Search results for 'players by sir mix a lot' Page #9

Ice Cream Flavor

Spark 950

United We Slam

1994

the cartridge
Darkman, by the Bee can, he can
Can we, can, I can.. Yeah!
Don't worry, don't worry, strawberry
Mint-pep', rum and raisin 'cause he ate a plate

I know you coasting mix emotions
How C-Notes keep flooding
Drop sauce by accident
Imagine what I'll do on purpose
I'll hit my mark if spark in dark

singing about them Pretty Wings
I was just a thirst nigga looking for a pretty thing
Chasing ass trying to get my sir rocked like Diddy drink
Had to get

Street Life

Hostyle

One Eyed Maniac

2004

Players keep playin', haters keep hatin'
So much to say, so little time
For the hood that I pray
Haters I spit you die; slow; die; slow

Wash my

did that, my respects to you I'm still praying for some relax. 

In hard times ain't a lot funny 'cause people doing anything trying to get some money.

round in a rental
Pop was a playa
My momma worked a graveyard
Codeine Xanax don't mix too well for basketball players
I'm sluggish and I'm muggin'
I swear

up, your chick and me, yeah we got a lot in common
She be so pink and her chest be a large one
Leading the Warriors like Kerr be
I'm Kirby, when I get

from the norms
And soon millions of folk
Records were being sold
By the early sixties, Dylan, Baez, Phil Ochs
Were doing intellectualized copies

State of the Art

Sudden Death

Fatal Accident Zone

Whodini disappeared and Doug E. Fresh went stale
And I think Sir Mix-A-Lot got into some bad ale
The Fat Boys broke up and then one of 'em died
And when I

Hum V (V)
I'm surrounded by these RBGs
(HEeee!!)
We get green, roll green, and  eat green like sebi
 Born in them 80's
I clown like I'm Bailey
 This

the good side
Ayy, ain’t tryna cuff
I'ma make her a team player
Hood baby, I don't eat lunch
I’m at Green Acres
Ayy, I don't play, baby, you can ask coach V

Sound check
Go so before I start dey burst
Hope say you dey buy my song?
Cause if na few dey get am
Then that one no be love

It takes a whole lot

for it because I
Couldn't see you could do this
I lot of rappers they come by
And they got their writtens ready i know
And sometimes they give you shit

I'm a player (Ritch)
There's some lil' niggas I
Don't fuck with, better say them a prayer
(Grrah)
Ooh, I might pull up with your bitch
Now you

to be defeated
By some freak mix of Shady friends
Who may try to make this beef stick
But any chance that my foot wont' snap off
Into their greasy ass,

and Rocket League, man we vegging tonight
Midnight praccy at McPhee got me wanting to die
Get back to Dirty Murr, hit the cart 'n' get high
(Sir, can you open

pollinated by the "Be"
Pac called it the rose that rose from concrete
How do you define divine that finds street?
"Hip bop," the color of my leaves
Not