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2:18 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Blaze)
Everybody got a song that they want you to hear Spittin' overload of emotion just to get in your ear Before I listen, you already know what you like You don't be falling for the flavor of the mainstream hype He's back, and I don't want your promo tape And even if it's shrink wrapped, homeboy I'm straight I'm on my own, a choosy motherfucker myself And I don't settle for the first record to fall off the shelf So don't tell me what to listen to, or tell me what to like Don't tell me that it's banging off the hook and hella tight Your opinion matters to you (come again?) Your opinion matters to you (okay) (Chorus) Bump this shit right here When you're at wit's end and you still don't give a fuck 'cause you love it Bump this shit right here When you got fired on your job, on your day off, what the fuck?!? Bump this shit right here When you're stuck in a traffic jam, bumper to bumper, for 3 hours Bump this shit right here Cause you found out your love, was loving somebody besides you I don't want your money, I just want your mind and your ear You don't want to hear my shit well bitch it's fine, give it here Fuck up out my face, let the music bump All playa haters shut the fuck up We ain't even got through the intro and someone pissed Cause this shit don't sound quite exactly how they expected it Open up your closed mind and you might see 'Cause you care about the music if it set ya soul free Don't tell me what to listen to, don't tell me what to like Don't tell me that it's banging off the hook and hella tight Your opinion matters to you (come again?) Your opinion matters to you (okay) (Chorus) Bump this shit right here When you're at wit's end and you still don't give a fuck 'cause you love it Bump this shit right here When you got fired on your job, on your day off, what the fuck?!? Bump this shit right here When you're stuck in a traffic jam, bumper to bumper, for 3 hours Bump this shit right here Cause you found out your love, was loving somebody besides you Bump this shit right here (Turn it up ya'll) Bump this shit right here (Till your windows crack) Bump this shit right here (Let me see you jump) Bump this shit right here (Up with the bump, bump) Bump this shit right here (Turn it up ya'll) Bump this shit right here (Let me hear the bass bump) Bump this shit right here (Turn it up ya'll) Bump this shit right here (Till you're dead and you ain't got no air left in ya lung) |
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2:30 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Chorus)
The touch of death is coming, there's nowhere to escape Your life is slowly fading into your hollow grave You can not be saved You can not be saved (Blaze) There was once a man that couldn't die In fact to this day that man is still alive He lives in the cosmos on the edge of time Little kids have heard of him, in nursery rhymes (he's the dead) But he walks among society carrying a sickle and a shotgun With a touch of death, and death's hands He's a young, dying, unstoppable, dead man, you'll know (Chorus) The touch of death is coming you'll know There's nowhere to escape you'll know Your life is slowly fading you'll know Into your hollow grave you'll know You can not be saved You can not be saved When death is upon us, come with me right now, and don't be afraid I've been alive for many centuries Watched new kings replace old kings Seen empires overthrown with war Disease and sickness, for rich or poor Armies form and prepare to fight Damn what a battle it lasted twenty nights 19 days, 12 B.C. to think nobody ever heard of me I'm in the afterlife that's where I grew Watched a whole lot on a thang or two Come to find out their afraid of you If you don't die exactly the way they do They knew I wasn't right from the start With jet-black blood to match my black heart Found out quick that the world was cold 'Fore anyone even had a soul, understand (Chorus) The touch of death is coming, understand There's nowhere to escape, understand Your life is slowly fading, understand Into your hollow grave, understand You can not be saved You can not be saved When death is upon us, come with me right now, and don't be afraid Colton Grundy past life experience Different time my friend, delirious All of those memories just blur together So understand sometimes I don't know no better But I'm kcab (back) But I really ain't go nowhere I sit here surrounded in dark countin' dead Looking for someone to give this pain too Looking for someone to feel the way that I do, like me (Chorus) The touch of death is coming Like me There's nowhere to escape Like me Your life is slowly fading Like me Into your hollow grave Like me You can not be saved You can not be saved When death is upon us come with me right now and don't be afraid Hey man! He done fucked yo' ride up! |
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4:01 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Chorus)
Err'ybody get your Shotgun, shotgun double barreled sawed off Stay strapped homie this shit is about to pop off Me I be a G from way back in the day With that I don't give a fuck about your set, type mentality (Blaze) I'll shoot you in the day, like my heater stay on toast And Grundy build a casket for you as soon as you a ghost I got an itchy trigger finger and I'm scratching like a DJ 15 shells in my pocket, who wanna see me Khakis stay on fold, brew ice-cold And my homeboy rapping to a chicken that he know Here come a car up the street, rolling real slow With a wannabe, baby G, hanging out the window Looking close, like he knows me Fuck set!, Buck shots splattered his ass all over his homies upholstery Trying to play me closely, but my approach be Buck'em all till they fall with my shotgun (Chorus 2x) Shotgun, shotgun double barreled sawed off Stay strapped homie this shit is about to pop off Me I be a G from way back in the day With that I don't give a fuck about your set, type mentality (Anybody Killa) If I keep my self alive, something just might happen Like my gun clapping, or a motherfucker's head crackin' My nerves are shot, I'm sweaty and hot Always shaking, looking just like Michael J. Fox Save me, help me take me out this mind frame Without the choppin' on you hoes cause I'm insane Me and Colton be getting Grundy in the hood Knocking down your doorway, jacking all your goods Look into the barrel of my shotgun, watch yourself Fucking wit me, is just bad for your health So when you see me coming, best be thinking whether you want to live or die Cause my anger's increasing, so watch out Cause we ain't playing pimp, move the fuck over All up our face, acting like we know ya But if you really want to get that close, Then prepare yourself, to be filled with holes (Chorus 2x) Shotgun, shotgun double barreled sawed off Stay strapped homie this shit is about to pop off Me I be a G from way back in the day With that I don't give a fuck about your set, type mentality (Esham) Sawed off shotgun and I'm about to dump Sippin' on some syrup, speakers on bump Cruising down 7 mile, cash bed of pile You think my shotgun won't blast, bat a thou- I'm all cheddar style; throw your body off Bell Isle Bridge Don't push me cause, I'm over the edge Been fell off the ledge, with a hole in my head Only reason Colton Grundy see me cause he been dead Boy I'm nothing to play with; my shotgun murdered 9 federal agents I kill them all ages, Bloodstain the front pages This shit is outrageous, Me, Blaze, and ABK need to be locked in cages Police been after me, I cause a catastrophe All because my shotgun said Blasphemy Now another shotgun casualty (Chorus 2x) Shotgun, shotgun double barreled sawed off Stay strapped homie this shit is about to pop off Me I be a G from way back in the day With that I don't give a fuck about your set, type mentality (Blaze) 4 bullets left in my pocket, I'm a madman Three more people wanna test me 3 bullets left in my pocket, I'm a madman Two more people wanna test me 2 bullets left in my pocket, I'm a madman One more person wanna test me 1 bullets left in my pocket, I'm a madman Don't nobody wanna test me "Damn! Fuck! I ran outta muthafuckin ammo, unless you count the box of shells I got in the glove compartment!" |
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2:32 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
..."What the fuck are you lookin' at!?"
(Chorus) Which one of ya'll wanna get etched out in chalk Better watch how you talk when you talk the talk Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch And that's for life bitch! (And that's for life bitch) And that's for life bitch! (And that'd for life bitch) Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch (Blaze) So know I show up with a shotgun, enough shells to blow holes in err'thing Bloody up the walls, the windows, and the curtains I'm for certain, this sucker right here Gonna die like a bitch motherfucka right here Get that ass chalked up, I'ma trace you Pull out the twelve gauge pencil, and erase you It takes two to tango, so I brought four And in the glove box, shotgun shells galore I came for war, and leaving with a piece of your head So I can look at it, when thinking about that shit that you said (Chorus) Which one of ya'll wanna get etched out in chalk Better watch how you talk when you talk the talk Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch And that's for life bitch! (And that's for life bitch) And that's for life bitch! (And that'd for life bitch) Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch I might send you where the bitch motherfuckas, go when they die Fresh out the belt line, with the chrome 4-5 Better get to an exit, that vest ain't going help Dump the whole clip, make sure my presence is felt Drive-by! and I ain't got to be in the car I do a drive-by, on a Haro wit no handlebars I do a walk-by, blasting at you out of the blue And what a bitch motherfucka like you gonna do? (Chorus) Which one of ya'll wanna get etched out in chalk Better watch how you talk when you talk the talk Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch And that's for life bitch! (And that's for life bitch) And that's for life bitch! (And that'd for life bitch) Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch Now if I unload the heater, I'ma reload the heater And make sure to splatter blood on your khakis and wife beater Ya'll bitches ain't leavin' alive When you cross me, you cross the chalk line Now prepare to die People is bleeding, bitches is screaming Suckers running into cars, and driving away speeding I'm in the backpocket looking for chalk to trace The ones who can't walk dead, are trying to crawl away (Chorus) Which one of ya'll wanna get etched out in chalk Better watch how you talk when you talk the talk Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch And that's for life bitch! (And that's for life bitch) And that's for life bitch! (And that'd for life bitch) Better watch how you grip when representing your shit You ain't seeing none of my clique That's for life bitch |
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2:24 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
Ever since back when I was alive
I always thought to myself what it would be like to die Today I'm more dead than a doornail Whether I succeed or fail, only time will tell And if I ever fall short of the gold I'll fall back on a nickel-plated chrome and take everything you own I'm a pure-bred hustler, gang-bang affiliated I pack a heater bitch, this ain't entertainment [Chorus:] If I fall only time will tell And if I fall of out of control My pockets is bound to swell If I keep reppin' the cheese, will they feel me? You know you know it my nigga' That's treal best believe me The shadow, back up in you like a pap-smear No I'm not a player, wearing sweaters made of cashmere With matching boots I came for the loot, I'm riding shotgun and bitch I'm prepared to shoot Duck low unless you want to get hit with the blast I'll blow a motherfuckers hair in and out his baseball hat And if I catch him hard grinding with some shit that's fat I'm gonna lay him on his back, you bitches better believe that [Chorus] Fall down, if I fall, get back up again I'm gonna get back up again, when will this ride be over Did it begin, no more slipping Yo' I had it up to here, cause I've had enough This s***'s all fucked up When times get tough you need to pick yourself up, and brush off I'm not afraid to fall, I fell, got up Kept moving while my body repeatedly got shot up I even tried to stand up After taking a the clip and a half from a bitch-ass rocking a ski mask In a dark alleyway, I was killed on a Sunday night Body recovered on a Monday News covered the gun play The same dude that killed me, Dead body discovered in the subway [Chorus] Madrox and I'm round like the earth I done fell so many times, I'm accustomed to all the hurt No work, and no jobs, and people are unemployed Most of the people just filling the void And I'm one of them Just because I'm in front of them Mean I'm ahead of the game And when you clear away the shit, we basically all the same All going against the grain and hope for some better days In the meantime, we all just trying to maintain [Chorus] |
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2:24 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
Hey!, Hey bitch! What the fuck?! You can't hear or something?! Hey look ho, you looking for a motherfucking thug?
(Chorus 2x) Hey you (Who me?) That's right (What's up?) Let's go someplace, so I can lace you up I need a thug bitch, about as raw as they come Hold me down, hold my dick, cover my shit, it's on (Blaze) Hey love, do them titties got a name This is dead body game let me see you shakin' something I ain't impressed by hoes with attitudes I'm impressed by the way them hoes is mad at you I ain't spending honey real G's don't shed funds I ain't sensitive like Brian McKnight, I'm tryin' to fuck Remy and Coke, dick all in and out of your throat Until that bitch started to choke, no joke (Chorus 2x) Hey you (Who me?) That's right (What's up?) Let's go someplace, so I can lace you up I need a thug bitch, about as raw as they come Hold me down, hold my dick, cover my shit, it's on Hey bitch, do your momma know you outside, Hanging in the passenger window, of my hoo-ride And I can barely see the ass, stacked off in the pants, and she talking real fast The bitch kinda smelt like fish and chips But boy did she have a set of dick sucking lips Told her what she wanted to hear, so I could get all in her cat Dead homie all up in her cat, now picture that (Chorus 2x) Hey you (Who me?) That's right (What's up?) Let's go someplace, so I can lace you up I need a thug bitch, about as raw as they come Hold me down, hold my dick, cover my shit, it's on Hey bitch hoe, I need a thug bitch hoe What's you say you let me keep a hold of all your bankroll I won't spend it all in one place And I can shoot a load to cover your whole waist All up in your face like a true thug All in your shit, in my eyes you only worth what you come with I want shit like your pockets But what about the 'dro? Come on you know I got um (Chorus 2x) Hey you (Who me?) That's right (What's up?) Let's go someplace, so I can lace you up I need a thug bitch, about as raw as they come Hold me down, hold my dick, cover my shit, it's on |
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3:20 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Blaze)
Allow me to introduce myself I'm Colton Grundy, in effect bitch No need to excuse yourself A little strange, and yeah, I'm kind of a horrible sight But I milk your bitches titties, like a milk this mic When I get right, ain't nobody getting shit 'Cause I'm gonna get so right, ain't gonna be nothing left to get Out cold, but I got the balance, with even heat 'Cause if my talents don't provide, I got a gat under the seat (and that's real) Too raw for some of y'all to feel But that's just life, shuffle the cards and deal And the wheels'll keep spinnin' Ho's keep catching too many feelin's And too many men are turning into women That the world that we live in, the world that I sit and spit in And squeeze my ass where I can fit in, so just listen Because I would never waste your time But if you lend me your ear, then I promise to blow you're mind (Chorus) I'm out the gate (Busted wide open) Lay your money down (Put your drink on that ice) Put some volume on that sound Out the gate, make no mistake, the chain is severed And the link's the only thing that's been holding me together I'm out the gate (Busted wide open) Lay your money down (put your drink on that ice) Put some volume on that sound (If you ain't come to party) Show that ass to the door (Man if you ain't come to party) Then what the hell you here for Better not be drama, I hate acting tight Cut that ass like a director, and edit you like a re-write Ain't nobody playing, filleting ya like a fish So mind your own, and go attend to your drink, and your bitch Cause it's Sid the DJ, is spinning right here In him seven, eight bottles of beers, inside the Everclear Got me feeling far from friendly, like you trying to push emotion on me Becoming your new found enemy (better let it be) I came to drink and ball (you're upsetting me) Talking shit under your breath, little boy I don't like bitches, or dudes that imitate 'em So quit acting like a female, and speak up player (Break x2) So what you wanna do, and why you looking at me? So many girls in the house, with fine asses and titties Let me see you shake that ass, and break a hip for me (Come on) Let me see you shake that ass, and break a hip for me (Yeah) (Chorus) I'm out the gate (Busted wide open) Lay your money down (Put your drink on that ice) Put some volume on that sound Out the gate make no mistake, the chain is severed And the link's the only thing that's been holding me together I'm out the gate (Busted wide open) Lay your money down (Put your drink on that ice) Put some volume on that sound (If you ain't come to party) Show that ass to the door (Man if you ain't come to party) Then what the hell you here for? They call me Grim fresh, I'm like the cream of the crop The shit that starts on the bottom and just rise to the top Too many of ya'll sound the same While my style is infinity and uncapable to restrain Off the chain and a short leash Serving you salty on the biscuit and a two piece (soaked in chicken grease) What it is, what it will be You bark like a big dog, but we'll see How many puppy bites, it takes to break skin Well man, I'll break bread While other rappers let go to their head, and wind up dead in a nightclub somewhere Anywhere, ain't nothin' but thugs in here (Chorus) I'm out the gate (Busted wide open) Lay your money down (Put your drink on that ice) Put some volume on that sound (If you ain't come to party) Show that ass to the door (Man if you ain't come to party) Then what the hell you here for? Let me see you shake that ass, and break a hip for me (Come on) Let me see you shake that ass, and break a hip for me (Yeah) (Repeat until end) Yeah |
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3:39 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Chorus)
Life in the city, is out of control (Stick ya hands up, Stick ya hands up) Life in the city, is out of control (Stick ya hands up, Stick ya hands up) (Blaze) I catch'em while they sleeping, always on point, never fall off Known as a black hearse, who came to haul your ass off All your talking, need to stop Before I get stupid, and then let the motherfuckin' gat pop I got a rumor for you bitches, at the core I strangle seven hoes, and I'm looking for a couple more So if you get in my way, we got beef, and I'ma gut you like a fish, with my razor sharp teeth I'm a pit-bull without a muzzle, held down by the Psychopathic family (Family!) Checkmate motherfucker, this is Colton, turn your body into dust where you standing Darkness is my weapon, and caution is advised I'll spit some shit, and draw the blood clear up out your eyes Go on and stick your hands up, and empty your pockets I'm leaving with our money, your rings, and your momma's life (Chorus) Stick yo' hands up, this is a robbery Stick yo' hands up, come up out your jewels and your money Stick yo' hands up, you know that you done fucked up 'cause! Stick yo' hands up, now you in the presence of a thug Life in the city, is out of control What you gonna do? Where you gonna go? How you gonna live? Bloody bullet holes, should have stayed safe, in with yo' shit, and laid low (Anybody Killa) Raise'em up, let me see the blood rush We only coming for the good shit, so give it up Life's a obstacle, and the object is, to get with it or just get dealt with So put them bitches sky-high, you think they care if you die Fuck that tear in your eye (man why you crying) I ain't playing, do you see my homie smiling? Man, let me see the watch, Is this gold? Are these diamonds? (Cha-Ching) Dawg, give me all your shit (Give it up) And all rest of you, better sew them lips Acting like I'm playing a game, Who wants to be the first victim, to reveal they brain I suggest you keep them up, you heard what my homie said, bitch check nuts Stick'em up, keep'em up, don't move cause you fucking with some killers for real (ooh) (Chorus) Stick yo' hands up, this is a robbery Stick yo' hands up, come up out your jewels and your money Stick yo' hands up, you know that you done fucked up 'cause! Stick yo' hands up, now you in the presence of a thug Life in the city, is out of control What you gonna do? Where you gonna go? How you gonna live? Bloody bullet holes, should have stayed safe, in with yo' shit, and laid low (Blaze) Put your hands up, this is a motherfucking stick-up Don't nobody move, or they gonna get they throat cut I'm low on fetty, and I got to get paid I want it all, so go on, and empty the safe My homies in the lobby, hand on the 4-5 Don't even think about running, you move and you die Wanna test me, no vest can protect thee Am I lying ABK? (Anybody Killa) Man, I suggest we let them see Put your backs to the wall, keep your hands where I can see'em (see'em) You messed around and got caught up, best believe it (yep) Back again, drive-bys, gunshot wounds And if you ever doubt it, than you doomed Death by us, cooperate Smartness is the key factor, to give your life a whole new chapter (real) Mister tough guys don't live long, cause I'm down to take them out with the chrome You know what I mean? (Chorus) Stick yo' hands up, this is a robbery Stick yo' hands up, come up out your jewels and your money Stick yo' hands up, you know that you done fucked up 'cause! Stick yo' hands up, now you in the presence of a thug Life in the city, is out of control What you gonna do? Where you gonna go? How you gonna live? Bloody bullet holes, should have stayed safe, in with yo' shit, and laid low |
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3:16 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Blaze)
My styles are Grundy, gritty and crusted with mold My body is a shell, inside is a tortured soul Waiting to grab a hold, of everything you that know And casually throw it all right out the window I return from the beyond again, with a shovel on my shoulder And a photograph of him, from the dark, backwards counter-clockwards, A lot of the words that I said, they went unheard Buried in the casket, tucked under the earth For so long, with hopes that no one would get hurt, from this raging retard Riddled with bullet holes, when you're different, that's how it goes I understand, do you? If you were in a situation, that's mine You'd probably go on, pretending everything is fine But that, phony feeling couldn't be further from truth When your on your back, in a coffin, wearing a suit (Chorus 2x) When your on your back, in a coffin, wearing a suit That phony feeling, couldn't be further from truth Dirty like the earth, And young bitches that lift skirts To pay college funds, or get they nails done We all human, got to do, what we gotta to do From flipping a couple birds, to turning a trick or two Or slapping a trick or three, for imitating a G Rapping in the mirror, while they bumping my LP Imitation is flattery, that what they tell me But you ain't thug, you can't sell me, nope (Chorus 4x) When your on your back, in a coffin, wearing a suit That phony feeling, couldn't be further from truth A beautiful bowl of spread with lilies and orchids A mortician playing your song upon the organ I'll smash in your casket in with a sledgehammer At this point now the anger is all that really matters Busted the clock, threw the numbers away in my dreams So I'm haunted by new miracle messages, what do they mean? Whatever it is, is probably wrong There's a hole in my head, and thoughts do linger too long And then I get branded as a walking mistake And all I wanted was a piece of the cake, and some ice cream Would a nice dream like a vacation from nightmares? Speaking on deaf ears to people who don't really care We throw it all away in garbage, bring it back Clean it up after the commentary and serve us a track What ever they want they gonna get, that's besides the point Meanwhile many motherfuckers platinum off of club joints And it's all fucked up right now And it's all fucked up right now And it's all fucked up right now When your on your back in a coffin wearing a suit (Chorus 4x) When your on your back, in a coffin, wearing a suit That phony feeling, couldn't be further from truth |
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3:04 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004) | |||||
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2:32 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Blaze)
I'm in the car, to the door, in the bar, to the dance floor Lookin' for the ladies, with the wiggle real low I see you movin' like a snake, rhythm huggin' your curves Shakin, like ain't nobody shakin' better than her House is packed, we're moving from front to back Took my seat in VIP, and ordered a Cognac Pull out my product sack, and commenced the break down Here baby, you puff? grab up a seat and sit down (Chorus x2) We gon' roll it up, come on girl Pour some more drink in my cup (turn it up) You know that I came to get right (turn it up) And the party don't stop till sunlight Four blunts later, and two and a half bottles of Don P. Followed by four shots of whiskey, had me tipsy But I still had game, and thoughts are still running up in ol' girl's frame Now I don't pimp skirts, I lift skirts And then serve, my dang-dang and beat it up until your 'nanny hurts What do you say we leave this place, and get a bit to eat And maybe after that I can toss you up, in the backseat (Chorus x2) We gon' roll it up, come on girl Pour some more drink in my cup (turn it up) You know that I came to get right (turn it up) And the party don't stop till sunlight Back in the car, now we on the road, is when she acting all freaky, out of control Said the way she worked up in the club, that wasn't shit And I should see her when she butt naked, working the dick Ain't no point, just imagining I'm headed to the Quality Inn, to get some quality skins, from this trick She put it on me, then straight fucked me to death But ain't no stopping a player when there's still a blunt left (Chorus repeat until end) We gon' roll it up, come on girl Pour some more drink in my cup (turn it up) You know that I came to get right (turn it up) And the party don't stop till sunlight |
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4:18 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Chorus 2x)
No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me (Blaze) I was the first to put it down Reppin' with Twiztid and the clowns kicking the gangsta sounds Strictly keep it underground Lotus in the family, you now how we do Coming for ours and won't hesitate to ride on you Record sales don't make you bulletproof Big time, and we both know you don't be doing that shit that's in your rhymes You ain't a G like me, you ain't the thug I be You watered down, like the punks I see on MTV Where you're motherfucking trees, always asking for smoke Ain't it a bitch, everybody a G when wearing Loc's That's a figure of speech, and I be sick in the heat Whoever think he the shit, trying to claim my territory I'm a motherfucking G with heaters loaded and cocked You's a small time pee-on, braggin of running rocks Bitch break yourself, for everything and then some Hold the mic to my dick, so you can hear me when I cum (Chorus x2) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me Never ever was I a bitch hoe, you can put that on my ten-fold Ma pop Grundy and them know I sicko Baby boy got banana clips for his chopper Known to bring drama somethin' proper Check nuts Colton Grundy got handles, I got the J So when I'm spiting from the big oh line, nuts' in your face Dead homie on a ho-port, smoking a Newport Spiting at the bitches, and bumping that new Too Short Life is nothing I can even they to relate to, for real though Being dead is serious, it change you All I got left in this world, is my music to play So you correct if you thinkin', that I'ma do my thang And all the thugs that wit me, throw your shit in the air And wave those motherfuckers side to side like you don't care And if you feeling like I'm feeling, then it's plainy clear 'Cause it's a whole bunch of dead folk chilling in here (Chorus x2) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me (Violent J) It's me and Blaze, drunk driving in an 87 Cutlass Taking turns at the wheel while the other claps motherfuckers You're chick, I'm dicking that wicked shit, I'm kicking that I'm hitting with the quickness, life's stinking, where the chickens at? You made a wrong turn coming down my block I'll stop your car like I need help, and crack your head with a rock Uh, Colton Grundy the only homie I got, Mr. Dead Folx sparking at the burial spot We about to ride on the world, leave it deserted like Marz Get your wig spilt, by 40 juggalo rap stars A little kid asked me if I ever killed anybody (yes) I told 'em that I did and was warm and bloody I'm Violent J, I'll be around until my dieng day On tour smoking bud, and eating Flying J Look me up under 'Juggla' and you'll find my name And if you don't, then you're dictionary's lame motherfucka! (Chorus x2) No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast No money, weed, no cash It's time to get in that ass Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie Don't be acting like you don't see me Believe me man you don't know me (Repeat Till End) Mr Dead Folx Believe me man you don't know me |
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3:53 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004) | |||||
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3:25 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004) | |||||
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7:42 | ||||
from Blaze Ya Dead Homie - Colton Grundy (2004)
(Blaze)
"Look the history lessons over motherfuckas You still to learn one thing tho Man life is a ladder, keep climbing that motherfucker Even if there's like 52 thousand rungs Man don't ever hesitate to get whatever it takes to get the motherfucking job done" (Blaze) There is one patch made of gravel and cobblestone Filled with paying dues and laced with potholes, I'll never quit Shit, I'll think I'll pull off to the side With one foot in the game, and the other on the grind Now my mind's been compared to a darkly lit alleyway With too many rats and that bitch for you to tally Now I'm moving on up It's my timing, coming up short, not for long, I'm steady climbin' (Esham) Climbin', rhymin' with the undying, filthy, never shining Always grinding, I made it three feet and I got three feet to go Cause been six feet under from a long time ago Me and Colton Grundy, bloody money Now I climb from the cemetary dirt under me From dust till dawn, when the sun be shining You'll see my hand come from underground Cause I'm climbing (Chorus) I'm climbing, I'm rising, I'm straight to the top Making blood splatter, don't matter, I ain't gonna stop And I still got miles to go, and I keep on rising some more I'm out here climbing, I'm whilin, this hatchet go chop (Monoxide Child) Its a constant battle, for me to get to the top But when the ball drops, I'm going bring the world to a stop I'm a man on a mission, wishing everybody would just get up off me Maybe then I could breath, I'm on my knees again Waiting for my chance to get away, hoping I'll be up there one day I'll never stop trying to climb, so ride my vine, and let me reach for mine And in time (Jamie Madrox) Hand over hand we climb, play the beat, and we rhyme See us on stage, throwing the fuck you sign The game is like a chain link fence So I'm scaling that bitch with catlike reflexes, So I'm saying that, if you ain't got no grip You need to find some two-way tape and get sticky with it Cause our shit is like magnets the way that it attracts They must be something that keeps it coming back, cause we're the shit (Chorus) I'm climbing, I'm rising, I'm straight to the top Making blood splatter, don't matter, I ain't gonna stop And I still got miles to go, and I keep on rising some more I'm out here climbing, I'm whilin, this hatchet go chop (Repeat 2x) I'm gonna keep climbing ya'll (climbing ya'll) Straight to the top, I'm soaring (I'm soaring) Blood's gonna keep flying ya'll (flying ya'll) (Violent J) I get bloody if I have to, pillage and stab you Leave ya shredded, like a pack of polar bears done had you I don't give a shit, who has to die for me to fly Slice your legs off under your kness, and float by I'm who everybody hates, so I'm leaving the stakes And I'm passing through dimensions, on through the pearly gates I'm from beyond the sun, I come to bomb you some And I'm the one to get the goddamn job done (Blaze) My socks are moving, ain't worried what others doing Make my own path to the top, and it won't stop I'm a grown man doing what a grown man does Taking all you suckas back to school, so pack a lunch I'm like a scholar, with knowledge too real to collar Working on my next shit before I count a dollar Cause when you made it there you don't let go And don't look down until your in the ear of everyone in town (Chorus) I'm climbing, I'm rising, I'm straight to the top Making blood splatter, don't matter, I ain't gonna stop And I still got miles to go, and I keep on rising some more I'm out here climbing, I'm whilin, this hatchet go chop (Repeat until end) I'm gonna keep climbing ya'll (climbing ya'll) Straight to the top, I'm soaring (I'm soaring) Blood's gonna keep flying ya'll (flying ya'll) I'm gonna keep climbing ya'll(climbing ya'll) I'm gonna keep climbing ya'll (climbing ya'll) Straight to the top, I'm soaring (I'm soaring) Blood's gonna keep flying ya'll (flying ya'll) (at 7:30) "Yea! Damn, y'all still here?.........Fuck outta here! *Door Closes*" |
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2:43 | ||||
from Hatchet History (2002)
In the casket
HELL YEAH! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket Do you want to know about the box A casket with padlocks Broken off the hinge, bitch, eat a cock Buried in the earth then forgotten about Feelin' good like a mothafucka first day out Took air in my lungs, been awhile since I did so Smoked me a blunt, fucked a hood rat ho Kill a couple niggas, smack a couple bitches Runnin' mothafuckas for the rips and they riches Ain't shit changed but the month and year Broke mothafuckas scrounging for squares and beers Pigs scatter on the street when the dead man arise Real muthafuckin' killas never gon' die In the casket HELL YEAH! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket Sleepin' in the casket, awoke by a strange sound Break the hinge and rise up from the cold ground I could be deamin', what the fuck is with my head 6 feet deep and I'm surrounded by the dead I hear a noise, someone's cryin' my name How should I react, am I just goin' insane? All my thug niggas hold it down on the streets And watch these muthafuckas on they grave robbin' spree Froze in my box, hearin' people chatter up above They sayin' can ya "kick the do' up?" I'm still stuck I'm dead as shit, I know where I'm at now Chillin' with the dead, one with the underground So why these niggas out fuckin' with my grave? I got a maggot face and my skin's decayed Break through the door to unlock the mystery Got my grave plot holdin' on for my eternity In the casket HELL YEAH! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket Doors is open, pull on up by a force Lay my body on the ground, slam the casket door Crowded by both figures And the grave diggers And the shadow of the demon gettin' bigger Comin' for my soul, surrounded me with candles Came to release me to His handles First sacrifice over to the demon That's why I'm a killa any season Watch me clueless when I was alive Happy with a muthafucka till the day I died Now they callin' me back to walk with the dead Anyone disagree catch a slug to the head A muthafucka come equipped with a shotgun And naggots on my face, so run bitch run Dead man hauntin', no time for escape When you hear the gun cock, bitch, it's too late In the casket HELL YEAH! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket In the casket HELL YEAH!! In the casket |
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3:28 | ||||
from Hatchet History (2002)
feat. Insane Clown Posse
(Violent J) Killas kick the anthem like this Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch Killas kick the anthem like this Juggalos up in this biiiitch, blaze (Blaze Ya Dead Homie) G's up, ridin' from the cradle to the casket And beyond, recognize thug shit Poundin' out the trunk bitch Runnin' wit' a mother f**kin' hatchet you haters, you suck dick was a thug, became a G B to the L to the A, Z, E, still dead Still don't give a f**k (give a f**k) Sportin' all black kahkis with the mother f**kin' cuffs up Smokin' Hella trees, tryin' to make a couple G's So a thug can get back on his feet Mean muggin', steady thuggin' And I'm tryin' to find the hoodrat's all about f**kin' Still loked out All my dawgs from the past, dead or smoked out Still tryin' to come up on a lick for a phat ass ride So I can drop the top, and parlay through the east side Chorus(Monoxide Child) Niggas kick the anthem like this Juggalos up in this bitch, up in this bitch! x 4 (Blaze) Bitches freeze, you aint a thug or a G or a banga' You's a studio gangsta You aint about shit, scared to pull the trigga' That's what we call, a real bitch nigga' (bitch nigga') Sneekin' through the hood, throwin' up a set Hangin' out the window, yellin' idol threats Check this out, I'm a check your chin Close your mouth, 'fore I put the barrel in Dumpin' clips in yo ass is what I'm all about Straight G from the clique on a paper route Still slappin' off fake bitches with the Louiville Beat a nigga' to the pavement, another bitch killed Chorus(Monoxide Child) (Jaime Madrox) This is the battle for the planets We bring the thunder, givin' half the advantage F**k a style and a status Half of y'all hummin' off a half ass deal And got the nerve to tell a mother f**ker 'keep it real' We see through y'all fools, like cellophane on the square pack You bite our shit, you can keep it, we don't want it back We don't give a f**k, east side for life And if you aint got heart, don't expect to have your shit tight There aint no room for the hoe-hearted We give a f**k where you at, or who you wit', or how you got started F**k you and everybody in yo clique If you don't run wit' a hatchet, or claim the Psychopathic I aint got time, to say no names It's only 8 rhymes, no holla', we been in the game Besides f**k it, no speakin your name You're just a bitch in the game And y'all niggas gone' always be the same Chorus x8 *Hammer slide* |
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3:41 | ||||
from Dirtball - Nervous System (2011) | |||||
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3:58 | ||||
from Insane Clown Posse - Featuring Freshness (2011) | |||||
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- | ||||
from Liquid Assassin - Apocalypse (Feat. Tech N9ne & Black Pegasus) (2009) |