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Ghostface Killah f Trife

Smith Brothers *

243 3 часа назад

Текст песни Ghostface Killah f Trife - Smith Brothers *

Ghostface Killah f Trife - Smith Brothers * слова песни

* not to be confused with "Smith Bros." which appears on Raekwon`s "The Lex Diamond Story" although they share the same beat[Intro: Ghostface Killah]Uh huh, ready bags, ready bagsThis is that motherfuckin` niggaYeah, uh, bulletproof muthafuckin` gooses outdoorsFor all the streets, all the dusts in the streetsCrusty projects and all that, the radiators is bulletproofYo, yo, come on, ah yo yo[Ghostface Killah]What up cousin, this is most high wizardryGots to watch niggaz, so I stay on my grizzly (uh)These young boys comin` at me (yeah)Lookin` at these faggots, like yeah, you get amped off of PepsiDamn, what kind of cards you deltDoes your elevator go up? (Nope) You ain`t rap too tightRight, you can tell me, G-H to O-S-TTwo hundred Bees`ll get you killed by coke head SkeetThis is murder, you can get it, if my fam don`t eatAnd, we slam niggaz, like we Lil` MalikWe want that Powerball money, Easter bunnies, Wool-light moneyHey dunny, we rock a half of mill and look bummyAnd bounce to the projects, pop Becks, cop Tec`sTop wrecks, execs got next, what the heckArm fed, you`se dead, that`s said, no more wetThe cameras is rollin`, bitch, quiet on the set[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]You can never front on, jump or you get lumped onBurners in your face, don`t you get nervous on meWe got so many gats, and them big Mac`sSomebody get the boy, I get the wilin` on blackTell `em, we will, we will, rock you, pop youWe will, we still, got you, got you[Trife]Aiyo aiyo, it ain`t a gameThis kid is serious about his changeYa`ll a bunch of wacko jacko`s, amped off your namesCall me Sugar Ray, the way I dance on you lamesMy right hand`ll sting you and ding you, leave stamps on your brainI got, out of state of niggaz that`ll kill for beersCut you, easy to pop like balloons filled with airI dare ya`ll faggot asses, punch niggaz with glassesBack in my third grade classes, squeezin` assesMy niggaz is never over, understandI`m a 2Pac, this is the realest shit I ever wroteBut it`s soft, lead the coke, matchin` my kicksSo make sure, you get my sneakers when you snappin` that flickAnd I advise you to carry that Bible for survivalSurprise you, return like Jesus, without the costumeCome on young`n, you dumbin`I`ve been doin` this shit since King Culing, cookin` grams in the oven[Chorus]

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