Текст песни Ghostface Killah, Method Man, Prodical, - Wu-Tang Killa Beez: The Sting
Ghostface Killah, Method Man, Prodical, - Wu-Tang Killa Beez: The Sting слова песни
[Intro: Ghostface Killah (RZA) {Method Man}]Word (These mothafuckin` niggaz, man)Yeah, I hear that, you got that shit, right?(Yeah, I got it) Lemme hear it(I`ma two-way Sunn back right nowNext time she show up right on time for this shit)Word, no doubt(Better stop smokin` on that shit)Fuck that, hey, don`t do it with him(Whatever)Yo yeah, lemme get that mothafucka`s sayin` on this, nigga(Yeah, niggaz be buggin` in hereNigga don`t speak no fuckin` English, word?)You get me everything? (I got you a cheese joint){Diamond buscuits, mothafucka!}[Break: Method Man (RZA) {Prodical}]Now let`s see, we don`t get down like thatSee, he holds his own, haha, he holds his ownHaha, he holds his own (Bank!)(John Blizzy) {Straight like that}He holdin` twenty on this(Ghost Deini) {Uh-huh! Yeah!}(ShaCronz) {The invincible, baby)Bad boys (Suga Bang) {It`s like that!}(D-Digi!)[Method Man (Prodical)]Spontaneous combustion got niggaz lustin`Fuckin` with this head bustin` track spankerDecaffinator, crab sinker, twenty-fiveTryin` to live to see my forty acher, before I dieImmaculate conceptions like loaded weaponsShootin` up ya rap session in mere seconds (Bluh! Bluh!)Ya whole style is undressin`Try to hide yaself behind the R&B sectionAnd got spotted, fuckin` with them fake artists who make garbageNow ya like a human target with no directionAnd no protection, rap nigga assed out and no questionDead and buried, we holdin` like the militaryFuck Dog Shit, hide-out beats and hot cherriesOn virgin mic`s, style very cri-TicalBy any means necessary, mad lyr-icalThe Ghostrider, want vengeance on you style bitersYa whole sect got you gassed `til I sparked the lighterAnd burnt that ass like Dhalsim in Street FighterI play the shadows, scopin` out you lime lighters and Desperados[Chorus: Suga Bang Bang (RZA) {Prodical}]Killa Beez is ridin` East to West, babySee our twenties spinnin` on our trucks, babyDiamonds, Cubans hangin` from our neck, babyCome on, come on[Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]{Baby cuz It`s Not a Game}You see them mothafuckin` twenty-inch chromes spinnin`?{Rocked out, baby, ice hangin`}[Ghostface Killah (RZA)]Bailed out from drugs, almost retired from bubblin`Hammers was the guns under the rug, lift off my publishin`Jet to Miami, I chuggle-lug the beatFiends beepin` me, I erase and delete (Come on)Surrounded my palm trees and sound-proof condosTryin` out Spanish foods, Roberto`s bangin` bongosDo whatever, crackin` down weather, it means niceWalkin` down the strip, these fat niggaz broke the iceDrive it in a host, the trucks, the gate`s wide openA square box fell out, I`m hopin` it be coke andI snatched it, dipped into a parkin` lot and wrapped itSee diamonds, pearls, rubies, gems, covered with acidHeavens to mega-troid, infants`ll know I`m paranoidWhat she goes through, I`m on a next flight to St. CroixSneaker boy and Genius, I heard he struck oilHim and Masta Killa own Fox and mad loyal[Chorus - last two lines only]Diamonds, Cubans hangin` from our neck, babyCome on, come on[Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]{The finest, baby, the finest}(You see them Linx hangin`?)[ShaCronz]Yo, yoYou know I rarely fight, I keep heat plus I`m very niceI run with two-eighties on me like Jerry RiceI fuck with many birds, not the canary typeI`ve seen a lot of happy days and scary nightsMy click hotter than fish grease, kids be diss-freeMost of these labels can`t handle this heatI love new twat, scrap ho`s on a few blocksWhen my hate grows I let the tools popA lot of these rap niggaz be fast to plea