JR Writer - Lyrics

[MrAeko]

Alle JR Writer Texte also bitte hier rein!

Wenn ihr Lyrics postet werden diese von einem der Moderatoren rauseditiert und an den Anfang des Threads, also hier oben, eingefügt.
Also nicht wundern, wir zensieren euch nicht, ist lediglich Übersichtshilfe

JR Writer – Where The Cash At `?


Ayyy Ayyy Ayyy Ayyy
Dipset!
Whooo!
Okay (whoo)
Where the cash at huh? I mean you lookin at new money brother! Smell it? Fresh out the bank bag daddy!
Okay, Writer!

Listen I hustle with your daughter (Uh huh)
Who shuffle up the order (where?)
Strapped up on and off busses through the border (okay)
The slut is an importer (so what?)
So son David Blane aint the only one sitting in a bubble full of water
It’s mayhem soon as you put the bundles on the corner (why?)
There aint no competition (why?), I hustle them for shorter (okay)
These busters are informers (snitches)
Who **** with the reporters (word)
I know a couple smokers that‘ll pluck you for a quarter(braat)
Off ya, straight layin flat
For a lil 80 sack, spray the gat
Chase some cats, put em where his brains are at (braat)
Listen I’m a maniac, (maniac)
everything you lay is wack (trash)
So an itch is the only thing that’ll make you stretch (word)
I got a bitch that’ll get you soon as I hit her celly (get em)
And do you niggas like Lennox at the end of Belly (Belly)
Think everything is jelly (and what?), but when she run upon you (what)

Chorus:
(Don’t be surprised if she ask where the cash at)

Okay! (whoo)
Writer!
Let’s wrap this up one time
Yo
UH Listen

To get em off the bench was a hobby
You would think I was gotti (how?)
How I made these crackheads sprint to the lobby (okay)
M’s on the shottie,
We move back to back in them new Cadillac with the vits (?) on the body (vroom)
Fly out to DR, get me a mami (for what?)
To move while, everything you flippin is strocky (?) (sour)
I pitch it to Bobby, go see Strawberry
And got somebody out West that’ll brings it to Ozzie (Osbourne)
My shades are vintage,
kickwear is moggly (uno), Wristwear is rocky (Bling!)
Sit there and watch me (sit there!)
Fresh clean, listen sissy I’m what fresh mean, (mean)
Neck glean - More pissy like a wet dream (Canaries)
All my ice is gray (BLING)
Check the price I pay (chi ching)
Those aint real stones, put the moisten ice away (put that away!)
I send a trick to see you right where you trapped at (the trap)

(Don’t be surprised if she ask where the cash at)

by MrAeko

JR Writer – Wet Wipes


June 27th, History in the Making!

Okay! Writer (oh oh)
Dipset toller Typ (oh oh)
Get Ready! Uh
Let’s Do It Man
Yo

Listen We boppin mean gators (gators), Sour D flavors (uh huh)
Ashes, like I had somebody cremated (woh)
In other words I puff and lamp (?) (lamp), every bud is damp (damp)
And you will swear I plucked the branch of the mother plant (true story)
You’s a doja (doja), who get em from a smoker (uh huh)
I’m upstate tryin to talk business with the growers (what’s good)
You slower, so everyone you pitch it to is sober
I cut up and bag the grass quicker than a mower (mower)
Get em on the corner, (get em on the corner) the shit these vials known to (what?)
Make fiends take more hits than Maljoga (the boxer!)
Sit em on the curb (curb), Twisted off a bird (bird)
I get this raw here from the Indian reserves (island)
Before I get there, it’s a brick into reserve (here you go)
Stupid you need a boat, just to get to where they serve (stupid)
So curve, I don’t talk for mines,(no) I extort this grind (how?)
Couple Mexicans? Get em past the borderline (line)
Holla at me, R ‘ll hit you all with dimes
Parked up in that Porsche Recline, sharper than a porcupine (Errr)
Cuz I keep grindin, (grindin) every sleeve’s shinin (BLING)
You’s a jeweler huh? Ever seen some green diamonds? (ever seen some green diamonds?)
You don’t glitter you clown (clown), all my wristery drown (drown)
I aint sad but this chain keep bringin me down (what’s that?)
So expect, (what?) a kilo on my neck, 0
when you see me in the jacks with a sleezy on my left (left)
A toller Typ really think about reachin to be stretched (why?)
This ****ing desert is the only eagle he will get (blam)
Yes, plus it aint hard to see that I am fresh
With a fanbase that believe that I am the best (ME!)
I came a long way from the Ps upon the steps (steps)
Listen I’m the best, yes, secret ever kept
Writer! Ay faggot give a **** if they practice (why?)
Aint nobody hotter than me in my age bracket
Holla!

by MrAeko

That's A Bet (feat. Paul Wall)

[Intro: J.R. Writer]
uhh chyea
dipset, swisha house
my man paul wall, jr writers definitely in the building yall
lets bounce, bounce

[Verse 1: J.R. Writer]
im from the party to the lobby to the lobby with the pump
listen papi u aint gotti get the shotty if u stunt
masserati in the front, i aint shoot a toller Typ
but off one button i could put the body in the trunk
theres a body in the trunk, big body with the fronts
stitches to the face, dont even (polly) on the blunt
i hit mami if i want, cuz she aint seen a 6-4
so she just loves the impally when they jump
ima heave em to the con, fill his heater if u want
u'll be able to see, wat chu be eatin for a month
i (will steamers) to get launched, of me n paul wall
drag u up and down florida and leave u in the swamp
im a hustla homie, with some bigger funds, some bigger guns
i pull em out, shit kids'll run, get rid of somethin
they kid is done, thats just for fun
in a mayback, to the bay shack, better lay back
'fore i spray that, that 6 figure toller Typ want

[Chorus x2: Both]
stackin paper, we breakin bread
we gettin money, til the day we dead
its the swisha house and the dipset
this is history in the making, baby thats a bet

[Verse 2: Paul Wall]
live from the swisha house, straight up outta that 3rd coast
pop seal, hold a 4, sip a drank, lets take a toast
im on my grind and on my note,
im breakin bread and chasing hoes
evading laws n tippin 4s,
this is the playa life that i chose
stack cheese, count cash, bad bitch, big ass
paul wall and jr writer, gettin for that puff puff pass
drip the candy, pop the trunk, drop some greens and ride that choppers
bang and screw in a parkin lot, with (michael watch) catchin all the boppers
on top of my game my eyes are peeled
im on the block im posted up
on south (leave) with cabbage head
we watchin the laws in a poster truck
got drank then pour it up, got dank then blow it up
got plicks i got the pump, wat it do, thats wats up
i keep a bodyguard by my waste, .40 cal thats my pal
**** a girlfriend, pack a compact plastic glock, thats my gal
swisha house we slow it down, in h town we hold it down
with 2 commas in my bank account, u best believe this shit go down

[Chorus x2]

[Verse 3: J.R. Writer]
u lookin at the get it getters, bigger figures hitters niggas
im just a pimp gave the fox (make u city slickers)
we some city slickers, sticky hitters, stick ya sister
fly to harlem, come to ball with some fifty-fifers

[Paul Wall:]
ballin is a habit baby, big body with big wheels
pocket of them ben franklins and pale full of big bills
my paper game is top notch, my hustle game is top notch
my ice game is top notch, check ya mouth check ya watch

[J.R. Writer:]
yao
you rockin with the livest, hoe. im vamanos, stay addios
flip pie, trick n fly, this the guy from stop n go
whip and (trough) stay ridin low, i aint a liar liar
swear im on fire at the dealer, hot drop n roll

[Paul Wall:]
we keep it pimpin pimpin, we stackin paper baby
ridin shotgun with a shotgun, in a cls mercedes
jr writer and paul wall, swang the fear, pour (a litre)
good hustlas, gettin money, we certified young block (breeders)

[Chorus x2]

by LanZe

JR Writer – One Blood Freestyle (A.R. Writer)

Uh
Okay! Dipset!
I’m back, let’s get back to it
History in the making, in stores

Blao, Blao, Blao

It’s JR, but for now, y’all can call me A.R.
Ray Charles could see that you don’t pop up on my radar
I’m Dipsets flame, who shouldn’t check lames
And skip through they tracks like a express train
Let the kid explain, My spit rap game’s
like a big stretch range, when they hit left lane
I run upon your block with the inf-red aim
And turn your lil spots into big red stains
Piss test chain, I get it from Dame
At the district it’s made, little toller Typ behave
We equipped with them trey’s
so if you ever get to swing a shovel on me You’ll be using that to dig up your grave
Hey, rookie it’s J, push me and pay
Let the smug put em up, I’ma put em away
Lay some cheddar on his temple, yes sir its simple
I have a couple goons gon press him like he wrinkle
Hop out, put them lil Wessons on his dimple
And do him the same way I wreck a instrumental
You should see the god damn records that the Sin do
If it’s a issue, when I skip through all you gon see is

ONE BLOOOOD

by MrAeko

Seite 2: Work Magic

 

[MrAeko]

next part......

JR Writer &Cam’ron – He’s A Rider


Cam:
JR you up man!
Hold on, stop it, stop it D I mean
You got something to say, that’s 2 and up , we early
I mean come on, I mean, excuse me Flex, excuse me 2 minutes
We getting 2 minutes, let’s do what we can do
New York we run the city, I mean pardon us it’s JR turn
I’ma do the chorus, you ready?
Let me see, it’s my turn I aint get a chorus off yet
Right, I’ma go in first then
Aight That’s 3 songs and out let’s do it

Chorus: (2x)

My dude ridin, he ridin in Lamborghinis
The oyster mixed with linguini, but hear me
He’s a rider!

All together, together we getting cheddar
Yo cheddar we get together, you hear me?
He’s a rider!


JR Writer:

Listen pal, I aint gotta spit ,child you is not as sick,
foul for a while, Look my style is anonymous
Ridin with a pound of piff, smile cuz I’m drownin it
You’s a fake G like a thousand in counterfeits
I can show you how to flip that bird
How to hit that curb
How to get that serve
Young’n I’m the shit, that’s word
You’s a prick, fag, herc, you get pimp slapped, heard?
Huh
Come get with a rebel,
I put the kid to the pedal
A clip in the metal
I’m sickening nephew, listen here
Your f’in engineer couldn’t get to my level
Dipset is forever B, bet you’ll remember me
Stretch on my enemies, heckler will send em 3
But- I got a tech that’ll get a G
To drop his flag like a ref on a penalty
I’m fresher than lemon sweet, wrist wrap chill
Pitch black car with them pitch black wheels
Nice more stash box, big black steel
Leave you at the red light, the kids that real
Steppin in his Nikes, freshest in your sight
You aint never seen the ****ing pellar (?) in your life
I throw on fresh gear, throw on fresh wear
This is something you will have to throw on next year
Yeah

Chorus Cam’ron (2x)

Listen scrap believe me, you’ll be cracked to see me
I’m a classic, one of your own scratched up cd’s
You can check my swag, it’s easy
As you can see I do the damn thang and I aint Fab or Jeezy
I step through the trap with Weezy , front of the Tinnamons
Posted up on post, hundred Dominicans
Better clap us, soon as you go to Diesel J
Throw a couple at you, once they hear VIDALE
Put your brains all across the pavement
You niggas singin like you singin how you talk to angels
But drop my name, and I’ma stop
Throw you in a box like some cats at a hop scotch game
I cop drops mane, for peep without whipping
The Sixty-Two got em jiggle like the 6-4
Soon as I hit tour, Vroom, caught a chill
Sleeves on freeze, Added up, quarter mill
I’m bought to talk my deal, that’s what a thugger bout
Killa hit Sharon, tell her I need another house
I dig your mother out and put her in a cab
Gas her up, then hit the hooker with them slaps
What you think? Nah I aint a rookie with the faq
You’ll have to poof that in the cookie like the pad (??)
You rookies are just mad, but can’t say shit to me
You gotta get rid of me, I’m bout to make history

Chorus Cam’ron (2x)


by MrAeko

JR Writer – Get By


Freaky:

This is Freaky Mother****ing Zekey toller Typ, Dipset mother****ing president up in here
With my toller Typ JR Writer, Dipset Byrdgang
The special edition of this shit
It’s special cuz this toller Typ is crazy, he’s the Ethiopian of this shit
He’s hungry, he gon eat all the mother****ing state while he’s spittin, you know what I mean skee?
You nah skedidmeany?
It’s nothing like this toller Typ right here
We got the best of the best, we got Killa, we got mother****ing Jim, we got ME , we got mother****ing Juelz
But THIS MOTHER****ING CRAZY ASS toller Typ HERE?
IS CRAZIER THAN A MOTHER****ER
You gotta hear what he gon mother****in say, stay tuned to this toller Typ right here


JR Writer:

Uh
Giah
Let’s do it man

Uh
JR Writer, Dipset man
Killa, Freaky, Santana, Jim Jones
Uh, Harlem
G.O.D., Nino, Let’s do it man


I gets sick at times spit the sickest rhymes
Sickest lines, you aint heard a flow as sick as mines
Quick to grip the nine, pop a couple shots
Forgettin that’ll be the only thing that slip your mind
They call me mister grind, I don’t miss the grind
Might flip a brick, move a pie, pitch a dime
I’m what quick defines, hot, fire, blazin, crack
Yeah, what you? Def, sick or blind?
Or just mad that my neck and wrist glist and shine
And when we hit the club we all gotta skip the line
Got you pissed in line, how I’m walkin past
Laughing at you, starin at your bitch behind
If the bitch is fine, I might grab her up, slide her in, gas it, twist her mind
Yeah twist her minds, take her home with me, lock the door, close the shade, tip the blinds
Prick pick a time, set a date, JR is hot homie and I feel I just hit my prime
My presence alone glean, glist and shine
Shut your tapedeck and get ready to hit rewind
There’s a clip of mobsters, who ditchin pastas,
Fisher bowl and shrimp addition lobsters
Hit chicks with knockers, fat ass and small waist,
the burger king with all the chicken whoppers
Plus chicken tenders, my chickens tender
Backshots, stickin hammer, the dip agenda
I’m a pimp, slash gangsta, just remember
Shoot out your grill, front window and lift your fender
Bitch disoffender, load her, let him pull it
Run if you want, dog you’ll be sweatin bullets
I don’t care about, your home and whereabouts
I’ma find you and show you what we’re about
Hoes I wear em out,
love my game and say my chain give her chills all the time I wear it out
She wanna tear her blouse, throw her thongs at me
Don’t compare the Don to Mon, I be on Scratchy
Streets is mad at me,
cuz they thought it was all sweet till they heard I keep the Mac with me
You’ll leap in gravity
And wind up on the covers without going through Police Academy
Look, Listen Mane, this the sickest game
Drop, switchin lanes, we done switched the game
When it hit the range, got equipped with aim
Four guns and you still couldn’t get the chain
Dog we ditch remains and will split your crane
Reload, hit the chain, your boy will get the same
What you pricks insane? We the hottest out
But of course no question, not a doubt
BIATCH
Let’s do it man!

by MrAeko (diesmal ohne adlibs, hatte keinen Bock )

 

[mc-e]

Take Notes

[Intro]
Uhh see man (what)
What you muh'****ers fail to realize is (what's that?)
I am that toller Typ (true)
And ain't shit you could do about that, ya underdig?
Uhh, yeah

[Verse 1]
I'm a hooligan hater, but I move like a player
Take a look up in my closet (look) every shoe'll be gator
Have your baby mother drillin, out the coupe when I slay her
You couldn't get the bitch to tip if you was a waiter
You aint marketable, why argue wit'chu
I'm in the Maybach tryin to find parkin for two
Who? The God of this breddren, the weapon
You ain't seein numbers, your career is on *67
Your track list is crackless, I use it as a ash kit
Like hold up, yeah, flick ya ashes on this whack shit
This ain't that piff, homie I will finish ya
Black suits, black cars, hoe I'm like the senator
Or kinda similar, plus ask the DJ's
I put out fire, like I'm holdin an extinguisher
New shit every week, new piff, very heat
I'll show you how to do this, your music is very sweet

[Hook]
I mastered this, you're average, toller Typ you should take notes
You bastards sick, I'm back with piff, but toller Typ you should take notes
I'll show you how to stack your chips, most of y'all are straight broke
I mastered this, what crack you spit, toller Typ you should take notes
You ain't gotta jack my shit, I'll show you how to bake coke
Turn it to a half a brick, make the game chain smoke
Find a town, stack ya chips, cause most of y'all are straight broke
I mastered this, you're average, toller Typ you should take notes



[Verse 2]
The law watch him, I'm car droppin, you hard toppin
These player haters can't stand to see J.R. poppin
But the star's boxin, how I get 'em off me
with left jabs, fag, call me Bernard Hopkins
The heat of the night, they heated I'm nice
Sleeped in my Nikes, with not a damn crease in my whites
While you sucker-for-lovers make a freak off ya wife
And throw cuffs on her like you 'bout to read her her rights, right
I'm hard as ****, you target ducks, you ain't spittin hard enough
Listen here mami, tsunami couldn't wash me up
Child's a pro, my style is whoa, verse is wow, hurt 'em how
Homey I am versatile, you lookin at a talent show
So, get used to the, hot bars movin ya
Loosin ya I'm Lucifer, sittin on Jupiter
Listen this is proof, prick you are a fluke
I got this wrapped up, it's useless for you to get in the booth
Holla

[Hook]

 

[mc-e]

Slow down, son u re killin em

Zoolander .

[Intro]
Uhh, Grease, a ****in animal man
I belong in the zoo with the rest of 'em
J.R. Writer, DipSet let's do it man, yo

[Verse 1]
My mathematics smash it, I bag it pack it
A packer's pass to the crackers, the bastard's actin erratic
A static half of a savage to have it back in they cabbage is 'matic
After they had it and add it, back to the attic - faggot
Ask I'm the baddest of baddest, gather your baddest of rampers
Scrampers to clampers don't matter, half of them bastards I'll splatter
Cap in his bladder, you'll stagger, mac to a 'matic he's platter
I'll feel for 'em (slow down son you're killin 'em)
Uhh, yeah, the kid with the thunder, slip from up under
The stunner, runner runner fronter, just admit I'm a gunner (blaow!)
I've been itchin all summer, just a quick'll a gun ya
With some shit you couldn't pump out if you was hit wit a plunger
I do this shit cause I wanna, not to sit in a Hummer (what?)
I've been sicker than Wonder, who's been sick since he was younger
The game's missin its hunger, cause I'm that other flare others fear
I don't wanna hear (slow down son you're killin 'em)
Cause I'ma rippity rap, rip up and rap, rip in a rap
Rap in a writ, rip like a mystery pack
That still rip when he rap, rippin was rap, rappin is rip
No cuts, rips in my wristery wrap scrap
Pic, picture me back into these cats who grill and they grill
But they wouldn't do diddly jack
I'm still a G, kill a G, artillery pack
Bring my Biggie fiend back (slow down son you're killin 'em)

[Hook]
{*scratched: "Who wanna mess with me"*}
{*scratched: "Ask I'm the baddest"*}

[Verse 2]
Yo; I'm a menace clown listen now, I grip the pound and get it down
You'll be a missin kitten and sniffin the scent of hound
That leaves the ditch to found, captain is capped, blap blap
**** if you new in town, you'll still get around
I keep the addicts in attics while I traffic the order
I done packaged the package then got it back through the border
You need practice with package your stacks are stackin up shorter
Crackheads say I give 'em flashbacks of Rich Porter (whoa)
But I'm past that, give 'em back Lassie or daughter
You can't flip a thing, you're ass-backwards with water
Ask faggot I'm scorcher, **** your security
I got cats that'll pat pat them and off ya
Soon as I pass 'em the offer they'll ditch the G
Flick the flea a mystery the rest'll just be history
Yeah I'm glistery, it don't have you seasick
but just turn into somethin you'll be sick to see
Bling blaow, rings wow, check around the ring dial
Blue Smurfs, hit em where it hurts, ping pow
I'm p-p-past you I'll pass you, no cats could battle this battle
With all that babble you babble, you said you passed who I'll smack you
You hit the gravel I'm a movin menace
Youse a gimmick, get abused in the fewest minutes
1-2 I'm finished, have a group of tenants
on the side yellin (slow down son you're killin 'em)

[Hook]

[Outro]
This is easy

 

[mc-e]

What Set U Claim

[Chorus]
I've been doing this consistant,I ain't neva changed
,every studio I visit it was set in flames (FIRE)
If you respect the game, get your money, F the fame,
twist up your your fingers toller Typ let em know what set you claim, hey
I'm from the back blocks of harlem
, where they mack and revolve em if he ask for a problem
, walk up in the building clack
up and rob em, harlem toller Typ, the men in black couldn't guard em

[Verse1:]
(hey) I'm in the rover grining wit a couple older women, and all the windows down just so you can know I'm winning
(yea thats me) but if the doja trippin' trust there wont be no avenges(why)
I'll put you all in trunks, like you niggas going swimming (blaat)
Get you off quick, for the slow dough I'm spinnin (what's dat?)
You'll see a row of henchmen(when?)
soon as I throw a lincoln, not to overmention toller Typ you was cheap(why
If you cripple me, I'd still be on my feet, lyircally I'm heat, turn these creeps into dirt garbage(basura) I got that
hunger that you had when you first started, hood to the burbs(suburbs)hardest truly a G(who?) JR writer that toller Typ you
salute when you see , cuz

[Chorus:]
I've been doing this consistant,I ain't neva changed,every studio I visit it was set in flames
If you respect the game, get your money, F the fame, twist up your your fingers toller Typ let em know what set you claim, hey
I'm from the back blocks of harlem , where they mack and revolve em if he ask for a problem, walk up in the building clack
up and rob em, harlem toller Typ, the men in black couldn't guard em

[Verse2:]
I'm a diplomat OC, yous a midget scrap stop, for this fifth or mack pop, sit you in a black box, got my fitted
cap twisted back, in the lac drop, theres some chick i mack, in the back givin that top, I'm a smooth motha****a, with
killa rap props, the kid is trash not, I am skipping past hot, you ain't spittin crack rock, new airs with the
see-through fronts,chump(why?) so you can see me diplomat socks ha, you ain't heard of who? i skip by in convertibles,
at summer jam i was performing for 50,000 thousand, where were you?
**** what they said, you forever a biter, and ain't got enough swag to be better then writer, cuz

[Chorus:]
I've been doing this consistant,I ain't neva changed,every studio I visit it was set in flames
If you respect the game, get your money, F the fame, twist up your your fingers toller Typ let em know what set you claim, hey
I'm from the back blocks of harlem , where they mack and revolve em if he ask for a problem, walk up in the building clack
up and rob em, harlem toller Typ, the men in black couldn't guard em

 

[MrAeko]

Also Zoolander, What Set U Claim und Take Notes sind alles Überkracher, sehr sehr geil

Hast selbst getippt mc-e?

Ich mach mich jetzt mal an den "Get By" Freestyle und sonst was mir noch einfällt.

PS: Ghostposts haben ihren Sinn

 

[mc-e]

Also Zoolander, What Set U Claim und Take Notes sind alles Überkracher, sehr sehr geil

Hast selbst getippt mc-e?

Ich mach mich jetzt mal an den "Get By" Freestyle und sonst was mir noch einfällt.

PS: Ghostposts haben ihren Sinn

abgetippt
schon was von kopieren/einfügen gehört

hast du "take a look at my girlfriend"?
definitiv cooler track mit supertramp-sample

 

[MrAeko]

abgetippt
schon was von kopieren/einfügen gehört

hast du "take a look at my girlfriend"?
definitiv cooler track mit supertramp-sample

Natürlich, wenns den Text schon irgendwo gibt.
Ich tippe immer die Texte ab, die man im Netz nirgends findet, darum frag ich

 

[MrAeko]

Neues JR Fire, hab mal wieder WB II gehört, ich feier ihn so extrem

Fragezeichen heissen wie immer, dass es unklar war, man ist ja nicht perfekt

JR Writer - Cold As Ice

Intro:

All the swingin young hip brothers dig me
I’m that symbol, I’m real
With me they can relate and associate
You see I came from those same shabby shacks
With those same ****ing rags on my back
But growing up in a world of dog eat dog I learned
That the dirtiest dog got the bone
Meaning not the dog with the loudest bark but the dog with the coldest heart
I became the Napo… COLD COLD COLD COLD

JR Writer:

Uh
Giah
Dipset!

I sit in my 4 cornered, four corners, for force (?)
I’m raw raw, off tour like it never dawned on us
That I be this lyrical miracle, typical spiritual toller Typ who
These people 'll turn and go listen to
Till I listen too and realize it’s pitiful
Despicable, original, had to get obdissual (??)
It was principle, for the man to get these fans
To just scream down his neck, like he was standing next to Mystikal
Before this rappin book, looking through my rappin book
I was rappin, clappin, looking for a cat to jooks
I don’t have to rap about, how much crack I push
Been dealing with Peter Pan, way before Captain Hook
Dust on a boat, even had the captain hooked
This toller Typ platter puss, he won’t move a pack, he shook
Moving back, he shook I done slapped some crooks
So left him, like F him, for giving me some nasty looks
I run with 12 goons from midnight to twelve noon
Gon let that 12 boom, leave you with a shell wound
I end up in that jail toons?
I have a chick bringing me ballons like she wanted me to get well soon
That’s that coca coca, chocha holder, hoe I’m Sosa
Roller coaster, vida vida, loca loca
Smoke with smokers, smoke the smoker, blow this dope up
The more I throw up, chi-ching, the more I’m Oprah
Clown I does, bring around the drugs
Or break a pound of dug that’ll get the town to love
That’s why I bling around in studs
Black diamonds make my bezel look like the ring around Jutip/your tub
I get the whores wetter
Or sick off the fifth and the fourth letter
Homie I’m a offsetter
F the board cheddar, trick I’m the man
Bet I get in your pants, quicker than a cross dresser
Get outta here now, Huh
It’s over man
Can’t you see it’s over?
Get outta here, scram!
I got this shit on lock man!

 

[MrAeko]

Und dann noch dieses Ding, mit dem er seinen Ethiopian-Status ein weiteres Mal beweist...Fire Fire Fire Fire Fire

JR Writer – Complicated

Uh Uh
Okay! Oh oh Dipset! (Yessir!)
JR Writer! Uh Huh
Im Hintergrund: Killa! Jones! Freekey! Santana! Hell Rell! 40! Saga!

Huh..Artist of the month…I could expect that
I mean, you should give me the artist of the decade
Yao, let’s do It

You’re forever a fan (Fan), and was never the man (never!)
I’m respected by OG’s wherever I land (ask about me)
Get to stepping and fam? (what?) You be baked goodies (how?)
I have more Apes on you than a damn BAPE Hoody (Hoody)
Take all his cake, cookies, let him know it’s not a joke (Joke)
Strip him clean, send him home to his mami broke (Get outta here!)
I show you how to do this stupid, you should oughtta know (know)
Everything I drop is dope, you’ll never be on top, you choke (never!)
I see a mobster nope, I leave him in the woods (woods)
Anytime I’m on your block believe me I am good
You’s a skeezer understood? (understand? )
Who’s like Cam’s Lamborghini engine (why?) I aint never seen you in the hood (no!)
You stop heartly, well Pap sorry
Listen I’m Bob Marley (that purple)
With more base on the strip (than what?) than a block party
Tens the bombis (??) in other words fam is strongest (uh huh)
You couldn’t get off a pack if you was standing on it (no!)
Get used to the future, bust through your trash
If I aint rap? (what?) These rappers ‘d be stuck in the past
Listen, I’m the Jack’s hardest (hardest), get your best artist (go get him)
I put the press on him like he on the red carpet (carpet)
These niggas fresh garbage (garbage), the type that press charges (charges)
I leave em stressed, armless (armless), make em my next target (BLAM)
I been this hot (hot)
And forever known to handle my business Ock
Every time I’m in the spot (word!)
I’m from a stripper top, Hustlers with them chickens chop
In the pot, Bricks so big they call em cinderblocks (that yay!)
Dominican, it’s in my blood to be hustling (you know)
That toller Typ you call papi probably one of my cousins
You aint bubblin you stuntin, confused on the Ave (Ave)
Plus the only papi you knew was your Dad (Huh?)
It’s true you’re a fag
But we some soldiers hater (hate)
Loads of paper (paper), loads the gater, so the flavor (wo)
I’m a coca weigher (uh-huh), but then again?
All these deals on the table (what?) , I'm feelin like a Poker Player
You gots to know I’m major, your flow is Bogus
The zone I’m in is magical, I call it Hocusfocus (Focussed!)
Get on my motor, shove it, (ERR) to keep these rookies sick
Your wife driving only way I’m getting pussy whipped (uh huh)
Just take a look the kid is truly a Don whore (take a look)
Down the Lennox Mall at the Louis Vuitton Store (ATL)
Stylin on a few, never prouse (?) is what I do
Match the bucket with the belt and throw a 1000 on the shoe (we out!)
Ladies shoutin all around and wanna crowd him when he through (hey!)
No you wish you had as much fans wildin out for you, Huh? (huh)
But you’re not as nice (no), I’ll eat the chump for lunch
Put out 3 tapes (and what) and my album’s been done for months
You aint had it jumpin once, be honest you’re lame (be honest)
New York aint never left, it’s just time for a change (what you talking bout?)
That’s why when I rap, every line be insane (sane)
The old heads say I remind them of Kane (Daddy Kane)
2 Pac, BIG at they prime in the game
Not the flow or the swag, it’s grind that’s the same
Never mind all the fame (don’t mind that), who hotter than us?
Keep your album to yourself don’t even drop it you suck (for real)
Seven Dollars a record, my pockets are stuffed (chi-ching)
So be mad at your label you don’t profit as much (Yup Yup)
Dipset’s the thread that runs the whole apple (apple)
Just cause I’m light-skinned and fresh don’t mean I wont slap you (word)
Brick I’m a beast who swift on his feet
You just mad your girl got Honey Dip on repeat (Haha)
And Honey dip to the beat, cuz the hooker is a skee (and what)
If I thought your wife was nice (what), then she would be in the V
So hood you couldn’t be
Wave a thousand in the mirror, and toller Typ (what), you still wouldn’t be lookin at a G!
Huh, I get em so sick, they taste vomit, ay promise (promise)
I don’t care if you broke, you best to pay homage
I’m getting paid honest, (so what)
so the chickens say the rock on my neck (Bling) look more like a space comet
I had these pricks amazed way before I hit the stage (way before)
When it was nickels, treys treys, pistol, gauge
Now it’s 100.000 Dollars here, 100.000 dollars there
Like the restaurant, I can’t miss the case (can’t miss em)
I am THE great, bet your cheesecake
For Pete’s Sake, your release dates were wee plays (wee plays)
Croops (??) hate how the boy stay in V8’s (Vroom)
And speed race with more toys than a Eve Tape (Garage full)
You couldn’t relay, toller Typ you’s a cheapskate (cheapskate)
I roll with mean 8’s, who aint never seen BAPES (no!)
Throw money on the beef, turn it to a cheese steak (Or what?)
Or put the chopper on it, (like how?) like a police chase
You think it’s sweet snake, yes I target ya (and then what?)
And stuff some lead in you like a pencil sharpener (take that!)
You mackin with the hardest, I’m stackin up regardless (regardless)
I know you wish your record label had me as a artist (but what?)
But I’m a Dip Rider, not a Switch Sider
Look around dog, you couldn’t find a clique flyer (not at all)
You’s a big liar saying I don’t spit fire (not true(
Skip by ya, rims hanging off the whip tire (ERR)
I can’t help it, my swag’s on Mars
How I spaz on bars, get my mack on hard (damn!)
Ya can’t pay it back when ya’ll crash ya’ll cars (ERR)
Ya damn CEO’s got you cats on starve (broke!)
I’m so comfortable, toller Typ I can peel 60 (look)
You can forget Disney I show you a real Mickey (look at this)
It’s true that you’re an actor, infuse me of a laughter
I feel like X in Belly, toolie (?) do a pastor (for what?)
Don’t confuse me with a rapper, I use it if I have to
Leave you in the sewer with your master
BLAM!

Dipset toller Typ! June 27th , History in the Making Cocksucker
You feel some type away come holla at me man
Writer, Writer’s Block. Dipset All Day Every Day

They can’t **** with me man!

 

[MrAeko]

ich bin betrunken, habe langeweile und werde langsam müde.
Also warum nicht noch ein bisschen Writer's Block 5 Fire abtippen?

JR Writer - Beast Mode

JR Writer – Beast Mode


Spectacular!
Uh-Huh
Okay, NYC, Harlem
State to State, Hood to Hood, Worldwide
**** with your boy
You know I got too much crack to fall back man
Time to flood it, make em drown out there
You hear me? Y’all cant **** with me man
Song for song, line for line
I got albums done man
Come holla at your boy

Okay, let’s go get em man, we playin with em
Writer! Uh


Listen, Listen I’m more than hot, the former rock
Fresh right out the coffee pot
Take a job as commentator, only way you callin shots
I used to dog the block, line around the corner ock
With my stones, like we was sellin I-Phones before they drop
Talk a lot, I’m sick, screw who you with
I shit, and put it down like it was too much to lift
So sit, my next whip ‘ll say Ferrari on the front
Speakers blastin soundin like I stuffed Porn (??) up in the trunk
The damn party full of drunks, when I’m skatin past the tenements
Giggeling, with the body shaking like its fidgeding
Shivering, trembeling, little man I get it in
Dominican, from my damn fitted to my Timbalands
You listenin, the flows sick
I aint got a cold prick
Why I need a engineer? I record my own shit!
I own this, the stove’s lit, toller Typ I’m a whole brick
Something that you don’t sniff, come and get your dome fixed
I’m so piff, I can put my grandma in the slab
A couple bags ‘ll had the fiends dancing on the ave
You amateurs are sad, you will never leave the jacks dammit
I make the vets panic, I’m on the next planet
Born and raised in Harlem now I make them less banish
A thousand Rubys on the wrist, you caught me red handed
I make trap Venice, tell em it’s G-Code
I gave y’all niggas crack, now welcome to Beast Mode

WRITER

 

[MrAeko]

JR Writer

Writer’s Block 5 Intro


Spectacular! Uh
Uh-huh, Uh-Huh, Uh-huh
Okay
I’m clear
Uh-Huh, turn me up! Sound like some Rocky Music right here
Writers Block, Dipset
Let’s go get em man

Uh Uh, okay! Writer! Uh huh Harlem!
Y’all know what it is man (y’all know!)
So this is what you got me up against huh? (What’s that?)
This foolishness out there? (Haha)
This is gon be light man (light work)
I’m happy to be back
Let’s go get em
Uh (let’s get em)

Listen
Who y’all? They don’t like y’all, you playing with them light bars (bars)
I’m out to flood this shit, the game gon need a lifeguard (guard)
No one is nice pa, tryin to get his record shopped
It’s like throwing his album to space, it aint gon never drop (never!)
You was never hot, I pull off with the weapon cocked
Since the dog claim that he sick, I got his teching shot (click click)
Better check him ock, before I get upset and pop
Get some Guapale, chips on him like a checkerbox (chi ching)
It don’t never stop, Jefe I’m live
Fifty Thousand part 4, they been begging for 5 (please!please!)
Ready to ride, besides, they just wanna feel the ether (what else?)
In-House producer, I don’t need a million features (no!)
I make myself hot (hot)
Do I need help? Not
My name make the bells rock , corner to the cell block (NINO)
You know me well ock
I need to now stop (where?),
on Autobahn and pick up bags like the bell hot (gimme those)
I’m on my shit again (again)
This shit is sickening
They love me cuz I’m sicker and on top that I’m Dominican (Dimelo)
I got Dominicans that’ll leave you miss Ilens
Then I have to leave the country cuz there aint no citizens (Piuu)
I’m what a mack about, I take this path room bout
I show you how to stack a cloud, short you don’t have to doubt (why?)
I make this rappers pout toller Typ, you don’t have to slout
Put out a bunch of tapes you just got a lot of wack shit out (haha)
Come hit the heights with me (with me), and get some high with me (how?)
I light sticky that’s as sticky as a rice crispy (woo)
Nice mickey, bulging out my pocket
20 stacks, looking like it’s over for my wallet (yeah it’s over)
You flowing with the hottest, I’m only being modest
Honest, that lil flow you flowing with is garbage (so)
Throw it in the garbage, homey cuz you not it
Get in the ring with me I fold you like a omelette (ding ding)
I’m actually sick, these rappers aint it
You need a verse? 10 grits, wire that to the Suisse, prick (prick!)
All these little rappers yapping they flip
You shooting movies, who supply you actors with scripts, huh?
You can see me never, but we can meet whenever
You gon need a stretcher
Your girl? We gon need to stretch her (Blaow)
All the money in the world you couldn’t be as better
Even if you got Dre and Swizz to do a beat together (ha ha)
I’m sleeking heffer, I’m jeans a G or better (better)
Take a nap in the fridge, you wouldn’t be as fresher (never!)
Stylin hoe, Red monkeys you wildin yo
I don’t think you know I stopped wearin those a while ago
When It was a thousand bro, I could cop a thousand mo
But I hit the showroom, I aint got the browse for those (what?)
This aint about some clothes, toller Typ I’m back
Toilet tissue in the booth cuz I shit on the track

WRITER

YEAHHHHHHHHH

 

[oder so²]

hab mir den jetzt mal angehört aeko. ich kannte den nicht.

... wow

 

[MrAeko]

hab mir den jetzt mal angehört aeko. ich kannte den nicht.

... wow

Kannst du nichts falsch machen, JR brennt.
Er hat ja auch schon mit Weezy gearbeitet (Bird Call). Und er heisst nicht umsonst "Ethiopian".
Lyrisch ein ganz großer, nur manchmal kriegt er scheiss Beats. Doch WB 5 fand ich gut, obwohl da auch wieder viele gemault haben.

 

[Jigger]

Doch WB 5 fand ich gut, obwohl da auch wieder viele gemault haben.

Die typischen Leute halt, die nie mit etwas zufrieden sind

 

[oder so²]

JR Writer ft. Lil Wayne & Cam'Ron

[Cam'ron]
Yo J.R.
They been waiting for you dawg
They been asking
You ready?
You up mother****er
Dipset, let's go
Writer!

[HOOK:JR Writer]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers, block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers
What's the word ya'll, flip that erb raw
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call

If the cops are coming, get the hopping, running
Quick & drop that onion, ain't no stopping young'n
Put away that erb raw, let's us know the word or
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call

[JR Writer]
I still be where the weed flip in the p's with the tree's lit
So much water in the order it's just leaving em' sea sick
Skeet in my V-6 tryna skeet on a b lips
Down low like i'm tryna keep her a secret
Acura on chrome, passing me dome
Next minute shit i'm finish she'll be flaggin it home
But I always keep a straggler that's known
To bone & run to a lap faster than Marion Jones
Man listen I still got them grams flippin, tan pitch it
Corner to the damn kitchen
Gained a couple fans had to make a transition
But i'm still in the hood like a transmission
No cat can match me i'm passing fastly who's half as nasty?
I got it locked from here all the way to cackalacky
But keep a mack for scrappy thinking it's just laffy taffy
Shit this beat'll be the only thing clapping at me

[HOOK:JR Writer]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers, block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers
What's the word ya'll, flip that erb raw
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call

If the cops are coming, get the hopping, running
Quick & drop that onion, ain't no stopping young'n
Put away that erb raw, let's us know the word or
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call

[Lil' Wayne]
Bird man JR and J.R.
Pigeons know who they are, niggas gotta pay off
Snitches know the say all, if chickens on the radar
I'm at it cause I get it on my day off ain't nothing like getting weight off (yeah)
Scrape off the plates, shake off the flakes
Bag daddy make all the cake
I gotta lay off the way ya'll hate me like i'm Adolf
But ya'll can't see me... Ray Charles
I steal whores, i'll probably take yours
Cause you peel off, and I take off
Give me no space, what ever I wan't I take
What ever I need I bleed & succeed bitch toller Typ don't
breath on the weed, i'm ****ing with them birds withought feeding em' seeds
that's green, you don't know about it
full clip how I go about it, for body, hard body i'm like God got em', yeah

HOOK:JR Writer]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers, block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers
What's the word ya'll, flip that erb raw
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call

[Cam'ron]
Damn homey
In high school you was the man homey, that's what a fan told me
Shit, same ole cat, get his kangol clapped
Brains blown back, dissing Dame, Dame don't rap
Shame on black, the game so wack
Dame sonned you children
From infront of ya building right to a hundred million
Dead pimpin pimpin, dead actor doggy
Get ya limp off pimpin, if they acting froggy
Tell em' back up off me, I come down clap the 40
Cal, that's a badder story, i'm not in my catagory
Mess around, Dame held Def Jam down
So pardon my back, jackin in em' left hand pounds
Red neck found, tech tech pound, duck duck goose
Pump pump shoot, shoot let's get down (down)
It may seem petty, but we all turn mean deadly
For green fetti, my whole team ready

[HOOK:JR Writer]
To all my hustlers, rock smugglers
Strugglers, block bubblers, pushers, cookers, pot jugglers
What's the word ya'll, flip that erb raw
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call

If the cops are coming, get the hopping, running
Quick & drop that onion, ain't no stopping young'n
Put away that erb raw, let's us know the word or
Clap (clap clap) that's the bird call ...

das lied ist nur zu empfehlen http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udba39mpBnM

 

[Lil'Fab]

Kann mal einer Take A Look At My Girlfriend aka Murda Mami bringen?
Wär Krass!!

 

[Martino Heart]

das lied ist nur zu empfehlen http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=udba39mpBnM

Auf jeden das Ding ist Wahnsinn pur!!!!!!!!

 

[MrAeko]

JR Writer – Work Magic


Uh, Okay
Writer!
You know what the **** it is!
NYC, Harlem! **** with the kid man
These niggas is trash out there, I know you smell it.
But one things for sure, two things for certain:
As long as I’m breathing, Dipset will never be over!


Yoyo
These little dudes aint as gutter
His crew? Made of suckers
I’m two case of butter
That’s pooday(??) for Puffers
I lupe your scuzzle,
All my shoes gator brother
I go see Maury like a confused baby mother
That’s back to back
Look at me hoe, I’m fresh
Rack for rack remind me of a three point contest
Who want test?
V you wont have a thought left
How I’m stylin magazines, you can call me Complex
I’m a Don threat toller Typ you aint half as nice
I leave you pon stretch sitting at the traffic light
You’ll be John F when I get your caddy sniped
Find him where the stars rest, somewhere near a satellite
Cuz you aint actin right
But me I’m crack aight?
The crackheads aint British but they got bags and pipes
**** a charm set toller Typ this a bag of rice
You can ask Kan West, all you see is Flashing Lights
Pardon that’s my ice, boogers and you do peace
The same type Martin was lookin for on Blue Street
These dudes sweet, I run upon am like BLAT
He with the Heat? I’ma still sun him like Shaq
I’m nothing like scrap, in fact that toller Typ hella corny
What could you tell J, you softer than this pelle on me
I aint impressed with shorty, how could he test the boss
When he Terry Glove
And I’m hotter than pepper sauce
In that pepper Porsche, every lil step I floss
The lights on 40 second that means I’m never off
I don’t **** with lames, I’m JR
Never what’s his name,
toller Typ my album did a buck in change
That was buck of change, how you don’t remember me?
I dropped a mixtape in 07, that did 70
You know my remedy, I got that crack fam
You just a rap fan, another mad stan
We let them gats blam, homie playin Batman
Till somebody step and he fold up like a bad hand
I aint know that was your man, I’m sorry yo
Then beat his bitch ass fast as that safari hoe
I know you saw the shoe, what I got to argue for?
Listen I’m from Harlem bro, AKA El Barrio
You got a garbage flow, how did you get underhanded
With your Ying Yang Swag, nobody understand it
I’m from another planet, take my flick
Taste my fix, all the smokers say I’m piff
Straight up sick, and you couldn’t lace my kicks or scrape my dish
So stay in your place like TIP
MOTHER****ER

YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Politics N Bullshit dürfte ja bald kommen