Lyrics:
why we in this shit
Remind me why we in this shit
Cause we ain't on no pile of shit
Nigga I'mma make my music from my heart
And I live and I die by
to things that'll bring the trauma
Overseas, yeah, we tryin' to stop terrorism
But we still got terrorists here livin'
In the USA, the big CIA
Seems I got to have a change of scene
Every night I have the strangest dreams
Imprisoned by the way it could have been
Left here on my own or so
there hunchin' in my downstairs bathroom
And in the kitchen and up in there on the dancefloor
By the big screen TV, where your pants go? (y'all nasty)
Somebody's gotta pay what more to say
Fucking with the sword die by the blade
In my biz don't get you paid
Like a few games just get you played
Throttle
brought war to our community
So many bodies droppin', it's gotta stop, I wanna help
But still I'm steppin', keep my weapon, must protect myself
eat nothing that get up and walk away
Somebody I gotta look at face to face
I say ew, that's nasty
Nigga if you want to eat it you can have it
got Pop on the chorus (vroom)
You know legends never die, king like Notorious (never)
I done skipped death twice, here to tell you stories
They done
feel
I'm just captured by your love
And your sensuality
Let me explain
There you are, standing there
Make me want to reach out and touch you
major labels
The big studios who still give niggas favors
On the mixin' and mastering, puzzlin' and
Plastering the tracks together on tapes, C-D's,
We comin' with them thangs, and we ready to ride
(Where they at? Let's get 'em!)
Are you ready to die (live or die, live or die, live or die
the muthaphucka bawling, his body catch the shakes (BLAST)
Just before he die, I'ma look him in his eye
Ask the nigga how he figure he was big enough to try
that's been proved to you!
There was a big crowd of mourners at the church house
The section hands laid him in the sand
Trains go by on the rails John
major labels
The big studios who still give niggas favors
On the mixin' and mastering, puzzlin' and
Plastering the tracks together on tapes, C-D's,
Oh my lawdy
She fit to kill somebody
I fit to die for your matter matter
But na your matter wey go heal my body
Mi say oh my lawdy
Yh she finna kill
it
I ain't gotta pay it cause you know it don't cost me
All we really know a kid pimpin', all we do is get fly
VVS shine like the sun outside
Somebody
Oh, oh, oh
It's hard times
We strugglin', tryin' to get by, tryin' to get by
Tryin' to get by, whoa, whoa
It don't stop (don't stop)
Always
head huntin' so somebody's gonna die
Homicide on tha scene three niggas pronounced smoked
The HotBoys did that that clique there ain't no joke
We
a discount 'til the day you die
Got three kids, by three different guys
(And all they need to give you is a Mai Tai and a shot)
You know you ghetto when you
feeling like
Somebody gone die tonight
Like I told my kinfolk
Man you gotta get up and get dough
You wanna make your wrist glow You better pull The kick
Oops I meant Y, others gotta die
Just to help sorry-ass lames get by
Now you'll let a bird die if you saw a bush
But you're pussy in the hood nigga, come
Feels like it's never gonna
Gotta get that fire, fire, back in my bones
Before my heart, heart, turns into stone
So somebody please pass
Artist: DJ Envy f/ Jay-Z
Album: Blok Party Vol. 1
Song: H.O.V.A.
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash
[Jay-Z] + (DJ Envy)
Yo uh, dim
boots, lose them shoes again
Followed by ya clothes, now I’m rubbing on yo toes
Hand going up ya leg, rubbing arms and elbows
Notorious like B.I.G. yeah
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