10 Til Midnight Lyrics
| Song | 10 Til Midnight |
| Artist | Tha Dogg Pound |
| Album | 2002 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Big Simon, Brown | |
| [Daz] That | |
| I exposed, my hundred seventy-five flows | |
| The inkling of a sect, suspect me | |
| This assemblies and less than two verses | |
| I'm able to disengage mics | |
| And chew M | |
| Cs up like | |
| Mike & Ikes | |
| When I recite they like two flips | |
| I sink MCs like ships | |
| With my nocturnal vibes, mandatory eclipse | |
| There's no comparison, | |
| I embarrassment | |
| Cause microphone harassment | |
| Here's where the fear and terror spin | |
| I'm hit brick, decipher these look-a-like | |
| MCs Claimin' they rock mics like nights for days | |
| So I'm able to have more to perform | |
| I explode on the mic like | |
| C-4 I eliminate ya fool microphones | |
| These limited the amount of opponents | |
| Step on the microphone | |
| I show em' | |
| Over and over, these weird situations | |
| Enter in the gladiation, now they facin' [Chorus] | |
| Last night | |
| I had a dream and it just made me realize | |
| That folks don't give a damn about me (They don't care) | |
| So many haters on the scene, can't stand to see me on the rise | |
| But I'm gon' still remain the same, you best believe | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Now that's gangsta) | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Now you know that's gangsta) | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Now that's gangsta) | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh (Get cho' ass on the floor) [SKG] | |
| If I wanna fuck a homie | |
| I would, ya best believe that | |
| Wanna call me reg, show ya girl where the cheese at | |
| Niggas roll and shit, hatin' on a young bitch | |
| Cause flow | |
| I cop or the spots | |
| I rock I'm still classy, playa like me | |
| I keeps it jazzy | |
| Still keep it gangsta whether not | |
| I'm gettin' sassy | |
| Got a beeper, fly out and release my profile | |
| Or my click bust eighty for all you busters actin' shady | |
| Fake ass ballers wanna-be shot callers | |
| Think y'all holdin' clout, niggas runnin' they mouth | |
| It's still | |
| Death Row mackin' when gangs start crackin' | |
| Askin' all you cats in this game yo what's happenin' | |
| Hoes talk about they cockin' back, bustin' guns | |
| Knowin' damn well heat is on deck, you cowards run | |
| Hated by many, yo we loved by few | |
| You ain't gotta like us homie but respect what we do | |
| I'll buck y'all niggas then bust y'all niggas | |
| Set chu' niggas up then wet chu' niggas up | |
| Seen a jazzy hoe steppin' out with the gators | |
| Hold up haters | |
| I'm executin' all the fakers | |
| Lettin' all you cats know | |
| I just wanna fuck you | |
| Back to ya wifey, it's her job to love you | |
| I'm lookin' for my baby daddy, what's he got | |
| He old enough to cum, he old enough to get fucked | |
| Yeah, SKG | |
| Death Row mackin' the new bitch in town | |
| That's how | |
| I get down [Chorus] [Kurupt] | |
| If I had a million dollars then | |
| I'd be rich | |
| If ya ho was on deck then | |
| I fuck yo bitch | |
| It's Gotti in the cut with the | |
| Don Corleone | |
| And Dillinger with the hollow tip chromes | |
| Catch ya and travel, leave ya flabbergasted | |
| Stalkin' y'all walkin' caskets | |
| Hit the spot where the smokers hold | |
| Low and behold, the tightest composition composed | |
| Can ya catch it, | |
| I threw my thoughts like a quarterback | |
| So when they ain't around, | |
| I angle murder and slaughter act | |
| React, actions speak louder than words | |
| But ain't nothin' more important than vision | |
| I've seen optical collisions corrupted | |
| I'm spontaneous when | |
| I combusted melon | |
| Can't escape a lyrical felon | |
| Excellin' in the out, like it's in from smokin' the bong | |
| Koran Don, set to explore like napalm | |
| Cataclysmic, with a habit to form collisions | |
| Various visions, intellect sharp enough to injure | |
| Like incisions with the deadliest intentions | |
| To grab the heat and bust niggas into different dimensions | |
| I had thoughts, had thoughs of electricity | |
| Murdered by millions of volts | |
| I got a forty cal cold | |
| I'm all about business | |
| Life ain't what it seems in two seconds | |
| I peeped the red beam, | |
| I tried to dodge | |
| Grabbed the chrome plate, | |
| I dumped once | |
| But I was two seconds late cause the size | |
| I was Was the first mistake | |
| My moms came and shook me | |
| I didn't awake | |
| Cause in my position that's the chance ya take | |
| In the dream, in the world with no way to escape [Chorus] |
| zuo ci : Big Simon, Brown | |
| Daz That | |
| I exposed, my hundred seventyfive flows | |
| The inkling of a sect, suspect me | |
| This assemblies and less than two verses | |
| I' m able to disengage mics | |
| And chew M | |
| Cs up like | |
| Mike Ikes | |
| When I recite they like two flips | |
| I sink MCs like ships | |
| With my nocturnal vibes, mandatory eclipse | |
| There' s no comparison, | |
| I embarrassment | |
| Cause microphone harassment | |
| Here' s where the fear and terror spin | |
| I' m hit brick, decipher these lookalike | |
| MCs Claimin' they rock mics like nights for days | |
| So I' m able to have more to perform | |
| I explode on the mic like | |
| C4 I eliminate ya fool microphones | |
| These limited the amount of opponents | |
| Step on the microphone | |
| I show em' | |
| Over and over, these weird situations | |
| Enter in the gladiation, now they facin' Chorus | |
| Last night | |
| I had a dream and it just made me realize | |
| That folks don' t give a damn about me They don' t care | |
| So many haters on the scene, can' t stand to see me on the rise | |
| But I' m gon' still remain the same, you best believe | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Now that' s gangsta | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Now you know that' s gangsta | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Now that' s gangsta | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Get cho' ass on the floor SKG | |
| If I wanna fuck a homie | |
| I would, ya best believe that | |
| Wanna call me reg, show ya girl where the cheese at | |
| Niggas roll and shit, hatin' on a young bitch | |
| Cause flow | |
| I cop or the spots | |
| I rock I' m still classy, playa like me | |
| I keeps it jazzy | |
| Still keep it gangsta whether not | |
| I' m gettin' sassy | |
| Got a beeper, fly out and release my profile | |
| Or my click bust eighty for all you busters actin' shady | |
| Fake ass ballers wannabe shot callers | |
| Think y' all holdin' clout, niggas runnin' they mouth | |
| It' s still | |
| Death Row mackin' when gangs start crackin' | |
| Askin' all you cats in this game yo what' s happenin' | |
| Hoes talk about they cockin' back, bustin' guns | |
| Knowin' damn well heat is on deck, you cowards run | |
| Hated by many, yo we loved by few | |
| You ain' t gotta like us homie but respect what we do | |
| I' ll buck y' all niggas then bust y' all niggas | |
| Set chu' niggas up then wet chu' niggas up | |
| Seen a jazzy hoe steppin' out with the gators | |
| Hold up haters | |
| I' m executin' all the fakers | |
| Lettin' all you cats know | |
| I just wanna fuck you | |
| Back to ya wifey, it' s her job to love you | |
| I' m lookin' for my baby daddy, what' s he got | |
| He old enough to cum, he old enough to get fucked | |
| Yeah, SKG | |
| Death Row mackin' the new bitch in town | |
| That' s how | |
| I get down Chorus Kurupt | |
| If I had a million dollars then | |
| I' d be rich | |
| If ya ho was on deck then | |
| I fuck yo bitch | |
| It' s Gotti in the cut with the | |
| Don Corleone | |
| And Dillinger with the hollow tip chromes | |
| Catch ya and travel, leave ya flabbergasted | |
| Stalkin' y' all walkin' caskets | |
| Hit the spot where the smokers hold | |
| Low and behold, the tightest composition composed | |
| Can ya catch it, | |
| I threw my thoughts like a quarterback | |
| So when they ain' t around, | |
| I angle murder and slaughter act | |
| React, actions speak louder than words | |
| But ain' t nothin' more important than vision | |
| I' ve seen optical collisions corrupted | |
| I' m spontaneous when | |
| I combusted melon | |
| Can' t escape a lyrical felon | |
| Excellin' in the out, like it' s in from smokin' the bong | |
| Koran Don, set to explore like napalm | |
| Cataclysmic, with a habit to form collisions | |
| Various visions, intellect sharp enough to injure | |
| Like incisions with the deadliest intentions | |
| To grab the heat and bust niggas into different dimensions | |
| I had thoughts, had thoughs of electricity | |
| Murdered by millions of volts | |
| I got a forty cal cold | |
| I' m all about business | |
| Life ain' t what it seems in two seconds | |
| I peeped the red beam, | |
| I tried to dodge | |
| Grabbed the chrome plate, | |
| I dumped once | |
| But I was two seconds late cause the size | |
| I was Was the first mistake | |
| My moms came and shook me | |
| I didn' t awake | |
| Cause in my position that' s the chance ya take | |
| In the dream, in the world with no way to escape Chorus |
| zuò cí : Big Simon, Brown | |
| Daz That | |
| I exposed, my hundred seventyfive flows | |
| The inkling of a sect, suspect me | |
| This assemblies and less than two verses | |
| I' m able to disengage mics | |
| And chew M | |
| Cs up like | |
| Mike Ikes | |
| When I recite they like two flips | |
| I sink MCs like ships | |
| With my nocturnal vibes, mandatory eclipse | |
| There' s no comparison, | |
| I embarrassment | |
| Cause microphone harassment | |
| Here' s where the fear and terror spin | |
| I' m hit brick, decipher these lookalike | |
| MCs Claimin' they rock mics like nights for days | |
| So I' m able to have more to perform | |
| I explode on the mic like | |
| C4 I eliminate ya fool microphones | |
| These limited the amount of opponents | |
| Step on the microphone | |
| I show em' | |
| Over and over, these weird situations | |
| Enter in the gladiation, now they facin' Chorus | |
| Last night | |
| I had a dream and it just made me realize | |
| That folks don' t give a damn about me They don' t care | |
| So many haters on the scene, can' t stand to see me on the rise | |
| But I' m gon' still remain the same, you best believe | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Now that' s gangsta | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Now you know that' s gangsta | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Now that' s gangsta | |
| We keep it gangsta, straight gangsta oh Get cho' ass on the floor SKG | |
| If I wanna fuck a homie | |
| I would, ya best believe that | |
| Wanna call me reg, show ya girl where the cheese at | |
| Niggas roll and shit, hatin' on a young bitch | |
| Cause flow | |
| I cop or the spots | |
| I rock I' m still classy, playa like me | |
| I keeps it jazzy | |
| Still keep it gangsta whether not | |
| I' m gettin' sassy | |
| Got a beeper, fly out and release my profile | |
| Or my click bust eighty for all you busters actin' shady | |
| Fake ass ballers wannabe shot callers | |
| Think y' all holdin' clout, niggas runnin' they mouth | |
| It' s still | |
| Death Row mackin' when gangs start crackin' | |
| Askin' all you cats in this game yo what' s happenin' | |
| Hoes talk about they cockin' back, bustin' guns | |
| Knowin' damn well heat is on deck, you cowards run | |
| Hated by many, yo we loved by few | |
| You ain' t gotta like us homie but respect what we do | |
| I' ll buck y' all niggas then bust y' all niggas | |
| Set chu' niggas up then wet chu' niggas up | |
| Seen a jazzy hoe steppin' out with the gators | |
| Hold up haters | |
| I' m executin' all the fakers | |
| Lettin' all you cats know | |
| I just wanna fuck you | |
| Back to ya wifey, it' s her job to love you | |
| I' m lookin' for my baby daddy, what' s he got | |
| He old enough to cum, he old enough to get fucked | |
| Yeah, SKG | |
| Death Row mackin' the new bitch in town | |
| That' s how | |
| I get down Chorus Kurupt | |
| If I had a million dollars then | |
| I' d be rich | |
| If ya ho was on deck then | |
| I fuck yo bitch | |
| It' s Gotti in the cut with the | |
| Don Corleone | |
| And Dillinger with the hollow tip chromes | |
| Catch ya and travel, leave ya flabbergasted | |
| Stalkin' y' all walkin' caskets | |
| Hit the spot where the smokers hold | |
| Low and behold, the tightest composition composed | |
| Can ya catch it, | |
| I threw my thoughts like a quarterback | |
| So when they ain' t around, | |
| I angle murder and slaughter act | |
| React, actions speak louder than words | |
| But ain' t nothin' more important than vision | |
| I' ve seen optical collisions corrupted | |
| I' m spontaneous when | |
| I combusted melon | |
| Can' t escape a lyrical felon | |
| Excellin' in the out, like it' s in from smokin' the bong | |
| Koran Don, set to explore like napalm | |
| Cataclysmic, with a habit to form collisions | |
| Various visions, intellect sharp enough to injure | |
| Like incisions with the deadliest intentions | |
| To grab the heat and bust niggas into different dimensions | |
| I had thoughts, had thoughs of electricity | |
| Murdered by millions of volts | |
| I got a forty cal cold | |
| I' m all about business | |
| Life ain' t what it seems in two seconds | |
| I peeped the red beam, | |
| I tried to dodge | |
| Grabbed the chrome plate, | |
| I dumped once | |
| But I was two seconds late cause the size | |
| I was Was the first mistake | |
| My moms came and shook me | |
| I didn' t awake | |
| Cause in my position that' s the chance ya take | |
| In the dream, in the world with no way to escape Chorus |
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