Search results for people lets stop the war by grand funk railroad

We've found 25 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching people lets stop the war by grand funk railroad:



To 'phatness' like this 
 
From one story the cowboy was founded 
I'm surrounded by Casual, and Whitey Ford, the whole world and your girl 

From the Bay
Any different people can apply to drop the funk 
It's not a country club review board steady talkin junk 
Many people would have it others go put
Any different people can apply to drop the funk
It's not a country club review board steady talkin junk
Many people would have it others go put
whores, stop doin floors
So bitch you can fight your own wars
So if you see a man in red white and blue
Gettin chased by the lench mob crew
It's a man
Yeah! The war zone. Who you fighting for?

[Verse 1: Common]
It's funk to rhythm and punk to rock
Loud like shot that come from a glock
Pick up
[Hook by Blam]
This is sumtn' 4 urrbody get yo' hands up
On the grind, money on yo' mind get yo' grands up
If you on top getting hella guap stand up
the method!"
Funk off the hook I leave shit disconnected!
What's the name of that town rollin' up trees?
(Jersey smokin' up the bom ba zee!)
It don't stop, you
Mad topics, no you can't stop it
Like how much they paid for that rocket?
People in the hood really ain't got shit
How much got spent by
it's comin down 
Another day another plot to scheme 
Stock to cream kiggity can't stop my team 
Can't stop my team 

Dray Skoob 
Well iggity open
it 'Naughty By Nature'
Kick that rugged shit that Maybelline could make-up, lace up

Yeah, Funk Doctor, represent one time
For all the blunt
Yes, 
Us people are just poems 
We're ninety percent metaphor 
With a leanness of meaning 
Approaching hyper-distillation 
And once upon a time
not the wack, say
Don't stop, the body rock
To my people in the front, if you're tokin on blunts, say
Don't stop, the body rock
I'm too strong for you
obstacle
Rhyme to show, and clock the dough
So many people try to stop the bro
But I smoke competition like an octago(?)
It's Maestro!, Fresh W-E-S big
trough ma arms of weed
'Cause I'm broke, only got three hundred grand on the bank
We back, bringing you that filth from filth
Let me stop talking before
roll
We don't stop and we go

Yeah you know that we ride
In control we don't stop
We gon' blow where we drop
Let you know we on top

(Yea we ride, yea we
Prefaced the grand canvass
Dance to the dirt
Stand up, celebrate the natural need to own what ain't earned
See it rolls off the tongue
Like a smoke ring
gon' let these niggas know what's really goin' on though) 

[Chorus: x2] 
Do people ever ask you why you smoke so much weed? 
Why yo pants saggin'
the little y'all the youth coming up 
Or get stung by the killer bee stinga from the slums 
KnowhatI'msayin son? 
Yo son 
Of the young Shaolin Monks,
The demon in me wants to
Go back to a mobsta
And put this music shit on stand by
To make a man die
How do I cope with this
I focus on the grand prize
I'm back by popular demand
Well not really, but my optimism's grand
A little success has got me in a jam
I never thought I'd say I got too many
rush the show and grab the mic
Syndicate's chilllin out tonight
They let me loose and now it's war
 let the rhymes roar

Grab a partner and hit
me
Even when they nagging at me
Now I gots fans to back me
They been waiting on the grand finale
Me, I'm just living my word, smoking the funk
In so many bourgeois homes Van Gogh's sunflowers radiate from the walls,
Yet he lived in utter misery, condemned by those very same people.
Why is it
the little y'all the youth coming up 
Or get stung by the killer bee stinga from the slums 
KnowhatI'msayin son? 
Yo son 
Of the young Shaolin Monks,
ladies trying to have the baby off of this kid
I'm not kidding, tell by the way ya'll wrap it up
Sometimes fact is fuck it, the notes until the glasses