playtunes.net - LaLa Means I Love You

verse 1: charlie brown

bring one mc, two mc, three mc.
send any mc’s. it doesn’t matter to me.
sterp up like a thief in the night.
no wins and i begin. my third eye is bright.
here to shine. light skies the limit on d.l.
who fell, yeah time will tell.
the leaders of the new.
the #1 crew blunts and brew for the hip-hop school.
girls got my picture posters, pin-ups.
wanna skin up (big up, big up).
it’s a race against the clock, and i can’t stop countdown,
hear the sound see boogie brown..
(uptown saturday night) 125 we arrive so live from new york,
word life. you know i can kick it.
at my show on the down low, you’re sellin’ wolf-tickets.
ha ha, the trigger i’m tryin’ to tell ya.
now my nigga, i’m getting larger and bigger the factor
here to cockalak! a crack that back like a chiropractor
just the collective my perspective to be
effective is the main objective.
(warriors come out and…) props me say me nots.
any violations won’t be tolerated.
let’s not debate it if you hate it, ’cause i made it.
the loot, the boob tube, all that shit included,
in a matter of seconds you will be excluded.
checka check it out.
east coast stomp in action for rich or for poor.
we created the fashion left (foot),
right (foot), stomp (stomp).
leaders of the new school do the east coast stomp.

well it’s a quarter
quarter. quarter. quarter.
quarter to cutthroat.
a quarter. quarter. quarter. quarter.
quarter to cutthroat.

verse 2: dinco d.

it’s the power of importance making people act as is compare fair.
from here to there, fair seems a little quiz
so question what i conquer as kruger kills a kid
my friends got caught with luger so now he does the bid
bring ‘em in, bring em in
see the clock on the wall with one eye open.
scarface to brawl to panic seized quarter cut.
squeezed to ten gave quarter back five with a minute to win,
then plenty a many men
with any if any trend came rename fame shame
to backspin speakin’ spic spans off spills of crack bins
so get your action. right locating jaws draw.
bite mars is mourned warned rating.
torn wound a sprite bright light the mics.
mix vega a quarter woters.
what you get when you’re broke, becomes bodega bothering, sobering
ting-a-ling-a-ling (ding).
right on to milo on the dot.

verse 3: milo

you want strength, what strength.
what you really want strength.
milo in the dance is on chee.
lippie l.o.n.s. lenght. now ’nuff respect to the sekel set.
seeking section for recovery.
d me a beg uni.
don’t bother me. "why, ooh”.
because i and i am the one they call
de pum pum docter no bother.
get vex because i og check your daughter.
ideal punnie make the i feel better.
me naw. want to put me wood in the wall of fire.
one step, two step. make you reach little high.
you askin’ why oh why you have to make it bad so why oh.
inna me carkey suit and thing. love is all i bring inna the party.
party respect to yardie it’s a rude, boy.
type inna everybody. white, black, to chinie pass the heini, onset offset.
no prisoners at war a quarter to cutthroat is the new school law.
you better be in by sundown.
sending death threats from miles around.
busta bust down with the surround sound.
tic tac tic. ready to pickins hip-hop easy listning.
time to take order ’cause it’s a quarter to cut.
what, what you can’t front.

chorus

verse 4: busta rhymes

no more lucky charms for the malpractice tactics.
fiasco, fiskell, siskel and ebert.
criticism, devilish exorcism.
i strive to destroy and kill all inconsiderate organisms.
time will only last for the ones who bust that ass.
all gridlock thinking. you better think fast, quick!
because i’m riffling down the stifling,
trifling sound who’s killing who, times killing you.
stupid. you need to sweat yourself. don’t sweat nobody else.
i got my own perspiration check the conversation.
minutes away, your ass is through dealing.
ha, smack yourself and find exactly your feeling.
it’s detrimental and essensial that i chemistry thoroughly
in my dimensional dungeon residential vicinity.
wack germs. you’re like a cureless growing disease.
go and suck the clitoris of a trichamonis. discharge cheese.
ha, ease. ha, substract counteract enemies, ha.
carrying on while i be ripping and shredding
getter fierce gotta pierce the wack to stop the germs spreading.
before you striked, you caught a stroke.
now you’re half-dead nigga, ‘cause it’s a quarter to cutthroat

quarter to cutthroat !!!!!!!!
quarter to cutthroat !!!!!!!!
quarter to cutthroat !!!!!!!!
quarter to cutthroat !!!!!!!!
quarter to cutthroat !!!!!!!! (fading)

[skit]

[busta rhymes]
yo, it all began like, bust it
my nigga city bout to bounce on a trip
we met some niggas with alot of things they want em to flip
i told my nigga get the dough and keep the blau on your hip
travel safe, you know that i’ma hold it down on the strip
good lookin, word to mother son i give you my wit
but when i get back, i’ma bounce straight to your crib
on the strength, son slid until you to the greyhound
wit a burner in the knapsack, headed straight outta town
now, three days pass i’m still on the strip
doin hand to hand with twelve collapsible, stashable clips
with little magnets on the side of the clips we planted like a project
when police come we stick the clips in any metal object
throwin a nigga on the walls and try to search me down
i laugh knowin that my stash’ll never be found
well anyway, on the third day, son came straight to the strip
wit a new floss and shiny shoes on the whip
my nigga hit me with the latest, greatest
he told me get inside the whip so i can know just what the up to date is
he said he fuckin wit some guyanese niggas how ill them niggas is
what kind of dough they get, and how they handle they biz
how they connect with jamaician niggas who speak american
and how they chains swung a medallion iced out pelicans
and how they stay wit four pounders
and speak american to try to blend in
like they aint obvious out of towners
okay, i’ve never heard of workers gettin five g’s pay
for trips that last for only 2-3 day
how these guyanese niggas be eatin pasta but they love zucchini
rockin valor tennis suits by sergio tecchini
them type of cats that call you because you can’t call ‘em
rockin baseball fitters with wild animal skins on ‘em
how they rock silks and tailor made pants
and get a matching bally shoe for the silk to step in the dance
washrags hangin from every one of our back pockets
>from every fine wine to champagne them niggas’ll straight cop it
and set up shops in them neighborhoods that was residential
rock laced whips while the workers’ll floss the latest rentals
how they fuck with arrogant bitches who act pussy
and love to hustle wit niggas and stash coke up in they pussy
after all of that i wanted ones
the way my nigga was talkin so next trip i went to bounce with son
so now we out of town with guyanese cats
up in they gates bubbling packages and layin wit gats
shit was slow until the main fiend was offed
just like a thief in the night
and spread the word that we was back with the white

[intermission]
"ayo why don’t you tell that crackhead to close the fuckin door
and shut the fuck up"
"yeah man and clean the motherfucking spot up, smell like…"
"break the fuckin breakdown in the working city… yo go get the plates
and the gym star"
"yo light that up, lemme hit that, gimme a light, yeah man cut that"
"fuck this shit"

[busta rhymes]
yeah, see how we blowin pa
the lookout niggas holdin fort like they was watchtowers
buggin on how we went through, a half a brick every couple of hours
so on and so on, shit is good and we eatin
first nigga to short a package will catch the most brutal beatin
the whole town, see we now own it
carryin on and blemishing all in the hearts of the best moments
we stackin cheddar now and shit is all clear
and we was growin as workin niggas wit aspiring ideas
we love to floss and the feeling of pushing chrome shit
but in the grand scheme these niggas’ll love to have they own shit
now these niggas was really ready to swell up
we decided to separate from them niggas and make our shit develop
off in to the wilderness of the wicked husid
we set up shops and watched the games begin
so now we ballin like a motherfucker, money was sick
gas on the cheddar and these bitches ridin the dick
fuckin everything from the local mcdonald’s bitches with the biggest ass
to attorney bitches that’ll beat a charge fast
we used to takin niggas’ custies and leave they set up on tilt
and watch ‘em angrily scheme on the shit that we built
aint it funny how shit transpire in fact
not too long after our ride we took the winner’s stash, house was at
some niggas tried to run a jook with things in they palm
not a problem so immediately reach for the john
right away the gun bust! straight lifted a nigga
how we moved his organs with kickback, shifted a nigga
wild shots fire, everybody scatter like rats
leavin nothing but gunpowder and a trail of smoke in these gats
now we got this faggot nigga blood on our hands
but fuck it, determined to fulfill the best of these plans
shit was hot but we was nowhere near ready to fall
my son said he shot, but he wasn’t bleeding at all
word, i started buggin when my nigga said he feel cold
then i looked up on the right side of his shirt and found a little hole
so as we continue to radically blaze the fifth
flame the iron, not giving a fuck, y’all niggas wanna rip?
well we deaded three out of the four niggas who tried to jook
one nigga slid and think he got off the hook
now let me find out one out of them three niggas we bodied
was one of them guyanese niggas who buy drinks up for the party
he was the nigga to flood the table with champagnes
stupid motherfucker tried to front, we had to leak his brain
suddenly my nigga fell to the floor
and said his legs feel like them shits aint got no feelins no more
more the actin up the more the shit i felt in my gut
the shit was all over as soon as the director said cut!

that’s a wrap, good actin motherfuckers, good actin
that’s the shit i’m talkin about
y’all ready to watch the playback?
fuck around, that shit’ll be a box office smash motherfuckers
[applause]
the end

[busta rhymes]
uhhhh!! you don’t know what we doin right here!

intro/chorus one: repeat 2x

one two three we gon’ turn it out
and make you rock to the beat and then scream and shout
we gonna hit you with the shit we got here
we gonna blow your miiiinnnd (blow your miiiinnnd)
keep it movin like this, keep it movin like that
if i die, i’ma only come back
yo, i’m saying if you think that you can step to me wrong
don’t even waste your tiiiimmme (waste your tiiiimmme)

chorus two:

you niggaz talk shit then abandon ship
niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship
niggaz talk shit, then they abandon ship
niggaz talk shit then they abandon ship

verse one: rampage the last boy scout, busta rhymes

i 8off like the assassin, now i’m blastin i’m takin over
stick you for your blue range rover
i told ya, rampage a real live soldier
been in the game, sinc the age of thirteen
a microphone fiend, so i’m goin to see my p.o.
it’s august the 1st, so i guess i’m a leo
my p.o., look like vanessa del rio
she pulled my rap sheet, just like, neo geo

hahahaaa! i always roam through the forest
just like a brontosaurus, born in the month of may
so my sign is taurus, kick you in your face
like my fuckin name was chuck norris, make you sing my chorus
rock to the beat and then, turn into a walrus
you remain nameless, my victory remains flawless
acting like you wild, but i know you really harmless
while your time is coming, i make the fat shit regardless

many niggaz wanna know when the ramp return
yo i’m gettin phone calls from that nigga howard stern
he wants to know about my flip mode click
the way we get down and bust niggaz shit
lp after lp, we make g’s
i run up in your ganks den take you for your keys
i’m not lying or joking, you get broken
dead in flatbush, back to roanoake and…

people always askin me, how your shit be sellin
for makin shit guaranteed to bust your fuckin melon
police throwed me up on charges like i was a felon
there was no tellin, when i was strikin had you swellin
cruisin in my lands, watch the police how they be gellin
lock you up for days and got a nigga ass smellin
yo fuck that! you best believe there ain’t no time for dwellin
if you ain’t makin noise you need to kill the fuckin yellin

chorus one
chorus two

verse two: rampage, busta

yo, yo, yo i run up in your set like a new york city…
i can’t slip, i beat you down with my vice grip
your lost, that means you way off course
no remorse, i’m gettin five in the source

i be saddleback biting motherfuckers like a horse
turn and toss, niggaz all up in my applesauce
watch me reinforce, my shit feel good like intercourse
ever since i was a shorty rockin hugo boss

aiyyo bust it bust (why) you just made my day
if you didn’t put me on i’d be locked like o.j.
now i’m writin rhymes hittin shorties everyday
in the full runnin drinkin ice tanqueray
i don’t eat pork i take a fish fellet
now i’m knockin out niggaz from .. to .. touche!
now i’m goin back around the way
i’m rippin shit, like my name was marvin gaye

yo, now i’m back with more bionic like my name was colt seavers
got you niggaz open like a bunch of wide receivers
time is on the meter, go clean your act up in the cleaners
chickenhead, give me some of your chicken fajitas
yo i beg your pardon, i write my rhymes way past the margins
squeeze the charmin, peace to one million men marchin
when you talk shit you really don’t know what you startin
now your shit is done like a fuckin empty milk carton

it’s on for the nine-six, mad shows at the ritz
now we got you open like fixx
stickin to your stomach like quaker oat grits
fisherman hat with my brand new kicks
on the low, i still rock my girbauds
see the show, i got my nickel plated fo’-fo’
all my rough niggaz open the do’
cause boy scout brings the ruckus and i’m still hardco’

yo, when i walk streets you know my blade’s a little sharper
fuck peter parker, i cross you like a magic marker
everytime i hit i always hit a little harder
blazing to the point where niggaz look a little darker
catching suntans from my music, fans understand
making fat shit, i always love to lend a helping hand
organized rhyme unit like the poison clan
while your ride is busted, i be your luxury sedan
number one nigga in the chain of command
breakin fool in school like my nigga geechie dan
aiyyyyyo, i see intruders on my scan
singin at your funeral like bobby bluebland

chorus one

[baby sham]
aiyyo, balls your pencils
as hollow tips get in you
bots cutting to slice your face you
rhymes is natural
hold two lives and four wives
up in the crack capsule
flipmode cruddy styles has been past you
rush pass
you couldn’t touch cash
if it was under your nose
like a mustache
nigga
what ass
show your whole cheek
slugs with no heat
diamonds that don’t break
you thugs is so sweet

[rampage]
i float so much i get seasick
flipmode is the squad who i beez with
who i get plucks with
and push german v’s with
rampage i’m psychic i can see shit
to the next millenium
you not gon be shit
scratch your name off the list
cut your wrist
you know the issue
i’m official
when you die none of your niggas is really gon miss you

chorus:
flipmode squad
here to drop bombs
against all odds
still remain gods
grip your arm
we always come hard
the world is ours
call a national guard

[rah digga]
here we go
any bitch that rhyme wanna flex she ass
i’m stomping all things like i’m plexi-glass
niggas make way like when they hear sirens
treat you like park and too close to fire hydrants
all up in the board
kicking back long islands
get your wig split first solid defiance
rah earth and sun in this imperial alliance
you do the science

[spliff star]
i’m getting money shitting, turn intruders into vixens
fall off beeper uh-uh niggas stay getting
dirty nigga for life
that’s how spliff’s living
throwing niggas in caskets
tired of a yellow ribbons
i buck my duck if you touch my one
rather jamaican than belly boy make you people for fun
fat man’s son, street educated
the colonel of ghetto jurors, still thug related

chorus

[lord have mercy]
we enemies of three strike felony laws
gorilla dicking k-y jelly for whores
lapdances trap grands without laws
my baby moms, three eighty for your arms
that bust with loud force
the ghetto with us
that bang makaveli in trucks
that whatever the fuck to give a cheddar in chunks
who gazey chase
fake thugs with lazy aid
track marks
rap stars
and a rain of aids

[busta rhymes]
yo, what you want from us
now visualize more of us
stay toting under my given flavor from nauticas
destroy every arch rival or any challenger
make you remember this day
nigga mark it on your calendar
i’m showing you something
you ain’t saying nothing
my niggas make noise
like a bunch of volcanoes erupting
none of y’all niggas really wanna war
the type of nigga to crash my plane in your building
in the name of the law

chorus

turn it up (ha ha ha)
flimode (ha ha ha)
busta rhymes (ha ha ha)
another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
another banging niggas (ha ha ha)
another banging niggas (ha ha ha)

chorus:

all night
to my east niggas west coast and dirty south,
we make ya wave your hands up high
light l’s and drink some liquor it make ya wild out
all night
to my niggas and my bitches get money
if ya running with me
wave your hands up high
a yo i can’t see y’all
you know we hang out in the streets y’all
all night

yes yes y’all
i be the god up in the flesh y’all
bless y’all
with nothing but the best y’all
finesse shit and leave the spot up in a mess y’all
bitches, you know the street shit caress y’all
sex y’all
and put a bounce up in your breast y’all
yes y’all we about to taste the success y’all
and quiz niggas like a fucking drug test y’all
and check y’all
and let the livest niggas step in
i keep the burner, what you think i’m turning mine in?
what the fuck,
now all my live motherfuckers boggart or bring it straight to the front
and let me give y’all niggas just what you want
more fire for ya fresh off the press
shit blazing to death
bitches lust talking under they breath
hope you niggas know to put on your vest
or get a hole in your chest
who in this motherfucker
take you a guess

chorus

yeah-yeah all my niggas
yeah-yeah all my bitches
yeah-yeah all my thugs
yeah-yeah all my soldiers
yeah-yeah all my honeys
yeah-yeah all my playas
yeah-yeah all my live niggas c’mon
yeah-yeah
the grand finale y’all
put it down and always repping for my family y’all
what, lets form a nation wide rally y’all
of gutter niggas that will piss up in the alley y’all
fuck it, now i know you know my rep nigga
and how it’s hard to figure out my next step nigga
so step nigga, nigga sit your ass down
the way i mash down
will only leave a legacy for me to pass down
don’t speak unless you’re spoken to
get broke in two
flipmode we be the chosen few
yeah nigga entrap y’all
i know some niggas that’ll clap y’all
and strap y’all
up to a post and back slap y’all
put y’all in a mailbox and leave open the flap y’all
that’s the hap’s that make niggas take forever naps y’all
strap y’all all up inside of your seatbelts
the beats felt like a fire watch the heat melt
your patent leather stack cheddar nigga
now or never
better, whatever nigga feel this hot beretta
cause when we come you know we hit you with that shit for the head
with nough shit just like the lox and the dread
me and my niggas we be breaking this bread
with all the blood that we bled
see we was broke, now we flossing instead
the shit i drop will never leave you mislead
might leave you tired of bed
shit ain’t over till’ the party is dead

chorus: repeat 2x

yeah all my live bitches let me see you just
wave your hands up high
and all my niggas running around getting pussy
all night