Burton Classic [compilation] (2003) by Various Artists (보컬) on maniadb.com

(Intro)
Our society is fucked up, they're fucking our brothers and sisters up
These white motherfuckers have fucked us up...
This ain't by no goddamn accident...

Cameras, action, lights
What, lookout, civil rights
Whiplash, po-po, fed-lillers, killin' kids
Crisis, c'mon, get it now, sound
COINTEL, going down
Projects, pop offs, issues, payback
Sickness, lockdown, get it
Free Mumia and H. Rap Brown

Before you get what you want, gotta give the people what they need

What you know about Soul
If you got's none then we'll loan ya some...

C'mon!

Flow on, the project, the pop off
Low tempo to go off, COINTEL better go to hell
Bout that time hear the bell y'all .. (c'mon)
Gotta lotta nerve never knowing Assata
Gotcha mind wading in the water.. contract.. Gotcha!
Motown, Stax, bring the beat back
(Bring that beat back!)
The Sound, free Mumia and H. Rap Brown
Sure enough going down now
Jamil Al Amin, nahmean? (yeah)
Y'all missin' this is like dissin' this
See your Uncle Sam pissing on this
He's running real low on my shit list
Take 'em all out with the quickness

Before you get what you want, gotta give the people what they need
Before you get what you want, gotta give the people what they need

Cameras, action, lights
What, lookout, civil rights
Whiplash, po-po, fed-lillers, killin' kids
Crisis, c'mon, get it now, sound
COINTEL, going down
Lookout!

Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need
Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need
Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need
Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need

New breed of MC and get the flow on
Body, mind, soul enough to go on
Ughh!! Better go on
Gotta get on so I can spit on
Guitar to get on the pick on (damn)
Shuffle now, the popcorn
Free H. Rap c'mon
Nothing new uhh.. better walk on
Ughhh... get my talk on
Never knew a {?} to get your money on
So on and so on
Do it like Mike - "Sha-mon!"
The original right here, Uptown Saturday Night
Uggghhh, get it, and get your head right...
Ya'll don't know nothin' about this ... ughhh
Real thing ughhh make your soul ring

Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need
Before you get what you want.. gotta give the people what they need

Cameras, action, lights
What, lookout, civil rights
Whiplash, po-po, fed-lillers, killin' kids
Crisis, c'mon, get it now, sound
COINTEL, going down

Going down, going down, going down, going down
Going down, going down, going down, going down
Going down, going down, going down, going down
Going down, down, down, down

feat. Havoc (Mobb Deep)

[talking]
Yeah nigga... haha yeah (South Suicide Queens)
That's right... uh uh, Q.U. nigga (yea yea)
Shit like that, knowhamsayin put these drinks up
yaheard? - let's do this right, what yo

[Fredro Starr]
Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block
For my one stop niggaz that be huggin the spot
Sittin on crates, gettin loaded, get that cake
Dodgin drinks, spit and hafta cover they face
Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside
In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side
See no games, with real niggaz from other hoods
Car titles get lost, some niggaz get jooked
But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam
Holdin the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand
From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof
To them slick dudes, hot and they workin the phone booth
Cuz Lord knows I'm gonna reload and bust back
Incredible gats, indicted for a federal rap
They ain't duck low enough, shots shredded they hat
Murdered and gone, nigga it's a medical fact

[Hook: Havoc] - 2X
Hold up, this is for my gangsta team
and my dime little mamis rockin Timbs and jeans
When it's on, know we ain't afraid to clap them things
In the club, gettin bent, goin cra-zay!

[Sonsee]
Hold up, this is for my chicks in the spot
All my bus stop bitches that be pushin them drops
Playin the gate, get it ma, get those papes
Hustle that face, seven G's below ya waist
Project chick, dippin whips, cruisin the strip
Gettin money for tuition, go to school and she strip

Kill in the club, when niggaz dicks get hard
Murda mami set you up and niggaz bricks get robbed
Help her soul if a chick try to set my team
I'm tying her up, rep till the death of Queens
All my staircase niggaz keep flippin the jun's
All my outta state niggaz keep gettin them ones
Guns in the air, hit you with invisible glocks
that mean you never see it comin nigga, 52 shots
I'm takin ya block nigga, if you like it or not
You either roll or get rushed (blaow bloaw!) I guess not

[Hook: Havoc] - 2X

[Sticky Fingaz]
Sticky Fingaz, the nigga that be stickin them spots
For all my gun-cock niggaz that be bustin off shots
Lay in the straight, black mask raidin ya gate
Show me ya safe before I put two in ya face
Dirt on my kicks, hoodies all lookin for whips
Catch a rat nigga, leave his Bentley sittin on bricks
Bloody ice-pick fights in the yard
Ten times outta ten, step to me and ya life get scarred
Shoot-outs in broad daylight, bustin at feds
Dirty cops with a ki of coke, bring 'em out dead
For my jail niggaz, stashin bangers deep in they cots
For my grimy niggaz, hidin under cars from cops
Empty the glock, hitchu with disposable gats
Bust you, wipe it off, throw it away, it's a rap
What nigga? I see you back in the hood scrap
Turn ya Benz to a coffin nigga, straight like that

[Hook: Havoc] - 2X

Hold up...

'South Suicide Queens'
'Enjoy!'
'South Suicide Queens'
'Enjoy!'

Uh-huh, whatchu thought? Uh-huh, we was done?
Uh-huh, whatchu thought?! Yeah, yeah
Yeah, whatchu thought? Uhh, uhh, uhh
Yo, yo, back again! What's that? Back again!
What's that? Word! see'mon
A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG
An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG
An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
Yo, yo, yo, check it, check it
Let us begin, KRS, winnin again, KRS-One did it again
KRS bigger than them, look at them they bit it again
I think my gun just gonna start clickin again
Click-clack, I always spit back
Anybody call my name I go get that
In fact we draggin 'em out, to a deserted route
The teacher returns, you must learn, the word is out
No doubt highly respected, Front Page Records
Off the hook, yet still connected
Are you teachin yourself, teachin yourself?
I'm like history repeatin itself
"Criminal Minded", you've been blinded again
Lookin for my style you can't find it again
You can find these others that may sound like Kris
but when it comes to the hands they don't get down like Kris!
They never ran up in the clubs with a hundred thugs
Never had the respect of Crips and Bloods
Never knew B.O., they never knew Big Pun
They never battled MC's, they never bust they gun
They don't know that, all they know is that show DAT
That's Digital Audio Tape if you don't know that
Now go back and get my name correct
'fore I snatch that platinum from 'round your neck
A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG
That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG
That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
Word, yeah yeah, uh-huh, yo
Yo, yo, yo (hit 'em Kris!)
What mean the world to me? H-I-P, H-O-P
And S-I-M, O-N-E
And G-O-D, I stay low key
I go down to hell, and slap up Satan
Then return to heaven, where Scott LaRock is waitin
Resurrection, just like my brown complexion
when I speak, I don't need protection from the heat
I walk these streets and I'm quick to hit first
Throw on any beat I'll be quick to spit first
and rip town, I take one look around
And all you hear is, "Get down, get down, get down!"
Knowledge Reigns Supreme, I stay on blast
That's why these rappers want me to go on last
That's the truth, that's the fact, that's the deal
Forget sex appeal, my tech is real
And my rep is real, K-are-S
Woo-woop-woop! That's the sound of E-M-S
The rag on your head, it best stay white
Cause I can turn that red in a mintue a-ight?
Now go back and get my name correct
'fore I snatch them diamonds from 'round your neck
Once again, get my name correct
'fore I snatch that platinum from 'round your neck
A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG
An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG
That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
Yeah.. yeah.. yo, yo, yo
To all my heads who want to see an improvement
in hip-hop culture, join this movement
We need more glocks than my man Freddie Foxxx
The knowledge I spit to the click it don't stop
That hardcore God-core, ready to start war
Rock more shock more top your pop tour
I'm sure I'll drop the grade to zero
When the teacher return, I don't chase DeNiro
Like where yo? Where yo? They livin in fear yo
It's a jungle sometime, but I got my spear yo
The album's called "Sneak Attack", that's what it is
KRS-One spittin facts to kids
A army suit, a pair of Timbs don't MAKE YOU A THUG
That tough guy talk don't MAKE YOU A THUG
An ill mug and a gat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!
A doo rag a platinum chain don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A North Face and skully hat don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A fat ride with chrome don't MAKE YOU A THUG
A real thug is a thug that's HUSH!

Yo yo yo yo

[Chorus:]

Y'all want some hip hop, then holler HELL YEAH
Y'all want some hip hop, then scream HELL YEAH
Feel this hip hop, and yell HELL YEAH
Y'all know we 'bout to bring it here, fake cats get up outta here

[Repeat Chorus]

[Verse 1:]
See whatcha like gimme the mic
I'm rippin and flippin and grippin it tight
Say whatcha like, don't play with me right?
I ride your chain from day to night
Head first with a verse
You see my excerpts got eskimos in igloos sweatin and seek in search
In self-worth, through the knowledge that all age enter the earth
Till the devils and his dogs I fool I'll be the fuckin curse
Spit fire more fire with my nigga Fire
I backflip blindfolded on a highwire
Then fall back on my team and dream of lividcism
I met Noah before the ark and started rhymin with him
If I wanted to flow with him reactin like a cataclysm
And shockwavin my rights into the system

[Chorus]

[Verse 2:]
Now set trippin and sweatin the aesthetics
The chick's beef hits your ass up like diabetics
I bet it gets, I wrestle it, second album be the predicate
No mismatches, no maxin or relaxin
Toast with the awesome two, break it like your fractions
Peep the equation, these Pythagorean thereom
I know the science for the metals and all the plenums
Until you hate it, young children have been mutilated
It looks good and some of y'all be desecratin
Incineratin wastin your state in the outer space
It's wicked right I hit it right slice doors with a butter knife
I'm makin moves on the mic like I was dice

Y'all want some hip hop, then holler HELL YEAH
Y'all want some hip hop, then scream HELL YEAH
Feel this hip hop, and yell HELL YEAH
Y'all know we 'bout to bring it here, we transcend we outta here

[Chorus]

[Verse 3:]
Tippin you off bringin it forth, knowledge be the jump-off
Wax on wax off, liquid form-I turn to hot sauce
While some may want they salad tossed I can bust like Matatov
Now get your saddle off, quit bustin, no towelin off
Some pip squeaks in the game night ride like Hasslehoff
Stand back to your skin and feel my G-force
Tic tac toein I keep it flowin and flowin
No need for detonators my shit be mind blowin
Blind the sights likes of Ihmotep
Flippin the script ring the alarm like Ghengis Khan
Who rocks all takes all kick it like Win Chaw
Or ping pong crackin the mic, the dreaded King Kong

[Chorus]

Y'all want some hip hop, then holler HELL YEAH
Y'all want some hip hop, then scream HELL YEAH
Feel this hip hop, and yell HELL YEAH
Y'all know we 'bout to bring it here, we transcend we outta here

[Fredro Starr]
The game is fucked up, ya niggas got me tired of rap
Right now I'm not inspired by rap
Ya niggas ain't Dyin 4 Rap, talkin bout iron for clap
Ya niggas never fired a gat
Never took it the streets, and supplied it wit packs
I had feds in my house, trynna wire my cat
In the wall, little cameras hidin in cracks
Niggas talk about drug money, what cats you flip
On the trains tellin bitches that you crashed ya whip
You never seen cop killers wit the plastic grips
Turn beef to some funky closed casket shit
Blast a fifth, 16 shots, niggas ran 16 blocks
16 niggas drop, ya niggas never seein the plot
Never put greens on top, never put fiends on lock
My elite niggas scream on cops, hustle dope
Roll up, puff up smoke, parolin decode
Standin on them corners wit them guns in they coats
Had them same little muthafuckas under ya bed
Gun to ya head, wake up, wanted ya dead
End of the night, take ya light, I'm gettin ya back
I'm twistin you back, cuz what ya niggas spittin on tracks'll
Get you 16 or 8, gun cap, leave it at that
Cuz ya niggas ain't Dyin 4 Rap

[Chorus 2X]
See, I'm what defines the streets
The one that bitches dyin to meet
The one ya thugs tryin to be
Since I started, I can't count how many sound like me
But can't none of ya niggas get down like me
Can't none of ya niggas get down like me
Can't none of ya niggas get down like me

[Fredro Starr]
Fuck this rap shit, fuck the rhyme of the year
I'm about to get away wit the crime of the year
Bought a black dress that's for ya momma to wear
Got bitch niggas run when the drama appear
Streets ain't safe, six shots, tear ya face
Fuck the jake, get caught, clear the case
My ups

[Intro]
Eh, yo, yo yo
This is Ying Yang Twins with a ghetto public service announcment (uh oh)
Red light (ohh), red light (ohh, ohh)
Stay by yourself, (ohh) by yourself (ohh)...

[Chorus - 2X]
Smoke by myself
Drink by myself
Poke these hoes by my goddamn self, for rrreal (By my goddamn self)
For rrreal (By my goddamn self)

[Verse 1]
Nigga dwell on it, can't he
So tell on me, got my bitch all at the crib
Try to smell on a nigga, wanna stay around him
But when I'm sitting on the couch
She keep me saying "ouch", cuz she grabbin on my crouch
And I already know, thinking to myself
What the fuck, somebody told
Had to have been one little nigga that I showed
Some shit that they never should have seen, anyhow
All hell nigguh...hatin' on me now, smokin' on my weed
Steady drinkin' on my beer, hell naw niggah
Get the fuck up out of here, can't hold one
So you can't hold your tongue, niggah lips smackin
Like she chew bubble gum, tell her where I been
What I did, who I'm with
Said see me with two bitches, thats when I said it
I gotta stay the fuck away from head, I'ma

[Chorus - 2X]

[Verse 2]
Smokin' weed by myself, drinkin' Henn by myself
Buckin' hoes by myself, I fuss with nobody else
Now red light, child started a fight
Just talking all about us, and whilin', its alright
I hate when my brothers, fuckin' up undercovas
Shorty, did I stutter? Go get another rubba
Child is shaking like blubba, child that want me to cut her
Too many niggas in the house, time to get out!
I get freaky in the back, while you play at your work
I'm hitting the fat monkey, and damn your girl chunky
Haven'