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Montana of 300 – Monster Lyrics

[Chorus]
I’m a monster, the streets made me a monster
I got my guap up, green on me like Blonca
You see I’m clean but that don’t mean you can’t get mopped up
I keep the Glock tucked, play with me get boxed up

[Verse 1]
Before the rap I was the plug, I’m who they copped from
Had lil bro selling pounds for me when I got locked up
I used to pray the neighbors never called the cops up
Streets ain’t no game, been moving weight like I’m E. Honda
Don’t make me pull up on you, shooting like Black Mamba
You gon’ need Jesus, God, a vest and Kevin Costner
After I dump, I leave him slumped, fucked up his posture
Step back like Harden, cook his top ’til I see pasta
I had to go through some crazy times
Witnessed murder at the age of 9
My first gun was a P89
Had to stay with that Glock, they ain’t taking mine
Paying bills, a few lawyers, and paying fines
Had a bitch lying saying her baby mine
Had some homies hating on the way he grind
Before fans I had clientele pay me mine
All of the pain that I been through
All of the struggle I went through
[?] only motive my mental, why only count on my pistol?
Gangsters don’t talk on computers, all that tough talk don’t amuse us
And when I slap this dick in the 40, bitch I ain’t fuckin’ no cougar

[Verse 2]
I’m in my bag, you don’t want smoke, this ain’t no ganja
Slide like a hockey team with sticks, I make the opps duck
Don’t give no fuck ’bout who you got up on yo’ roster
My shooters hands filled up with bands, bitch I’m they sponsor
We all got 30s, do you dirty, you’ll get mopped up
I’ll snap my fingers, they gon’ cook him like Red Lobster
I’ll slide ’em bread, y’all know y’all toast soon as they pop up
Ain’t shit you can do, light ’em all up like it’s Kwanzaa
From the ‘jects, from the trenches, I’m from the gutta
Told myself, man I gotta come up with something
Keep my head up in life like it upper-cut him
I was fly, they was hating, I wasn’t buggin’
Bought a MAC and a vest from my uncle Bubba
I was turnt, packing heat like a fuckin’ oven
Had some opps until I dropped a couple of ’em
Left ’em lying, I been had the jungle jumpin’
They say they tryna find out where I be at
They been talking for years and ain’t try me yet
Yeah I know haters looking, that’s why we flex
You know I keep the TEC in my Nike Tech
And you know I’m a savage like Randy
I guess all of the pain came in handy
Got the drum in my clip
When I come in this bitch, pussy you gon’ need more than a Plan B

Beyoncé – Formation lyrics

[Intro]
What happened at the New Wil’ins?
Bitch, I’m back by popular demand

[Verse 1]
Y’all haters corny with that Illuminati mess
Paparazzi, catch my fly, and my cocky fresh
I’m so reckless when I rock my Givenchy dress
I’m so possessive so I rock his Roc necklaces
My daddy Alabama, Momma Louisiana
You mix that negro with that Creole make a Texas bama
I like my baby hair with baby hair and afros
I like my negro nose with Jackson Five nostrils
Earned all this money but they never take the country out me
I got a hot sauce in my bag, swag

[Bridge]
Oh yeah, baby, oh yeah I, ohhhhh, oh, yes, I like that
I did not come to play with you hoes, haha
I came to slay, bitch
I like cornbreads and collard greens, bitch
Oh, yes, you besta believe it

[Verse 2]
I see it, I want it, I stunt, yellow-bone it
I dream it, I work hard, I grind ’til I own it
I twirl on them haters, albino alligators
El Camino with the seat low, sippin’ Cuervo with no chaser
Sometimes I go off, I go hard
Get what’s mine, I’m a star
Cause I slay, I slay, I slay, I slay
All day, I slay, I slay, I slay
We gon’ slay, gon’ slay, we slay, I slay
I slay, okay, I slay, okay, okay, okay, okay
Okay, okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation, cause I slay
Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation, cause I slay
Prove to me you got some coordination, cause I slay
Slay trick, or you get eliminated

[Verse 3]
When he fuck me good I take his ass to Red Lobster, cause I slay
When he fuck me good I take his ass to Red Lobster, cause I slay
If he hit it right, I might take him on a flight on my chopper, cause I slay
Drop him off at the mall, let him buy some J’s, let him shop up, cause I slay
I might get your song played on the radio station, cause I slay
I might get your song played on the radio station, cause I slay
You just might be a black Bill Gates in the making, cause I slay
I just might be a black Bill Gates in the making

[Verse 4]
Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation, I slay
Okay, ladies, now let’s get in formation
You know you that bitch when you cause all this conversation
Always stay gracious, best revenge is your paper

[Outro]
Girl, I hear some thunder
Golly, look at that water, boy, oh lord

A Tribe Called Quest – Kids… (We Got It From Here… Thank You 4 Your Service Album)

[Verse 1: André 3000]
I ain’t even gon’ lie, I was probably high
Just forgot to call you back, simple as that
I ain’t no almanac, so lick my dictionary
I might just call a cab ’cause I dig canary
Yellow accents on a dark bitch
I met her back when she kept all her carpet
I’m well aware all that shit is fantasy
I double dare y’all to fuck your plan B
That’s demeanor, momma’s mannerisms
That mean, don’t mean to get vulgar, but it’s some
Hoes in this bitch like a box of donuts
It’s cold out in this bitch, standing on the corner
Condolences to niggas that got erased
I pour out some liquor on a cop’s grave
Mmm, digital church bells
Ringin’ ‘cross the street, sure work well

[Hook: André 3000 & (Q-Tip)]
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) For real (For real?) For real (For real)
Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) For real (For real?) For real (For real)

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
I don’t wanna get up now, I don’t wanna go to school
I don’t wanna be the best, don’t wanna follow rules
Mom, I think you fuckin’ lied to me
Three stacks said all this shit is fantasy
It’s my time, gon’ put a little life to it
If life’s a obstacle then I’mma bike through it
I see it like a kiddie on the carousel
If I ‘url while I go around, what the hell
And that went well, so I’m compelled
To have visions of getting chicken while my friends get jel
My young nigga motto was, "Fuck it, I’m already grown"
And I dream of when I’m sixteen, I’m out my home
That petty though, ’cause my mama boyfriend dough
It’s kinda long like this old head hustle, yo
He cognizant of a nigga ride and die
I see us getting money through my green eyes

[Hook: Andre 3000 & (Q-Tip)]
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) For real (For real?) For real (For real)

[Verse 3: André 3000 & Q-Tip]
Yeah, all the kids, all the what, uh
Yeah, all the badass kids, uh
Kids, say I’m the shit
I’m Chick-fil-A nuggets, McDonald’s french fries
The spicy Popeye’s and Red Lobster biscuits
And girls scout thin mints
Pardon my penmanship, but oh shit
Feel like I’m hungry now again
And I can’t do nothing about it because my teeth are all rotted
And my mom and my pop, they just grin
And empathize with me ’cause they were little like Pygmies
But too bad they can’t get back they ‘member whens
Them grown-up stories don’t work
In the court of the kiddies’, the judgement is in
And while y’all doing all y’all your bids, y’all reminisce as kids
Fuck it, kids, the grown-ups won’t own up
They stood on the corner
Like you once upon a, time
And probably felt like a loner
And smelled like a stoner, and snuck to Daytona
So when they questioning you ’bout who or who you ain’t boning
Complaining that you always moaning
Never saying good morning
Storming out my house
And slamming doors like you paying bills
They been through it too, though
They were kids like you, though
But what if they knew though
And hit you with the cheat code
To a game you just start playing, no extra man
Leave you reckless on the court
With no high percentage shot
Just a bunch of, "You got ’em, nigga, just give it what you got"
Yeah, it look a little different on a yacht
But ain’t gon’ lie, I miss kayaking
I love the young niggas, and they do too, they just be acting
Like a bunch of retired tired thespians, a bit too salty
Shit, their blood pressure high, why?
They don’t play no more, probably

[Hook: André 3000]
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?
(Kids) Kids, don’t you know how all this shit is fantasy?

A Tribe Called Quest – Kids… Lyrics

[Verse 2: Q-Tip]
I don’t wanna get up now, I don’t wanna go to school
I don’t wanna be the best, don’t wanna follow rules
Mom, I think you fuckin’ lied to me
Three stacks said all this shit is fantasy
It’s my time, gon’ put a little life to it
If life’s a obstacle then I’mma bike through it
I see it like a kiddie on the carousel
If I ‘url while I go around, what the hell
And that went well, so I’m compelled
To have visions of getting chicken while my friends get jel
My young nigga motto was, “Fuck it, I’m already grown”
And I dream of when I’m sixteen, I’m out my home
That petty though, ’cause my mama boyfriend dough
It’s kinda long like this old head hustle, yo
He cognizant of a nigga ride and die
I see us getting money through my green eyes

[Verse 3: André 3000 & Q-Tip]
Yeah, all the kids, all the what, uh
Yeah, all the badass kids, uh
Kids, say I’m the shit
I’m Chick-fil-A nuggets, McDonald’s french fries
The spicy Popeye’s and Red Lobster biscuits
And girls scout thin mints
Pardon my penmanship, but oh shit
Feel like I’m hungry now again
And I can’t do nothing about it because my teeth are all rotted
And my mom and my pop, they just grin
And empathize with me ’cause they were little like Pygmies
But too bad they can’t get back they ‘member whens
Them grown-up stories don’t work
In the court of the kiddies’, the judgement is in
And while y’all doing all y’all your bids, y’all reminisce as kids
Fuck it, kids, the grown-ups won’t own up
They stood on the corner
Like you once upon a, time
And probably felt like a loner
And smelled like a stoner, and snuck to Daytona
So when they questioning you ’bout who or who you ain’t boning
Complaining that you always moaning
Never saying good morning
Storming out my house
And slamming doors like you paying bills
They been through it too, though
They were kids like you, though
But what if they knew though
And hit you with the cheat code
To a game you just start playing, no extra man
Leave you reckless on the court
With no high percentage shot
Just a bunch of, “You got ’em, nigga, just give it what you got”
Yeah, it look a little different on a yacht
But ain’t gon’ lie, I miss kayaking
I love the young niggas, and they do too, they just be acting
Like a bunch of retired tired thespians, a bit too salty
Shit, their blood pressure high, why?
They don’t play no more, probably