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Search results for 'bounce your body to the box power hit mix by cassius'

Yee yee! We've found 75 lyrics, 110 artists, and 100 albums matching bounce your body to the box power hit mix by cassius.


Albums:

Cassius King (Dan Lorenzo) · Hit! Hit! Hit! (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Bodywork V: 33 Hit Tracks to Pump Your Body (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Bodywork V: 32 Hit Tracks to Pump Your Body (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Booty Mix, Vol. 2: The Next Bounce II (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Cumbia Mix Mix Mix, Vol. 2 (Acapulco Tropical) · Body to Body (Blue System) · Body 2 Body (Ace Hood) · Body to Body, Job to Job (Swans) · Filth/Body to Body, Job to Job (Swans) – and 90 other albums »


he hits the mic like Mix-master
This the Battle of Troy with no Pastor
Slicker than a can of oil with no Castor
Chill in the front of the flight,
on the pavement, you can't say shit
Your mouth is gagged, you surrounded by
A thousand guys totally under your spell
They all totally scared of the power you hold
the box for the Mix-A-Lot slice (huh huh)

why'all ready to get busy? (huh huh!)
Now, buttermilk biscuits here we go
Zip the flour roll the dough
Clap your
on your body's EQ
Low but thick though like the base in a six-fo'
So here we go (here we go) we bunny hoppin'
I hit the switches baby, you keep it
the market
Everybody get ya body rocked by this

Whether outside or inside, nothin' can stop my ride
I hit the charts up like I hit a drive by
When my voice
whole borough smokin' 

Fist of five rings, I fling MCs to the gutter 

Samurai sharp, more deadly than box-cutters 

Ultimate, as I emit your death
chokin
Yeah son I'm all up in ya mix

Ya callin' in your clique, I'm bawlin' with you trick
Golden rocks fallin' off my neck and wrists
When I breeze
the batter's box ready for combat (what?) 

But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat 



 

I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit
Resist and the biscuit will exceed the distance
And bounce off one's home
Hit and ricochet off a kid's trombone
Right to where you n****s lay
Obie can
how I did 'em
I let the rhythm hit 'em

I push a power that's punishable
Better be a prisoner
The hit man is the
Brother wit' charisma

Showing you that
the batter's box ready for combat (what?) 

But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat 



 

I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit
the batter's box ready for combat (what?) 

But when you step up to the plate better bring it fat 



 

I throw spitballs and sliders, and hit
Getting money
Before we hit up top
Let's hit the spot and cop a twenty
Hit the southern states
So we can bounce
Regulate
Throw a tape in
Join this
drive a Benz not a Datsun
Before my kicks hit the stage, we've been Foot Locking
Body rockin to keep the ladies flockin with a concoction
Rippin your
Truthfully that's my Sunday wheel
And your wife, real nice, she my Sunday feel nigga!
I got one day for her still OK for her
But by sunrise, I throwed her
Truthfully that's my Sunday wheel
And your wife, real nice, she my Sunday feel n****!
I got one day for her still OK for her
But by sunrise, I throwed her
Cos everybody gets bodies my brother
I smother a nigga then the Ruck bounce like rubber

Step to the stage set the microphone on fire
Your desire,
wave hand
And not wave hand like it's a heat wave
So you make a fan by waving your hand
I'm talking wave like you saying "hey"
Man, and not hay for
of this mix
Toss that briefcase, it's time to let loose
Cause you've worked like heck to get the week in check
So unfasten that noose around your neck
how I did 'em
I let the rhythm hit 'em

I push a power that's punishable
Better be a prisoner
The hit man is the
Brother wit' charisma

Showing you that
to take yours
Jungle music got my mind and body stimulatin'
Hyperventilatin', the talk of the town like date raping
Call me the Doc, cajun spot,
nothing strange unless you watch your range like a rover
Follow me son, what's done is done, forgot it
God bless his soul while his bodys underground
in your clique, I'm bawlin' wit'cha trick
Golden rocks fallin' off my neck and wrists
When I breeze by, you be groovin' in the midst
Of my cycle,
dirty but the dozen can fix it
Resist and the biscuit will exceed the distance

And bounce off one's home hit and riquoche off a kid's trombone
Right
circle can box me
That's like an oxymoron
I flirt with building your empire
Gotta shake the snake in the grass and spark sharks to swim by ya
Cuz every

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