Consolidated – Crackhouse Lyrics

Crack MC:
They say they can’t convict
Though they’re known to be strict
Mistook my people for the ones to be hit
Startin’ crimes of passion
Flames and ash and murder passing hand to hand
Car to car they done gone too far
Stop where you are the cops are at war
With the B to the L to the A to the C to the K
We ain’t selling no rocks today
I’m breaking glass for the black man’s plight
Gonna burn and loot as proof to the whites
They can’t take advantage
We can do damage
Thought they could manage our sense of the real
So now the King was the god damned defendant
Cops with the Klan bent were just in their bust
They can beat you to the fullest extent of the lengths of their clubs
Peace and love in god we trust
Don’t fuss with the negro pros at dissecting the plotting
That many years ago made niggas pick cotton
And shamed us aimed us out of our orbit
But never explored it to sue the red, white and blue
Voluntary manslaughter killed the father raped the daughter
Bust this to the youth and trust this to be truth
We’re choking on a culture that circles like vultures
Putting slaves in their graves as unemployed leftovers
Yeah gangs have sprung from the work that you
Who worship the cursed red, white and blue
Have done to the kid in your bid to get ahead
Now rocks gonna roll for green black and red
Riot they gon’ buy it
Now this black generation done been to patient
Thelma and Louise this whole damn nation and let’s just all act up
They used logic for the projects like they housing cattle
Bush’s point of light done ignited my battle
’cause my people getting burned
And there’s nowhere to turn
There’s a gun to your head, G
When do you learn?

Riot
Bring ’em to the Crackhouse
Let’s have a riot
Welcome to the Crackhouse

Twelve years of Bush and Reagan
No opportunity cuts and social spending
Poverty line poor and homeless sinking
Calling out the army and blaming the victim
Every inner city’s a crack-house
And every American TV’s on you bet it’s a blackout
No health care, jobs or housing visualize plebiscide 2000
There’s no logic reason or rhyme
Just black on black on brown on yellow crime
Aids in the house you can’t escape
With no condoms for kids no sex education
Government withhold potential drugs
So you drive to the crack-house and buy it from street thugs
No hope for the hopeless, no power for the powerless
Total confusion look at life through an hourglass
Violence is never an answer it’s a question
What does it take to get media attention
Are people really ready for truth
Now that the chickens have all come home to roost
And the leadership patience and quiet
But it’s too late for empty rhetoric it’s a riot

Welcome to the Crackhouse
This is a riot

We need crack in L.A. (the land?)

Crack MC:
I’m sorry Rodney, but I just can’t stop
I’m the C to the R to the A to the C to the K
Double up raps is haps I say
Spray the whole damn block my rock is dominating
Got a base head lock on this spaced out nation
Project glass pipe’s been the best thing tried
Got us tight boxed in rollers on all sides
Feeding black paranoia that can throw you around a bit
USA can’t say they ain’t down with it
Leading the attack of the killer Caucasians
Now they trying to persuade us sweep it under the rug
Getting action from Jesse Jackson ’bout being upset
But bet he ain’t living on drugs
He’s just simping ’cause he pimping as a politician
Shooting off his mouth but the fire is missing
‘Cause he’s turning his back on the blacks going crazy
Telling us to vote that’s a quote like we’re lazy
Instead of oppressed by a stressed population
That maimed and then blamed blacks with no reparations
Got no education thought the nation was dumb
Kept us poor and ignored till we pick up a gun
And defend our lives like the men so wise that
We are band together as a gang and then swang
Do your thang in the middle of the night
While I try to teach the devil about wrong and right
‘Cause it’s beyond his comprehension
So some schooling’s attempted
The usual lies that you hear are preempted
Been shot in the back for the fact that they’re whack
Believe not a word that you’ve heard about that
‘Cause crack is being sold like candy
Better go call up Barney and Andy
Tell them that Mayberry’s under siege
CRACK MC done hooked Opie!

Riot
Welcome to the Crackhouse
I wanna riot
Bring ’em to the Crackhouse
Let’s have a riot

Santorini greece – Rick Ross lyrics

Lyrics Rick Ross – Santorini greece

Sometimes I be wanting to say, “f*ck the world!”
I don’t give a f*ck!
I’ll shoot it out with all you bitches
Bitches don’t love me
Young black nigga, nigga fighting the world, nigga
Everywhere you go, bitches throwing rocks, nigga
Man, a nigga in a Lamborghini.(santorini greece)

Seen a Cuban kilo, I was 15 (huh)
Dealin’ yayo, never had my teeth cleaned
Restricted license but I’m so divisive
I know the snipers and I flow the nicest
Fresher than Groovey Lew at a Coogi shoot (ahh)
A multiple weapons in my new Gucci boots
The bank account done caught the holy ghost (huh)
I say the bank account done caught the holy ghost
Hot pastrami for my Jewish chicks
Eight days of Christmas, every day a newer gift
I’m Michael Jackson to the rich niggas
That leather jacket, baby, with the 6 zippers
Suicide, or rather crucified (huh)
I prophesize your whole crew demise
Mutulu wife reside in Cuba, nigga
Shoot you, let you bleed out, it’s how they do a nigga.

Huh! Huh!
You niggas don’t believe in God
From this very moment, you should believe in God.

Half of my niggas headed to Attica
Either traffickin’ or destined to be a janitor
Diabetes rampant in my blood line
That why fat boy be happy to see the sunshine
I’m here for results, baby, let’s cut to chase
Sticky fingers and paper, D.A. will drop the case (woo)
Art Basel with Lyor I blew 300 with ’em (huh)
2 seaters for all the soldiers who runnin’ with ’em (ahh)
Ask 100 women, yeah they wanna hit ’em
I be half awake and still be runnin’ in ’em (woo)
Two new liter Sprite to get me through the night
Bowlin’ alley in the basement but we still shootin’ dice (haha)
Rich forever, killa take my old advice (yeah)
Better yet, take my old bitches and mold ’em right (talk)
And if I want her back, I come and take her back (boss)
Santorini Greece, I put it on the map.

Some points you niggas gotta be grateful
Mutulu Shakur versuri-lyrics.info
I know your dreads touching the floor, nigga.

We in the last days, these racist agendas
Blatant double standards because I’m a nigga
Jesse Jackson on them people payroll (f*ck him)
When you black, lips chapped ’cause the game cold
I’m givin’ niggas jobs when I sing songs (let’s go)
White man love me when I get my bling on (nigga)
But you hate me buyin’ real estate in foreign land (what)
Respect my genius, all my people Portishead (what)
Room full of cloaks and they countin’ votes
Million man march and I’m takin’ notes (huh)
Made it to the top, you thought they saw a ghost (yeah)
Facin’ tax evasion, niggas sell they soul
So sellin’ dope was the path we chose
And now it’s boats and the Belaire Rose (woo)
Rich niggas in the set and stone (woo)
Neck rocky, Sylvester Stallone (woo)
See me in Capri or them Andes (huh)
Santorini, Greece with a dime piece (huh)
My money long, you know I’m out your reach (nigga)
Only fat nigga joggin’ on the beach (haha)
Versace underwear but see the a*s crack (ha)
Oblivious to how rapid my cash stack
I’m a pistol totter, f*ck I’m votin’ for? (f*ck ’em)
If I could, I’d drop a bomb, let’s take ’em all to war (f*ck ’em)
My favorite shorty out of Baltimore (yeah)
Every Chanel you know I bought it for her (I got that)
All the arguments she never called the law
I was never home but hid the money in the walls
Constant visits from the A.T.F
So I copped some cribs in the A.T.L
Martha Stewart decorated both (ha)
Snoop Dogg donated the smokeee.
Rick Ross lyrics
Video greece

Rick Ross – Santorini Greece

Sometimes I be wanting to say "fuck the world!"
I don’t give a fuck!
I’ll shoot it out with all you bitches
Bitches don’t love me
Young black nigga, nigga fighting the world, nigga
Everywhere you go bitches throwing rocks nigga
Man, a nigga in a Lamborghini
Seen a Cuban kilo I was 15
Dealing yayo never had my teeth cleaned
Restricted license but I’m so divisive
I know the snipers and I flow the nicest
Fresher than Groovey Lew at a Coogi shoot
A multiple weapons in my new Gucci boots
The bank account done caught the Holy Ghost
I say the bank account done caught the Holy Ghost
Hot pastrami for my Jewish chicks
Eight days of Christmas, every day a newer gift
I’m Michael Jackson to the rich niggas
That leather jacket, baby, with the 6 zippers
Suicide, or rather crucified
I prophesize your whole crew demise
Mutulu wife reside in Cuba nigga
Shoot you, let you bleed out, it’s how they do it nigga
Huh! Huh!
These niggas don’t believe in God
From this very moment, you should believe in God
Half of my niggas headed to Attica
Either trafficking or destined to be a janitor
Diabetes rampant in my blood line
That why fat boy be happy to see the sunshine
I’m here for results baby let’s cut the chase
Sticky fingers and paper
D.A.’ll drop the case
Art Basel with Lyor I blew 300 with ’em
2 seaters for all the soldiers who running with ’em
Ask 100 women, yeah they wanna hit ’em
I be half awake and still be running in ’em
Two new liter Sprite to get me through the night
Bowling alley in the basement but we still shooting dice
Rich forever, killa take my old advice
Better yet, take my old bitches and mold ’em right
And if I want her back I come and take her back
Santorini Greece, I put it on the map
Some points you niggas gotta be grateful
Mutulu Shakur
I know your dreads touching the floor nigga
We in the last days, these racist agendas
Blatant double standards because I’m a nigga
Jesse Jackson on them people payroll (fuck him)
When you black, lips chapped ’cause the game cold
I’m giving niggas jobs when I sing songs
White man love me when I get my bling on
But you hate me buying real estate in foreign land
Respect my genius, all my people Portishead
Room full of cloaks and they count votes
Million man march and I’m taking notes
Made it to the top, you thought they saw a ghost
Facing tax evasion, niggas sell they soul
So selling dope was the path we chose
And now it’s boats in the Bel-Air rose
Rich niggas and it’s set and stone
Neck rocky, Sylvester Stallone
See me in Capris or them Andes
Santorini, Greece with a dime piece
My money long, you know I’m out your reach
Only fat nigga jogging on the beach
Versace underwear but see the ass crack
Oblivious to how rapid my cash stack
I’m a pistol toter, fuck I’m voting for? (fuck ’em)
If I could, I’d drop a bomb, let’s take em all to war (fuck ’em)
My favorite shorty out of Baltimore (yeah)
Every Chanel you know I bought it for her (I got that)
All the arguments she never called the law
I was never home but hid the money in the walls
Constant visits from the A.T.F
So I copped some cribs in the ATL
Martha Stewart decorated both
Snoop Dogg donated the smoke
This Chinese arithmetic, and it all add up
It all add up
Big Dog, Big Boss
Huh! Huh!