DJ Clue Lyrics     Not really a DJ in the "turntablist" sense, Clue's specialty is mix-tapes, which he's been cranking out since 1990. Easily identified by his tendency to shout his name over the intros to songs, Clue's tapes have often sported exclusive freestyles and unreleased mixes from some of the biggest names in the industry. After paying dues and building a rep in the highly competitive NYC tape circuit, Clue released his first major label compilation in 1998 with The Professional. In 2000 he came back with Backstage, a collection of tunes inspired by the film. Download DJ Clue MP3s here Buy rare DJ Clue vinyl records, CDs and rare music albums: Professional

Dj Clue Song Lyric: Chest to Chest Intro: styles Dj clue. desert storm style baby. what nigga All: L-o-x, chest to chest, back to back Glock for glock, mac for mac Dope and crack is what we sling do things you talk about Player fuck around and catch a slug in your mouth Verse one: jadakiss It’s a shame he can rhyme, nigga loves crime Every late night he’s outside with the nine You ain’t got chips, fuck the world You got chips, you can fuck the next mans girl Sounds harsh but they been ripped apart my world Where thugs could rule And selling crack was cool Knocked off hundred packs brought stacks to school No diploma, weed aroma nigga half coma Know the tricks of the class see my ass on the corner You ain’t ate shit ’til y’all tasted life Had my moms screaming jay don’t waste your life But me and my ace is tight Moving base at night Lace your nights, you see narcs jet I’ll meet in the morning in the park doing sets And when it’s dark again We’ll let the 9s spark again Y’all know the dogs Niggaz stay moving out the fog And when it’s war we ain’t gonna call on the lord I’ll hit ’em like the board when I split ’em with my sword You fear what you hear so nigga press record From here on out we ain’t tryin’ to be ignored L.o.x. drop shit that make niggaz mop shit You wanna pop shit, nigga, pop clips Verse two: styles paniro Too many niggaz shake me, life is shaky I act like this cuz they make me probably hate me Nigga, I’m in the dictionary look me up Express art from my heart, baby cook me up I’m the crack in your tape deck I’m the burner on your waist that’ll leave the place wet I’m the money in the safe that’ll pay the case debt I’m the jewels on your neck that’ll make these dime bitches give head I’m the blunt 3 in the morning you take to the head I’m that car that you snatched when you first got bread I’m that spot that you got when you were running from the feds I’m the heart of the page in that book that you read I’m the ground that absorbed all that shit that y’all bled Styles, physically and mentally Going to for the goal cuz I paid the penalty Y’all ain’t a friend of me Y’all ain’t seen the enemy Thinking of bending me But I’m on the kennedy When I fly back in, hope you’re packing Coming to tear y’all niggaz in fractions Four-four Seen the future we battlin’ all laws Verse three: sheek luchion Y’all must really wanna die, fucking with sheek luchi This here is the roof we dropping niggaz off bonsai Goodbye, see you in your afterlife when You come back as a pussy and I fuck you again Respect come not from tecs, it comes from niggaz who write checks To get y’all lil’ niggaz outta big debts With paper, I’m sure that you never see me sweat Only in the linen when I’m spinning in my whip-up Pass niggaz and watch they face frown like a pitbull The shit that we crush niggaz sniff into their groove Scared to move Gleaming like you looking for change But ain’t no dollars down there it’s that sack fucking with you Now bounce before we bust you where the good lord split you Hustle to work, you kidding me, you know the difference in the cash income For years so many niggaz must’ve been dumb Where we from, niggaz been hustlin’ drums Making sneaker money, running for crumbs, pulling in sums If time don’t stop, why should we yo light your spliff You need work? come on I got consignment to give This year I need 97 gats, 97 cars Swear to God this year, I’m gonna fuck 97 starts And if I come short, it ain’t no slack off my shoulder I’m waiting for this last bitch to get a little older what L.o.x. nigga, dj clue, to the muthafuckin’ chest Get This Ringtone 1, 2, 3, 4 Bitch Be a Ho Brown Paper Bag Thoughts Chest to Chest Come On Cops Robbers Darlin' Exclusive - New Shit F*** Beanie F*** Jada Fantastic Four Gangsta Shit I Like Control If They Want It It’s My Thang ’99 It’s On Made Men Magic Bird Nature Freestyle No Love Pile Raps Pull It Queensfinest Ruff Ryder’s Anthem Talk to Me That’s The Way We Like It The Professional Thugged Out Shit Thugs ’r’ Us Time is Money

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