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Текст песни Ghostface Killah f Raekwon the Chef - Supreme Clientele

Ghostface Killah f Raekwon the Chef - Supreme Clientele слова песни

[Ghostface]Uh-huh, uh-huh, motherfucker, uh-huhYeah, I see that, I see thatAll y`all fake motherfuckers up in the joint, huh?Stealin my light, huh? Watch me, duke, watch meYo, check these up top murderousSnowy in the bezzle as the cloud mergesF.B.I. try and want word with thisKid who punked out bust a shot uip in the beconCatch me in the corner not speakinCrushed out heavenly, U.G. rock the sweet daddy long fox minksChicken and brocolli, Wally`s look stinkyWith his man straight from Raleigh Durham, he recognized KojakI slapped him five, Masta Killa cracked his tiny formE`rybody break bread, huddle aroundGuzzle that, I`m about to throw a hand in your bagSince the face been revealed, game got realRadio been gassin niggaz, my imposters scream they illI`m the inventor, `86 rhymin at the centerDebut `93 LP told you to EnterPunk faggot niggaz stealin my lightCrawl up in the bed with grandma, beneath the La-Z-Boy where ya hid ya knifeGhost is back, stretch Cadillacs, fruit cocktailsHit the shells at Paul`s Pastry RackWalk with me like Darthy tried to judge theseplush degrees, said the cow, wrap the feesGettin waxed all through the drive-thruTake the stand, throw my hand all on the Bibleand tell lies too, I`m the ultimatesplash the Wolverine Razor Sharp ring, dolomitestudent in role holdin it[Chorus: Ghostface]Aiyyo, this rappin`s like Ziti, facin me real TVCrash at high-speeds, strawberry, kiwiAs we approach, yo herb, the Gods bailThese Staten Island ferryboat cats bailFresh cellies, 50 thief up in the cityWe banned for life, Apollo kids live to spit the real[Ghostface]A pair of bright phat yellow Air MaxHit the racks, stack `em up Son, $20 off no taxStreet merchant tucked in the cloud, stay splurginRock a eagle head, 6-inch height was the birdMonday night Dallas verse Jets, dudes slid in with one handTwo culture-ciphers, one bag of wetHeavy rain fucked my kicks upWasn`t lookin, splashed in the puddleBitch laughin, first thought was beat the bitch upMossied off gracefully, New York`s most wanted tee-ball hawkSeen the yellow brick road, lust of pastriesSame Ghostface, holy in the mindLast scene: Manhatten ChaseWe drew the six-eight digit in the briefcaseRawness, title is Hell-boundQuick to reload around faces, surround look astound[Raekwon]We split a fair one, poker nose moneyGin rummy with glare, spot the lame, bit his earYo, you taste a tea-spoon, 300 goons, stash baloonsLocked in lab rooms, hit with glock, stashed in Grant`s TombClocked him like a patient, his stock`s full, hustle invasionKnowin now, we cocked a block off, the chain tri-colorFreezin in valor, ice-sicle galoreGas station light gleamin on the wallCop WiseGuy jams, James Bond vansNiggaz flipped Timbs, rock boats under water, watch clamspose at the stand-off, mad timidhopin that the gun fall, guess him like lottery balls, yo[Chorus]

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