Paisley Darts

Ghostface Killah

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    [Intro: Ghostface Killah]
    Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yeah, yo, yeah, yo

    [Ghostface Killah]
    Catch me on yo' brochure with beachballs, at least three whores
    Head wop Queens know how to work they jaws
    They skintone is coffee and milk, mixed up
    Ass as big as my boss' wife, stomach ripped up
    Spitting liquor in they mouth, cold Moet
    Captain Morgan, taking flicks, posing, holding my tech
    With cowboy hats and coach bags, they party like rockstars
    Bo Gary watches, just chill, they down in the shark bars
    And me, gunslinger, clips, cock D
    My fashion on, I'm rocking 'em new Rasheeds
    I'ma finish ya, go in brother like Mr. Cee
    You could find me fucked up like the mice in cheese
    Life's a B, Bentley and big bills
    Bottles, biscuits, bitches, blunts, bad boys bodying pit bulls
    Karate, black belt and I bring booze
    To big bar brawls, ball games blasting, fuck 'til my balls blue

    [Raekwon]
    We like the black Yankees, old vets who sit in the rest
    Thankful, counting up currency and move when it rain, pour
    From every bitch that we bless, we hit up, automatic love
    The Cuban Link niggaz is the realest
    My wallet walk, speak to niggaz, cops, judges
    We put it down, Columbian style, with three killas
    Based on money, dummies'll die
    It ain't funny, trying to front on mine, we get in ya mommy
    Keep cool, nigga, read him the rules, before he bleeding in pools
    And fuck my shit up, and I'ma just lose
    Paid a lot of paper to live here
    American Gangster status, Big Brother, lemme get in ya ear
    You know what time it is, crime it is
    No matter what rhyme it is
    We gon' stay fly, hit lye, rock diamond shits (no question)
    Based on a general's fist of fury
    Neck, arm, money, all of that's crispy jewelry

    [Sun God]
    Let me show you how I g ride, nina on both sides
    Nobody riding shotgun but the four-five
    Nigga, if you won't try, I'll give ya something to regret
    Throw that mothafucking semi to ya neck
    Throw the other black Jimmy to ya chest
    If you budge, you get stretched, nothing more, nothing less
    Pay respect, I'm a element of Homicide Housing
    In other words, bitch, I'm the resident from Homicide Housing
    Known for drug dealing, stack thousands
    Four hundred grand in the couches, two hundred grand on the houses
    At any time I could move up out this
    And go and cop some shit up in the moutains

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    [Trife Da God]
    Aiyo, aiyo, you know ya boy stay fresher than produce
    Timberland snow boots, collecting more CREAM than a toll booth
    I grind daily, Patriotic like Tom Brady
    I'm the bomb baby, cuz what I write is beyond crazy
    I'm the Don with the teflon armor, good karma, mac palmer
    Call me Arab Diesel cuz I'm a track bomber
    Roger that, my niggaz ain't got it cracked
    All we do is dollar stack, get twisted like bottlecaps
    While you on the block getting indicted
    We island hopping, globe trotting through the friendly skies flying United
    There's a party over here and everybody's invited
    The headliners is Theodore and everybody's excited

    [Method Man]
    Fuck that, 'bout time we took it back to the block
    The task force coming, I got crack in my sock
    White Rock on the dinner plate, get cash, shit is hot
    Smash whips on the Interstate, we dash on the cops
    It's them dudes, drug slingers, 1-6-Ooh
    Crime figure, rhyme spitter, his gun spit too
    Call 'em Sex Pistols, ravishing, nigga, I'm Rick Rude
    And ain't many mothafuckas could fit up in Rick's shoes
    Man, listen, ice glisten, they love the life we living
    That's a given, like football players love white women
    White linen, a tight denim, that ass look right in 'em
    Shit, I'm riding 'em, cool as Kahlua's with ice in 'em, shit...

    [Hook: Ghostface Killah (Cappadonna)]
    Aiyo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo I pass the mic to Cap (Nah, I pass it back)
    Never, son, hold that, you the master of the rap attack
    So knick knack patty wack (This is how we do it black)
    (Slap you with the almanac) Where actual facts is sold as facts

    [Cappadonna]
    We on our grown man shit like Quincy Jones
    Travelling across the world while we smoking the bone
    We grinding, y'all niggaz know what we do
    We get it in with the Murderland, Chi-town too
    Hit you up, something nice 'til the death of Yakub
    Swagger stuck on ya face like a New Jack tool
    Right back at you, yeah me and my dude Toney
    We don't fuck with fake contracts and niggaz that's phony
    Trying to get this money, right homey
    And lay back in the Riverside, just chill, relax the domepiece
    Link up with a fly dime, brick and a chrome piece
    Coming for that gwop, yeah nigga, you got beef

    [skit of Ghostface and co. speaking during concert follows]

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