(feat. Cappadonna, Method Man, Raekwon, Sun God, Trife Da God)
[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
[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 D
