#shorty the pimp

[todayinhiphophistory]

Today in Hip Hop History:

Too Short released his fourth album Shorty The Pimp July 14, 1992

#today in hip hop history #todayinhiphophistory #hiphop #hip-hop #hip hop #hip hop music #hip hop history #music #history #hip hop culture #music history #too short #too $hort #shorty the pimp #album #emcee #mc #rap #rapper #1992

[bobsliquorstore]

#pimp c #ugk #too short #too $hort #shorty the pimp #sweet jones #big pimpin #jay z #freaky tales #hip hop #rap #blow the whistle #bay area #houston #texas #oakland

[djevilninja]

Standin' on the corner in a white godfather hat, He drives a long black gangster Cadillac. He can steal a broad's mind, man, three or four minutes; It's not how long you talk, bruh, it's what you put in it.

Don Julian and the Larks - Shorty the Pimp

#don julian and the larks #music #soul #70s #1973 #west coast #shorty the pimp

[hiphopscriptures]

Too Short's Shorty the Pimp Album Anniversary

Something of a departure, especially for an artist previously as one-dimensional as Too $hort, arrived with 1992’s Shorty The Pimp. This exaggerated his hustling image, inspired by Superfly and other blaxploitation films, and extolled the adventures of his semi-autobiographical alter-ego Shorty the Pimp. It featured the rapper’s own Dangerous Crew, several of whom released solo albums on the back of Too $hort’s success. Read more about Too Short here.

#too short #shorty the pimp #90s hip hop #west coast hip hop #oakland

[takeagander1618]

#entourage #pimp my ride #drawn together #shorties watching shorties #the batman #ned’s declassified school survival guide #foster's home for imaginary friends #danny phantom #samurai champloo #full metal alchemist #2000s #takeagander #sincerelymywastedyouth

[getoswhore]

nawt this time!! you really gotta win me back now

i will pull a hoego 🥱

#m a pimp shorty #n we don't do that chasing around here in these parts 😎 #LMFA #NAUR #PLS #I AM #ON MY KNEES #BEGGING #MOMMY #PLS I BEGGGGG #ILYSM #ILYM #MWAAAAH #💌.mail #💌.from puppy #💌.moots

[cheollipop]

move

navi | taglist

pairing: pole dancer!choi san x club owner!reader (fem)

w.c.: 3.3k

tags: smut, ft. pimp!woo

song rec: 'move' by taemin

with his toned thighs wrapped around the pole, sweat glistening under the changing lights, you felt the urge to wipe the cocky smirk off the new hire's lips. but little did you know, choi san loved performing for a crowd.

warnings: this —in white— is san's outfit for reference (except tighter, cheaper-looking and with a different chain), mentioned mxm, reader has one drink but everything is consensual, switch!san (shorty give me whip-whiplash), mean!reader, she's a badass though, public sex, unprotected sex (👎), san has a nipple piercing, some nipple play (m), multiple orgasms (m), multiple creampies, some edging, overstimulation, a hint of breeding/impreg kink, voyeurism/exhibitionism, degradation, so much dirty talk, nicknames (sannie, pretty boy; miss, darling), I think that's all (?)

A/N: this is for my lovely, pretty, gorgeous, insanely kind, amazing, genius, and beautiful alyssa (@kitten4sannie) <3 I'm sorry this took over a month to get to ;; I really hope the wait was worth it though!! happy reading~ ^^

nsfw under the cut—minors dni!! 🔞

Scrunching your nose at the rancid odour of sewage, your heeled boots clacked against the pavement leading to the guarded club entrance, digging into your coat pocket and fishing out a stack of bills to lay gently in front of the homeless man’s sleeping bag. You passed by him every night, his yellow grin a stark contrast to his surroundings—fetid air driving everyone in the area to hold their breath, disease-ridden rodents and pretentious high school dropouts with one too many stacks of their daddy’s money crawling around in the vicinity.

You walked past the burly guard at the front, watching his ninety-degree bow from the corner of your eye as you stepped into the club. It wasn’t the best area to run such business, but you got enough loyal customers—mostly rich men lying to their wives—to pay the bills. You supposed you should be thankful to your father for that, the wretched bastard leaving his only daughter to run this shithole.

You walked down the short hallway and into wide room, blues and purples illuminating the shiny tile and peeling walls as you carried yourself to the bar near the entrance. The rusted stool creaked as you rested your body weight down on it, ignoring the young bartender as she scrambled to make your usual drink, drops of expensive liquor flying over the bench before she dropped a decorated glass in front of you. Giving her a tight-lipped smile, you wrapped your fingers around the cup and allowed the bitterness to sink into your taste buds.

Sitting sideways at the bar, forearm flat on the surface with the drink loosely held in your hand, you focused your eyes on the man to your left, moving his body around the pole anchored in the middle of the room. Cheap, glittery fabric pressed into the skin of his toned chest, stretching around his biceps until a peak of his warm skin tone shone through the white. His thighs wrapped around the pole, the muscles bulging as he held himself up and rolled his body around the metal rod, a dainty belly chain loose around his narrow waist, head rolled backwards to stretch out the column of his freckled throat. You could tell he was trying to show off his rounded backside, but his movements carried a certain stiffness that made you scoff. The customers spread out on the seats surrounding the stage—a mix of older, unhappily married men, and younger, broke college students who couldn’t afford a fancier club—didn’t seem to mind as much, taking in his lousy attempt of an arch and the prominent bulge pressing against the thin material of his shimmering bottoms, ogling eyes zeroing in on the metal bar piercing his nipple as it occasionally brushed against the pole.

He lowered himself down onto the LED flooring on his tiptoes, maintaining the graceful stance as the song came to an end, feline eyes flitting upwards to bore into yours. He oozed confidence, the air around him almost unbreachable, and for a reason you couldn’t place your finger on, the cocky curl of his lips irked you, your eyebrow twitching in irritation at the shameless show of brashness.

Veiny arms circled your shoulders, a familiar rasp in your ear, “that’s the new hire I was telling you about. Pretty neat, don’t you think?” His dark brown locks tickled your temple, curved nose nuzzling into your hair.

You hummed in agreement, “Mm, good job, Woo. He’s pretty.”

“And tight, ‘tried him out myself,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, proud of his take on a job interview.

You reached back to smack his shoulder, a faint smile on your lips. “He’s a little too confident for someone who can’t even arch properly, though,” you critiqued, narrowing your eyes at the man now bent over in front of the small crowd, thick fingers wrapped around the pole while he attempted to move his stiff muscles.

“He’s not that bad,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes, tracing over the man’s plump ass with his eyes as he played back the events from the previous night in his mind, the throaty moans and whimpers still fresh in his ears.

“Even you can do a better job than him, and that’s saying a lot.”

Two fingers pinched your upper arm through the blazer covering it, Wooyoung’s unamused huff blowing over the shell of your ear. “If you’re so displeased by his performance, why don’t you teach him how to do it yourself?” He pushed back the image of the man’s narrow waist and puckered hole, replacing it with the memory of the private show you’d put on for him the week before.

While Wooyoung was too busy fighting off the sudden tightness in his pants, you contemplated his words—despite knowing he’d spoken them humorously. Tightening your hand around your drink, you brought it up to your lips and gulped down the rest of it, pushing Wooyoung off you and standing up. He scrambled to find his footing, caught off guard by your brassy stride towards the center of the room, aiming towards the occupied chair right across the stage.

With a hand on the college freshman’s shoulder, you pulled him off the worn-down leather, sitting down in his place and watching him scurry away with a hand halfway down his pants. Redirecting your attention towards the handsome man in front of you, his gaze instantly locked with yours, and something in his eyes gave away that he knew who you were. His hips swayed with more finesse—still not up to your standards—and his expression contorted to mimic a state of ecstasy. He was trying to impress you.

You watched for a few seconds, until he bent down lower, the pathetic arch of his spine pushing the words off your tongue, “Choi San, was it?” your voice cut through the music. “It seems like Wooyoung may have spoken too highly of you. I’m a little disappointed,” you took pleasure in the slow erasure of his cocky smirk, his movements faltering as he took in your words, hints of discontent evident in your tone. “Stand up straight, pretty boy.” You leaned forward in your seat, resting your elbows over your thighs as you watched him hesitantly part from the pole to straighten up.  A smirk—a sign of power, perhaps—found its way onto your lips, “why don’t you grind on that pole for me? Since you seem so confident in yourself.”

Red tinted the shell of his ears, and you wondered how a few words could have affected a man like him so easily, as though he wasn’t standing in a room full of people ogling at his body, two pieces of glimmering fabric hiding him from their deviant gaze.

You could almost see the thoughts churning in his pretty head, dubiously reaching for the pole once again, standing behind it and beginning his decent into a full squat. Firm muscle bulged out of his thighs, oiled, tan skin reflecting the moving lights shining over his figure, his clothed bulge trapped between the metal and his abdomen. His hands remained above his head as he sunk lower, the cropped material of his shirt riding up to reveal more of his flushed chest. You watched him wordlessly, eying the deliberate brush of his nipple piercing over the pole, a muted ‘clink’ drowned under the music. Your eyes moved back to his face, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and his eyebrows drawn in, and when you trailed down his body, your lips only curled further: his half-hard length pressing against the scratchy fabric, a wet patch spreading through the material and shimmering alongside the glitter. You may be starting to understand Wooyoung’s strange infatuation with the man.

You pushed off the creaky leather, smoothing down your suit before taking a few steps onto the round LED flooring, standing next to the crouched man and watching him twist his head to look up at you.

It was known rule everywhere that the dancers were not to be touched, and you figured your next move would probably be setting a bad example in front of your customers, but your clientele consisted mostly of regulars, people who knew you to be the boss. People who knew you made the rules.

You reached down to grab his face, fingers digging into his jaw and angling it further upwards, “you’re too stiff.” Your lips curved at his attempt at pushing away, nose scrunched up in defiance.

“’m not stiff,” he retorted weakly, words muffled through the tight squeeze of your fingers around his face.

“What’s the matter, Sannie, did Youngie fuck you too hard last night? Can’t even arch your back properly?” You gave his head a firm shake with every rhetorical question, pouting your lips in faux sympathy. His cheeks heated up under your touch, the pretty pink bleeding down his neck and chest as your aired out his nightly endeavors.

“I can arch my back-”

“My club is gonna run out of business if you keep running your mouth instead of doing your job properly, pretty boy. My old man would be rolling in his grave if that ever happened. We don’t want that now, do we?” You watched panic seep into his features when you spoke your next words, “how will you pay off your debt then, hm?”

“I-I’ll learn how to do it, please just-” his fingers release around the pole and wrap around your calves instead, his knees falling to the floor by your feet while he pleaded. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

His touch wasn’t unpleasant, rough fingertips brushing over your clothed skin, squeezing gently while he squirmed under you. Your fingers eased around his jaw but didn’t let go, pleased to have a man of his stature in the palm of your hand, yours to maneuver and handle however you wished. “And what will you do until then? Learning takes time, and we’re short-staffed, you know.”

A dangerous glimmer lit up San’s dark eyes, a sense of danger churning in your gut. Skilled hands slid up your legs, past your knees and thighs to settle on the curve of your hips, nuzzling his face into your palm before speaking. For a reason you couldn’t exactly pinpoint, you allowed him to do as he pleased, as though you suddenly had your own personal, human-sized cat, brimming with affection it didn’t know how to express. Siren eyes blinked up at you, a smile loaded with playfulness and mischief directed at you.

“I’ll just make sure to put on a performance they’ll never forget.”

--

Antsy hands pushed open your unbuttoned blouse to slide over the heated skin, your dress pants tossed and abandoned over the chair you’d been sitting in, lace panties dangling off the ankle resting on San’s shoulder. His glitzy top scratched against your skin, forming a blister you were too busy to care about as San’s body pressed against yours with his belly chain forming indents into your navel, his cock pounding into you to the steady beat of the music blasting through the decrepit speakers, a distant whirring disrupting the audio.

You slapped his hand off your chest, a warning look in your eyes and a pathetically despondent one in his, reaching for your hand and guiding it to his own chest, a silent ‘touch me instead.’ It was fascinating how quickly San’s cocky persona vanished once he got his dick wet, his face contorting—eyebrows furrowed and his eyes lidded—while you pulled on his piercing, rolling his nipple under your thumb and reveling in the tight moans rolling off his tongue.

“Fuck, ‘m close,” he mumbled, readjusting on his knees, the tight material of his bottoms low on his thighs restricting the movement.

“Already?” you teased, sucking in a sudden breath at the new angle, his cock curving into your g-spot through his relentless thrusts, his previous rhythm lost in his overflowing lust. “What a waste of a pretty cock, can’t even last long enough to make me cum.”

You noted the rose bleeding into his ears once again, his hips stuttering and a throaty moan leaving his lips as he emptied inside you, his hot seed spreading warmth through your lower belly. You laughed as he lowered himself onto you, hovering over your torso while he rolled his hips into your cunt, riding out his orgasm with airy moans and tightly-shut eyes. Paper bills fluttered in the air, some sticking to the sweat beaded on San’s back while the majority landed around your tangled bodies.

You were about to get up, words of beration forming on your tongue, but San took a few breaths and drove his cock further into you, grinding his length between your dripping walls until it chubbed up once again. It caught you off guard, his eagerness to perform, to prove himself to you, to fuck you dumb in front of all your customers.

The slow pace he adopted wasn’t enough, but the deliberate drag of his cock over your g-spot nearly sent you spiraling, the leg perched up on his shoulder shaking with every thrust. “Ngh, do you like being watched, pretty boy?”

San’s bashfulness was nowhere to be found, replaced with a pleased smile and a quick nod to his head, “Mm, I do,” his fingers kneaded the flesh of your thigh, his other hand pushing down your right leg to further open you up for him, driving his cock into you twice before leaning down to whisper in your ear, “what about you, Miss? You’re the same, aren’t you? I can feel your cunt squeezing around me every time you look at the perverts watching us.”

Your limbs felt heavy, something in your stomach convulsing at his words. “Watch your mouth-”

Calloused fingers slipped under you to tangle in the hair at your nape, tugging sharply until your neck craned at the force, your next words dying on your tongue as he began pistoning his cock into your needy cunt, a broken cry ripping through your chest as his cockhead pressed into your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You want them to watch how I’m gonna fuck you full? I’ll give you all I have, Miss, every last drop, until you’re all swollen with my cum,” he rambled, soft lips pressed against your temple while he hammered into you, sending you barreling towards the edge.

A tingle spread through your limbs, the edges of your vision darkening, and you prepared to freefall into a numbing orgasm, but San’s hips suddenly slowed to a languid grind, his lips stretching menacingly against your skin.

“No- fuck, I was so close-”

San interrupted your complaints, “tell me you want it.”

Your eyebrow twitched in annoyance. It was as though he was holding your orgasm for ransom. “Don’t be a fucking asshole, I’m still your boss-”

“-and I’m the one fucking you stupid,” he retorted, that vexing smirk on his face once again, and you wanted to punch it away. You’d assume abusing an employee would bring bad rep to your club, though, and you couldn’t afford to lose any customers. So you settled on glaring at him, attempting to roll your hips but huffing when San’s hands anchored you down to the floor.

“C’mon, just say you want it. I’ll give you whatever you want, Miss.” He lowered his voice down to a whisper, “all of it, just for you.”

The deep baritone of his voice, the words flowing smoothly off his tongue, warm hands splayed over your hips, occasionally squeezing at the flesh at the end of every sentence, his musky perfume mixed in with the tangy scent of his sweat engulfing your senses. Your walls pulsed around his cock, sitting  thick and heavy inside you while you squirmed under him, the skin of your cheeks heated under his gaze as he awaited the words he wanted to hear. After a few minutes of his relentless stare-down, cat-like eyes boring into yours with incessant demand, you gave in, muttering the words under your breath and breaking eye contact.

Just when you thought you could breathe again, his deep chuckle echoed in your ear, the pleasant sound preferable over the music playing in the background, but his words sent a wave of cold sweat seeping out of your pores, “No, no. Say it louder for me, darling.”

You huffed in exasperation, the smell of alcohol swimming in the air between you. Shutting your eyes to relieve yourself of the sight of San's sharp jawline and arched eyebrow, you missed the way his gaze flitted upwards to meet with Wooyoung’s—the man now sat in the chair to the left of the stage, palming at the obvious tent in his pants.

San gave a harsh thrust to egg you on, the shot of pleasure shooting up your spine at the gesture enough to push the words off your tongue, “just fucking give me your cum already, ‘want it all inside,” you slurred, voice breathy with hints of desperation.

San didn’t waste any time before picking up his pace, pounding into your heat with urgent want, as though he was a starved man at a banquet. It was as though he’d lit your nerves on fire, the pleasure so intense your mind went numb, nails digging into San’s biceps as he pulled moan after moan out of you. “Hnnngh! L-like that, yeah-”

There was no build-up to your orgasm, and you found yourself tumbling down a steep cliff into a valley of ecstasy, lips forming an ‘o’ while San guided you through it. With your back arched off the ground, your blouse damp and stuck to your slick back, you clung to the fluid drag of San’s throbbing cock between your fluttering walls, the sound of skin-on-skin following the beat vibrating through the speakers.

San’s fingers dented your skin with enough force to promise blossoming bruises, his breath laboured as he began to chase his own high after you’d ridden out yours, fucking into you like a madman, “’m almost there, Miss, ‘gonna make sure you’re nice and full of me,” He groaned near your ear, the sound melting away the tinges of overstimulation jolting you away from him, his tight grip keeping you in place to buck his hips into your used hole. “So full you might get pregnant- ngh!”

Driven to completion by his own words, San’s throaty moans drowned out the melody strumming in the background, spurts of hot cum adding to the white painting your walls as he milked himself of every last drop. It seemed like you were the one who had fucked him stupid, barely-coherent, babbled praise flowing into your ear as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck.

Your knee dug into your chest, and you stared at the lace still hanging off your ankle where it sat on San’s shoulder, pins and needles pricking at your muscles from the prolonged position. But you didn’t complain, simply basking in the afterglow while San’s chest rose and fell into yours. You could see the flutter of paper bills in your peripherals—more than you’d ever seen before on a slow, Thursday night—barely any of them reaching you as the men tossing them had their dominant hands preoccupied. Your eyes moved sideways, meeting Wooyoung’s, already staring back at you with a knowing smirk on his pouty lips.

Through the thick haze of the orgasm still clouding your mind, your muscles twitching with its remnants as San’s cock spasmed pathetically between your flooded walls, two loads streaming out of your stretched cunt, you realised just how much Choi San enjoyed performing for a crowd.

And just how much you could profit off that.

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#choi san x reader #choi san smut #san smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #san x reader #choi san oneshot #choi san scenarios #choi san x you #san fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #choi san #ateez #ateez san #ateez scenarios

[thehotboxsocial]

Mannie Fresh Deep Productions

Guerrilla Juvenile feat. B.G.

Jungle B.G. feat. Juvenile

Untamed Guerrilla Turk

Go Girl Mannie Fresh

BM Jr. Lil Wayne

Thug'n B.G.

Hide Out Or Ride Out Juvenile feat. Lil Wayne & Turk

Play That Shit Noreaga feat. Big Tymers, Hot Boys, Maze & Musolin

What U Scared 4 Juvenile feat. Lil Wayne

Rocky Big Tymers feat. Juvenile

On Fire Juvenile

Remember Me Lil Wayne feat. B.G.

Fo' Sheezy Lil Wayne

Ms. Bird Birdman feat. Mannie Fresh

Naw Meen Baby Boy Da Prince feat. Mannie Fresh

Come Here Bitch Webbie feat. Mannie Fresh

Cheat On Yo Man Pimp C feat. Mannie Fresh & Suga

The One T.I.

G's N' Soldiers L.O.G.

Do You 'C' What I 'C' Pimp Daddy

Charlie Whop!! Magnolia Shorty

Hitman Gregory D & D.J. Mannie Fresh

Skin Tight Girls Talkin Shit

The Mind Lil Mac

dl yt

#download #playlist #compilation #mannie fresh #cash money records

[kaywavy]

#music link posting

[isqueedmyself]

Where are you, readers?

So, I used to write fanfic, long ago, in a wide variety of fandoms. Some was slash, some was gen, and a significant proportion was femslash. But for a variety of reasons, I gave it up. So I decided to start again. I identified a likely target, Kate Stewart on Dr. Who. Not too young, professional lady with a few complications and some on-screen trauma we can use. Quite attractive, too. Good prospect. I wrote a shorty, a 1/1, with no romance involved, and posted it to one of my old fanfiction accounts and pimped it on tumblr. No one noticed. Not unusual. Sometimes one has to have a corpus of work to attract readers. I started a long piece, intending to eventually incorporate significantly sapphic romance. Absolutely no notice. Well, heck. How do others in the genre do this? And who are they, so I can read their stuff and make friends like I should have done in the first place? I searched on tumblr: "Dr. Who" "fanfiction" "Kate Stewart" I got four hits: my one-shot, and parts one, two and three of my WIP. I know I can't be creating this genre from scratch, my muties. So, what am I doing wrong? Where are all the Kate-lovers out there?

And while I'm at it, where can a body get quality "book cover" images for fanfiction these days?

#Dr. Who #fanfiction #Kate Stewart #help me please! #and where is the ART?

[todayinhiphophistory]

Today in Hip Hop History:

Too Short released his fourth album Shorty The Pimp July 14, 1992

#today in hip hop history #todayinhiphophistory #hiphop #hip-hop #hip hop music #hip hop history #hip hop culture #music #history #music history #too short #too $hort #shorty the pimp #album #emcee #mc #rap #rapper

[firebarzzz]

Émission de radio "So Many Ways" du jeudi 24 novembre 2022, Radio campus Toulouse. Le thème : Autumn Hip Hop Part II

https://www.mixcloud.com/Sistakanelle/emission-de-radio-so-many-ways-du-24112022-le-thème-autumn-rap-part-ii/ Émission de radio « So Many Ways » du jeudi 24 novembre 2022, Radio campus Toulouse. Le thème : Autumn Rap - Part II Retrouvez l’émission en live un jeudi sur deux de 21h à 23h sur radio campus Toulouse www.campusfm.net/wp/ Venez écouter de la bonne musique de l’univers du hip-hop !! Et retrouvez tous les podcasts des émissions sur www.firebarzzz.com/radio Playlist : 1. The Beatnuts "Do You Believe" 00:00 2. Das EFX "40 & A Blunt" 03:23 3. Talk Show 06:38 4. 2 Pac "Shorty Wanna Be A Thug" 09:10 5. Jayo Felony "Nitty Gritty" 12:55 6. Talk Show 16:40 7. Daz Dillinger feat. Snoop Dogg & Nate Dogg "OG" 21:58 8. Too Short "Pimp Shit" 26:32 9. Kurupt feat. XZibit "Calling Out Names" 31:00 10. M.C. Breed "It's All Good" 33:56 11. Warren G "Dollars Make Sense" 37:20 12. Track "Black Track" 41:46 13. Rampage "We Getz Down" 46:45 14. Craig Mack "Get Down" 51:00 15. Shyheim "Dear God" 55:18 16. Talk Show 59:30 17. Redman "What U Lookin'4" 01:07:01 18. Outkast "Jazzy Belle" 01:11:00 19. Nas "No Idea's Original" 01:14:50 20. Afu-Ra "Whirlwind Thru Cities" 01:17:44 21. Akinyele "Three" 01:21:39 22. Talk Show 01:26:26 23. Compton Menace feat. Chris Brown "Put On" 01:32:08 24. MC Ren "Keep It Real" 01:37:25 25. Above The Law "100 Spokes" 01:42:00 26. Talk Show 01:45:40 Et retrouvez tous les podcasts des émissions sur www.firebarzzz.com/radio Read the full article

#funk #gfunk #HipHOP #liveradio #MUSIQUE #newjack #oldschool #playlist #podcast #radio #radiocampus #RAP #rnb #Soul #toulouse

[alvertesongdiary]

Nas - Hood2Hood

Yo, yo yo, yeah Hey Hit that’s some nice new pieces you got Bracelets, trinkets, and necklaces Yeah, yo Real sh*t only, yeah

Super Bowl champs celebrate like me With Escobar cigars let me say my peace Money attract money, statewide hustlers Jewelry sellers exposed by these fake watch busters And they ain’t teach savin’ money to young n*ggas Young warriors I wanna see them all in position Best to have it on you, hope you don’t go down for possession Mom’s puttin’ up the house to bail you out when arrested How did I become number one, I’m one-of-one Flyin’ down the 101, right under the Cali sun Junior Mafia out the subs, shorty calling me Son If one clique make a million today it probably be us Probably because my midas touch for vital stuff Rappers wanna shoot up the studio they tired of us We know that controversy sells, so yall good When I drop they hear me on every block, hood to hood

Red Hook, Fort Greene, Canarsie Hood to hood Far Rock, East New York, QB Hood to hood Compton, Long Beach, IE Hood to hood Southside Chicago, players in the D Hood to hood

If we all made n*ggas then why is we beefin’ When them Jewish brothers be chillin’ Shabbat Friday evening Even in jail I hear the Latins got eachother back Not us, we jump each other for the phone it comes to blacks Don’t worry about nobody else tryin’ to energy match Sense any cap and that’s when I really attack I’m OJ with the memorabilia had to steal it back Like the Nas flow we be hearin’ on the tracks Stop that my guy, you are not that my guy That feeling to be a king, can’t top that my guy King’s Disease I’m still poppin’ these young things Got me thinkin’ like Amerie “It’s This One Thing” Floaties in the pool, got drones over the roof Just like Drakeo The Ruler my n*gga we know the truth I put out dangerous thought I’m convinced it’s a mixture of Paisley Park Prince with Supreme Team Prince

Big up to Paisley, shout out to 40, Harlem Hood to hood Lincoln Houses, Castle Hill, Bronx sh*t Soundview Hood to hood On the West side, in the Jungles, to the 60s Hood to hood Out in O-town, to Vallejo, where the pimps be Hood to hood

DC got big ol’ guns B’more got big ol’ guns ATL got big ol’ guns and big ol’ buns and big ol’ funds yeah Miami got lots of sun, yeah Dade County got big ol’ guns, yeah Stop messin’ around, put the pistols down Or we all will soon be done, dead Hood to hood to mansion to mansion That’s the new version of hood to hood Yeah New excursions, yeah Block parties, on the block, the new block Your house and my house, ha ha Hood to hood

18/11/2022

#nas #hood2hood #lyrics #music #youtube #song of the day #diary #hiphop

[jojoboy3]

THE_EVIL_THAT_MEN_DO by $UICIDEBOY$ LYRICS- [VERSE I: RUBY DA ARCHANGEL] when i die auction off all my body parts lets see what oddy costs under my skull the shotty's cross got all these opps on my dick like it's made of metal making so much money it's like my boss is the devil she loved me she loves not i done ran out of petals littered the ground with rose bits ill grip this thorny stem forever a portrait of my pain an homage to my suffering same tale i been uncovering im staining the whole world grey yall get back to coloring in this mental prison im locked up like a pitbulls jaw [VERSE II: HALF CIG] Slickity slickity sloth Thug Bach Shoot up the mass It will B minor Jabbing my arm no Pfizer Dick cuffed like it cum with priors Liars, All around me talking hugs and love Attaching kisses that come with wishes for death so they can touch my trust Fuck That’s some hard mother fucking truth Still contemplating suicide Just upgraded a couple coupes Morally bankrupt Call a skank up To pretend she love me “But I do love you” hoe don’t talk while you fucking sucking [RUBY DA ARCHANGEL]: uhhhh should we? i... that was a lil short bruh [HALF CIG] well fuck, bro [RUBY DA ARCHANGEL]: can we? [HALF CIG]: i just did 8 bars cuz i thought you said all you had to say [RUBY DA ARCHANGEL]: i got- i got more shit to say, broke like... [HALF CIG]: well i mean... [RUBY DA ARCHANGEL]: what? tell me [HALF CIG]: they saying you lost touch... [VERSE III: RUBY DA ARCHANGEL] who the fuck said ruby done lost his touch? blame my success on lots of luck but lots of luck didnt get your bitch unfucked blame my absense on the fact that my dick got stuck call me evergreen your bitched never seemed like she lost touch begging me she wants her jaw fucked withdraw from dope before i withdraw my cash use her tongue to collect ash for the stash i guess ill smash pull off in a gle wagon fucked up i might crash just thoughts and feelings from the half of me that is white trash [VERSE IV: HALF CIG] Bitch I cheated death Ain’t a thing that I can’t do Manipulation shorty I could sell ice to Nanook I could sell ice to the jeweler I could sell Christ like I’m Judas Self righteous type of a shooter Make my life insurance shoot up Wet screwed up Product of my environment My therapist was talking Freud I rolled my eyes Then fired the bitch Why would I quit? My drug of choice is overdosing duhhh My dick got no limits I’m master p pimping And making them bitches say ughhhhh [OUTRO: RUBY DA ARCHANGEL & HALF CIG] rain, rain go away 200 on the dash watch me hydroplane gang, gang gang’s all grey from new orleans to ottawa from atlanta to the bay

#IFTTT #SoundCloud

[intriguingpeoplebyangelafloyd]

CHARLES MANSON

CHARLES MANSON

1934-2017

CULT LEADER OF THE MANSON FAMILY     

            Manson was born in Kentucky, US, and started a criminal career from a young age which included theft, assault, pimping and fraud.  He started a cult during the 1960s, which consisted of young hippies, who liked to fuck, do a lot of drugs and who were easily manipulated.

            Manson was a singer-songwriter, he met Dennis Wilson from The Beach Boys, who introduced him to record producer Terry Melcher. In 1968, the Beach Boys recorded Manson’s song ‘Cease to Exist’ (Never Learn Not to Love) as a B-side on their single but didn’t give credit to Manson. Manson attempted to get a record contract from Melcher but was turned down. Manson threatened Wilson by waving a bullet. The Family were living in Wilson’s LA mansion and were kicked out, and then Manson moved his cult to Spahn Ranch in Los Angeles.

            Manson was a racist and believed there would be an upcoming race war and was growing impatient that it hadn’t already started. He decided to start it himself and called it ‘Helter Skelter’ (influenced by the Beatles song). In July and August 1969 he arranged for a series of murders. One of his followers was imprisoned for murder, Manson had the idea if they killed more people and made the crime scene look similar it would help have him released. They also wanted the authorities to believe the crime was done by an African-American.

            The murders of the nine victims were completely senseless, they were innocent and Manson and his followers had no logical reason to have them killed.

            Initially the authorities were completely clueless of who was behind the murders. They only learned of who the perpetrators were due to Manson’s follower, Susan Atkins boasting to an inmate of how she killed Sharon Tate (she was in prison at the time for car theft). During police questioning she spilled the beans on those who were responsible for the murders. The Family were arrested and the authorities found Manson hiding in a cupboard under the kitchen sink.

            In 1971, Manson was found guilty of the murders of seven people. Even though Manson didn’t kill anybody with his own hands, he had strong influence over those who did.    Manson, had previously shot a drug dealer Bernard Crowe in July 1969, who survived. There was also Donald ‘Shorty’ Shea, a Hollywood stuntman whose body was found in 1977, 8-years after his murder. Two Manson followers were convicted of his murder and it was believed that Manson may have also participated in his death.

            In prison, Manson received more mail than any other prisoner in US history. Guns N Roses, Lemonheads and Marilyn Manson have all recorded versions of his songs. In 2017, Manson suffered from gastrointestinal bleeding and died from cardiac arrest from respiratory failure from colon cancer in November 2017. Manson was cremated.

#charlesmanson #truecrime  

#charles manson #charlesmanson #true crime

[cyarsk5230]

Bounce music is a style of New Orleans hip hop music that is said to have originated as early as the late 1980s in the city's housing projects.[1] Popular bounce artists have included DJ Jubilee, Partners-N-Crime, Magnolia Shorty and Big Freedia.

Bounce is characterized by call-and-response-style party and Mardi Gras Indian chants and dance call-outs that are frequently hypersexual and controversial. These chants and call-outs are typically rapped over the "Triggerman beat", which is sampled from the songs "Drag Rap" by the Showboys and "Brown Beats" by Cameron Paul.[2] It is important to note that the original recording sampled by Paul was "Rock the Beat" by British rapper Derek B, produced by Simon Harris and released in early 1987 on the Music of Life British Hip Hop label in the UK.[3] The sound of bounce has primarily been shaped by the recycling and imitation of the Simon Harrisproduced "Drag Rap" beat: its opening chromatic tics, the intermittent shouting of the word "break", the use of whistling as an instrumental element (as occurs in the bridge), the vocoded "drag rap" vocal and its brief and repetitive melody and quick beat (which were produced with use of synthesizers and drum machines and are easily sampled or reproduced using like-sounding elements).[4] Typical of bounce music is the "shouting out" of or acknowledgment of geographical areas, neighborhoods and housing projects, particularly of the New Orleans area.[5]

As hip-hop started to spread outward from its birthplace in the Bronx, one of the new localities that embraced and advanced the genre was New Orleans. Local producers and record label owners with past success in other black genres tried their hand at hip-hop, but soon a new generation got involved. Kevin "MC T. Tucker" Ventry, one of the first bounce artists, captured the attention of the city in 1991 with his style of rap "defined by a preference for chanted refrains... and the use of several core samples to form the backing music",[6] two characteristics that came to signify bounce music. Take Fo' Records was the first record label to specialize in Bounce music. Take Fo’ launched the careers of several bounce artists, such as DJ Jubilee, Choppa, Baby Boy da Prince, 5th Ward Weebie, Katey Red, and Big Freedia. Other early bounce artists included DJ Jimi, Partners-N-Crime, Hot Boy Ronald, Juvenile, U.N.L.V. and Magnolia Shorty up until her death. The subgenre flourished in the city without much national recognition, but soon New Orleans’ artists would take over the country. In the second half of the 1990s, No Limit Records and Cash Money Records, led by Master P, Beats by the Pound and Birdman, Mannie Fresh respectively, took over. Those artists, while based in bounce music, certainly saw their ties to the art form “become progressively more tenuous as their national exposure and wealth increased.”[6]

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Dancers performing at Creole Festival Mardi Gras Parade in 2017

The genre maintains widespread popularity in New Orleans (the "Bounce capital of the world"), and the southern United States and has a more limited following outside the Deep South. New Orleans' music has a long tradition of gay and cross-dressing performers as truly a part of musical culture, giving bounce music a significant degree of overlap with LGBT hip hop.[7][8]

Bounce, like crunk, Miami bass, Baltimore cluband Juke music, is a highly regional form of urban dance music, which has nevertheless influenced a variety of other rap subgenres and even emerged in the mainstream. Atlanta's crunk artists, such as Lil' Jon and the Ying Yang Twins, frequently incorporate bounce chants into their music (such as "Shake It Like A Salt Shaker") and slang (such as "twerk"). Mississippi native David Banner's hit "Like A Pimp" is constructed around a screwed upsample of the "Triggerman" beat.[9] The mixtapes of Three 6 Mafia's DJ Paul also prominently feature traditional bounce sampling. DJ Paul, a native of Memphis, TN, has, in fact, been one of the most prominent purveyors of bounce outside Louisiana, having incorporated its features into tracks produced for La Chat, Gangsta Boo and his own group, Three 6 Mafia.[10] Another significant mainstream record influenced by bounce music was Beyoncé's 2007 release "Get Me Bodied",[11] and more recently, "Formation". Other artists outside of the New Orleans area, such as: Mike Jones, Keezy Kilo, Hurricane Chris, Ying Yang Twins, Khia, City Girls, Big Unk, and Drake have also used elements of bounce in their music.Crowd members participating and enjoying bounce music with American artist Big Freedia

In 2009, John and Glenda "Goldie" Robert created, produced, and directed a TV show titled It's All Good In The Hood that spotlighted New Orleans Bounce music artists, including Big Freedia, 5th Ward Weebie, Vockah Redu, Choppa, and many more. John and Glenda Robert later co-produced the bounce documentary "Ya Heard Me" and wrote the book "Bounce Baby Bounce Bounce Bounce".

In 2010, the Ogden Museum of Southern Art in New Orleans featured an exhibition entitled "Where They At: New Orleans Hip-Hop and Bounce in Words and Pictures", examining bounce's origins, development, and influence.[11]

Bounce music plays a major role in the second season of HBO drama Tremé, which was broadcast in 2011 and is set in New Orleans in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. The season's second episode, "Everything I Do Gonh Be Funky", features a performance by bounce artists Big Freedia and Sissy Nobby.[12]Bounce music, which had long been a staple in the city, also enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in Houston after Hurricane Katrina.[13]