Lyrics:
another shot
Damn the music loud
I'm 'bout to mix it up and blend in in the crowd
Grip slip slide by the dance floor
Baby grab me by my hand say she
and it's alright with Him
Jesus ain't real and if he is doesn't make a difference
No matter how I act we all God's children
If Heaven and Hell is real
I know
Yo, that's before, the Wu got on, him and Allah Just'
And RZA, came to the Island one morn'
A nigga could dance to slow music, outdrink any nigga
the music loud
I'm bout to mix it up and blend in in the crowd
Whip, slip, slide by the dancefloor
Baby grab me by the hand say she wanna dance, oh oh
Is
the history of music
By night, just to pay for that shit, you'd dance
To get your pants was a mission impossible
We were both the same age but I
Suppose
non due
And you don’t stop, sure shot
Go out to the parking lot
And you get in your car and drive real far
And you drive all night and
Then you see
look all around and see trends
the media is blinding us again
supply and demand
Written by: Kristion Jones and Wes Mitchell
known at the time for hits from Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam and they had this massive hit by the Backstreet Boys, All I Have To Give. Every so often I rip him
so it's going to be louder now I figure
So uh, so everyone must know this shit by now, and uh,
What we done is took all our favorite parts,
Put it into
pray for forgiveness
Leviticus 24:17
I ain't hear to dance baby,
Yes indeed, I'm movin tact
Got the plan and the advance,
Set it up, ain't no cul de sac
hazardous
Seeds can't be saved by JESUS Of Nazareth
Sell my nigga weed, its halarious
They squeese at the cabbages, seeds in the carrage's (the kids)
hidden
Huntin' spirits like Jesus when I see him and it's finished
I'm hidden, I'm hidden, I'm hidden
Camo in Christ, Real Tree is where I'm sitting
I'm
when I
Know she's not real?
Standin' by the sea with my Ghost In A Shell
Your flesh is flawed and I know this well so
I must make my decision
Passin' up
Another episode of a Doggy Dogg tale, you know me well
You know I'm coming by the smell
I'm here when you see the weed smoke in the air
Party
what they'd call my lame crew
Remember when she used to pass me in the hall
Booty fat, made lil Grant stand real tall
(Real tall!)
Wishing hoping I
dance-halls playing 4 hour shows
We can't all start out at the top but apparently your'e already there
Be humble, talk to Jesus, and show the little man you
chopper kick is knockin' off your fitted cap
We carry pipes, fuck typin', we ain't into that
Real niggas on that nigga, where that nigga at?
Put some
violate
All my homeys smokin' reifer
Hope I don't violate
All my nephews and my nieces
Hope I don't violate
We gon' leave it up to Jesus
I hope I
bro, Jackson
By the time you get home, you be hearing this
We be rolling and dog we gon' be
On our King of New York shit
Do the King of New York dance
it brings out the real me
Makes me wanna kill me, pop
She's a hillbilly, never been to the city
Take her to the Marriott, then eat her while she
off the stage
We them show stoppers
Mix the mac, and cheese, with the chili beans
Can't forget the yams can't forget the greens
I had to get on my
Hold me tighter than your hairband, so my insecurity knows that it real
If I was to buy you pizza and some Starbucks, would you come over and chill
I
the mental patients dance
Doin' six and seven, steps ladies yells dance
Upside downside with walls flyin' through the hall
Mr. Reeves/Mysteries with yellow
After I mix up the game
And hit the hall of fame
I'll make everyone look lame
Cause they all be too tame
Hey, welcome to the grand scale
We all made it
.jpg/191px-Dance_Hall_Crashers_at_The_Masquerade_in_Atlanta,_GA_in_1998_(4847183491).jpg "Dance Hall Crashers"){kind=spacer}
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