Brad Paisley – Heaven South

Beer battered chicken, sweet ice tea
Might cause crickets and a zip code 33
Oh glory waving at you
As you’re driving by the court house
And it’s just another day in Heaven South

A little country ange like you’ve never seen
Took a pair of scissors to a pair of jeans
You pick her up on Friday
And you pucker up and kiss her on the mouth
And it’s just another day in Heaven South

Drive down Main Street and everybody’s there
Subwoofers booming like [?] in a square
Sign says "no cruising" but nobody cares
I got a girl to put my arm around
It’s just another day in Heaven South

Oh, oh, oh
It’s just another day in Heaven South
Oh, oh, oh

There’s a bunch of lawn chairs in the living room
There’s a UFC fight on pay per view
[?] got fireworks for afterwards tonight
Gotta make a little run for beer

Down on Main Street and everybody’s there
Subwoofers booming like [?] in a square
Turn on the music, [?]
If you turn it off and look around
It’s just another day in Heaven South

Eggs on the griddle, coffee in my cup
Farmer on a tractor, kids on a bus
Oh glory waving as they raise her up above the court house
And it’s just another day in Heaven South
Oh, it’s just another day in Heaven

Oh, oh, oh
It’s just another day in Heaven South
Oh, oh, oh
It’s just another day in Heaven South
Oh, oh, oh
It’s just another day in Heaven South
Oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh

Mike Tyson vs. Muhammed Ali – Kurdo songtexte

Songtexte Kurdo – Mike Tyson vs. Muhammed Ali

Treffe Kurdo beim Italiener Macaroni
Führen Albumverhandlungen, so wie Mafiosis
Hier rappen zwei Mios auf den Beat verteilt
Doch wir war’n schon auf der Straße vor dem G-Star-Hype
Ich geb’ ein’n F*ck auf deine YouTube-Channels
Kurdo, komm, wir f*cken BibisBeautyPalace! (ah!)
Das ist keine Guten-Morgen-Musik
Sondern Pornographie bis zur Orthopädie (haha)
Wir verfolgen andre Interessen
Ich bin schon seit der Kindheit von der Hantelbank besessen
Hunderttausend Euro unterm Kissen (Kissen)
Nur durch deutsche Rapper dissen.(mike tyson)

Lamborghini – nein, dafür bin ich zu breit
Denn alle meine sieben Brüder passen hier nicht rein
Deshalb steig’ ich in den Jeep, Nutte, siehst du mein Profil
Denkst du, ich wäre kein Rapper, sondern aus der UFC.

Ey, mein Vorbild ist Ali! (Muhammad Ali, Muhammad Ali)
Muhammad Ali (Ich heb’ die Fäuste wie Ali, wie Ali)
Ich heb’ die Fäuste wie Ali (Muhammad Ali)
Muhammad Ali (Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!)
(Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!)

Mister Majoe mein Zuname
Es geht .. und endet in ‘ner Blutlache
Denn ich trag’ den Schlagring als Talisman
Wozu soll ich reden, wenn ich schlagen kann?
Ihr seht nicht aus wie Rapper, mehr wie Studenten
Ich so wie Hulk oder Schwergewichtchampions
Ja, du willst Beef, aber kannst es nicht ändern
Ich komm’ in ‘nem Panzer mit zwanzig Cousins drin
Ja, dann ist Sense wie in den Favelas
Ich kam nicht in Frieden und heiß’ nicht Nelson Mandela
Ich trag’ Pelz durch die GEMA und seh’ dadurch aus wie Wolverine
Erst tragt ihr Oversize und danach Overknees.

Lamborghini – nein, dafür bin ich zu breit
Denn alle meine sieben Brüder passen hier nicht rein
Deshalb steig’ ich in den Jeep, Nutte, siehst du mein Profil
Denkst du, ich wäre kein Rapper, sondern aus der UFC.

Ey, mein Vorbild ist Ali! (Muhammad Ali, Muhammad Ali)
Muhammad Ali (Ich heb’ die Fäuste wie Ali, wie Ali)
Ich heb’ die Fäuste wie Ali (Muhammad Ali)
Muhammad Ali (Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!)
(Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!)

Everybody stop talking now, attention.
I told you, all of my critics, I told you all that
I was the greatest of all time .. listen, I told you today,
I’m still the greatest of all time, never again defeat me,
never again faded .. defeated, never againnn.
Kurdo songtexte
Video Muhammed Ali

A Tribe Called Quest – Dis Generation

[Verse 1: Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Jarobi, (Q-Tip & Phife Dawg), & (Q-Tip & Jarobi)]
Handle rocks with the capital G, ball on the beat
Status, Chris Paul and John Wall in the league
Grabbin’ mics till the knuckles would bleed
(‘Cause I believe
The potent that I’m quoting will have you geeked like speed)
If rationale is naturale or a weave
It’s all edges and peas
Settin’ press, we on a permanent steeze
I’m in a world where my princess is Leia
And she’s feeling my Vader
And my lure grows greater and greater
Chem trails, droppin’ poisonous vapors
Have you shaking like Gator
Been trill, nigga, process the data
Blu-ray, wave file, or a Beta, I’ll DVR it for later
Kappo Masa with a G to my waiter
You can’t define us, XY us, or Z us
You generational elitists
Have your chi in virtual think pieces
(See, these written words are poetical science
Brain’s defiant, thoughts heavy, baby
They’re a major appliance)Leave a dent when drop with the flyness, fluent giant
Dude’s nice, he tight, screwed in with some pliers
Cool with some buyers
Yeah, nigga, cool with some growers
(Never no tattletales, only I don’t knowers)
We a show me generation, show us what you gon’ show us
So listen, mami, see we could collude with a boing
Mouthpiece like Goines, with a jubilant noise
Dudes rude and as useless as coins, shoot ’em boys
Versed in, rehearsed in the soothing of loins
Talk to Joey, Earl, Kendrick, and Cole, gatekeepers of flow
They are extensions of instinctual soulIt’s the highest in commodity grade
And you could get it today

[Chorus]
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Rules di nation

[Verse 2: Q-Tip, Busta Rhymes, Jarobi, & (Phife)]
One hitting reading pages of Poe
Telly is low, cuddle bunny ready to go
Day of the dead
Bury all the zombies instead
And it’s just your aftermath, Busta cuttin’ your dreads
Bruce Leein’ niggas, while you niggas UFC
Smoke tree on niggas, sizzle out your USB
(Surge pricing on these Ubers, I’mma get me a cab)
Yo, where Jarobi at?
Imbibing on impeccable grass
I be in NYC waiting for that law to pass
(Pass shit, been waiting for a Jet’s title since last
Richard Todd, Todd Bowles, gang green on that ass)
Magic Mike on the mic, David Blaine, Douglass Henning
In the church of Busta Rhymes, it’s my sermon you’re getting
Horizontal spittin’, I’m the exorcist of your writtens
Don’t interrupt me, nigga, sorry, that’s a sin unforgivenLike how we be skipping on beats like cooking crack in the kitchen
B-b-b-b-b-b-but wait
Just spit the package, dry it, bag up the wet
This mad city’s not a game, easy, quiet on set, Phife
(Student of the past trailblazing a daze
Not acknowledging a trend or swept up in a phase
We still the highest of commodity grade
And you could get it, get it, get it, get it today)

[Chorus]
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Rules di nation

[Outro: Q-Tip]
This is our generation, generation, uh huh, yeah
This our generation, generation, uh huh
This our generation, generation, uh huh

Two-9 – By The Hour (feat. Fatkidsbrotha, Key!, Jace & Curtis Williams)

[Verse 1 – LightSkinMac11]
Said it’s pits on the fence in case I catch a ‘fense
And I’m never on the porch case them boys are broke
And them boys talking down hanging by a rope
Baby blue pit had to show ’em the ropes
Never s**t where you eat, baby boy you gotta know
Every ho that’s a freak ain’t green to go
Nowadays hair retarded, doing something with their throats
Gotta be 21, you won’t catch me in court
Open suitcase, n***a O.T
Don’t front dawg, s**t get UFC
Don’t front dawg, ever I see you
You’ll need an IV if ever I see you

[Hook/Chorus – Key!]
Playing with my money, you’s a goner
S**t get weird, Dennis Rodman
Pack a n***a’s play, Iguodala
Talking ’bout money, give me router
Young n***a I get paid by the hour
Spend a young man, this s**t’s mine, it ain’t ours
Man I got pull, I got power
Man I got pull, I got power

[Verse 2 – Cartier Dave]
To me, less is more, pay attention to detail
N****s (?) be bed but they be frail
Type you caine with the cuts like a weak scale
But I mean well, this Cartier smelling like Chanel
Got her browing back bouquets like she wear a veil
With my foe like crusade, b***h you know ’em well
And if bro get locked today know I got his bail
And these words that I say got diamonds in the mail
East side n***a with more bars than Rice Street
Got this b***h on go, now her ex want to fight me
Call that b***h a plumber, she be right where the pipe be
I been hustling all summer, now my bank account Nike

[Hook/Chorus – Key!]
Playing with my money, you’s a goner
S**t get weird, Dennis Rodman
Pack a n***a’s play, Iguodala
Talking ’bout money, give me router
Young n***a I get paid by the hour
Spend a young man, this s**t’s mine, it ain’t ours
Man I got pull, I got power
Man I got pull, I got power

[Verse 3 – Curtis Williams]
Talking down about the gang then we gon’ cause a scene
F**k you for the culture n****s, Two-9 been a team
Ain’t ask for help boy, I did this s**t my damn self
So when I get it I’ma spend this s**t my damn self
Need more than just an eighth or two
Hope you ain’t bring no date with you
Get around the gang, I promise that she will not stay with you
These p***y n****s got a lot to say
I need a crib that’s in the hills, yeah that’s a lot to pay
So I got a lot to make, these n****s hella fake
Won’t say s**t to your face, back up and give me space
Yeah, uh, I’m counting money by the hour
Make it by the hour, spend it by the hour

[Hook/Chorus – Key!]
Playing with my money, you’s a goner
S**t get weird, Dennis Rodman
Pack a n***a’s play, Iguodala
Talking ’bout money, give me router
Young n***a I get paid by the hour
Spend a young man, this s**t’s mine, it ain’t ours
Man I got pull, I got power
Man I got pull, I got power

[Verse 4 – Jace]
I got power like the lights so I’m on start
All my money fast but I’m on bars
Free that boy Bobby, f**k a dumb charge
Do the same for my dawgs, Two-9 no gun boy
So east side it’s a god damn shame
They angry ’bout it, I don’t know a god damn thing
I am too cool, I am three hot
I’m little three on (?) in oh-four and oh-five
F**k your intel, you just telling lies
I got (?) like the tide, they smell when I’ve arrived
Send the clips in overdrive, I can’t even lie
Do a line and sip a line, say I did it for the god
Boy don’t play with mines

[Hook/Chorus – Key!]
Playing with my money, you’s a goner
S**t get weird, Dennis Rodman
Pack a n***a’s play, Iguodala
Talking ’bout money, give me router
Young n***a I get paid by the hour
Spend a young man, this s**t’s mine, it ain’t ours
Man I got pull, I got power
Man I got pull, I got power

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

[Verse 1: Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Jarobi, (Q-Tip & Phife Dawg), & (Q-Tip & Jarobi)]
Handle rocks with the capital G, ball on the beat
Status, Chris Paul and John Wall in the league
Grabbin’ mics till the knuckles would bleed
(‘Cause I believe
The potent that I’m quoting will have you geeked like speed)
If rationale is naturale or a weave
It’s all edges and peas
Settin’ press, we on a permanent steeze
I’m in a world where my princess is Leia
And she’s feeling my Vader
And my lure grows greater and greater
Chem trails, droppin’ poisonous vapors
Have you shaking like gator
Been trill, nigga, process the data
Blu-ray, wave file, or a Beta, I’ll DVR it for later
Kappo Masa with a G to my waiter
You can’t define us, XY us, or Z us
You generational elitists
Have your chi in virtual think pieces
(See, these written words are poetical science
Brain’s defiant, thoughts heavy, baby
They’re a major appliance)
Leave a dent when drop with the flyness, fluent giant
Dude’s nice, he tight, screwed in with some pliers
Cool with some buyers
Yeah, nigga, cool with some growers
(Never no tattletales, only I don’t knowers)
We a show me generation, show us what you gon’ show us
So listen, mami, see we could collude with a boing
Mouthpiece like Goins, with a jubilant noise
Dudes rude and as useless as coins, shoot ’em boys
Versed in, rehearsed in the soothing of loins
Talk to Joey, Earl, Kendrick, and Cole, gatekeepers of flow
They are extensions of instinctual soul
It’s the highest in commodity grade
And you could get it today

[Chorus]
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Rules di nation

[Verse 2: Q-Tip, Busta Rhymes, Jarobi, & (Phife)]
One hitting reading pages of Poe
Telly is low, cuddle bunny ready to go
Day of the dead
Bury all the zombies instead
And it’s just your aftermath, Busta cuttin’ your dreads
Bruce Leein’ niggas, while you niggas UFC
Smoke tree on niggas, sizzle out your USB
(Surge pricing on these Ubers, I’mma get me a cab)
Yo, where Jarobi at?
Imbibing on impeccable grass
I be in NYC waiting for that law to pass
(Pass shit, been waiting for a Jet’s title since last
Richard Todd, Todd Bowles, gang green on that ass)
Magic Mike on the mic, David Blain, Douglass Henning
In the church of Busta Rhymes, it’s my sermon you’re getting
Horizontal spittin’, I’m the exorcist of your writtens
Don’t interrupt me, nigga, sorry, that’s a sin unforgiven
Like how we be skipping on beats like cooking crack in the kitchen
B-b-b-b-b-b-but wait
Just spit the package, dry it, bag up the wet
This mad city’s not a game, easy, quiet on set, Phife
(Student of the past trailblazing a daze
Not acknowledging a trend or swept up in a phase
We still the highest of commodity grade
And you could get it, get it, get it, get it today)

[Chorus]
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Dis generation, dis generation, dis generation
Rules di nation

[Outro: Q-Tip]
This is our generation, generation, uh huh, yeah
This our generation, generation, uh huh
This our generation, generation, uh huh