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Thursday, 31 July 2014
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Ecouter Oum kaltoum enta omri ام كلثوم: انت عمري


Paroles

Adeus Você (Los Hermanos)

Adeus você. Eu hoje vou pro lado de lá.
Estou levando tudo de mim
que é pra não ter razão pra chorar.
Vê se te alimenta e não pensa
que eu fui por não te amar.
Cuida do teu pra que ninguém
te jogue no chão.
Procure dividir-se em alguém,
procure-me em qualquer confusão.
Levanta e te sustenta e não pensa
que eu fui por não te amar.

Quero ver você maior, meu bem.
Pra que minha vida siga a diante.
Adeus você. Não venha mais me negacear.
Seu choro não me faz desistir,
seu riso não me faz reclinar.
Acalma esta tormenta e se agüenta,
que eu vou pro meu lugar.

É bom, às vezes,
se perder sem ter porque, sem ter razão.
É um dom saber envaidecer, por si,
saber mudar de tom.
Quero não saber de cor, também,
Para que minha vida siga adiante.

T.F.D.P. (Charlie Brown Jr.)

Vaidade sua o mundo da lua, show biz agora é uma gang de rua
Vaidade sua o mundo da lua, show biz agora é uma gang de rua
Quando o cara é mané ele faz o que quer
Se liga meu irmão essa mulher ta te arruinando
O que ela agüenta sorrindo você não agüenta nem gritando
O cheiro da raposa deixou tremula a esposa do urubu malandro
O jogo vira eu sei o que estou falando
A força, força, força, a inteligência é minha força
E a vontade de vencer é mais forte em mim agora, é mais forte em mim agora.
É tudo filho da puta, é tudo filho da puta, é tudo filho da puta, é tudo
filho da puta
No meio disso tudo eu não te iludo e não me iludo
A pouco tempo atras eu era um pobre vagabundo
Andava pela rua sem nenhum trocado ia a pé pra toda lado
Maltrapilho e maltratado falido e mal cuidado
Mas quem vai abrir pra mim as portas da Babilônia
Mas quem vai abrir pra mim as portas da Babilônia
Um governo falido não ajuda ninguém hoje eles me fodem amanhã vou foder eles
também
Vão te foder também, vaidade sua o mundo de lua Show biz agora é uma gang de
rua
É tudo filha da puta...

Buck Em Down (Black Moon)

* Buckshot is now known as Da B.D.I. Emcee

Buck em down (repeat 16X)

Verse One: Buckshot Shorty *

To the weak, what we do, buck em down, word life
Each and every nigga whenever I'm in the sight
Let my nigga Jewel peep your style for your card
Then I kick a verse and take a look at the God
God hit them niggaz with a verse real quick
C'mon God niggaz is all on your dick
You know what they say about niggaz who ride dicks
Upstate niggaz become chicks, word life
I ain't bullshittin, ask my nigga Buff
On the streets he was tough locked up he was sweet stuff
Shit is hot, word to Ma Duke
and get the loot from the man kick his**with my Timberland
Shorty with the Shots that I Buck with ** with
gang hanger with the double-edged banger
And I got niggaz clingin my drawers
Niggaz fake I'ma bust a cap ** that I'm breakin jaws
I'ma bring it to your chest like, wind
Fill your **in lungs up with all the bullshit from within
But I'ma put it back so parlay
To the weak in Bucktown all we do everyday

Buck em down (repeat 32X)

Verse Two: Buckshot Shorty

Niggaz tell me chill when I kick it
Although my shit is wicked, it's all about the blunts and how I lick it
Or how I shot a nigga in the mug
with the slug leavin white chalk all on a pitch black rug
You couldn't tell me other word to mother
When I was fifteen runnin around I was the real street lover
On the corner out shootin the dice
Layin up, gettin nice, talkin bout a heist
GQ headin up to one-two-five
Push up on a shorty lookin live on the prize
I couldn't get the time of day when I was Little K
Now you call me Buck so your lips wanna puck?
** that bitch, I know your X amount of thoughts
But they call me Buckshot Shorty cause I take no shorts
Word to the shell around my chest
Big up to all de massive rudebwoy pon deck
So if you see a weak nigga speak to that bastard
Or I'ma hit his**with the mother**in plastic
Word life, I ain't bullshittin

Buck em down (32X)

Verse Three: Buckshot Shorty

When I was in school I was a mack
Shorty was strapped with a lyrical contact
knapsack, filled with the shit that I G'd
and a nickel bag of weed, yes indeed
A mad little nigga runnin up on em all
Fly as hell, hit the park play the wall
And all the older people sayin Shorty's a bad-ass
but youse a smart little nigga so you gonna last
They knew the time and they knew the rhyme woulda
hit you in at least four years, so I came to split ya
in the nine-three it's all about me
Ninety-four ninety-five that's my years ** it I'm takin over
In nineteen-ninety-eight I couldn't wait
To get all my niggaz and do shows from state to state
Now I'm the mother**er that's givin instructions
**in with them niggaz Beatminerz on productions
Welcome to Bucktown, U.S.A.
Where the weak niggaz get their shit**played

Buck em down (repeat 32X)

Outro: Buckshot Shorty

Aiyyo, this is goin out to all the real niggaz
who buck down the bullshit, you know what I'm sayin?
On the real, rest in peace to my nigga Buttah
in Coney Island, shit is mad real out there
you know what I'm sayin? Buckshot Shorty
Five F-T, my DJ Evil Dee
Mr. Walt, all my niggaz in the mother**er
you know what I'm sayin? Smokin mad blunts
and just chillin. So buck down the bullshit in ninety-three
ninety-four, ninety-five, shit is ours
Black Moon, we out

Slave (Black Moon)




I'm gettin the ahh, I'm gettin the ahh from the
weak shit that I hear no lyrical styles come near
to the one who boasts like Buck
On the mic truck, cuz I never gave a **
I hate the weak shit, man it be **in with my soul
I peeped how radio be trying to take control
Tellin me to get a little lighter on my lyrics
But if it ain't real on the mic I can't feel it
Straight from my bloodstream, I pump finesse
Nevertheless, hold it in your chest like stress
Rhythm and blues style is not in my environment
And when I "slowww dowwwn" it's time to take a hit
But until I fall off, call off your set
and if you never knew me, then you never knew wreck
Look inside of the mind and see
Cause you might be trapped with a nigga like me
I feel like I'm trapped in the mother**in cave
To the rhythm I'm a slave, lookin in my grave
Jugulur vein bustin out my neck, you see the rage
I move when I groove cuz I'm into, the stage
of the Buckshot, black, I'm bringin it back
to the roots, like Timberland boots, home on my rack
And I don't give a ** what you say
Commercial rap, get the gun clap, day after day
Niggaz don't play on the d low, kid you know my steelo
I roll on more niggaz than cee-lo
We might just bumrush your set
Me AND my niggaz on the real mic check
Like my nigga Smif gettin swift on the gift
Then I toss another lesson to my nigga Wessun
And my nigga Five from the tribe of Moon
Pass the Crooked I, bitch yo pass the boom
Whenever you're ready I'ma take you into the stage
Deep in the mind of a slave

Brinca Mesache, Brinca Mesacha (Mallacan)

Brinca, baila, y dimpués luita contra la tristura...
Contina, brinca atra bez, no bi ha puesto ta l'amargura

As maitinadas nos imos á minchar
Nueis estreladas, no, no dormir pas.

Mira enta debán, no baigas á punchar,
O camín ye luengo, no cal reblar pas.

Á cada paso saboriando la bida,
En cada suenio una costera que puyar.
Somos o zierzo que no podez aturar.
Maitín de nueis, dormius, podremos descansar.

Canta, baila, muebe-te, mosica contra o faxismo.
Enrestida bereber en un Aragón mestizo.

Güellos que no beyen, corazón que no siente.
Bailo con a bida, me'n arrigo de ra muerte.
Lo que no nos mata, nos ferá muito más fuertes.
Creba la baralla, sisquiera tú tiengas suerte.


(Salta, baila y después, lucha contra la tristeza...
Continúa, salta otra vez, no hay sitio para la amargura.

Las mañanas nos las vamos a comer...
Noches estrelladas sin dormir.

Mira hacia delante, no vayas a pinchar,
El camino es largo y no hay que ceder.

A cada paso saboreando la vida,
En cada sueño una cuesta que subir.
Somos el cierzo que no podéis parar.
Mañana por la noche, dormidos, podremos descansar.

Canta, grita, muevete, música contra el fascismo,
Ofensiva bereber en un Aragón mestizo.

Ojos que no ven, corazón que no siente.
Bailo con la vida, me río de la muerte.
Lo que no nos mata nos hará mucho mas fuertes.
Rompe la baraja, ojalá tengas suerte.)

Who Got Da Props? (Black Moon)

Put up, what up, BO BO BO!
Suckers want to flow but they got no show
So I'm a grab the mic, flip a script, and leave ya stunned
Buckshot's the one that gets the job done
Mic check, I get paid to wreck your set
Get ready and jet, cause I'm a threat to your fret
No holds barred, and complete move fakers
Best to play the back and watch your girl, I might take her
If she's a crab I'm a diss her and slide
If she try to riff I got my Smith on my side
Word to God, here I come so make way
Rugged and rough, killing your set every day
Microphone check 1, 2, here we go
And I'm a let you know, who got the flow
Spitting my verbs like an automatic weapon
Suckers keep stepping, so I'm a let you know

Who got the props? *bo!*
Who got the props? *bo!*
5ft, Evil Dee, and Buckshot! *bo!* (Repeat 4x)

One Mississippi, two mississippi
Sucker tried to diss me so I played him like a hippie from the 60's
But I'm a get paid from the 90's
Quick to play you Little Rascals out like Stymie
Kicking flavor, with my life saver techniques
Guaranteed to move feets and I go on for weeks
Maybe years if my peers give me ears to fill
Lick off a shot and act ill, parlay and chill
See I paid my dues, now you can't tell me nothing
This is dedicated to the ones who kept fronting
The ones who tried to diss and play high? Oh no
Just cause you had low, see now I got dough
And I'm paid out my rectum, meaing my backbone
Grab the mic, flip a mad script to your dome
Suckers, I kick 'em like tae kwon do
Yes and low, from head to toe to let you know

Who got the props? *bo!*
Who got the props? *bo!*
5ft, Evil Dee, and Buckshot! *bo!* (Repeat 4x)

I'm the rugged operator like Arnold Schwarzenegger
Buckshot quick to play your nigga like Sega
Smooth trigger-happy snappy, keep my hair nappy
When I swing an ep girls call me "big pappy"
I used to play a game called "Ring Around the Rosey"
But now I play the mic, that's why the whole world knows me
I'm sort of like a Chevy heavy when I bumrush
You'd better bring your whole damn crew or get your head crushed, sucker
Cause I'm a set it off with one shot
One trigger, one nigga ??? heads drop
Don't even try to play me out cause static
Buckshot Shorty, he sounds like an automatic
Rip the set, my friend's mad tight
Cause I rocks the mic and keeps the crowd hype
Straight from Bumrush, I crush and cause chaos yo, and I'm a let you know

Who got the props? *bo!*
Who got the props? *bo!*
5ft, Evil Dee, and Buckshot! *bo!* (Repeat 4x)

One, two, melody shows
And before I flip a script you know I must keep you dozing
Into the stage of the Buckshot Shorty
Son pass the boom, keep the top on the 40
Never ever ever get played, KILL THAT
Bust a mad cap in your back cause I'm all that
Straight from Crooklyn, better known as Brooklyn
Elude the hook and, your whole beat's tookin'
Must take charge, bomb guard, I'm the man
Bust my plan, it feeds back on my fam
Once I cruise, pay dues, I never lose
When I break on fools, wake up, you don't snooze
Bust a move, I get smooth like Roadie
Kick it like the Four Horsemen, yeah you know me
Booming like a speaker with my 100 dollar sneakers
Baggy black jeans, knapsack, and my beeper
keep a fresh cut, never see me with a busted fro
And I'm a let you know...

Who got the props? *bo!*
Who got the props? *bo!*
5ft, Evil Dee, and Buckshot! *bo!* (Repeat)

Necessary Roughness (The Lady Of Rage)




Hayyyyy!
Break it down big ba-ty, here to rock the par-ty
(c'mon) Break a sucker down to dust, ah-hah
Do what I must *inhale* ooh what a rush
Lyrical muderer, microphone bone crusher
Yeah yeah y'all
Break a sucker down to dust, ah-hah

Now check the mic stalker, will wear you out like Walker
Rock a microphone like I was a native New Yorker
I strike HARD like Ben Frank's lightning rod
Leave you suckers scarred (uh-huh) leave you suckers charred
Now you're burnt to a crisp, so check the vocalist
I get sick with my shit, wicked like sadistics
It'll be a +Black Moon+ when I _Enta Da Stage_
Grab the microphone, turn from Robin to Rage
Then I shoot from the jugular, I get rough and ruggeder
You can't front on this big body Southerner
Your shit'll get smacked back, you're booty like asscrack
Who reigns supreme, baby no need to ask that
I bust on the daily, get down to the roots like Hailey
as I proceed to rock the mic, feel me, I
gets total wreck and make crews pop, I
rock from Osaka down to the Boondocks
Pop goes the rhyme on you weasels (uh-huh)
Rock strictly for my peoples, strictly for those Prince Edward evils
as I, blow up like spontaneous combustion, hah
I'll be the +Queen+ of MC's that's +Flushing+, hah
And ain't no maybe's, or might be's, cause if the mic be
within reaches of my psyche, I just eat it up like Mikey
(I like it) when I'm weeded, so beat it, don't let me get heated
or you just might get stretched out like Sealy Posturepedic
(Believe it) so it is said, so it is written
Until the day that I'm dead, I'll keep hittin
always and forever spittin, from my soul for real
down yellow brick roads I will, uhh
chase them dreams, make more snap than green beans
Ask Mr. Greenjeans who's the Captain, I'm slappin
Fast-actin like Tinactin, mo' deeper than the ?
So get crackin, you don't wanna Clash with this Titan
Whether freestylin or writin, the way I be breakin off mics man
I'm twirlin MC's like I'm Major Wreck
cause I'm a major threat, once again Rage in effect

HAH, Necessary Rough when I bust
Enter your zones, microphones get crushed, I..
I break a sucker down to dust, ah-hah
I do what I must *inhale* ooh what a rush, c'mon!
Necessary Rough when I bust (UHH)
Enter your zones, microphones get crushed, I..
I break a sucker down to dust, ah-hah
I do what I must *inhale* ooh what a rush

Now tell me who in the place wanna taste? (who?)
I'm rhymin til I'm blue in the face so face, the, facts
Don't look back, or you're gonna be salty
Uhh, ah-hah, you best take flight like Maltese, Falcon
you're scalpin, your hearts palpitatin
Fluttering from the uttering of the vocab when I spake it
when I spit it, wack MC's get ommitted
Now did it not occur to you, that I could serve a few
good men or women, cause I'ma, equal opportunity, HAYYY
You're bound to lose, unless your name is Parker Lewis
Now let's do this, let the games begin (uh-huh)
Got suckers on the sideline mad as a wet hen, so you best
step with that rambling, you're gambling with fate
I got suckers scrambling like quarterbacks from Grambling State
So, don't eff around Tootsie, you might get Roll-ed up
Sewed up, you best play like crutch and fold up
HOLD UP, watch me flip shit like a gymnast Mary Lou Retton
Best play like Omega Psi Phi and start steppin
Jettin on the first Delta out
cause I make mics melt in my mouth
Takin em out is all I'm about, now check me OWWWWWWWWT
For hip-hop, I dies off with a vengeance
My vocab blows doors off it's hinges, with every sentence
And since this is the new age, uhh, ah-hah
All lyrical concoctions, by lyrical murderer Rage
got a vertical hold, on verbal abusin ways
Cervical tubes get spayed, neutered, get slayed, tutored, DONE
Blood shit, on nuff shit, quick, handcuff this
Cause it's definitely Necessary Roughness

HAH, Necessary Rough when I bust
Enter your zones, microphones get crushed, I..
I break a sucker down to dust, ah-hah
I do what I must *inhale* ooh what a rush
Necessary Rough when I bust
Enter your zones, microphones get crushed, I..
I break a sucker down to dust, ah-hah
I do what I must *inhale* ooh what a rush

Necessary Rough when I bust
Microphones get crushed, I..
break a sucker down to dust
Do what I must *inhale* what a rush
Necessary Rough when I bust
Enter your zones, microphones get crushed, I..
I break a sucker down to dust, hah
I do what I must *inhale* what a rush

Necessary Rough *inhale* ooh what a rush
Necessary Rough *inhale* ooh what a.. ooh what a.. *echoes*

Superstylin' (Groove Armada)

Enta in de dance, plug it in and we begin,
Crowd up in de center, they watch (be dibidim),
Watch de way we drop it in a mixed timin',
Rise and amplifying when we come in wit de swing.

Just follow in de back and naturally harmonising,
Climb into position wit syncronised things,
Live from out de ghetto we maximising,
Sound-O-De-Groove-Armada we Superstylin'

Sometimes, can you feel the pressure does unwind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Sometimes, in tru the day and tru the night,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Somtimes, you can make the pressure does unwind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Sometimes, it's for your spirit and your mind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)

Dat's how we drop it on de up on de line,
One time lyrics that must stick on your mind.
Propa guys line that go "Propeye propeye",
My Mc's super I'll go double on de right.

Go double on de right.

Sometimes, can you feel the pressure does unwind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Sometimes, in tru the day and tru the night,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Somtimes, you can make the pressure does unwind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Sometimes, it's for your spirit and your mind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)

Home operater make de music play in time,

Baby just recline...

Worldwide...

Enta in de dance, plug it in and we begin,
Crowd up in de center, they watch (be dibidim),
Watch de way we drop it in a mixed timin',
Rise and amplifying when we come in wit de swing.

Just follow in de back and naturally harmonising,
Climb into position wit syncronised things,
Live from out de ghetto we maximising,
Sound-O-De-Groove-Armada we Superstylin'

Sometimes, can you feel the pressure does unwind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Sometimes, in tru the day and tru the night,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Somtimes, you can make the pressure does unwind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)
Sometimes, it's for your spirit and your mind,
Somtimes (here we go, here we go)

Son Get Wrec (Black Moon)

* Buckshot is now known as Da B.D.I. Emcee

Buck em down (repeat 16X)

Verse One: Buckshot Shorty *

To the weak, what we do, buck em down, word life
Each and every nigga whenever I'm in the sight
Let my nigga Jewel peep your style for your card
Then I kick a verse and take a look at the God
God hit them niggaz with a verse real quick
C'mon God niggaz is all on your dick
You know what they say about niggaz who ride dicks
Upstate niggaz become chicks, word life
I ain't bullshittin, ask my nigga Buff
On the streets he was tough locked up he was sweet stuff
Shit is hot, word to Ma Duke
and get the loot from the man kick his**with my Timberland
Shorty with the Shots that I Buck with ** with
gang hanger with the double-edged banger
And I got niggaz clingin my drawers
Niggaz fake I'ma bust a cap ** that I'm breakin jaws
I'ma bring it to your chest like, wind
Fill your **in lungs up with all the bullshit from within
But I'ma put it back so parlay
To the weak in Bucktown all we do everyday

Buck em down (repeat 32X)

Verse Two: Buckshot Shorty

Niggaz tell me chill when I kick it
Although my shit is wicked, it's all about the blunts and how I lick it
Or how I shot a nigga in the mug
with the slug leavin white chalk all on a pitch black rug
You couldn't tell me other word to mother
When I was fifteen runnin around I was the real street lover
On the corner out shootin the dice
Layin up, gettin nice, talkin bout a heist
GQ headin up to one-two-five
Push up on a shorty lookin live on the prize
I couldn't get the time of day when I was Little K
Now you call me Buck so your lips wanna puck?
** that bitch, I know your X amount of thoughts
But they call me Buckshot Shorty cause I take no shorts
Word to the shell around my chest
Big up to all de massive rudebwoy pon deck
So if you see a weak nigga speak to that bastard
Or I'ma hit his**with the mother**in plastic
Word life, I ain't bullshittin

Buck em down (32X)

Verse Three: Buckshot Shorty

When I was in school I was a mack
Shorty was strapped with a lyrical contact
knapsack, filled with the shit that I G'd
and a nickel bag of weed, yes indeed
A mad little nigga runnin up on em all
Fly as hell, hit the park play the wall
And all the older people sayin Shorty's a bad-ass
but youse a smart little nigga so you gonna last
They knew the time and they knew the rhyme woulda
hit you in at least four years, so I came to split ya
in the nine-three it's all about me
Ninety-four ninety-five that's my years ** it I'm takin over
In nineteen-ninety-eight I couldn't wait
To get all my niggaz and do shows from state to state
Now I'm the mother**er that's givin instructions
**in with them niggaz Beatminerz on productions
Welcome to Bucktown, U.S.A.
Where the weak niggaz get their shit**played

Buck em down (repeat 32X)

Outro: Buckshot Shorty

Aiyyo, this is goin out to all the real niggaz
who buck down the bullshit, you know what I'm sayin?
On the real, rest in peace to my nigga Buttah
in Coney Island, shit is mad real out there
you know what I'm sayin? Buckshot Shorty
Five F-T, my DJ Evil Dee
Mr. Walt, all my niggaz in the mother**er
you know what I'm sayin? Smokin mad blunts
and just chillin. So buck down the bullshit in ninety-three
ninety-four, ninety-five, shit is ours
Black Moon, we out

Shit Iz Real (Black Moon)




Check how I kick it, when I was wicked, around the way
Hold my Tec, cuz my niggaz pump by day
Drugs and thieves hit the eve of the night
Niggaz who fake real, come on a real flight
Six feet deep in the creep
Mic technique got a nigga locked down for a week
Word is bond, shit is on like this
Gotta move, cuz I'm on a nigga hitlist
You know the kid with the rock from up the block
Hit him up with the glock now his pops on my rooftop
Ridiculous to think you're hittin me
You're not hittin me you're gettin me upset with the threat
But I'm a little nigga from the heart of Bucktown
My stomping ground is Brooklyn bound
** what you heard, it's about what you hit
And if that's your girl, then your bitch ain't shit
**in all my niggaz cuz they know Black Moon
Shit iz real yo, pass that boom
Never parlay without a L
Inhale the first hit for all my niggaz locked in jail
Then go for dolo on a coup, laundry
Shoot the wack in the back and I'm aight all day
It's hot, shit is on ask the cops
Tell the dreadlock that I rule the block
Ease back, nuff man ah die like that
Eyah pussy all de X-amount of shot in your back
Word to my hardrocks on Franklin Ave
Feel the bloodbath of the aftermath
The wrath of Duck Down, Bucktown is real
Word to my nigga Five Ft on the steel
on a nigga who faked the jack, yo lift it back
** where you're from, it's about where you're at
Where your gat? Whenever you in Bucktown
Shit iz real, all you hear is the sound
I'm real, shit iz real, ** the raw deal
Pick up the bitch in the back by the field
on the word, shit is heard in two-third
Pump herb to my niggaz from a nickel bag of absurd
On-The-Real is locked down, what?
Beast can't step one foot in Bucktown
Mr. Ripper hit your back up with holes
All my niggaz on G mad lows knows
all about the breaker of the cash
Nigga nasty-ass, hittin all on my Bill Blass
I got a vibe in site, hmmm
Maybe cuz I had to get it on last night
With a nigga from up the block, who walked the rock
Drill him, but in another game I'ma head swell him
And when it comes to loading clips
Niggaz talk shit get hit with the Tec at the hip
Straight from Bucktown, U.S.A.
All my niggaz must represent eryday
on the steel, shit iz real word to Feel
Shit iz real, yo shit is mad real


Video


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