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Wednesday, 18 October 2017
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Ecouter Louis Bérubé victoriaville


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730 (Foxy Brown)

Whoa, whoa
What the *plurrr is this, Yo!

They say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
Can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?

Yo how can we start this
My life is thorough never heartless
I laid it down from the Gate to the St Louis arches
From the windy city to the streets in Cali
To them streets in Houston
My niggas always boostin'
Some bitches always holla
How they don't spend a dolla
But that's because they ain't got it
Now tell me where's the logic
And if I talk it - I've done did it or about to do it
I'm making anthems, got a million niggas bouncin' to it
Bust your guns!
And if that ain't enough then bust again
I've been thuggin' since B-I-Z made "Just A Friend"
Matter of fact ever since Flava Flav was rockin' clocks
And even then there was no bitch that could compare to Fox
Let me head knock, Pretty you wit' me right
This Prada fit me tight, this Gucci fit me right
Who could quickly write like seven joints and it be tight?
You know how hood we sound, you know it's Boogie Brown

Yo they say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
But can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?
They say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
But can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?

Yo my life is full of problems
Sometimes it's hard to dodge 'em
So much you couldn't fathom
I wish I didn't have them
They say I'm 7-30, pretty but I rap too dirty
The law is criticizing me and probably never heard me
So what I crashed my Range
My last name ain't changed
This time it's different though
I'm not exploiting names
Yeah I write my shit
It's not a ** game
So what he wrote some songs
I blew him up the same
I'm never ducking dames
Y'all know just where to find me
I would've killed her but it just wouldn't be fair to mommie
Imagine me doing time, Foxy behind bars
Not me the crime star
Y'all bitches ain't worth it
Although my life ain't perfect, I'll never change a thing
Y'all want success but y'all don't know about the pain it bring
It's supposed to make you happy and keep your paper long
This beat is kind of ill
How could you hate this song?

Yo they say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
But can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?
They say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
But can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?

Man some hoes is always yackin'
Like I can't make it happen
Like they don't know my cash
Like they don't know my past
Especially pop star bitches with the soft image
So what I ain't with him
BITCH! He's off limits
Be where I always be
See who I choose to see
Although we're not together, his heart belong to me
See at times I think y'all bitches be confusing me
Like I'm somethin' sweet, shorty I'm still street
You're not on my level, and I won't stoop
And I'm the one that got you, kicked out your own group
Chicks be always thinkin' that I'mma let it ride
I might not kill you but I'll hurt you till your dead inside
Third album and you still wanna test Brown
I'm so hood bitches know how boogie get down
It could be real drama
It's still the Ill Na Na
There ain't a bitch wilda
Any beef? Holla!

They say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
But can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?
They say I'm 730, say I spaz out
FB is ill, she'll wild out
But can y'all feel my pain?
I can't let it slide
How could I smile when I'm hurtin' so bad inside?

Pioneers (EPMD)




[Erick Sermon]
And you don't quit
Yeah pioneers one time (one time two times)
Yeah Erick Sermon boy

[Parrish Smith]
Yeah we rap where you at? (mic check)
"Check this out!"
Aiyyo who wanna step up and get their cranium cracked
from my man +Louis+ from the +Ville+ Slugger baseball bat
Cock back gats cause rugged apparel's where it's at
So stand back we flash a nine before the jack and squeeze triggers
blazin at one-hit wonder niggaz like Smoothe Da Hustler
I still sneak over and ** your babysitter
No quitter, microphone's my transmitter
which clocks figures, in return, the track's the _Gold Digger_

[Erick Sermon]
Huh me? I buy ice for no one
Rap shogun, so I bought myself a gun
Yeah Dunn, ain't the one to be steppin to son
I agree with Slick Rick, you cats is crumbs
My squad gets Dumb and Jim Carrey you ought the buildin
messin around with God's children
I take action, like film crews
You against me, face to face, you'll lose!

Chorus: Erick Sermon, Parrish Smith (repeat 2X)

[E] Here comes two big pioneers, Rolex watches
Cars by the pairs, in stock we got shares
EPMD.. "That's right!"
[P] Legendary, hardcore b-boy is the pedigree

[Erick Sermon]
P and I don't stop, we don't quit, who's seein em?
On tracks, we Ruff Ryde like D and them
Then case the joint, like an agent, that's secret
Cats hate, so we on point frequent
E keep it decent, had to smack a dude recent
right down the block, from the precinct
See you a punk, that talk too lenient
When I speak to a mother**er, I MEAN IT!

[Parrish Smith]
So Open Sesame, and let down the main gate
But before you scream EPMD, you should wait
Cause we roll with a posse, from Strong Long to Canarsie
QBC, Boogie Down Bronx, back to Marcy
Pass that kiko, I drop a verse that sound slick yo
and your chick know, P's hungry, like the hippoes
Suck on no **, but duck cats, quick to stick you
like a pin-up, workin out, and doin chin-ups

Chorus

[Erick Sermon]
Huh, aiyyo my style flows, say it liquidates
It's best when it hits the beat and catch the breaks
Two time felon, ** around with me
and my man pussycat and catch two to the melon!

[Parrish Smith]
Then I be like, "Yep yep," just like Teddy, +Raw+ like Eddie
Sweaty, when I hold shit down and bake like Betty
And when I want things to move, I blink like +Bewitched+
to handle shit in the dark, red lights, with the laser hit

Chorus

When Will They Shoot? (Ice Cube)




Verse One:

God damn another ** payback wit' a twist
Them mother**ers shot but the punks missed
Ice Cube is out gunned what is the outcome?
Will they do me like Malcolm?
Cuz I bust styles new styles standing. . .
Strong. . . while others run a hundred miles
But I never run never will
Deal wit' the devil wit' my mother ** steel BOOM!
Media try to do me
But I was a Boy N the Hood before the movie, yeah
Call me nigga, bigger than a spook
But you the one that voted for Duke, mother**er
White man is something I tried to study
But I got my hands bloody, yeah.
They say I can sing like a Jaybird
But nigga don't say the J-word.
I thought they was bugging. . .
Cuz to us Uncle Sam is Hitler without an oven
Burning our black skin
Buy my neighborhood - then push the crack in
Doing us wrong from the first day
And don't understand why a nigga got an AK.
Calling me an African-American
like everything is fair again, shit
Devil you got to get the shit right I'm black
Blacker than a trillion midnights
"Don't believe the Hype" was said in 88 by the great Chuck D
Now they're trying to ** me . . .
{wit' no vaseline, just a match and a little bit of gasoline}
Its a great day for genocide
Thats the day all the niggas died
They killed JFK in '63
So what the ** you think they'll do to me?
But I'm the O.G. and I bust back, boom boom
Bust back, boom boom,
Peel a cap, BOOM BOOM!
Gimme room in the fire of the sun
Hear the mack come
Hear the black come
Watch Jack run
Mother**ers can't gank me
** a devil, ** a rebel, and a yankee
Overrun and put the Presidency
After needin that, I'm down wit' O.P.P.
I met Farrakhan and had dinner
And you ask if I'm a five-percenter, well. . .
No, but I go where the brothas go
Down with Compton Mosque, Number 54
Made a little dough, still got a sister on my elbow
Did Ice Cube sell out? You say "hell no!"
A black woman is my manager, not in the kitchen,
So could you please stop bitchin'?


Verse Two:

{gun shots}

You missed and didn't hit the Lench Mob either
[Guerillas in the Mist] Without Jungle Fever
But I got the fever for the flava of a **, not a Pringle
Bust a single, here's my new jingle
The KKK has got three-piece suits
Using niggas like turkey shoots
My motto is "treat 'em like a prostitute."
If I say no violence devil, you won't respect mine,
** the dumb shit and get my Tek-9.
And if they approach us
A-ight, a-ight - I bury those cockroaches.
And if you can't deal wit' my "Kill at Will"
Here's a new gift to get
Try my "Death Certificate".
Amerikkka's Most, Amerikkka's burnt - its like toast
Like Jordan I'm going coast to coast.
Dribbling the funk
Here comes the nigga wit' the mother ** monster dunk
Get off me punk
{You better eat your Wheaties}
Darryl Gates got the studio surrounded
Cuz he don't like the niggas that I'm down wit'
Mother **er wanna do us
Cuz I like Nat, Huey, Malcolm, and Louis.
Most got done by a black man's bullet
Give a trigga to a nigga and watch him pull it.
Negro assassin,
I'ma dig a ditch, bitch, and throw your**in
When they shoot, no, it won't be a **
They use somebody much blacker
What I do?
I call up the Geto Boy crew
Cuz my mind's playing tricks on me too.
Never die, surround my crib
____________ makin' sure nobody creep when I sleep
Keep a 9 millimeter in my Jeep - PEEP!
When I roll, I gots to roll deep.
Ain't going out cheap
Make the Mad Circle on Cypress Hill cuz its so steep.
They'll never get me
They'll never hit me
Mother ** that shit J-Dee.
Now I relax
Grab the St. Ides brew so I can max.
Sitting on the window cuz its so ** hot,
And then I heard a shot -
Boom.

Thugs About (Trick Daddy)

[Intro: Cool & Dre]
Good god, a ha ha
Yo Trick I think we done did it again man ([echo:] of course, of course)
Miami's finest, T Double D (haha haha)
Y'all know who we be

[Chorus: Cool & Dre]
I wanna be your homie, your homie, love, and friend
I wanna be your boy that you holla at night on the weekends (ooh baby)
I wanna be the 'G' that your girlfriends brag about, that's what talkin' bout
Ohhh girl come and let me show you what a thug's about

[Verse 1: Trick Daddy]
I ain't the type of nigga, who get a little bit of cheddar
And start hanging on the beach and think he better than the next nigga (next nigga)
Though I'll prolly go to Bay Harbor about Gucci, Louis, or Prada
For my wife son or daughter, yeah (wife, son, or daughter)
They gon talk about us, you should expect that
Look at them bitches, they broke, they can't afford this
They still livin' with they momma and they wonder why niggaz ** em'
And won't do nothin' for 'em
Pump ya brakes lil' mama, some are down to bitch
Stay out my face if you ain't got shit good to say
And my wife don't like ya (don't like ya)
Matter of fact when she see ya, she might wanna fight ya
Ho, I tried to keep it real witcha' (keep it real witcha)
But by ya runnin' ya mouth and takin' pills, I can't deal with ya
Bitch you got real issues (real issues) and I'm a real nigga
Deal wit' 'em and I wanna chill witcha

[Chorus (w/ adlibs from Dirtbag)]

[Verse 2: Dirtbag]
Now you ain't neva had a stunna
You ain't neva had a gunna
You ain't neva had a dirty**gangsta mother**er
Now you glad you did
First you was scared
Poppin champagne bottles, go on take a swig
You see this life I live is for the real and not the fake
So when we walk the streets girl I'll make ya feel safe (huh)
I know you lovin how I'm thuggin all dayyy
Your momma hate me but she thank me when the rent payyyed
Say my name and watch how ya friends act
I got a brother and a cousin they can get at
First you was shuddered wit niggaz that get in trouble
Then I got you in the cover no other did it so betta
Tropical colors on ya dresses impresses me
I ain't worryin' about yo 'exes' come flex with me
YEEE!! Girl what's gooood
You lookin' for love and now you found it in the hooood

[Chorus (w/ adlibs from Trick Daddy)]

[Verse 3: Trick Daddy]
You see the problem is
You accept too many promises (too many promises)
And you subject yourself, where you can't help yourself
But I'm here to help (I'm here to help), so tell the busta to step
And baby have no fear cuz "Thug Life" is here
And I got a remedy for you to get replenished in
But hot showers, clean towels, and a double hennessey
And I hope you got plenty energy
Cuz' when K-9 these felines, shit gets finicky (whoa, haha)
Anyways, I got plenty ways, to make ya stay
But Im'a keep it straight, it's better that way
I'm better gettin' wetter that way
And I'm bigger than ya last, and we gon' need "Magnum"
In fact I'm ready right now (right now)
We can get butt ** and I'll hit it right now (right now)
But we homies, so let's stay homies (stay homie)
Conversation only
Okay homie (okay homie)

[Chorus (x2)]

Sunday Kind of Love (Reba McEntire)

(Barbara Belle, Louis Prima, Anita Leonard,
Stan Rhodes)

I want a Sunday Kind of Love.
A love to last, past Saturday night.
And I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight.
I want a Sunday Kind of Love.
And I want a, a love that's on the square.

Can't seem to find somebody, someone to care.
And I'm on a lonely road that leads to nowhere.
I need a Sunday kind of love.
I do all my Sunday dreaming, and all my scheming.
Every minute, every hour, every day
And I'm hoping to discover a certain kind of
lover Who will show me the way.
And my arms need someone to imput.
To keep me warm when Monday's and Tuesday's grow
cold. And I need a love for all my life to have
and to hold.
I want a Sunday kind of love.
Oh yeahhhhh I don't want a
Monday or a Tuesday, Wednesday or a Thursday,
Friday or Saturday I don't want nothing baby.
I want a Sunday Kind of Love

Peanut Vendor (Red Nichols)

THE PEANUT VENDOR (El Manisero)
Don Azpiazu
English words by Marion Sunshine and L. Wolfe Gilbert
music and Spanish words by Moises Simons

Four versions charted in 1931: Don Azpiazu (#1); California
Ramblers (#5); Red Nichols (#5); and Louis Armstrong (#15)
Armstrong re-issued it in 1941 and hit # 25.

In Cuba, each merry maid
Wakes up with this serenade
Peanuts! They're nice and hot
Peanuts! I sell alot
If you haven't got bananas, don't be blue
Peanuts in a little bag are calling you
Don't waste them, no tummy ache
You'll taste them when you awake
For at the very break of day
The peanut vendor's on his way
At dawning that whistle blows
Through ev'ry city, town, and country lane
You'll hear him sing his plaintive little strain
And as he goes by to you he'll say:
“Big jumbos, big double ones
Come buy those peanuts roasted today
Come try those freshly roasted today!”
If you're looking for a moral to this song
Fifty million little monkeys can't be wrong

In Cuba, his smiling face
Is welcome most ev'ry place
Peanuts! They hear him cry
Peanuts! They all reply
If you're looking for an early morning treat
Get some double jointed peanuts good to eat
For breakfast or dinner time
For supper, most anytime
A merry twinkle in his eye
He's got a way that makes you buy
Each morning that whistle blows
The little children like to trail along
They love to hear the peanut vendor's song
They all laugh with glee when he will say
“They're roasted, no tiny ones
They're toasted, peanuts in the shell
Come buy some, I eat more than I sell!”
If an apple keeps the doctor from your door
Peanuts ought to keep him from you ever more

In Cuba, each merry maid
Wakes up with this serenade
Peanuts! They're nice and hot,
Peanuts! I sell alot,
“Peanuts! We'll meet again
Peanuts! This street again
Peanuts! You'll eat again
Your peanut man.”
That Peanut man's gone.





From: Jackie Bankston <jackieb@digitalexp.com>

That Lucky Old Sun (Frankie Laine)

That Lucky Old Sun

-Artist: Frankie Laine as sung on "Frankie Laine's Greatest Hits"
-Columbia CS 8636
-peak Billboard position #1 for 8 weeks in 1949
-competing versions charted by Vaughn Monroe (#6), Sarah Vaughan (# 14),
-Frank Sinatra (#16), Louis Armstrong (#19), and Bob Houston (#27)
-Words by Haven Gillespie and Music by Beasley Smith


Up in the mornin'
Out on the job
Work like the devil for my pay
But that lucky old sun got nothin' to do
But roll around heaven all day.

Fuss with my woman, toil for my kids
Sweat till I'm wrinkled and gray
While that lucky old sun got nothin' to do
But roll around heaven all day

Dear Lord above, can't you know I'm pining, tears all in my eyes
Send down that cloud with a silver lining, lift me to Paradise

Show me that river, take me across
Wash all my troubles away
Like that lucky old sun, give me nothing to do
But roll around heaven all day

<instrumental interlude—first line of "Dear Lord">
Send down that cloud with a silver lining, lift me to Paradise

Show me that river, take me across
Wash all my troubles away
Like that lucky old sun, give me nothing to do
But roll around heaven all day


Transcribed by Robin Hood

These lyrics were transcribed from the specific recording mentioned above
and do not necessarily correspond with lyrics from other recordings, sheet
music, songbooks or lyrics printed on album jackets.


Young Niggas (2Pac)




I wanna dedicate this one to Robert "yummy" Sanderford
and all tha other little young niggas
that's in tha rush to be gangstas...
As a Young Nigga
[???]
give anythang
to be that innocent again
when I was ten
I didn't bang
but I was hangin with tha homies
till them niggas started slangin'
now they don't know me
I got my hustle on
learned to ignore
what coulda fade me lately i been tryin to make a million
can you blame me with that jelousy they wanna diss me
don't sweat me
if tha cowards really want me
come get me
and even I
someday will die
but i'm cautious up in my ride
put down the top
now we flossen
hit the freeway
let the wind blow
drop the window
workin with a 20 sack a indo
feelin' good
stop through the hood
grab tha young thugs
and I can't help but reminice back when we slung drugs
it was bad
but all we had was our hopes and dreams
couldn't see, unless we learned to slang dope to fiends
Chorus
your the kind of G like everyone knows He's always G'ed up, from head
to
toe [My memories as a young nigga] always got it flown like Al Capone
He's
the kind of G out there, I know back in Jr. High when we was barely
getting
by when daddy died that's when my momma started getten high my
neighborhood
was full of drive-bys couldn't survive all my homies livin short lives
I
couldn't cry told my momma if I did die just put a blunt in my casket
let
me get my dead homies high then follow me throughout my history it's
just
me against the world stuck in misory as a young nigga my only thing is
to
get paid life full of riches avoid snitches cause they shadey back in
the
day we always had the time to play but after they taught them
gangbangers
how to spray not just LA but in the Bay and Chicago and even St. Louis
every stadium that I go when will they change? stuck in the game like
a
dumb nigga remember how it was... to be a young nigga
Chorus
your the kind of G like everyone knows He's always G'ed up, from head
to
toe [My memories as a young nigga] always got it flown like Al Capone
He's
the kind of G out there, I know
bridge
I'm tellen you, if your young, have your brains and have every limb
and all
that.....ya'll niggas don't know how good you really do got it.
Mother**ers need to just calm down and peep what they wanna do for
tha
rest. before you end your life, before you begin your life ya dumb
nigga
Now that i'm grown I got my mind on being something don't wanna be
another
statistic out there doin nothin tryin to maintain in this dirty game
keep
it real and I will even if it kills me my young niggas brake away from
these dumb niggas put down the guns and have some fun nigga tha rest
will
come figure fame is a fast thang they're gangbangin puttin niggas in a
casket murdered for hangin at tha wrong place at the wrong time no
longer
livin cause he trew up tha wrong sign and everyday I watch tha murder
rate
increase and even worse tha eppidemics and diseases what is the
future? the
projects lookin hopless there, more and more brothas givin up a don't
care
sometimes I hate when brothers act up I hit tha weed and I procced to
blow
the track up for young niggas
Chorus
your the kind of G like everyone knows He's always G'ed up, from head
to
toe [My memories as a young nigga] always got it flown like Al Capone
He's
the kind of G out there, I know [repeat chorus overtop of lyrics
below]
this goes out to the young thugs have nots the little bad
mother**ers
from tha block those niggas that's 13 and 14 and drivin' cadilacs and
benzs
and shit young mother**en hustlers stay strong nigga you could be a
**en accountant not a dope dealer, ya know what i'm sayin? **
around
and be pimpin put here you could be a lawyer niggas gotta get they
priorities straight young niggas, little rah rah, especially my little
cousin...

Merry Frickin Christmas (Red Sox) (Frickin' A)

School's out
Christmas Break
Back to Boston
The Red Sox in four straight
First the Yankees
Then St. Louis
The curse
Reversed
The Bambino really blew it
Derek Jeter's lost his mind
Trippin' on a broomstick
Better luck next time

[chorus]

It's gonna be a Merry Merry Merry Frickin Christmas
All you New York Yankee fans can kiss this
The tree
The gifts
The missletoe kiss
Swing
A miss
Steinbrenner's really pissed
Have a merry merry merry frickin Christmas!

Joe Torre
He's a weirdo
Gave me a picture of himself in a speedo
A-Rod
Gotta feel the sting
Could've come to Boston to wear a World Series Ring
We all know you're chokin' on your lunch
Try a knuckle sandwich
And a Varitek punch


[chorus]


It's gonna be a Merry Merry Merry Frickin Christmas
All you New York Yankee fans can kiss this
The tree
The gifts
The missletoe kiss
Swing
A miss
Steinbrenner's really pissed
Have a merry merry merry frickin Christmas!

2004
The best Christmas yet
A World series ring
I was sick of hearing 1918...

Hey George!
I Hope ya can't sleep at night!
Pass the beer nuts.

[chorus]


It's gonna be a Merry Merry Merry Frickin Christmas
All you New York Yankee fans can kiss this
The tree
The gifts
The missletoe kiss
Swing
A miss
Steinbrenner's really pissed
Have a merry merry merry frickin Christmas!
Merry Frickin Christmas!

Ho Ho Ho
I'm Santa W. Claus, and I approved this message!

Yankees Suck!
Yankees Suck!
Yankees Suck!
Yankees Suck!
Yankees Suck!

High Speed (2Pac Featuring Outlaw Immortals)

[E.D.I Amin]
I speak
For all my ni**az livin' in the rush
Slow it down just a notch baby
It's goin' be alright, it's goin' be alright

[2Pac + E.D.I Amin]
Life in High Speed
f**k the punishment, tie weed
I gonna buy me a gun
f**k doin' time

[2Pac]
I live life High Speed
Slightly disillusioned by weed
I breed thug muthaf**kas even worse than me
When I bleed, my enemies best to flee quickly, on me
My army, ni**az decieve swiftly
Look at you now, why you wanna hang out?
I pull the hammer back
Strike wit' a cannon and blow your muthaf**kin' back out
They blast but I'm still standin'
Slightly scarred deep
Questions for the lord, why he don't like me, guard my soul
Though my life was hard with no remorse
I absorb bomb less it's without protection for the boss
Rollin' in my double, raw, rugged, and ruthless
Keep a vest through these hard times, knowin' it's useless
And my crew, who could should be mistaken for Jews
We all about our past, blast if he break the rules
Fools done snitched for the D.A., be heavensent
Switched like a stone-bi**h, turned str8 severed then, why?
Then they wonder why ni**az die
Put your family in danger just to get high
Now, what the hell can we get from jail?
More tricks for the crime rate, this is hell
Bail out, a thug ni**a fresh out the jailhouse
Open your safe count and take all your mail out
Whatever happens happens
Whoever falls dies
We fresh out of time, livin blind, so we all ride
In times like these, chronic and tie weed
Puffin' through these High Speedz
And people say

[Chorus (2Pac):]

Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?
I'm gonna buy me a gun
Then what's next?
Food and **, house parties in the projects
We goin' all night
Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?
I'm gonna buy me a gun
Then what's next?
Food and **, house parties in the projects
We goin' all night

[Yaki Kadafi]
Verbal a*sa*sin, I hit the corner fast, blastin'
I plan to stretch your chest plate back like elastic
No need to push me to slippin'
I love beef, like pussy and pistols
For all you pussies that's soft as tissue
I ride plottin' like the fall guy out the roof
Bustin' at you wise guy, gettin' high, sippin' hundred proof
Gettin' your neck joints low to verdict wit' mine
Get that a*s attacked, murdered, and robbed, blind from behind
Grab your shots', callin'
Catchin ni**az while they stormin'
Kickin' his door in
And get your whole f**kin' family a' mournin'
Plus all you itchy-bi**hy types can't touch me
Frontin' like your hard
I'll play your f**kin' yard like a trussel

[Chorus (2Pac):]

Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?
I'm gonna buy me a gun
Then what's next?
Food and **, house parties in the projects
We goin' all night
Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?
I'm gonna buy me a gun
Then what's next?
Food and **, house parties in the projects
We goin' all night

[E.D.I Amin]
At times, I look through times wit' so much anger
Wonderin' why it keeps on pa*sin' bringin' me the danger
No singal hard time is a good one
At times I'm amazed
Now what the mutha f**k a hood done
What we do to get paid
All day, for the almighty, dollar
Don't even bother to holla
We all destined to be swallowed
By the same thing we lust for
Threw away our morals in bags of dust, more
ni**az is dying tommorrow
We, bet on all time
ni**a the clocks tickin'
Approachin' is the day you only know your glocks spittin
Cops sittin', politicians pa*sin' laws you ain't knowin'
Soon that money goin' be illegal when you got it
Keep your dough up
But I ain't goin' tell you, what?, to stop chasin' paper
Man, I'm just like ya'll, I worry 'bout that s**t later
Put the metal to the pedal, slash up ni**a, blaze
Lets get blowed out High Speed til the end of my dayz
Now my people say

[Chorus (2Pac): repeat 5X]

Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?
I'm gonna buy me a gun
Then what's next?
Food and **, house parties in the projects
We goin' all night

[2Pac]
High Speedz (we goin' all night)
Life of an Outlaw, ghetto starz (we goin' all night)
(Yes) I'm gonna buy me a gun
Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
For my ni**az on the WestSide and the EastSide
And the NorthSide and the SouthSide
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
(Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?)
From Compton to Jersey
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
Gettin' it real hard
ni**az in Michigan, (M.O.B ni**a, M.O.B)
From Atlanta, Georgia to Utah
(Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?)
From St. Louis to Alabama
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
From Mississippi to Oakland, from San Francisco to San Diego
Seattle to Florida
(Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?)
Maine to Ma*s, haha
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
Food and **
(Whatcha gonna do when you get outta jail?)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
Then what's next?
Food and **, house parties in the projects
We goin' all night
High Speedz
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(We goin' all night)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(We goin' all night)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(We goin' all night)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
(I'm gonna buy me a gun)
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
And it don't stop, and it won't quit
Outlawz with that rough s**t, baby!

[E.D.I Amin]
Learn about it
Pac you goin' rap?


Video


Louis Bérubé.




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