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The Best of Blur

2009-12-30 - extension: rar - size: 69 MB

The Best of Blur

Hosted on: mediafire.com

| Source: http://www.taringa.net/posts/4259945/

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Blur-The Best Of-2000-FIH INT

2009-03-10 - extension: rar - size: 112 MB

Blur-The Best Of-2000-FIH INT

Blur - The Best Of

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| Source: http://cache.phazemp3.com/280323/

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Blur-The Best Of Disc 1 2000

2009-03-24 - extension: rar - size: 71 MB

Blur-The Best Of Disc 1 2000

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| Source: http://baja-discos.blogspot.com/2009/03/blur-best-of-2000.html

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The Coming Dawn Blur (a capella)
This is the first (original) complete song I (Body) ever wrote, about 5 years ago. I decided to do (More) This is the first (original) complete song I (Body) ever wrote, about 5 years ago. I decided to do this one a Capella for a change. Its pretty cheesy shit, but I suppose its a positive message (drug references excluded). I'm mainly posting it to show the progression in my rhymes since I started. Since it was a Capella I could edit out the errors for you. Lyrics: The Comming Dawn Blur Sittin and spitting, feel this groove i be gettin, I'm staying aint splittin, no playing no kiddin. Displayin ma vision, my way and my decision, Hear these sprays, here today, and the truth that is in em. We gotta stop the killin, gotta drop the feelin, That bomb and gunslingin, is so slick and illin, That to be cool and chillin, ya gotta be a villan, Whose ready n willing, to kill for big dolla billin. What kind of world we building, with the blood that we spillin. Many thugs be children, think its fun, n appealin. Gettin funds from stealing, wit real guns they weildin, Every night, dealin strife, how can that life be fulfillin? Can't you see the glitches, in thug life, all which is Bout bonin moaning bitches, ownin unspoken riches, Chokin broken snitches, strokin gun blowin itches, Rounds loaded, found encoded, to open closed stitches. But yknow what the hitch is, in strivin for those niches? It could mean dyin in some ditches, lyin with the fishes Watch you cryin for a swift end, not survived by any misses, Death finds you where you're hidden, won't decline to take you kickin. That's right the plot thickens, and no its not chicken To step back n stop stickin, to combat where shots singin, where ya fall down all twichtin, and the ground be caught kissin, wishin, for that bliss fishin, hoping the shit be existin So sonny listen, to this bit here I be pitchin, Let no bite sit missin, just one life to live given. There's too much to be riskin, just for stuff that can glisten, Or for muff thats been sinnin, your above this livin. Please from this song learn, Your life's of concern. Ya gotta think long term, Don't take a wrong turn, And if stress does impress, And infect, with unrest, Then lite the bomb herb, To delight and calm nerves, Let slip a yawn, And watch the comming dawn blur. Ya say its knowledge I kick, well you can call it that kid, I won't conceal what I feel, won't be stallin this spit, You gonna hear it thats it, despite your weird fear of it What is it too sincere and serious shit? Go on check the mirror, if ya dare to step neara, As this threat appears, might make ya own trek cleara, Cause if ya choose the virtues of a gansta career, Its not absolute that you still will be here in ten years, So does that a sacrifice, sound like its bad or nice? Trading a stack of life, just for quick ass and ice, To wonder while you slumba, if ya gonna last the night. And if you ask me, I got too many more raps to write. Not gonna chance a day, too much romance on way, Wanna enhance my finance, and advance my sway, Do what I can, to forestall our moral decay, Mabye change the campaign, the whole stage and play. And all I see in the streets, is the fini of my future, Gun blast wounds that bleed, my juice from loose sutures, Or a final spinal injury, on me that acts to neuter, Stearing my gear into a permanant neutral. And it takes just one, shell ta make ya undone, See ya body break, when the shottie quakes come. No matter how g, you be, or the heat you front, Like Tupac n Biggie, see mortality won. Its just reality son, when one's fatality comes, Won't be caught stopped by ya brutality stunt, Or morality, or some spirituality spun, Irrationality don't heed no neutrality run, Witcha Hands up high, as you grab for the sky, Ya could stand and cry, un gun clad to eye, Don't mean a dope fiend, won't bust a cap while high, Or in the fray a ricochet, won't just a happen by. Some say that talk is cheap, but this life is cheaper, Don't spend it dodgin deep, scythe swipes by the reaper. Is ya mind hollow g, don't follow, be a leader You could lead these peeps, to pastures that be greener. Besides, most of them emcee's lie, Sayin they hood when they should say high, Class dwellings, no broken glass or felons, Just the white stocked cocky pocket swellin. They say guns don't stress em, or impress em, But the only burrettas, you expect to affect them, Are seen on the screen in the best dressed westerns, Fuck, even DMX, rests in blessed West Chester. Please from this song learn, Your life's of concern. Ya gotta think long term, Don't take a wrong turn, And if stress does impress, And infect, with unrest, Then lite the bomb herb, To delight and calm nerves, Let slip a yawn, And watch the comming dawn blur. Copyright Jesse Guy-Herman (Less)