Big Shug lyrics
Big Shug lyrics
"The Jig Is Up lyrics"
Take A Look Behind Ya lyrics
There's trouble on the rise--you can see it in the eyes of the livin'There's an order to defy--there's a room at the back of your mindWord gets out--what's it all aboutSome take i
There's trouble on the rise--you can see it in the eyes of the livin'There's an order to defy--there's a room at the back of your mindWord gets out--what's it all aboutSome take i
[Big Shug] Yeah the motherfucking jig is up, niggah Ha ha, I'm coming to get you fake-ass niggas Word is bond.. It'll take more than what you got, to foil my plot I be rocking you and socking you like killer robots, I'm too hot But I refuse to cool down 'Till they rest my black ass Beneath the ground, I get down For my underground sound Pushing lyrical weight niggahPink & Blue lyrics, by the pound, for real I'm bringing sight to the visually impaired Cause what you see in rap, ain't always too clear (Yeah Y'all) Ice-grill stares for those who create fantasies Couldn't bust a grape, fighting you or fighting me Hip-hop today is like a big magic show One magician, and a whole bunch of shining' hoe's I'm trying to grow like my dick in the morning It's a new day ? matter fact a new f
[Andre 3000] Pretty pink, baby blue Why don't (why don't) you teach me something new We're all (we're all) just babies in my view So crawl baby Crawl baby PrettSix Ways 'Til Sunday lyricsucking dawning While you stretching and yawning, from your sleep Shug done turned this whole shit back to the streets Pumping the beat, when I was starving to eat Now I push the ford truck To extort the weak Thought you broke away clean, I caught you Now it's up to me to completely end you, for real You hear shots, I bring shots You smoke a lot of pot, and still spit weed talk, pussy In '99 you get
the years unfold in one moment the voices that we heard so loud are now suddenly silenced inside this crowd and you're surrounded by the lives of those who found somethinI See The Light lyricsstepped to Fuck your silly weak crew And your mugged up boo, for real No more faking jacks, or faking jills We know all about those manufactured skills Even chickens is spitting harder Who's your ghost writer miss, Sean Carter? Once again it's the militiaman stepping to Brooklyn Coming straight out of Murder Pan While I'm shitting on you spitting up Letting you silly faggots know, the jig is up
F#m I'd really like to see you now A In your father's combat boots F#m I'd really like to be with you A 'Cause we could be so dark F#m It was only for the grace of you E T