P Song Lyrics

P.S.Y.(a.k.a. Psychedelic, Psycho Jam or Psychedelic Jam) – Butthole Surfers

Here we go
Here we go
All I see inside my head is gentle silent secret snow
With gentle walls of blinding light I’ll have you know

No one would believe it she was running away
She packed up her belongings and she was gone
The very next day

Nicky was in the KKK and Lisa was a Nazi too
They both had half a brain so together they were sane
And looked about as smart as their shoe
Now Nicky got word through the underground that Mona was Lisa’s real name
She bled on his dagger when he shot her in the neck
And that’s about all she could gain
I’m still sleepin’ in the graveyard creepin’
She packed up and turned back (?)
I know you don’t believe it but I really should be leavin’
She fell in love with Lauren Bacall

No one would believe it she was running away
She packed up her belongings and she was gone
The very next day

Nicky never wanted any children at all
And Tammy was Nicki’s little girl
She turned tricks in a white trash bar
And shot dope with six holding on
She wanted to have fun with her daddy’s shotgun
She held it right up to his head
His glasses fell to dust but they were followed by a bust
Of fiery hot balls of lead
I’m still sleepin’ in the graveyard creepin’
She packed up and turned back (?)
I know you don’t believe it but I really should be leavin’
She fell in love with Lauren Bacall

No one would believe it she was running away
She packed up her belongings and she was gone
The very next day

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P.S. I Love You – The Beatles

As I write this letter
Send my love to you
Remember that I’ll always
Be in love with you

Treasure these few words
Till we’re together
Keep all my love forever
P.S. I love you
you, you, you

I’ll be comin’ home again to you, love
Until the day I do love
P.S. I love you
you, you, you

As I write this letter
Send my love to you (you know I want you to)
Remember that I’ll always
Be in love with you (yeah)

Treasure these few words
Till we’re together
Keep all my love forever
P.S. I love you
you, you, you

As I write this letter
Send my love to you (you know I want you to)
Remember that I’ll always
Be in love with you (yeah)

I’ll be comin’ home again to you, love
Until the day I do love
P.S. I love you
you, you, you
you, you, you
I love you

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P.O.D. – Bone Thugs N Harmony

Krayzie:
My nigga, let’s get P.O.D.’ded [P.O.D.’ded, P.O.D.’ded] . . .
[So high, so high am I.]
. . . reefer and blunts is all that’s needed [needed, needed].
[So high, so high am I.]

Krayzie:
Slow down, make it too smoky for you, baby. Fucked up–look at you faded. I am what I am as a thug in the Land, and
that’s all that I am. Damn, you better come join this thugsta party. Blunt smoke up in your body. And come get high, get high.

Krayzie:
My nigga, let’s get P.O.D.’ded [P.O.D.’ded, P.O.D.’ded] . . .
[So high, so high am I.]
. . . reefer and blunts is all that’s needed [needed, needed].
[So high, so high am I.]

Layzie:
Let’s all get lifted. Split the Swisher, quickly twist us up a fatty. Now, I’ve been smokin’ out all day long, P.O.’d in the back of
Krayzie’s Caddy. How in the world did I manage to smoke this many? About a hundred, man. Feel it all in my stomach. To
the brain severely blunted, and it ain’t no shame off in my game. Hydroponics and Indonesia, even the stress sometimes be
creeper, so pass me some reefer, want to receive, ah. Little Lay, givin’ you what you need. Nothin’ but the best green leaves
with a pocket full of cheese, gettin’ P.O.D. [P.O.D.].

Krayzie:
My nigga, let’s get P.O.D.’ded [P.O.D.’ded, P.O.D.’ded] . . .
[So high, so high am I.]
. . . reefer and blunts is all that’s needed [needed, needed].
[So high, so high am I.]

Wish:
I be so high, feel high. Forgive me Lord, but I feel like the weed be blessin’ my soul [soul, yeah]. Got to smoke that sticky,
smelly stuff, but I just can’t get enough. Smoke it, hit it, pass it to the next man. Let him choke, smoke but don’t hold on; don’t
hold on, on. No, no. And if you smoke it with me, yeah. Then, I’m a smoke it with you. Y’all, we can smoke it all up. We
can smoke and get ba-. We can smoke it all up. We can smoke and get ba-, ba-, ba-, ba-, buzzed.

Krayzie:
My nigga, let’s get P.O.D.’ded [P.O.D.’ded, P.O.D.’ded] . . .
[So high, so high am I.]
. . . reefer and blunts is all that’s needed [needed, needed].
[So high, so high am I.]

Bizzy:
P.O.D.’ded that’ll get me in my seat. Hennessy and I ain’t too young to be that poetically, here to believe that I get brave, and
all on my way, in a daze, me puff puff on my reef. Got a blunt for the thugs and hustlas. Ain’t no bustas in the Mo Thug game.
And it gets me out of all miseries. Follow the benefits, stay in place. As long as we reach, put up the fist and flip and pray. I’ll
be done, when I reach my own. Stay free; let the time go pass me by. Stay high, I’m P.O.D.’d. P.O.D.’d.

Krayzie:
I smoke on nothin’ but the best of buddah. Ooh, yeah. Get the blunts and weed. Fuck the Hennessy; let’s focus on these
leaves. Reefer really relax my mind, and ask me one more time [time]. Get a split up, keep it lit up. Can you feel us? Get with
us, smoke with your nigga. Somebody told me [told me], you better respect the sticky leaves, sticky leaves, sticky leaves.

Krayzie:
My nigga, let’s get P.O.D.’ded [P.O.D.’ded, P.O.D.’ded] . . .
[So high, so high am I.]
. . . reefer and blunts is all that’s needed [needed, needed].
[So high, so high am I.]

P.O. Box 9847 – The Monkees

Handsome, single, young man well respected in his town
Seeks a fine, young lady from a similar background.
Generous, responsible, respectful man of means.
Socialize with presidents and queens.

Reply,
P. O. Box 9847
P. O. Box 9847

I’ve described me very poorly,
Better try again.

Quiet, sincere, gentleman, well rounded and mature.
Fond of music and the arts, loves the theater.
Educated, sensitive, a trav’ler of the world.
Wants to meet an eligible young girl.

Reply,
P. O. Box 9847
P. O. Box 9847

I’ve been writing, advertising
That’s not really me.

Lonely, understanding man, affectionate and true
Looking for girl to share his dreams and make them true.
Humble, loving, sensitive, considerate and shy.
Only sincere ladies need reply.

Reply,
P. O. Box 9847
P. O. Box 9847

I’m not liking what I’m typing.
Throw it all away.

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P.L.U.C.K. – System Of A Down

Elimination



Why, Die Walk Down



A whole race Genocide,

Taken away all of our pride,

A whole race Genocide,

Taken away, Watch Them all fall down.



Revolution, the only solution,

The armed response of an entire nation,

Revolution, the only solution,

We’ve taken all your shit, now it’s time for restitution.



Recognition, Restoration, Reparation,

Recognition, Restoration, Reparation,

Watch them all fall down.



Revolution, the only solution,

The armed response of an entire nation,

Revolution, the only solution,

We’ve taken all your shit, now it’s time for restitution.



The plan was mastered and called Genocide (Never want to see

you around)

Took all the children and then we died, (Never want to see you

around)

The few that remained were never found, (Never want to see you

around)

All in a system of Down……Down…..Down…….Down……..Walk

Down………..



Watch them all fall down,

Revolution, the only solution,

The armed response of an entire nation,

Revolution, the only solution,

We’ve taken all your shit, now it’s time for restitution.



The plan was mastered and called Genocide

(Never want to see you around)

Took all the children and then we died,

(Never want to see you around)

The few that remained were never found,

(Never want to see you around)

All in a system , Down

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P.N.S. (When You Come Around) – Poco

I’ve got my head up on the ceiling
And I can’t see myself lookin’ down
At a heartthat has no feelin’
And I could not care when you come around

I’m tryin’ to find a way to tell you,
Oh, my woman, you got to leave
And leave my life and try to make do
To somebody who will believe

If they could see through you to all of your lies
And take some time and maybe realize
That it’s over before it began
And you’re leavin’ to find another man, oh.

I’ve got my head up on the ceiling
And I can’t see myself lookin’ down
At a heartthat has no feelin’
And I could not care when you come around

And I could not care when you come around.

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P.L.O. Style – Method Man F/ Carlton Fisk

Chorus:

P.L.O. style Buddha monks with the Owls
P.L.O. style Buddha monks with the Owls
P.L.O. style Buddha monks with the Owls
P.L.O. style…

Verse One: Method Man

Here comes the ruckus the motherfuckin ruckus
Thousands of cut throats and purse snatchin fucks
Straight from the brain I’ll be givin you the pain anger
Comin from the 36th Chamber Bang!
Tical hittin with the Buddha-Fist style
Shotgun slammin in your chestpiece, plow!
Brain, is blown all over the terrain
Like a man without no arms you can’t hang
Time for a change of the guard
You’ve been arrested for lyric fraud now you hard
For real, check it, I pull strings like B.B. King on guitar
I’m the true fist of the North Star!

Verse Two: Carlton Fisk, Method Man

Ooooooooh! What a tangled web we weave
When first we practice to decieve
Guns be clickin, runnin with my clan we be stickin
Whatever, my street family stays together
Represent what I invent, killa hill
Resident, rest in peace to my nigga Two Cent
The street life is the only life I know
I live by the code style it’s mad P.L.O…

Iranian thoughts and cover like an Arabian
Grab a nigga on the spot and put a nine to his cranium

I..can’t…get no satisfaction, niggas won’t be lastin
Long, unless they get protaction, for real
Strong, comin with my clan so what’s happenin
Commercial rap, hate it with a passion

The M-E-T-H-O-D got me drinkin O.E. all night in a M.P.V.
Just maxin, lookin for hoes, you know relaxin
Bitches know the hour it be time for some action

P.L.O., peace to that nigga Barryano
Word up, let’s take him to the bridge, Verrazano

Chorus

P.I.M.P. (Remix) – 50 Cent f/ Snoop Dogg, G-Unit

[Hook x2: 50 Cent]
I don’t know what you heard about me
But a bitch can’t get a dollar outta me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can’t see
That I’m a motherfuckin’ P-I-M-P

[50 Cent]
Now shorty, she in the club, she dancin’ for dollars
She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada
That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce & Gabbana
She’s feeding fools fantasies, they pay her cause they want her
I spit a little G man and my game got her
A hour later have that ass up in the Ramada
Them trick niggaz in they ear sayin’ they think about her
I got the bitch by the bar tryin’ to get a drink up out her
She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk
She from the country, she like me cause I’m from New York
I ain’t that nigga trying to holla cause I want some head
I’m that nigga tryin’ to holla cause I want some bread
I could care less how she perform when she in the bed
Bitch hit the track, catch a date, and come pay the kid
Look baby, this is simple you can’t see
You fuckin’ with me you fuckin’ with a P-I-M-P

[Hook once: 50 Cent]
[50 cent]
G-G-G-G G-MIX!!!!

[Bridge: Snoop Dogg]
F-I-F-T-Y C-E-N-T and S-N double O-P
Doggy style in ya mouth for the 2003
And y’all know I’m from the DPG

F-I-F-T-Y C-E-N-T and S-N double O-P
We internationally known and locally respected
(And you know you’re just a P.I.M.P) Now what you know about me

[Snoop Dogg]
Yeah bitch I got my Now and Later gators on
I’m bout to show you how my pimp hand is way strong
Your dead wrong if ya think that pimpin’ gon’ die
Twelve piece with a hundred hoes by my side
I’m down with that nigga Fifty like I down with blue
Fuck cuz, nah nigga motherfuck you
G-U-N-I-Tizzy, fuckin’ with me and the D-P-Gizzy
Niggaz in New York know how Doggy get down
I got my niggaz in Queens, I got my bitches Uptown
I got my business in Manhattan, I ain’t fuckin’ around
I got some butter pecan, Puerto Ricans from the Boogie Down
That’s waitin’ on me to return
So they can snatch these braids out and put my shit in a perm, word
They love it when I get to crippin’
And spittin’ this mag-ah-ni-ficent pimpin’

[Hook: Snoop Dogg]

[Lloyd Banks]
You need to switch over and ride with a star
It’ll get you far
I’m a P-I-M-P G-A-N-G-S-T-E-R
Yeah, I’m young, but I ain’t dumb
Got some tricks, but I ain’t one
I’m a guerrilla for scrilla, I trip you, you try to run
I let em’ do as they please, as long as they get my cheese
Even if they gotta freeze, or if it’s a hundred degrees
I keep em’ on they knees, take a look under my sleeve
I ain’t gotta give em’ much, they happy with Mickey D’s, PIMP

[Young Buc]
We keep it pimpin’ in the South, you know how it go (Dirty, Dirty)
We drive old schools white walls with mink clothes
I spin the G-Unit piece, and get em’ dizzy
Man cough up your love, or you’re girl comin’ with me
When your neck and wrist glow, she already should know
That money make the world go round, so lets get mo’
Its time to show these playas how it should be done
You got pimp potential, you might could be one, G-UNIT

[Hook 2x: 50 Cent]

[50 Cent speaking]
In Hollywood, they say there no b’ness like show b’ness
In the hood, they say, theres no b’ness like ho b’ness
They say I talk a lil’ fast, but if you listen a lil’ faster
I ain’t got to slow down for you to catch up, BITCH

P.I.M.P. – 50 Cent

(Chorus)
I don’t know what you heard about me
But a bitch can’t get a dollar out of me
No Cadillac, no perms, you can’t see
That I’m a motherfucking P-I-M-P
(Repeat)

(Verse 1)
Now shorty, she in the club, she dancing for dollars
She got a thing for that Gucci, that Fendi, that Prada
That BCBG, Burberry, Dolce and Gabana
She feed them foolish fantasies, they pay her cause they wanna
I spit a little G man, and my game got her
A hour later, have that ass up in the Ramada
Them trick niggas in her ear saying they think about her
I got the bitch by the bar trying to get a drink up out her
She like my style, she like my smile, she like the way I talk
She from the country, think she like me cause I’m from New York
I ain’t that nigga trying to holla cause I want some head
I’m that nigga trying to holla cause I want some bread
I could care less how she perform when she in the bed
Bitch hit that track, catch a date, and come and pay the kid
Look baby this is simple, you can’t see
You fucking with me, you fucking with a P-I-M-P

(Chorus)

(Verse 2)
I’m bout my money you see, girl you can holla at me
If you fucking with me, I’m a P-I-M-P
Not what you see on TV, no Cadillac, no greasy
Head full of hair, bitch I’m a P-I-M-P
Come get money with me, if you curious to see
how it feels to be with a P-I-M-P
Roll in the Benz with me, you could watch TV
From the backseat of my V, I’m a P-I-M-P
Girl we could pop some champagne and we could have a ball
We could toast to the good life, girl we could have it all
We could really splurge girl, and tear up the mall
If ever you needed someone, I’m the one you should call
I’ll be there to pick you up, if ever you should fall
If you got problems, I can solve’em, they big or they small
That other nigga you be with ain’t bout shit
I’m your friend, your father, and confidant, BITCH

(Chorus)

(Verse 3)
I told you fools before, I stay with the tools
I keep a Benz, some rims, and some jewels
I holla at a hoe til I got a bitch confused
She got on Payless, me I got on gator shoes
I’m shopping for chinchillas, in the summer they cheaper
Man this hoe you can have her, when I’m done I ain’t gon keep her
Man, bitches come and go, every nigga pimpin know
You saying it’s secret, but you ain’t gotta keep it on the low
Bitch choose with me, I’ll have you stripping in the street
Put my other hoes down, you get your ass beat
Now Nik my bottom bitch, she always come up with my bread
The last nigga she was with put stitches in her head
Get your hoe out of pocket, I’ll put a charge on a bitch
Cause I need 4 TVs and AMGs for the six
Hoe make a pimp rich, I ain’t paying bitch
Catch a date, suck a dick, shiiit, TRICK

(Chorus)

Yeah, in Hollywoood they say there’s no b’ness like show b’ness
In the hood they say, there’s no b’ness like hoe b’ness ya know
They say I talk a lil fast, but if you listen a lil faster
I ain’t got to slow down for you to catch up, BITCH

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P.H.D. – The Crystal Method

not gonna get a piece of that


no, ain’t goin out like that


mutha fuckin true calibur pimps