Saturday Night an original sound recording from the album “For Your Soul”
By GHOST
and The R.E.P.S.
We gone a move, roll, get ready to ride.
We gone a get this party crackin’ like it’s Saturday night.
So put your hands in the air for the b-boy band.
We’ll have you lovin’ the party
while we rockin’ the jam.
1st Verse
Got The Fame Like Don Juane
Came into the game like Labron James.
Take aim at the dame, make nice.
Scotch on the rocks, or any other vice.
To make em’ think twice.
Ice makes em’ blink.
Think like mice.
Cheesin’for the wrong reason.
We’re seasoned like vets.
Ya’ll keep the medals of honor.
Some settle for drama.
Ex-boyfriend threats.
There’s a better start than a purple heart.
Be smart.
I burn less bridges.
I’m better with my karmic relationships than art.
Watch me draw a crowd of woman.
Into nothin’ but a good time and wild livin’.
Hypnotic, that chick got it.
Ran to the stage cause’ I flow melodic.
Spotted three. Who dat’ white boy be ?
Ghost is your host and we The
R. E. P. ‘s
Repeat Chorus
2nd Verse
No stress. So fresh we come clean.
Break apart the jam with the funk we bring for
You and yours. Sixteen bars.
Ghost and The Reps’, man. Rewind and hit pause.
So you can really feel it.
Let em’ know the deal is this.
Ghost Rhymes, man what a trip.
Go and get’cha boogie on.
Grab you a dip.
We gonna slide, ride, make it all right.
Let them honies know just where we going tonight.
We gonna do it like a rock star, party in my fast car.
Drop that top and head to the next part.
So we can show and prove you.
This is what a groove do.
You to can come to a jam and watch a band move consciousness.
We get poppin’ when.
These breaks take time,
We get it hoppin’ when.
Don’t waste no time we get it
rockin’ when…
Repeat Chorus
3rd Verse
She ain’t lovin’ this,
She lovin’ the wrist, lovin’ the bottle of ‘chris.
Who would stay for stuff you ain’t gotta pay for,
Need I say more.
Didn’t have to push. Hiked her skirt to the bush.
Treat it like a Nike swoosh.
Just do it.
Have you ever in you long legged life
been this naked and not regret it.
If feels nice.
You’re still respected.
I’m getting charged like a cell phone.
You can stay, but your girl has got to get the hell on.
By the way you displayed such a strong show of affection.
I wasn’t even expected sex’n,
But I’m glad ya’ did it.
No ones hurt and no one feels committed,
This could work.
Come on now it’s Saturday.
Worked all week wouldn’t you rather play?
Come on now it’s a Saturday
Repeat Chorus,
People
an original sound recording from the album “For Your Soul”
Chorus
People, get ready for the groove.
We go to take you down tonight.
We going to make you feel all right.
People , get ready for the groove.
Going to feel it in your soul.
Going to make you
lose control.
1st Verse
Bust now, trust now, Ghost up in the cut now.
Everybody gather round, everybody rush now.
Inhale, exhale. Ya’ feel that.
It’s all fat whether wax, tracks, or dat’s.
Smash the jam up, like the ends that we stack.
But it’s not about that, man.
It’s all about flows.
Straight rippin’ these beats, streets and trippin’ these rolls.
Until the rims fall off.
You have to call me off.
I don’t give a f*ck if we takin’ a loss.
See, we all gone a shine.
Designed in the rhymes.
Darts that I spits make em’ love every line til’ the end.
Dem wicked man not comprehend how we roll.
Hold the beats down while we stroll.
F*ck all the dumb sh*t we rock it til’ dawn.
Ghost’ll stand strong til’ like six in the morn’ for my people.
So where you at ya’ll.
Bridge
Come on party people.
My people in L.A.
Put your hands together,
Cause’ ghost is here
to play.
2nd Verse
Dig that, bust that.
Make em’ wanna rush that.
Ghost has got the hit to try n’ make you wanna cut cats.
In your face, what.
Let em’ have a taste, cause.
Hot, droppin’ hits’ that make you wanna come and shake it.
Take a chance.
Dig into the soul because you know it’s gonna last.
Ghost Rhymes come and take control of the dance,
With the mic in my hand like damm,
And we here to rock the party.
Everybody feeling rowdy.
Pass me the forty and a shorty,
I’ll be one fly cracka’
Quaterback and
Quick ta’ hit dem’ chicks up from the back.
Ya’ll think I’m talkin’ sh*t. This where we at.
And for my people right here.
Have no fear.
Ghost got rhymes, we gonna put it in your ear.
Until ya feel it, wanna taste it, wanna take a little more.
We know ya’ get in
to it, cause’ that’s what it’s here for… so…
Chorus
Represent
an original sound recording from the album “For Your Soul”
1st Verse
We just came to bust, kid.
Trust it’s no fuss for us to do ya’.
Like boo-ya. That style right f*ckin’ through ya’.
So who ya’.
If we do ya’, you’ll lose, so you best move ya’ ass backwards.
Gotta’ black beard and I think weird,
But then who cares if I rhyme right and my left might be coming.
These foes running and humming too meet us.
Come and greet us
with respect.
Chorus
We represent the curb, the herb, the street.
We bustin’ words
in the street. Smokin’ dat’ herb to the beat.
We Represent. We Represent. Ya’ say what?
It’s time ta’ represent. We Represent. Ya’ say what?
Want us ta’ represent ? Yeah, we represent. Ya’ say what?
Man, Ghost up on
the mic. It’s just our representaion.
We Represent. We Represent. Ya’ say what?
It’s time ta’ represent. We Represent. Ya’ say what?
Want us ta’ represent ? Yeah, we represent. Ya’ say what?
Man, Ghost up on
the mic. It’s just a representation.
2nd Verse
Back on point again, let me anoint these ends and hit these joints
With this gin and juice. We turn it loose.
And I can I boost, but I choose not too.
Gotta’ drop you these rhymes.
Like oh, what’s the time and oh wow,
I gotta get back them greenbacks.
Gotta green sack in my backpack and my crew macks ill money,
Which is funny in the summertime,
When them honey’s fine on our tip though.
Get a grip ho.
I don’t hit those that I don’t know.
You a trick too. Gotta’ thick crew.
We gone stick you,
gone get you.
It’s the curb, the street, the herb, the beat.
We bustin’ words
in the street smokin’ herb to the beat.
Chorus
3rd Verse
And so the function of the flow will be like dem doobies dat’ we roll.
And always fat ta’ get you funked up.
Kinda tight so you best puff up.
For dem’ lungs. Sprung on hip-hop since we was young.
But now who growed up. Blowed up.
Been around the world and show up,
On all kinda stages.
Rhymes I write in pages.
Always get them skins cause’ we open to all ages.
So go and get cha’ i.d. .
You can come and see “g”
Like that ya’ll. It’ll be all a that and fat, so best ta’ clap ya’ll,
Hands up in the air.
With that hundred yard stare. Is all we ever need ta’ make’em bleed
And me naw’ care about dem’ fakers.
Just be down ta make it real,
We got dem quaker’s oats
And no joke if we smoke you like a paper
I mean zig-zag.
When I be taggin’ my name and sport dat’
Black rag benz.
With the ends we never had back then,
But we do now.
Like ohh wow.
Got honey sayin ooh how?
Whose so smooth. So let’s groove
And I’ll be hittin’ it til’ the earth move a full rotation.
Rhymes the occupation.
Mashin up the set and then we jetty to ovation.
It’s the curb, the street, the herb, the beat.
We bustin’ words
in street, smoking herb to the beat.
Chorus