? Somebody better answer before I start killin and fillin these double-I slugs in your mug then you spittin up blood Got dead gangstas rollin over like, "Yo this nigga cold" The way he cut his coke is murder game to his flow Rich is, my only reason for bein, shit I never had hope, until I sold dope Drug game is infectious, got me livin reckless Feds get uptight when they see my watch and necklace glow, fuck 'em, they can't catch me Murder and money, 'til they throw my ashes in the sea *Repeat [Shyne] Mac-10's, crush rocks and drops The best respect, the feds only fuck cops Coke price raisin, task force raidin Bustin at secret agents runnin up out the Days Inn Roller, diamonds and mack-milla's Fillers and loud pipes for all my killers Money hungry honies around, the killer streets and the law The opium and the raw, that's what I live for For cuttin yea, never for today Extended magazines shootouts and ricochets Play a role and catch a bullethole, pop your blood vessels Ain't gonna wait before the smoke settles *Repeat {*scratching "Serious shit"*} [Shyne] Money in brown paper bags (THAT'S GANGSTA) Servin fiends on the ave (THAT'S GANGSTA) Menage red labels (THAT'S GANGSTA) Honies with diamonds up in they navel (THAT'S GANGSTA) Showin love to your hood (THAT'S GANGSTA) Leavin cowards layin where they stood (THAT'S GANGSTA) Floodin your homey's commisary up (THAT'S GANGSTA) Never missin when we bust (THAT'S GANGSTA) Money in brown paper bags (THAT'S GANGSTA) Servin fiends on the ave (THAT'S GANGSTA) Menage red labels (THAT'S GANGSTA) Honies with diamonds up in they navel (THAT'S GANGSTA) Showin love to your hood (THAT'S GANGSTA) |
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4:40 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Geah.. new.. My niggaz frontin on pumpin and dumpin, leave 'em on the curb Ridin on twinkies I'm twinkilng gun under my fur Ma what you prefer? His and hers holla and villas, dope dealers and killers who keep it real-a, chase paper fuck bitches they'll always be there Burn blocks, bust your guns, rock your minks with flare Live for the moment, fuck atonement Explain to God when you see him Rlease a bigger day, til your paper reach the ceiling Niggaz, we only live once and I don't know about y'all, but shit I'm on mine like Don Trump, Black Ted Turner, totin burners Open dope spots on every block Jumpin in and out of cherry drops as the plot thickens, watch glistens Feds trail us, surveil us, tell us not enough evidence us Teflon, get knocked, put the bail up and get gone In the name of Brooklyn Vietnam And all you fuckin rappers, for the last time The last name ain't Junior, my name is Shyne Now take a paternity test, there's no relation I'm the fuckin king, nobody stands adjacent *All I wanna do is get a brand new fifth and a few ki's, spend some cheese All I wanna do is see my homies stay fly until we all day, and spend some cheese All I wanna do is get this money washed so I can lay back, and spend some cheese Get right, live life, spend some cheese G's ice, gun fights, spend some cheese [Shyne] Bandana wrap, under my fitted hat I got mines stacked, nigga where yo' ticket at? Floatin countin the two turbo's Bitches I burned know Shyne Poe; Bad Boy - who's fuckin with that? I done burnt down New York, ran through D.C. And this rap shit here, ain't nothin to me Got my murder game down for real Gave lead showers to any coward who sold me flour Poe's my power - these rappers frontin like they uncut raw I'll be the first to tell ya, they talcum powder Actin like I know them, I owe them til I blow them, and leave they face in they fuckin scrotum One change on the pike, under the moonlight Headin nowhere fast, Desert in the airbags Death's around the corner so I make detour slide to the Rucker Firelli's burnin rubbers Pull up in front, let my shit bump Hop out, no respect for the cops Got the glock out, lookin for a knockout Somethin to put a seed in, nah nigga Just somethin I can put some ki's in, come on *Repeat [Shyne] Nigga wait, push rhymes, push fives push wigs back, push weight Runnin narcotics in over twenty-one states Thuggin and buggin I'll crack your fuckin chestplates It's good old America the great, the land of the G Home of the slave Where corrupt politicans and black gangsters is made Where you die at 25, shot up in your Merced's Ridin on blades, livin for today Fuck peace, bustin at the police Young black and just don't give a fuck You'd think it was the Olympics the way niggaz be sprintin and jumpin when my bust, pullin up in bigger trucks like what? Hand on my nuts White gold smile, high profile Bitches love the style How the fur's fittin, gangster slur spittin For my niggaz in Lewisburg sittin I got to get it like Sisqo It's the Don-da-Don-Don-Don Switch flows faster than cops can shoot a black as them bricks keep turnin and them blocks keep burnin, c'mon *Repeat x4 |
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2:56 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Shyne]
Yeah, yeah This ones for my Brooklyn playboys This ones for my L.A. playboys This ones for my Chi-town playboys ATL, down south NC, SC Where you be? Come on, just play it with me [Shyne] When it come to hoes, we don't love not one Fuckin a friend ain't no option It's a must, her friend assists like Stockton When we fuck, I gotta have two not one She know a freaky nigga like me Get her wet then I'm out like strike three No doubt, make her girlfriend eat her out After we fuck then the exit be the route Believe me, we don't love them hoes Break out, after we dug them hoes You wanna stay bitch, what'cha talkin 'bout? Put your shoes on and start walkin out *Get out, I don't wanna hug you Get out, bitch I don't love you Get out, what'cha talkin 'bout Put your shoes on and start walkin [Shyne] You know you hittin, you got me lickin the hole Before I'm stickin the hole up in my face In the place most niggas don't see love drug baby I'm about to O.D. cocaine pussy One stroke be a whole ki You're feminine, hood from heaven an' I'll do anything, orals to S and M Keep you satisfied, back certified Come and take a ride, I'll be your great adventure Tell ya friends I bent'cha, who sent'cha? Must'a been God, my bedroom angel taken Lovin the curves as you purr while im stroking Grabbin ya hair, dont'cha dare shed a tear You a good girl, don't cry Shake that thang that I give Throw ya back as I dig Like a broke matress you had me sprung out But ain't nothin changed you got to get out *Repeat To all my niggas that know what I mean When you fuck a bitch good she don't wanna leave I go through this all the time Bitch act like she don't see the exit sign Start cryin, how much she love Shyne Thats the same thing she told my man Brian What the fuck, she think I'm stupid? Don't know my pimp blood is deeply rooted Inherited, that be my heritage That I don't give a fuck about a bitch fetishes So when we fuck, and it's over Throw ya pocketbook, on ya shoulder Put your shoes on and hit the road and if your last name Royce, bitch you Roll *Repeat x2 |
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4:12 |
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from Shyne - Shyne (2005)
[Verse 1]
From cuttin' solid Purico to stack Fritos went from grams to kilos Mac in one hand, in the other hand grands and C-notes game got my eyes wider than a 430 Buggy no tellin' what the fuck I'll do for this money stay posted up close with killers and cut throats the thoroughest bitches who in they pussy stuff coke as I cook and cut coke with the bakin' soda Arm and Hammer palmin' hammers think you crazy? nigga, my clique's bananas takin' over with the Mafia hittin' niggas for they bricks like Gracias the cockiest, it's obvious, it's me, he, who? confront frontin' niggas like "You want it? well nigga, me too" what the fuck, I'm callin' your bluff, niggas act like they stopped makin' guns after they made yours I'm sponsored by the NRA, DOA rules grin and stand over your coffin like "Hey you!" tell the Devil I'm comin', keep it hot for now I got my eyes on a billboard spot don't stop. *Die for it take the stand, lie for it blow trial, get up in the chair and fry for it never tellin' or snitchin' rather swim with the fish'n mothafucka respect it, the commission x2 [Verse 2] (First 4 lines with Jamaican accent) I buy and sell bricks with my nigga P.D. down with the team called B.B.E. now if you want to join the team you know you must see me buy ya can't talk to FEDS or dick R.I.D. It's a cold World baby boy, fuck it, I'm colder Animals on my back keep my warm, my armor Frank Lucas persona, warmin' coke up in the sauna let me warn ya, trip against my team you's a goner infact it's drastic a couple Million in the mattress with a safe dick I say fuck taxes rather endulge in duct tape pig tie tactics crime pays nigga, Nine-Hundred and Ninety-Nine ways my destiny's vague, will I survive or blow trial? lay shot up, Puff cryin' in denial while my enemies smile, buried in style Gucci suits and cufflings sneakin' drugs through Heavens customs. *Repeat [Verse 3] POP POP POP! warning shot, who's to blame Shyne mothafucka, don't forget the name stretch the Caine, to cop the house and the plane 'till my Massacre, slain brains hang from the window of my Range fuck the FEDS, 2 green and one red Firm tight, hold the dice in this game of life Aces suffice paper's a must Fallen Angels and Angel dust my team do dirt to avoid layin' in the dust Million dollar portraits in my fortress of course it's Po bloodstainin', aeroplanin', Four-Hundred horses slow Platinum cable, round table, so all the bosses know I'm takin' over 'cause they coke got too much bakin' soda they say money ain't everything you fuckin' right nigga, it's the only thing in God we trust, the Holy thing I look into my enemy's eye let 'em know you play fly you go out Kennedy style. *Repeat x2 |
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0:21 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
(Shyne)
Yeah, yeah This ones for my Brooklyn playboys This ones for my L.A. playboys This ones for my Chi-town playboys ATL, down south NC, SC Where you be? Come on, just play it with me (Shyne) When it come to hoes, we don't love not one Fuckin a friend ain't no option It's a must, her friend assists like Stockton When we fuck, I gotta have two not one She know a freaky nigga like me Get her wet then I'm out like strike three No doubt, make her girlfriend eat her out After we fuck then the exit beat her out Believe me, we don't love them hoes Break out, after we dug them hoes You wanna stay bitch, what'cha talkin 'bout? Get your shoes on, and start walkin on Hook: Slimm + Shyne Get out, I don't wanna hug you Get out, bitch I don't love you Get out, what'cha talkin 'bout Get your shoes on and start walkin (Shyne) You know you hittin, you got me lickin the hole Before I'm stickin the hole up in my face In the place most niggas don't see love drug baby I'm about to O.D. cocaine pussy One stroke be a whole ki You're feminine, hood from heaven an' I'll do anything, orals to S and M Keep you satisfied, back ?certified? Come and take a ride, I'll be your great adventure Tell ya friends I bent'cha, who sent'cha? Must'a been God, my bedroom angel taken Lovin the curves as you purr while im stroking Grabbin ya hair, dont'cha dare shed a tear You a good girl, don't cry Shake that thang that I give Throw ya back as I dig Like a broke matress you had me sprung out But ain't nothin changed you got to get out Hook To all my niggas that know what I mean When you fuck a bitch good she don't wanna leave I go through this all the time Bitch act like she don't see the exit sign Start cryin, how much she love Shyne Thats the same thing she told my man Brian What the fuck, she think I'm stupid? Don't know my pimp blood is deeply rooted Inherited, that be my heritage That I dont give a fuck about bitch fetishes So when we fuck and its over Throw ya pocketbook on ya shoulder Put your shoes on and hit the road I'll kick ya last name once, bitch and roll Hook x2 |
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4:25 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
[Bob Marley - No more troubles] No no no more troubles. No more troubles [Shyne] We ain't the problem nigga [Bob Marley Sample] We don't need no more trouble, no more trouble [Shyne] I ain't the problem Solve me, if I am ever solved motherfuckers Solve the shit I insist I ain't goin' nowhere I hear ya'all motherfuckers talking complainin It's too this .. It's too dogg .. It's too valid yea yea See what the fuck happens when the CIA conspired? Distribute crack in my environment, the roosters crow Man, black people don't own no ports or boats So tell me how the fuck we gettin all this coke? Offa knowledge I choke Spitting up truths hopin The young youth a soldier hear me dearly G.W. Bush fear me They know I know, they want to sweep us under rugs Hopin we just keep killin, shootin each other with slugs Look up above and pray to god he protect me From these cold jurors and the heartless judge Imagine, grow'n up and never haven't Faggot ass pops actin like you never happened FUCKED UP Watching the tears stream down yo mammas cheek She helpless in the kitchen looking for eats PEACE [Bob Marley Sample - no more touble sample] [Shyne] Yea nigga .. I'm here. what the fuck ya'll gunna do about it? huh? Do somethin about me Call my source. ya hear me? feel me? [Bob Marley Sample - no more trouble sample] [Shyne] Stop talkin bout Stop talkin bout how fucked up I am Get me right, save me nigga ... huh? I'm a snort away from an overdose A couple a drug deals from death and too far from hope I never asked to be here In this maze to an early grave Jail cells, guns fights and crack sales Trying to post bond on this oversized bail Hopin' my vest don't give as the bullets come in hail *pop pop* How dare ya'all point the finger at me Cuz I'm a straight g Sin't that what its supposed to be? Shit. I'm just following the tradition of ?Joe Kenny? Bootlegging ties with the mob n shit Capitalism..money and power Catch me in the trump tower with a honey and powder I feel the shadows death is comin to an end My lifes slippin from me, ya'll niggaz is funny Tell me shyne po, he can't get that money FUCK am I supposed to do, nigga starve and go hungry? RIGHT [No More Troubles Sample] [Shyne] Im here. We here. Ain't goin nowhere Problems is startin to happen And we was at fault? Nigga this shit has been goin on nigga 300 years motherfuckers SHHHHHHH Close ya eyes,listen. hear my heart beatin? Po's racing, I can't take it The futures too dark and hopeless for me to face it Only god knows if I make it Walking through the depths of hell It's hard for me to smile When I'm innocent and still, I'm facing trial GOD save me Secret societies manipulating the dumb def and blind and yet they want to blame it on shyne like I'm responsible for the countries murder rate responsible for babies born high off base this shits is bigger than me, I told ya'all I'm just a pawn so is Boy George sippin ?nick bawns? I hope my babies havin babies pushin rhymes Its a brighter day if you just let it beyond To my moms I'm sorry for the pain I've caused your baby boys dying of a broken heart got ties to my own blood walking to the eternal fire crack money in the dryer [No More Troubles sample till fade] |
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4:38 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
[Foxy] Gyeah [Shyne] Gyeah, walk with me [Foxy] Gyeah, It's like New York's been soft ever since my nigga Shyne been sittin' in prison yeah [Verse 1 - Shyne] Check it, sip things sick rings, this shit is sickening Sick chains sick aim, 5th bang 5th frame Bail money lawyers actin' funny when I come thru Hit 'em with a bundle on a humble Couple notes, seen boys arms with a rolls said I want one too What the fuck I'm gone do But get it if it's there to be gotten till I'm driving by And I'm rockin' sideways muthafucka crime pays I need it I'll get it I got it I'll shop it I'll double the profit And bubble the pockets, I'm living to die Niggaz talk fly 'til I walk by and pop somethin' Muthafuckas forgot somethin', I'm not frontin' This ain't rap, music this ain't that You fuck around I'll have you sleepin' where the saints at Sincerely yours Shyne muthafuckin' Po Bitch get yo bags hit the muthafuckin' door [Hook] May the angels walk with me, more or less Big things, Big rims nigga, more or less Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less [Verse 2] G is a G, a key is a key a snitch is a fish With no fins that can't swim when I dump him in the river Charcoal gray are, 12 cylinders bulletproof sentences Trial date tentative I sound like who, ya'll sound like trash Get off my dick and pass my cash They don't do it cause I rap about it I rap about it cause they do it My musics the conduet to a ticket I live it Bitch nigga I cook it and pitch it By the prints that bought the shit and ditch it Hip Hop ain't responsible for balancing America America's responsible for balancing America Back to the flow nose full of dough Rolls full of hoe's leave a nigga clothes full of holes The schools didn't want me so the drug dealers taught me Simple math step on it twice and bring 'em back Get 4 times what you paid divide the labor costs And still come away with enough to play And I see the same shit niggaz younger than me Runnin' the streets lookin for somethin' to eat [Hook] 2x May the angels walk with me, more or less Big things, Big rims nigga, more or less Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less [Verse 3] Ole boy betta get down better run for cover When I spit rounds ah you in some shit now Get found slit down to the white meat I'm from Brooklyn Vietnam nigga I like beef But being a bird in the street double plight Livin' a troubled life, father was a jerk Moms had to work, poppy had to work So I did what any real nigga would do Got in front of the stove now I got the shit sowed Fuck you punk niggaz witcho punk cash With the punk blast put yo punk ass in the trunk fast The fuck y'all thought I buried niggaz in walls, I'ma trill muthafucka after all Point blank shootin niggaz point blank all the way to the bank Rip yo face off then I'll take off The difference between me and them, you won't be seein' them No more, nigga secrets of war [Hook] 4x May the angels walk with me, more or less Big things, Big rims nigga, more or less Fuckin' big stars in big cars, more or less I can say I seen it all and done it all, more or less |
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4:30 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
What you know 'bout rollin' out? Big Tecs, big vests, hollow tips all up in that kid neck Po live it up, yellow stones lit it up Long John eagle tucked, it's the kid, nigga what? Some of y'all rap niggaz is girls Hold my dick, gappin' and flappin' Fuckin' cartoons These niggaz guns don't go off until they say, "Lights, camera, action!" Yo Swizz, tell them niggaz, "Eat a dick" Gun up in your face bitch, that way we don't miss Unload the shit, then reload the shit Head straight to the airport and unload some bricks No lying, you niggaz see me comin' down the streets You'd think I was flyin', 12 cylinders Brooklyn is mine nigga, move over Yeah I'm talkin' to you - fuckin' dick blower [Chorus - Shyne] (Mashonda) For all of y'all keepin' y'all in health Just to see you wild and enjoy yourself Cause it's cool when you fuckin' with a nigga like me Cool when you ridin' with a nigga like me To all my Marla Mable bitches just (shine) To all my niggaz keep it gully just (shine) To all the ghettos in America (shine) I'ma keep it gangsta till I die nigga (shine) Check it, aiyyo All I need in this world of sin Is a crooked lawyer, big rims, and a Mac 10 Ridin' through the city like I'm used to this shit Fuck ya vest nigga, my shells chew through that shit Catch ya breath, you ain't heard about that nigga Po? Murder cases, downin' faces, Manhat' low Leavin' pieces of your brain on your car do' Lookin' gully in that Bent or that R-O L-L, see you niggaz in hell Soon as they set my bail, I make another sale Shit, I set my mind at an early age I was either gon' be paid or an early grave What the fuck? I got to have - Blocks to smash, lots of cash, drops and ass This is the truth, I probably die in my coupe But I bet you only bitches dont come get me and shoot [Chorus] (Mashonda) For all of y'all keepin' y'all in health Just to see you wild and enjoy yourself Cause it's cool when you fuckin' with a nigga like me Cool when you ridin' with a nigga like me To all my Marla Mable bitches just (shine) To all my niggaz keep it gully just (shine) To all the ghettos in America (shine) I'ma keep it gangsta till I die nigga (shine) I got my mind on this shipment, shipment on my mind Bout to meet these Dominican niggaz at 9 Rhyme, rap - the fuck is that? Only thing I wrap is yea that nigga, died today Y'all got me confused, I ain't tryin' to fill nobody's shoes I'm just lookin' for connects nigga, doin' what I do Back against the wall, against all odds Tune in to my life nigga, this shit is sicker than Nas Fightin' against them crackers, plus them killers getting at us Nowhere to run, so I grab my gun And start blazin', this shit got a nigga aging I'ma die a gangsta nigga, ain't no changin' A G faithfully, mama pray for me Yo nigga, go to school, stay away from me Got horse for you hustlers, bullets for you cowards And dick for you bitches, up in the Trump Tower [Chorus] (Mashonda) For all of y'all keepin' y'all in health Just to see you wild and enjoy yourself Cause it's cool when you fuckin' with a nigga like me Cool when you ridin' with a nigga like me To all my Marla Mable bitches just (shine) To all my niggaz keep it gully just (shine) To all the ghettos in America (shine) I'ma keep it gangsta till I die nigga (shine) |
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4:55 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
Pshhhh pshhhh Uhh [Verse 1] Ohh you rhyme witta slug and sum shots in his face He rhyme witta slug tryna sound like ma$e Listened to his tape, this lil' nigga used to sound like cake Maybe I'm juss killin, maybe he juss snitchin See a whole lot different when my sales ecliped What I see is straight bug, straight thoro Yea he be a killa, you kill wit bugs Rather look at the facts not the hype Like who got shot and who got knifed Who keep gettin struck, but don't neva strike Hope the beef go away but the feds indict I know yo card nigga, it's so clear You juss wanna sell record you don't want warfare You don't wanna ride you wanna get rich and hide These niggaz would've died if they shot me nine times Heyy it's juss for the best Take this mob shit seriouse, please respect it [Hook] And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart Cuz it's a blood comin outta his slum It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin' their life When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night Pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like It's my work by the surf when they turn off the lights [Verse 2] You ain't kill humma 'cause if you did Why you ain't get the pen after all of that hit You know I know, that if you live That shit that you spit, somebody got somebody Somebody got jumped, somebody got cut Yoo pac's a nigga, nobody got shot Nobody got flushed, you screamin what what Okay okay killa you'sa slut Think about it, enoughs enoughs I'm tryna show 'em whoes who And what is what I mean how can I respect you When them niggaz that left you ain't none of 'em blessed you ( not nobody ) You know where they are, where they perform Bust yo gun, stop makin songs Please no more ghetto quran You got money now it's time to bomb And that's juss fo the top Take this mob shit seriouse please respect it And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart(2x) Cuz it's a blood comin outta his slum [Verse 3] Death of perfection as I move witout motion Ain't no nigga in his game doin the shit that I'm quotin' Take a good look 'cause you'll neva a see enought of me Might be sum otha g's tryna trace n color me But I believe in the ways of old Slice these niggaz throat tryna tell on po That shouldn't excist, fuckin snitch Cut of his dick, put it on his lips You really think I was gon' let you slide Fuckin wit me you must be outcho mind You really think jail was gon' make thinks right nigga I will shoot you till you lose yo life I was mindin' my own, word got back, niggaz talkin bout po I was like ohh, god must be ready fo this nigga to go I ain't lyin this is the mob You got yo break come finish yo job Juss don't get the feds involved And I'mma reunite you wit yo moms Rip I guess this ain't juss music Cuz jail only made me much mo' ruthless (nigga) And the bitch nigga knew this That's why he tryed to sign me to g-unit Tell 'em how you made me offers ( I don't want that blood I'mma godfather) Jumped on every street corner Hurts yo heart that you don't get that honor The feds I paid fo that 10 years up top I sell 'em much shop Both of ya was blood Took the bus wit cuz Want gun fo gun I earned my lug You, you juss pathetic You neva bg, bespite yo average Take this mob shit serioue, you gon' respect it Tha's juss fo the record [Hook] And there go the shots stay rippin 'em apart Cuz it's a blood comin outta his slum It's murdah bloody homicide is what they cry When they losin' their life When muhfuckaz ax me how I sleep at night Pretty cold witta slug might heat me tight Pray to god while I'm gone, is what underneath feels like It's my work by the surf when they turn off the light |
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3:53 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
[Talking] Shit, sometimes man, a nigga be contemplating, Yo, living in fuckin' hell, nigga die, might be better [Verse 1] Walk through the shadow of death, my dick out pissing Rebel, laughing at the devil, homicidal threats Only if he knew, I wanna lie a coal, who the fuck wanna die old On this miserable earth, forever, put me in dirt It's better then living searchin treasure That only brings atrocity, and treachery, baby mothers stressing me Ain't no hope left in me Live everyday like it's my last Waitin' to meet my niggaz that passed At last I could meet Christ, ask him why the fuck you died on the cross Here these stupid motherfuckers, they still lost I'll ask Malcolm, see what it was like to fight for civil rights And nights he thought he would die, what did he do Did he grab his gun and a bust shot? Get on my knees praise Big and go fuck with Pac Find out did he really take 5 shots Ask him, who shot ya, was it the Feds? Couldn't of been Big Poppa, Brooklyn niggaz ain't braille Like that, ask Martin, why the fuck you ain't fight back [Chorus] If you had a choice, life or death What would you choose If you had a choice [Verse 2] Life ain't real its a dream we see tomorrow Reality, shit that's pain and sorrow Reality, disaster beat breaks, A little girl up in the projects gettin raped Reality's a nigga gettin rock shot 41 times And you askin why I run from one time I don't even get justice, Nigga sometimes, no times, oh I'm bout to lose my mind Reality's fucked up, like a hard workin mother, losing her job The battle of good and evil Like the devil, ain't losing for god, we on lucifer's squad Not knowing what the fuck it all mean I can't even, get a can of sardines Niggaz driving bentley's, burning money, I'm yearnin money Taking your shit, I'm earning money Yet you call me a thief I call me a broke nigga trying to eat On this earth suffering, why its like that Guess we the punished, blame Adam and Eve [Chorus] If you had a choice, life or death What would you choose If you had a choice [Verse 3] Hold your latex, from nuns I take sex, Play chess, with the devil from the sky Like rain shells drop immune to this cold world's sorrow Beyond shell shock, can't you tell pop, I need some help ox See them meadow officers watchin' myself rot Ice pick and cell blocks Hope the 12 stop on the highway to hell, switchin lanes Niggaz that know, what I mean to suffer and struggle in the gutter Slice birthday cakes with box cutters I did not stutter, you heard me this is utter, reality Observe me, on a journey puttin niggaz on gurneys till I meet my maker And I need my ama ? fuck Guiliani and Howard Seiffler [Chorus] If you had a choice, life or death What would you choose If you had a choice |
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3:43 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
Yeah Shyne Gangland Ha, Murder Inc [Ashanti] Oooooh Ya Ha Ya [Shyne] Alright, turn the beat up I see you ok I see you Ma In ya $1000 weave, masterpiece diamond face on ya sleeve, Pell Ma Nay?! Waist petite, Alright! Jimmy Choo shoes on ya feet, you right Slide in the side the spida I know you tired of guys that try to lie to slide aside ya Forget about that, lets go Forget about rap, I'm Po! I mean really I been gettin money since niggaz is rappin funny I'm fast as shit Cause you look like you got ya head right I just hope you can give head right Racin through eggshell headlights New York is mine Relax ya mind [Hook - Ashanti] Ha Ha Haaa Haa Can't nobody Do them things we do Can't nobody Touch me like you do Can't nobody Love me like you do Can't nobody Be like me and you This is me Who else you expected Ring down to the necklace Some hoes say I'm sexist Cause all I wanna do is stuff coke in they breasts Sit back with stacks, count money In the zone, up on the throne Like bitch c'mon I need a Prada chick to take this dick and take this brick and bake this shit Basic shit We can go shoppin and buy sum things up in harry Winston ma try sum rings I have you feelin like you was Princess Di So much cuts on your wrist Think you try suicide No lie you ain't heard extensive trips Expensive whips you ain't see nothing like this not in ya life if I ain't that nigga shit you lookin lucky [Hook] Ha Ha Haaa Haa Can't nobody Do them things we do Can't nobody Touch me like you do Can't nobody Love me like you do Can't nobody Be like me and you Who gon cop them hoes? Po Who gon rock them gloves? Po! Who gon pop them fo's Po Well I'm glad you know You don't need to ask who hotter You notta, me lava Shyne whammy gotta! See you niggaz in hell And thaz ? Feds wanna tell Just post bail Million cash Now you know that ain't rappin pimpin Please believe that its how you smoke like me its chess when I clap 'em up that ain't enough, back 'em up Niggaz talking real greasy on them rap records Like I wont strip ya naked and take ya necklace Give it to my soldiers like, 'Hold this' |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
Uh huh, Uh huh, Brooklyn Vietnam What you, Uh yeah, Uh, Come on Oh no, big Shyne Po Back up in the motherfuckin heezy for sheezy Gimme a tech that don't jam (bang bang) I'm tryin to jucks some more grams and work this whole thing My minds poisoned, corrupted and diseased 360 ki's Money make the world spin I make your chest smoke Have your mother singing hymms Particles of your brains up on your tims Kiss you before I twist you 170 miles Headed for disaster faster I put it down right Bustin off these rounds like Real niggaz is kings You ain't rockin' that crown right Harder more PK watches Topless, bitches in cars Only meals could heal my scars [Chorus] Niggaz wanna rhyme like shine like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna bust their guns like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna grind like crime like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna mash like me, dash like me Allegations got me pacin' Grand jury wouldn't understand my fury For fast cars and jewelry I could give a fuck if there's a heaven for a G This is heaven for me Go to trial never plea Do a bullet and come home to the throne I don't rhyme, I just talk about this life that's mine I've seen niggaz die, in front of my eyes Doin' my filth Niggaz is expiring like milk Different strokes for different folks Just give me, different coke in different boats Black Aristotle Onassis All I see is crack addicts and automatics You rap niggaz is faggots Y'all cannot be serious I'm in coupes with gucci interiors Airin' out your areas Tech nines, two in the flex and shit Lookin' at myself like Yo, I'm the best in this [Chorus] Niggaz wanna rhyme like shine like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna bust their guns like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna grind like crime like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna mash like me, dash like me Sometimes I really wonder What's it all about? How many bitches can I fuck until I get out How many ki's can I cut, guns can I bust Wigs can I push, spots can I juck Every single one, cuz I'm a fuckin' savage Til I'm cremated, most hated, self made Blood type G All these young hustlers wanna bubble like me They supposed to Sippin on syrup, until I perish Pickin' bitches off the run-way Look forward to, gun-play Go to sleep with one eye shut Wake up and do the same shit I ain't never gonna change bitch And that's the cycle I don't wanna be like Michael More like Darrell Porter Gettin' shipments at the border Yeah, it's a wrappity wrap [Chorus] Niggaz wanna rhyme like shine like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna bust their guns like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna grind like crime like me They supposed to Niggaz wanna mash like me, dash like me |
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4:19 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
[Shyne] Uh huh [Foxy Brown] Uh [Shyne] Lets get it clear (Uh huh) Brooklyn Vietnam (That's right) [Foxy Brown] Yo yo ... Live from the seven-one-eight y'all Murder City [Shyne] Lay down nigga (It's the Ill Na Na) Cut ya dick off put it in ya mouth y'all understand? (Let's go) [Shyne] Ride with me as I race through ya hood Give me a fifth that'll bang and a jury that'll hang Pants saggin' in that Bentley wagon Ayo that's my nigga Yacht if the mink is saggin' Since a youth I flipped, on some ruthless shit Had a thing for rings, bling, Coupes and shit Some' bout watchin' Montana come up outta Havana And rule this world made me wanna grab my hammer Fuckin' with the Cheddar Boys Some hustler flip girls instead of boys Keep filthy laweys, for when the FEDs annoy us We keep this shit gangsta nigga from verse to chorus And the Street Lords and Truly Yours Drive Modena Spiders and big exhaust Bleed for the streets love the war My nose bleeds for weeks I love the raw Puncture niggaz when I comfort niggaz Motor City to Brooklyn Veitnam Nigga it's on till my flesh is gone And even then I live on in gangsta form [Chorus] What you know about that? Macs and cash nigga how you love that? What you know about that? Doin' it up livin' it up, nigga what? What you know about that? The gully kid put it in your skully kid, bleed nigga what it is What you know about that? Yacht, Cheddar Boys, Streets Lords, truly yours [Foxy Brown] It's the "Godfather Buried Alive" Ayo Po it's the Ill Na Na stuntin' in 5.0 Went to Brooklyn with the Rugers out In Flatbush and I keeps the Kiki poppin' off when the goons is out Yall got a muthafuckin problem when my dude get out Dutty Ay bust a shot for Shyne get the Guiness Stout Thats my word I got the Berken pulled over up on Parkside & Nostrond In the butter scotch Rover I'm ah bad gal style like I'm 'posta Got his comrades in Clinton bustin' nuts on my poster Phone check! Muthafucka hit the yard up Comm stop Mid-State Brooklyn niggaz squad up I'm hot steppin in the pink staline seven I'ma stunt till BIG tell me there's a ghetto up in heaven See through niggaz take they time like a man We don't snitch we don't sing on the stand but y'all don't hear me though.. [Chorus] What you know about that? Macs and cash nigga how you love that? What you know about that? Doin' it up livin' it up, nigga what? What you know about that? The gully kid put it in your skully kid, bleed nigga what it is What you know about that? Yacht, Cheddar Boys, Streets Lords, truly yours [Shyne] Money, cars, guns, hoes Sniff some blow and I'm good to go Eagle inflated Federal Bureau Investigated Most hated nigga read the affidavit Uh racing loud pipes big fucking exhausts burning the turnpike My game so tight I arouse dikes You punk rappers should paying me publishing the way you write And be sampling my life, every line in your rhyme Sound like you wanna be Shyne, and I don't blame ya Who wouldn't? Young nigga catching charges Continental Ts parked in garages Menages, odds is I'm the best spittin' it, nigga I'm gettin' it I admit it I was watching New Jack City And fucking with ?Goodfellas? Uncle Paul got me dying to ball Every thing I talk about I live it All you hear these rappers rap about I really did it I was designed to hold nines, and grind Step out of line put you in that white line Rearrange ya brain ain't nothin change You know the game jet planes and cocaine And what I say might be held against me I don't wanna talk, I'm the hottest nigga in New York [Chorus] What you know about that? Macs and cash nigga how you love that? What you know about that? Doin' it up livin' it up, nigga what? What you know about that? The gully kid put it in your skully kid, bleed nigga what it is What you know about that? Yacht, Cheddar Boys, Streets Lords, truly yours |
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4:15 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
[Verse 1] Uh uh, Uh, Uh Ayo, mac 10s and fake friends Lawyers little game homicide 25 with the fucking nigga face 'em But I'm still trill, still holdin Rollin gully until I'm froze, close in a box with a bomb in fluid Veins pumpin ice First some 15 keep that king pumping right Hard white, cold cash Hold fast, fold fast, through the city so gas No ass Straight head bitch, I'm one a from the feds Fuck comma raps, same G and canna All I got in this world is my fifth dick and nana Gangsta mannerism lyrical vandalism Niggaz be burnin up their gums until the fucking hammers hit 'em Who need help? Well until then I'ma take that mac off the shelf and hold the fucking street hostage Blowing smoke out my nostril Every breath is a step to a non-time in death [Hook 2X] I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest Cause this time is running out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up [Verse 2] You know me; I don't need no introduction in this Big gun, big dick, half of a meal on the wrist Sittin in my continental thinkin' about potential connects I live in all, just pencil the best Parts of the live of a quintessential hustler When I pull a slide back Motherfuckers be hoppin' their faces don't get left open You understand? Shirt soaking, brain smoking left in the ocean floatin' Shyne Po, dough, stack, y'all Rap niggaz is trash I don't give a fuck how much records you sold Tryin' to be me Keep it real dog, you'll die to be me You wanna know how it feel, don't you? To have a murder charge, took gun to the American Music Awards And live life against stars Doing 170 screaming "FUCK THE WORLD" (gangsta get outta the car) [Hook 2X] I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest Cause this time is running out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up [Verse 3] Where the fuck them niggaz at? We gonna handle this beef Turn your mic off bitch; see me in the street Fuck peace 'til I'm rest in the dried up flesh is finish I don't know how to tell until I'm in the morgue Dysfunctional, highly uncomfortable paranoid Without the extra clip (bitch), try me I'll puncture you Had niggaz waking up with wings in their backs, halos in their head like "Ayo I'm dead" Can a knight fucking princess Diana type Vane wives, vane light, pen I write cold, hand of ice They said too much for the motor mind to comprehend Walk wit me, pause take a breath Things ain't just the same for gangstas Sleeping in diamond, it's fucking up the game for gangstas While charges tryin to ring a gangsta Through it all I maintain my gangsta [Hook until fade] I wanna know where to go Need a place in my mind I can rest Cause this time is running out for my flesh Dried up, sittin' in a chair fried up |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
Heeeyyy!!
Yeah! Po! For all my niggas locked under the cell (this gangsta mash) All my niggas (turn this shit up) in Heaven While niggas was alive it was Hell, gotta be Heaven after that Check it <i>[Verse 1]</i> P-O, nuthin more to it I'm gully, what I really been through it From the stoop to the coupe and everything in between Vicariously through me niggas live out they dreams All the ones in the sky are up in the Bing I do it for them when I'm cracking them rims See me doing donuts over pot holes Bustin' off Roscoes like fuck it I'll buy a new set tomorrow I'm the horror the system built Suck liquor out my moms tits instead of milk I'm society's filth, shit I feel no guilt Welfare couldn't feed Po, what the fuck I need more (mo' mo' mo') Catch me posted up in one pivot By the looks of my arm and palm its been a blizzard Bitches wanna know who that nigga Po? When you think of me just think of snow All white hard white masterpiece all white it's alright I could take you out the Nikes and put you in some things Have you lookin' like somethin', diamond buttons It's the predicate felon, million dollar rhetoric Tellin' spittin' thesis from my Corniches Leaving niggas speechless, can't talk with a gun in your throat Yeah I'm loke, been around to much dope All my life brain ain't never been right Don't hear shit I ear shit Niggas lose sight, it's bigger than mic's Come fuck with the kid OG's look at me like that's how I live Niggas look from the sky like yeah I still live Resurrected through the necklace or the gold-coated SIG Gangsta's never die as long as I'm alive And when I go its gon' be another Po <i>[Chorus]</i> For all my niggas who ain't here with me, you still here with me Everything that I do When you see that watch blue its for you When you see that coupe with no roof its for you For all my niggas who ain't here with me, you still here with me Everything that I do Kid that I fried around the way was for you This connect that I tied the other day was for you <i>[Verse 2]</i> Yellow tapes, yellow bottles and yellow rocks Its the number one gunner pop-pa-pop-pop! Hard top, windows black, that's the way I gangsta mash Coming through bumping Thriller like I'm really a killer Who you know fuckin' with me? Them niggas is bitter Know I hit you when it's burning and numb Who you? Screw you just for burning your gums Get it right - I'm him, y'all just rhymin Noise over beats y'all niggas hymen Ma this shit is real, I'm buying jet fuel And the cuts on my shit is Princess Blue You fuck with the kid, you get Princess too (fa' sho') What? Your boyfriend a rapper? This between me and you And that's just how my niggas would want it America's most-wanted, station name: P-O Niggas know <i>[Chorus]</i> For all my niggas who ain't here with me, you still here with me Everything that I do When you see that watch blue its for you When you see that coupe with no roof its for you For all my niggas who ain't here with me, you still here with me Everything that I do Kid that I fried around the way was for you Connect that I tied the other day was for you All my niggas who ain't here with me, you still here with me Everything that I do Bitch I hit with the long dick was for you Bong! Bong! 8 times its for you All my niggas who ain't here with me, you still here with me Walk with me, talk with me Let that sawed off shit bark off with me What's up with my niggas? I'm with my niggas Pus, Pee, windy facilities, Sauce, Neil, uh... |
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4:38 |
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from Shyne - Godfather Buried Alive [live] (2004)
I spit and reload things Since livin was gold rings Fuck a piece of the pie nigga Gimme the whole thing I done seen death, seen less, seen more Feed morphines to more fiends than you've ever seen It's pain I deliver reflection Every word like a mirror Bigger picture I try to keep shit in perspective Dumbs out, guns out til my time runs out Capitalistic driving force got no remorse But I feel shit catching up Time wrappin' up Shyne had enough, still I can't have enough Something bout the engine roarin' Soarin', wind in my face Top down, take me to another place [Chorus] Diamonds and Mac-10's Tell a friend Yellow bottles, models, hollows Til my very end Catchin up to God quicker High off this liquor Niggaz come to get yours betta Know theyre comin with ya [Repeat] The day I stuck my head out my mother's womb I was doomed Repeatin' the lords prayers sittin' in this court room I'm cursed We havin dreams of leavin here up in a hearse I wonder when I close my eyes will it hurt? I'm suicidal Can't take this pressure or this pain Too much for these young eyes Real G's don't die, that's a lie Cuz I'm dyin inside, cryin' inside Look at me sweatin', palms shakin, hidin' inside Drive bys and quarter ki's This ain't what it oughta be Almost caught a ki Theyre tellin me that theres more to see God listen, it was him or me Sorry for the choices I chose The bricks that I sold The voices I rolled The concrete roads Accept me as I come into your presence [Chorus x2] Diamonds and Mac-10's Tell a friend Yellow bottles, models, hollows Til my very end Catchin up to God quicker High off this liquor Niggaz come to get yours betta Know theyre comin with ya What's it all about? Sittin in this jail house Eleven counts, but only one count Thats the color of my skin Black robes, white justice Clarence Thomas is a motherfuckin puppet Murder anyone over 21 Through my travels I've seen barrels and gavels Diamonds and Castles Caught up in this solution called life When you bitch niggaz is shootin', aim right Say goodnight to the bad guy Last time you're gonna see a bad guy like me I'm the last of the dying breed Hope these words burn your brain Find a place in your heart Close my eyes and pray in the dark Ask God what's the meaning? Leavin niggaz screaming Bullet holes bleeding, I see demons [Chorus x3] Diamonds and Mac-10's Tell a friend Yellow bottles, models, hollows Til my very end Catchin up to God quicker High off this liquor Niggaz come to get yours betta Know theyre comin with ya Diamonds and Mac-10's Di-di-di-diamonds and Mac-10's Di-di-di-diamonds and Mac-10's Di-di-di-diamonds and Mac-10's Tell a friend |
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from Puff Daddy - Forever (1999)
[Puffy]
I'll never stop I don't give a fuck If it's me against a million billion of Ya'll mother fuckers I will never stop I bust six out the roof of my Bentley Coup Head shots so mother fuckers can't regroup, Can't recoup I'll be damned if you get more points than me Sell more joints than me Steal your faith, take a puff, inhale my name Smoke on it, shit, choke on it Bitch nigga, I'mma make a hit nigga Hot mother fucker down to the skit nigga Game over playa, and nigga ya scored low Hit me later young, and I'm at the award show Bank account ten digits and it's all "O's" I floss the most shit, fuck the most hoes Come on, you can even ask Don Juan It's official now, they all rock Sean John Might have to change my name to strong arm You came to get money man? That shit been long gone, come on [Shyne] Have much to do with nigga since Nicolas Bond Poppin' and choppin' until the day that I'm gone Shyne poor, cuz your dream come from one bottle Prominent premier, premium bravo Watch him explain ain't nothin' But blood thug crime though Shots in the spinal, from my rivals Cross the t's and dot the i's and Pay the judge, drop the top we'll mess around Shit, it's the kid rapper's feelin' You cowards don't know? I'd rather be racketeerin' somewhere Bustin' shots in the atmosphere and Not caring, fuckin' the proscecutor at my hearin' Money laundering, honies wondering Who me? I reply casually Come what God would be if He was a straight G Tonight too tight out of a big ditch we ride [Redman] Yo yo yo, it's your hide Grab the rope and yell rawhide Front line is pussy, call off sides I'm focus but my hand is cross-eyed I left my gun home, here borrow mine Pop the nine like a judge "All rise" This gun'll knock plants off tall guys We value-packs, y'all small fries (Yo, I'm from the projects) Yo, but on the floor tied Don't matter, we'll take up all size Truly yours doc, then PPP hide, my name is Since five, I talk jive In church dressed in cordoroy ties Now I'm grown up and been married four times Besides, I'm just a sight for soar eyes Brick city, known pop the door wide Stolen Bonneville in New York High [G-Dep] Reversin' the plot Last come, first one to rot, first in the glot If I miss, circlin' the block, servin' the pot And I be the person to watch If your girl missin' the rock, purse and a watch Hot as it gets, from Hell came outta you debts Buy the cassette, rewind it to death Alota y'all sweat it, you try to forget How I rock shit from N.Y. to Tibet You got it to bet? That's just how you got into debt You lost when you nodded your neck Through the vest, Through the chest that you tried to protect Take the voice that you try to project, check Darin' you to kid, cat shootin' sperm in you wiz I'm why you smell herb in the crib Man I'm out for doubtful, shit I spit a mouthful Indo out-do, intro to outro [Sauce Money] I'm the hottest thing spittin' so go warn |
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| from Puff Daddy - Satisfy You [single] (1999) | |||||
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| from Kinfolk - Can I Live [digital single] (2012) | |||||
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| from Kinfolk - Can I Live / G-Mix [digital single, remix] (2012) | |||||
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