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Yukmouth




Music World  →  Lyrics  →  Y  →  Yukmouth  →  Albums  →  Million Dollar Mouthpiece

Yukmouth Album


Million Dollar Mouthpiece (02/12/2008)
02/12/2008
1.
West Coast Don Intro
2.
Drug Dealer
3.
Shine Like Me
4.
Hey Boy (feat. Matt Blaque)
5.
6.
Wake The Game Up (feat. Crooked I)
7.
8.
Playboy (feat. Danica "The Morning Star")
9.
Corner Store (feat. Matt Blaque)
10.
The Best Thing Goin (feat. Too Short, Devin The Dude, Richie Rich & Danica "The Morning Star")
11.
I'm Doin' My Thang
12.
West Side (feat. C-Bo, G. Malone & Jayo Felony)
13.
Star In The Sky (feat. Devin The Dude)
14.
Cant Sell Dope 4Eva (feat. MC Eiht & Trae)
15.
East Oakland (feat. Dru Down, Richie Rich, The Team, The Delinquents, Bart, Beeda Weeda, Kafani, Tajai & Tuffy The Goon)
16.
M.O.E. Money
17.
Make It Rain
18.
Mobsta, Mobsta (feat. The Regime & Tech N9ne)
. . .

West Coast Don Intro

[No lyrics]

. . .

Drug Dealer

[No lyrics]

. . .

Shine Like Me

[No lyrics]

. . .


Is it me or a 745
Come on with Pirelli tires
Plus I'm lookin hella fly
That's why I got these bitches like
HEY BOY, HEY BOY, HEY BOY

Could it be they see me pull up in a G4
Stuntin like an eagle
So flossy in my street clothes
That's what got these bitches like
HEY BOY, HEY BOY, HEY BOY

Chea, Chea
She like the flyest guys
In the flyest rides
BALLIN! Like Jim Jones we flyin high
That new four door flyin spurt, flyin by
Maui Wowi in the coconut blunt, hawaiin high
Hopin out the ride
Look at mami's eyes
She see the 22's, now mami wanna ride
A hundred carrot charm
Call me the fall guy
Cause I be stuntin nigga throwin hundred's in the sky
You niggaz make it rain
I make it hurricane
You smokin mary jane
I got that purple mayne
And I can leave with the phattest bitch, swervin lanes
Here come my game, so dummy, that I deserve the brain
You see the biker chain hangin from the air, ticks
You see the protege's, same on my feet
You see the dvs', the same on my teeth
Shinin on them hoes

Is it me or a 745
Come on with Pirelli tires
Plus I'm lookin hella fly
That's why I got these bitches like
HEY BOY, HEY BOY, HEY BOY

Could it be they see me pull up in a G4
Stuntin like an eagle
So flossy in my street clothes
That's what got these bitches like
HEY BOY, HEY BOY, HEY BOY

Her legs is so soft
Her ass is so soft
Her tits is so soft
She love niggas that soft
But I go soo hard
Like Wayne on that 'caine in the coke chart
BMF style poppin rows at the Crow Bar (SOUTH BEACH!)
Miami Life
Dodgin Miami Vice
They go to David Bling, Kissin Miami Ice
There go my Haitian niggas, rep Miami right
We at the Rolex, trickin on Miami dykes
I'm at the Harlem Knights, when I'm in H-Town
It's Rap-A-Lot for life, call it J-Town (J-Prince!)
When I'm in A-Town
I'm at the Body Tap
I'm with my nigga Sean Paul, and everybody strapped
I got a Georgia Peach
We call her From The Front
Because the ass so big, you see it from the front
I mean the ass so big, I hit it for a month
After I hit it, I could pass a bitch just like a blunt

Is it me or a 745
Come on with Pirelli tires
Plus I'm lookin hella fly
That's why I got these bitches like
HEY BOY, HEY BOY, HEY BOY

Could it be they see me pull up in a G4
Stuntin like an eagle
So flossy in my street clothes
That's what got these bitches like
HEY BOY, HEY BOY, HEY BOY

. . .


Yeah
[ CHORUS ]
It's my block, my hood, my turf
Them gangstas be doin dirt, them hustlers be movin work
(On the turf)
It's my block, my hood, my turf
Them killers be doin dirt, them niggas be movin work
(On my turf)
In my block, my hood, my turf
Them gangstas be doin dirt, them hustlers be movin work
(On the turf)
It's my block, my hood, my turf
Them killers be doin dirt, them niggas be movin work
(On my turf)

[ VERSE 1 ]
Yeah
Nigga, you call it the block, I call it the turf
Whoa, you call it a rock, I call it the work
Yeah, you call it welfare, I call it the first
Niggas call it granddaddy, but I call it the purp'
Yessir, you call it a ki, I call it a bird
Word, you call it the street, I call it a curb
Yessir, you call it the hills, I call it the burbs
And niggas call me (?) cause I stay all in the dirt
Like Tyrese knee-deep in the dirt, beefin like Smurf
High-tech hustle, fiends beep when they chirp
I'm that nigga that the feds wanna see in the dirt
Cause I be beatin up the block while I be bleedin the turf
The turf is what we call the hood
George Bush is what we call the good
And gatorbacks is what I call the wood
It's understood, I boss up like a baller should
This for my turf niggas trappin out in all the hoods

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 2 ]
Nigga, you call it the ghetto, I call it the 'jects
Whoa, you call it a gang, you call it the set
Yeah, you call it Cali but I call it the West
Niggas call it brown weed but I call it the cess
Yessir, you call it the sherm, I call it the wet
Whoa, you call it a thizz, I call it a x
Yes, you call it head, I call it gettin some neck
And niggas call me Ice-T, a O.G. in the flesh
I got connect with the Mex so I sell them birds wet
Kanye Workout Plan, I make the girls stretch
Catch me in my turfed out van puffin on a bless
And I can get that work out, man, you fuckin with a vet
Yes, 65 100 block, the Ville, that's the turf
Where you see me runnin from the cops tryina get a 100 knots
Now I run the block and I run the spot
The work on the turf, the money at my underspot

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 3 ]
Nigga, you call it the slums, I call it the trap
Whoa, you call it a gun, I call it a strap
Geah, you call it bread, I call it gettin some scratch
You call that snitch an informant but I call him a rat
Yessir, you call it a pound, I call it a pack
Whoa, you call it brown, I call it the 'yac
Geah, you call it dice, I call it shootin some craps
And bitches call me Max Ju' cause they be choosin the Mack
On the track you find hustlers, pimps and hoes
Gangstas liftin weights on the porch gettin swoll
My hardballs was high, I had to pitch 'em low
Pitch up slow so all my goons could get this dough
Hit the 'dro behind tint grippin on wood
My turf is like yo turf, we live in the hood
Live on the block, live on the streets, live on the ave
This for my turf niggas gettin that cash
On my block

[ CHORUS ]

. . .

Wake The Game Up

[No lyrics]

. . .


Geah
It's the World's Most Hated
Yukmouth, nigga
This one for your hatin-ass niggas, man, I done heard it all, man
You need to wash your fuckin mouth out with soap, man
cause you keep my name in your mouth, nigga
Like I said, man, thanks for the promotion, nigga
Goin platinum this time

[ VERSE 1 ]
They sayin Yukmouth this and Yukmouth that
'Yukmouth a bitch, he even got his chain snatched
The Game fucked him up when they was on the same track
And Spider beat his ass, that nigga can't scrap
One hit wonder, that nigga can't rap
And he trick on the bitches, that nigga can't mack
Got ran out of Oakland and never came back
And I heard he was smokin, he never slinged crack'
Haha, gotta laugh at that and blaze a grape sack
Next day I got my chain back, so rephrase that
His bitch chose up, I pimped her on the same track
Niggas be dirty-mackin when you fuck the same rats
And that Game shit is old, it was way back
We squashed the beef since then, I know you hate that
And ask Numskull, I used to sling lley sacks
If you had bagged dope, rock it, bring the caine back

[ CHORUS ]
Niggas hate cause they got nothin better to do
Niggas hate cause I'm gettin mo' cheddar than you
Niggas hate cause I'm doin mo' better than you
Or do you hate cause you got nothin better to do?
Niggas hate when they see me in that Beamer on them 22s
These niggas hate when they watchin BET, see me on YouTube
Niggas hate when they see me mackin hoes givin pimps the blues
Get your weight up, nigga, not your hate up

[ VERSE 2 ]
'Yukmouth broke, that's J Prince house
And them J Prince cars, he just rent them shits out
And that's J Prince jewelry, he just lent them shits out
I hate that nigga guts, I'ma punch him in his mouth
He licked my bitch pussy and ate her butt out
And that's why they really call that nigga Yukmouth
Rap-A-Lot dropped him cause that nigga be dissin
And I heard his wife left him cause that nigga be trickin'
Haha, now listen to these faggot niggas dissin
The bitch suckin my dick the same bitch you kissin
Every night your punk rock misses, she was pimpin
I had the house before the solo deal, they bullshittin
Geah, jewelry is mine, the cars is mine
No video rented hoes, all the broads is mine
Geah, like Allen I. I'ma ball for mine
And Rap-A-Lot got my back if you cross the line
Nigga

[ CHORUS ]

[ VERSE 3 ]
'Well, I hate Yukmouth, he dissed all my homies
And fuck the Regime, them niggas all phony
Gonzoe left cause he wasn't gettin no money
And the Luniz split up, he don't be fuckin with Nummy
Keak don't like him, $hort don't like him
40 don't like him, the whole Bay don't like him
That nigga fell off, he don't get no airplay
He ain't from the Bay, he really from L.A.'
These internet niggas always got somethin to say
Make up some bullshit, then post it on MySpace
Ey, I'm from the Bay but to L.A. I migrate
I was knee-deep in the game, all of my family buyed weight
And Keak my nigga, it's PM to the death
And $hort, 40 always tell me I'm one of the best
And yes, the Luniz still together, ask (?)
Gonzoe never left, put that hate to rest

[ CHORUS ]

There you have it, you hatin-ass faggots
Y'all niggas always got your name in your mouth, man
And I know why you niggas hate, man
cause I'm exactly what you not, nigga
I got money - you don't
I got bitches - you don't
I got cars, homes, jewelry - you obviously don't
That's why you hatin, nigga
Step your weight up not your hate up
If I was in your shoes, nigga, I'd watch a nigga
and I'd step my fuckin weight up, nigga
If you could get it I could get it, nigga
I ain't gon' hate on nobody, nigga
And like I said before, nigga
thanks for the motherfuckin promotion, man
And I ain't dissin nobody no mo', man
Good night
Haha

. . .

Playboy

[No lyrics]

. . .

Corner Store

[No lyrics]

. . .

The Best Thing Goin

[No lyrics]

. . .

I'm Doin' My Thang

[No lyrics]

. . .

West Side

[No lyrics]

. . .

Star In The Sky

[No lyrics]

. . .

Cant Sell Dope 4Eva

[No lyrics]

. . .

East Oakland

[No lyrics]

. . .

M.O.E. Money

[No lyrics]

. . .

Make It Rain

[No lyrics]

. . .

Mobsta, Mobsta

[No lyrics]

. . .


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