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| from Exit Wounds (엑시트 운즈) [ost] (2001) | |||||
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from Rush Hour 2 (러시 아워 2) by Lalo Schifrin [ost] (2001)
Uhh, yeah! What's crackin y'all? Dub C Still chasin this cheese, puttin it down Whassup Nate? Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (dem dolla dolla dollars) Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need (we rider rider riders) Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's (yeah, yeah) Ain't afraid to bust back, paper's all I need Check it out What they hittin fo'? Look I'm sick of all this chattin Bullshit rappin, let's really get it a-crackin Y'all niggaz ain't ready fo' a nigga that's gettin paper Foe scraper, dice shaker, the white, Chuck Taylors Dark fat laces and fetti with big-ass faces Blue gators (?), X.O. by the cases The rider ringleader with weed and my zag smashin Ya bang ambassador, givin it up back at'cha blastin ya Off brand assassin-er, jackin for figures c'mon Totalled up a rock, with a repetitive offender The purple tinter, the big spender The realest nigga you know, smellin like doe doe and Pruno Sick with the flow, swangin low-lows and Harleys Gather the guests at my mansions and throw my parole parties Ex criminal turned corporate; elevated my game to worldwide nation Tippin on paper trippin nia Big beans or big wings or big screens Befo' y'all stands a ghetto nigga with big dreams I throw the dice, close my eyes and rich roll 'em Take my handkerchief and fold 'em, y'all know the slogan Riders don't worry multiply shift gears Toss fingers in the sky, fuck hoes and stay high The bigger the lick the bigger the hit to cash it all So whether they ready or not I'm snatchin it all Wood grains and chrome frames the mode is hang A trick that won't sang, transported dem thangs Fuck the pain, give me a label ain't shit funny Look I'm tryin to touch that Rush and Lyor Cohen's money Get the Neville's money and blow doja with my stash on rich And get my dick licked by the baddest bitch ya, real boy major with tough shit they ain't got like three-way pagers, nigga I'm paper trippin Paper is all.. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) .. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) .. (dolla dolla dolla dolla dollars) .. I need Testin testin, broadcastin live All day unleaded'll go fo' forty-nine No garbage no cut, just the bomb pow-wow Gots to get my hands on that new body style Floss all you nigga, toss liquor up A rugged nigga smokin on a cigarette butt Mashin and I ain't lettin the pedal up Cause all these songs on my radio ain't ghetto enough Shutted 'em up with the tank in the cut, I'm sweated to bust Dub C'zy, fo'ever, gettin 'em up Hands down I'm the motherfuckin man Who else could take a gang hop and turn it to a national dance Givin the fans a glance of a rider saggin his pants with my rag on my cane standin in a penguin stance, nigga Worldwidin, ridin, collidin Fool it's sincerely yours the Ghetto Heisman, paper trippin Dub C, ghetto extrordinaire, hood fabulous Comin through with fingers in the air Y'all know what time it is Nigga I ain't rich yet, I'm still stackin G's Dem dolla dolla dollars |
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003)
[Ice Cube - talking]
Consider this an invitation, to my gangsta nation [Nate Dogg] Na na na na na na na na (Westside) Na na na na na na na na (ohh ohh) Na na na na na na na na (what what) Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na (yeah yeah) Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na [Chorus] This day right here is really rough These girls out here about the bucks These fools out here afraid to bust I have no fear, afraid of what And in five beers I'm comin' up Fools talk real loud but don't run up When we come through they'd run it up We still right here don't fresh your luck [W.C.] Homey I'm tired of the cowards parkin like this walkin like this From the concrete when they chalkin' like this And there he goes and a trick pose and a throw back Holdin' a gack ain't gonna bust and know that It's a dub ass C thang dub C brain And we don't kick it but bust it and kaki jeans strains I'm done movin I'm clearin the crowd It's the who bangin bandana cri-mi-ni-mi-nal, the ori-gi-nal [Mack 10] Evacuate the building look here come a plane No, it's the big bad Westside Connect Gang And bump what you plain homey this who bang With enough game to drive a swear broad insane And we number one gunners no we ain't stunners It's real with us partna, dealers and drug runners And Mack need a? in a H2 Hummer Lookin hotter than the South Central L.A. summer, let's go [Chorus] This day right here is really rough These girls out here about the bucks These fools out here afraid to bust I have no fear, afraid of what And in five beers I'm comin' up Fools talk real loud but don't run up When we come through they'd run it up We still right here don't fresh your luck [Ice Cube] What the hell is Ice Cube talkin about That's how you get these here parked in you mouth Westside ride trick, the same old spit I don't conversate with chicks I ain't goin hit I don't holla at these pros that sing like Ashante Body like Beyonce, face like Andre (uhhh) You kinda but I'm with so my Andre got to be bomb rate [W.C.] Have you seen us, naw Haters can't see us Connect Gang we the G'est nigga Countless calls and countless charges Street niggas makin blunts out of Cuban cigars Big by the linnas sip notic by the liters With a flock of pros on us cause the cronic is And to my G's incarcerated and on probation I'ma stay bagin for the whole G Nation nigga [Chorus] Mack 10] It's a Gangsta Nation if you in you a G And the whole world influence by the b in the sea Now tell the truth rappers you don't bow like me Cause I'm really from the gang ya'll is industry And while I'm servin up and comin young hustlas and gluckas Bangin for the hood causin havic and ruckus You fools actin label kissin up like suckas And your trick solder down when you pee lil bustas [Ice Cube] One thing I do know I ain't the uno Big puno rap sumo on pruno (you know) I'd like to thank the congregation In my affiliation to the Gangsta Nation I'm hard on them, yeah I'm ruthless You like a stress sac, boy you useless You know the side trick, better get up on it Cause it must be a single with Nate Dogg singin on it [Mack 10] Look check this out man We got a Gangsta Nation goin down over here So ya'll might as well bow down And join this Westside thang man Cause once you get with this Partna you as G as can be Believe that homeboy It's like that Fred Red, what I'd tell you homey It ain't a hit till Nate Dogg spit [Nate Dogg + (Ice Cube)] This day right here is really rough These girls out here about the bucks These fools out here afraid to bust I have no fear, afraid of what And in five beers I'm comin' up Fools talk real loud but don't run up When we come through they'd run it up We still right here don't fresh your luck Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na (Consider this an invitation, to my gangsta nation) Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na Na na na na na na na na |
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||
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| from Westside Connection - Terrorist Threats (2003) | |||||





