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Playa - Missy Elliott

Missy] Yeahhayyy, yeahhh
[Havoc] Yeah, uh-huh
[Missy] Yah..
[Missy] Yeahhayyy, yeahhayyy!
[Havoc] Yeah.. fo' sho'
[Missy] Yeahh! Yah..
[Missy] Mmmm-mmm-mmm, mmmm-mmm-mmm
[Missy] Uhh, yah..
[Havoc] M-O-B-B baby
[Missy] Wooooooooo!
[Missy] Uhhhh..
[Havoc] Yeah! Right
[Missy] Uhhhh..
[Havoc] Let's do this, one time baby
[Missy] Uhhhh..
[Havoc] Yea-yea
[Missy] Yah..
[Havoc] Yo
[Verse 1 Havoc]
Whattup ma, the name H doe, I'm into pesos

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song performed by Nelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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Playa

Missy] Yeahhayyy, yeahhh
[Havoc] Yeah, uh-huh
[Missy] Yah..
[Missy] Yeahhayyy, yeahhayyy!
[Havoc] Yeah.. fo' sho'
[Missy] Yeahh! Yah..
[Missy] Mmmm-mmm-mmm, mmmm-mmm-mmm
[Missy] Uhh, yah..
[Havoc] M-O-B-B baby
[Missy] Wooooooooo!
[Missy] Uhhhh..
[Havoc] Yeah! Right
[Missy] Uhhhh..
[Havoc] Let's do this, one time baby
[Missy] Uhhhh..
[Havoc] Yea-yea
[Missy] Yah..
[Havoc] Yo
[Verse 1 Havoc]
Whattup ma, the name H doe, I'm into pesos

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song performed by Nelly
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vida's Game Of Chess

TRANSLATED

ARMIES of box that sportively engage
And mimic real battles in their rage,
Pleased I recount; how, smit with glory's charms,
Two mighty Monarchs met in adverse arms,
Sable and white; assist me to explore,
Ye Serian Nymphs, what ne'er was sung before.
No path appears: yet resolute I stray
Where youth undaunted bids me force my way.
O'er rocks and cliffs while I the task pursue,
Guide me, ye Nymphs, with your unerring clue.
For you the rise of this diversion know,
You first were pleased in Italy to show
This studious sport; from Scacchis was its name,
The pleasing record of your Sister's fame.

When Jove through Ethiopia's parch'd extent
To grace the nuptials of old Ocean went,
Each god was there; and mirth and joy around

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poem by Oliver Goldsmith
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Winterval for M 'lady Ernestine.

The whirling swirling flakes of snow.
Fall silently but ceaselessly.
Creating havoc here below.

Mother Nature intends to show
The human race that they can see
The whirling swirling flakes of snow.

Wherever they may choose to go.
She demonstrates this ruthlessly
Creating havoc here below.

What traffic moves is crawling slow.
As drivers find it hard to see.
The whirling swirling flakes of snow

Reflect their headlights pallid glow.
Reducing visibility
Creating havoc here below.

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poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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You Can Stir Up Much Havoc

There are things I don't know.
Will you hold me to demands...
I make you understand,
That which I don't know.

There are things you don't know.
And I have no expectations grand...
You will suddenly take command,
To show you do know.

You've come to complicate my life.
And I don't like it.
One bit.

You can stir up much havoc.
Like a habit.
To fit..
Underneath any sentiment.

There are things I don't know.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Opposite Begins

When one has had it,
With a havoc that misfits...
That one agitated,
Finds an exit and splits.

People known to create conflict,
Seek an attention they don't get...
Until,
The opposite begins.
Opposition steps in.

They pretend a trust to believe,
To have others perceive but...
The opposite begins,
For them.

Wake up and take notice,
That the opposite begins for them.
Those who charade innocence.
The opposite begins for them.

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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hold Up

feat. Havoc (Mobb Deep)
[talking]
Yeah nigga... haha yeah (South Suicide Queens)
That's right... uh uh, Q.U. nigga (yea yea)
Shit like that, knowhamsayin put these drinks up
yaheard? - let's do this right, what yo
[Fredro Starr]
Hold up, this is for my thugs on the block
For my one stop niggaz that be huggin the spot
Sittin on crates, gettin loaded, get that cake
Dodgin drinks, spit and hafta cover they face
Kick some tye, big truck with tricks inside
In too deep, tryna sell bricks from the side
See no games, with real niggaz from other hoods
Car titles get lost, some niggaz get jooked
But God forgive me if a nigga cross the fam
Holdin the heat, the streets'll make me force ya hand
From my wild crew, sets the new guns off the roof
To them slick dudes, hot and they workin the phone booth
Cuz Lord knows I'm gonna reload and bust back

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song performed by Onyx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pharsalia - Book 1

The Crossing of the Rubicon

Wars worse than civil on Emathian plains,
And crime let loose we sing; how Rome's high race
Plunged in her vitals her victorious sword;
Armies akin embattled, with the force
Of all the shaken earth bent on the fray;
And burst asunder, to the common guilt,
A kingdom's compact; eagle with eagle met,
Standard to standard, spear opposed to spear.

Whence, citizens, this rage, this boundless lust
To sate barbarians with the blood of Rome?
Did not the shade of Crassus, wandering still,
Cry for his vengeance? Could ye not have spoiled,
To deck your trophies, haughty Babylon?
Why wage campaigns that send no laurels home?
What lands, what oceans might have been the prize
Of all the blood thus shed in civil strife!
Where Titan rises, where night hides the stars,

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The Iliad: Book 11

And now as Dawn rose from her couch beside Tithonus, harbinger of
light alike to mortals and immortals, Jove sent fierce Discord with
the ensign of war in her hands to the ships of the Achaeans. She
took her stand by the huge black hull of Ulysses' ship which was
middlemost of all, so that her voice might carry farthest on either
side, on the one hand towards the tents of Ajax son of Telamon, and on
the other towards those of Achilles- for these two heroes,
well-assured of their own strength, had valorously drawn up their
ships at the two ends of the line. There she took her stand, and
raised a cry both loud and shrill that filled the Achaeans with
courage, giving them heart to fight resolutely and with all their
might, so that they had rather stay there and do battle than go home
in their ships.
The son of Atreus shouted aloud and bade the Argives gird themselves
for battle while he put on his armour. First he girded his goodly
greaves about his legs, making them fast with ankle clasps of
silver; and about his chest he set the breastplate which Cinyras had
once given him as a guest-gift. It had been noised abroad as far as
Cyprus that the Achaeans were about to sail for Troy, and therefore he
gave it to the king. It had ten courses of dark cyanus, twelve of

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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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The Field of Waterloo

I.
Fair Brussels, thou art far behind,
Though, lingering on the morning wind,
We yet may hear the hour
Pealed over orchard and canal,
With voice prolonged and measured fall,
From proud St. Michael's tower;
Thy wood, dark Soignies, holds us now,
Where the tall beeches' glossy bough
For many a league around,
With birch and darksome oak between,
Spreads deep and far a pathless screen,
Of tangled forest ground.
Stems planted close by stems defy
The adventurous foot-the curious eye
For access seeks in vain;
And the brown tapestry of leaves,
Strewed on the blighted ground, receives
Nor sun, nor air, nor rain.
No opening glade dawns on our way,

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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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