FBPSWMO 
2009-10-31 - extension: rar - size: 39 MB
FBPSWMO
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Video results for: funky bastardsMore results from video 
Public Enemy - Give It Up -------------------------- Give It Up -------------------------- <br /> <br />-one two, (More) -------------------------- Give It Up -------------------------- <br /> <br />-one two, three four- <br /> <br />Verse One: Chuck D <br /> <br />It's another record, check it, mad methods <br />To put my brothers and sisters on a deathbed <br />You know he cheated, took what he wanted but now you blunted <br />Suckin up to the devil steppin down a level <br />It's who they fear is you <br />Who protects us from us and you from you <br />Yes and it counts [fuck the fourty ounce] <br />I sued them bastards, yeah they got bounce <br />I did em like a demo {threw em out the window} <br />I took a 98 cause I never liked a limo <br />But pump pump pump pu-pump pump it up <br />A mad rhyme, for mad times, that's what's up <br />Some ain't gonna change, I got em in a range <br />I gotta rearrange, so I'm buildin back your brain <br />Wreckin records with funky stuff <br />Am I loud enough? {yeah} You got ta give it up <br /> <br />Chorus: Flavor Flav <br /> <br />Give it up, give it up, give it up yo repeat <br />Give it up, give it up, gotta give it up 4 times <br /> <br />repeat #2 -- -occasional- Chuck D vocal <br /> <br />yeah <br />you gots ta give it up now <br /> <br />Verse Two: Chuck D <br /> <br />Come again with the same old bounce <br />I'm calling a foul and once again it counts <br />Mad tense mad tense brothers know <br />The blunts in the back got the black behind and that's wack <br />[And once again it's on!] <br />Hey Jimmy cracked corn cracker singin "I don't care", it's on <br />I'm comin with a rhyme [what?] I'm lettin go a rhyme [yeah!] <br />I gotta get a rhyme through the rough and crazy times <br />Call me a Hannibal lecture, yes I checked her <br />They don't hear me though, so here I go <br />I'm sick and tired so Sly'll take ya higher <br />When I'm takin his sound to bring you down <br />Rappers rippin a lyrical kickin finger-lickin <br />But to the rhythm I'm givin but never cotton pickin <br />Like James Brown I'm sayin it loud <br />Am I loud enough? Huh, you got ta give it up <br /> <br />[Some ain't gonna change, some ain't gonna change <br />Some ain't gonna never ever change <br />Some ain't gonna change, some ain't gonna change <br />Some ain't gonna NEVER EVER change!] <br /> <br />Chorus [12X] <br /> <br />Interlude: Chuck D, Flavor Flav <br /> <br />And when I'm coming, some young dumb and fulla cum <br />Some second guessing my lessons about saving young <br />Some don't know like Run said so here we go <br />Where it is inside, whoop there it is <br />{aaaaaaah} There it is <br />[There it is, damn right <br />My man X is a bad mother {shut your mouth- <br />I'm talking about Terminator, he's the man] <br />There it is, can you hit me off with another one <br /> <br />Chorus <br /> <br />I never did represent doing dumb shit <br />Some gangsta lying - I'd rather diss Presidents <br />Dead or alive, bring em and I'll swing em <br />I vocalize, I just rap, I don't sing em <br />Flick em, and I fling em, you can go with em <br />Hall of Fame for the game for the points I Dave Bing em <br />Go Grandmama, close but no cigar <br />I got mine, for I'm using my rhyme <br />The flow go wherever I want, and that's clever <br />Give a piece of my time, to prevent some crime <br />And who behind puttin the guns to the young ones <br />The ones that make em is the ones that take em <br />Rugged for no reason, down in duck season <br />I don't want my mama, on the street wearing armor <br />So check yaself before ya wreck yaself <br />Respect yaself, hah, you got ta give it up <br /> <br />Chorus [4X] -fades out- (Less)
Denzel tells how Frank Lucas became, 'American Gangster' http://www.blacktree.tv/
Denzel Washington Interview
The Return of Superfly
Frank Lucas, once (More) http://www.blacktree.tv/
Denzel Washington Interview
The Return of Superfly
Frank Lucas, once the city's biggest, baddest heroin kingpin the original O.G. in chinchilla, now seems like just a very likable guy. But don't be fooled.
* By Mark Jacobson
* Published Aug 14, 2000
During the early seventies, when for a sable-coat-wearing, Superfly-strutting instant of urban time he was perhaps the biggest heroin dealer in Harlem, Frank Lucas would sit at the corner of 116th Street and Eighth Avenue in a beat-up Chevrolet he called Nellybelle. Then living in a suite at the Regency Hotel with 100 custom-made, multi-hued suits in the closet, Lucas owned several cars. He had a Rolls, a Mercedes, a Corvette Sting Ray, and a 427 muscle job he'd once topped out at 160 mph near Exit 16E of the Jersey Turnpike, scaring himself so silly that he gave the car to his brother's wife just to get it out of his sight.
But for "spying," Nellybelle was best.
"Who'd think I'd be in a shit $300 car like that?" asks Lucas, who claims he'd clear up to $1 million a day selling dope on 116th Street.
"One-sixteenth Street between Seventh and Eighth Avenue was mine. I bought it. I ran it. I owned it," Lucas says. "When something is yours, you've got to be Johnny-on-the-spot, ready to take it to the top. So I'd sit in Nellybelle by the Roman Garden Bar, cap pulled down, with a fake beard, dark glasses, long wig . . . I'd be up beside people dealing my stuff, and no one knew who I was . . ."
It was a matter of control, and trust. As the leader of the heroin-dealing ring called the Country Boys, Lucas, older brother to Ezell, Vernon Lee, John Paul, Larry, and Leevan Lucas, was known for restricting his operation to blood relatives and others from his rural North Carolina area hometown. This was because, Lucas says, in his down-home creak of a voice, "a country boy, he ain't hip . . . he's not used to big cars, fancy ladies, and diamond rings. He'll be loyal to you. A country boy, you can give him any amount of money. His wife and kids might be hungry, and he'll never touch your stuff until he checks with you. City boys ain't like that. A city boy will take your last dime, look you in the face, and swear he ain't got it . . . You don't want a city boy -- the sonofabitch is just no good."
Back in the early seventies, there were many "brands" of dope in Harlem. Tru Blu, Mean Machine, Could Be Fatal, Dick Down, Boody, Cooley High, Capone, Ding Dong, Fuck Me, Fuck You, Nice, Nice to Be Nice, Oh -- Can't Get Enough of That Funky Stuff, Tragic Magic, Gerber, The Judge, 32, 32-20, O.D., Correct, Official Correct, Past Due, Payback, Revenge, Green Tape, Red Tape, Rush, Swear to God, PraisePraisePraise, KillKillKill, Killer 1, Killer 2, KKK, Good Pussy, Taster's Choice, Harlem Hijack, Joint, Insured for Life, and Insured for Death were only a few of the brand names rubber-stamped onto cellophane bags. But none sold like Frank Lucas's Blue Magic.
"That's because with Blue Magic, you could get 10 percent purity," Lucas asserts. "Any other, if you got 5 percent, you were doing good. We put it out there at four in the afternoon, when the cops changed shifts. That gave you a couple of hours before those lazy bastards got down there. My buyers, though, you could set your watch by them. By four o'clock, we had enough niggers in the street to make a Tarzan movie. They had to reroute the bus on Eighth Avenue. Call the Transit Department if it's not so. By nine o'clock, I ain't got a fucking gram. Everything is gone. Sold . . . and I got myself a million dollars.
"I'd sit there in Nellybelle and watch the money roll in," says Frank Lucas of those near-forgotten days when Abe Beame lay his pint-size head upon the pillow at Gracie Mansion. "And no one even knew it was me. I was a shadow. A ghost . . . what we call down home a haint . . . That was me, the Haint of Harlem." (Less)
David la Casta - Funky bastards 2007 .zip 
2008-11-29 - extension: zip - size: 15 MB
David la Casta - Funky bastards 2007 .zip
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Groups results for: funky bastards 
