Artist: Ghostface Killah f/ Trife Da God Album: Fishscale Song: Clipse of Doom Typed by: email@example.com * * send corrections to the typist [Ghostface Killah] Aiyyo, turn those lights down while I'm recording! Matter 'fact y'all niggaz get the fuck out the room, G! Straight up! Sipping on that bullshit Budweiser! Nah'mean yo.. what? Fuck you too nigga! 'Kind of pants you got on motherfucker, Capris?! Bitch ass nigga, go get ya feet done! Eat a dick nigga! [Verse 1] Catch me in the 80's drop Old school Mercedes with a brand new baby glock Right from my Lady's sock with two bodies on it Capricorn, Aquarius Lost so much blood, these bitch niggaz in they periods They say I be living the role, like 'Pac in Juice And only fuck with fly bitches that get fly and boost And they ears be chandelliers, lit up like a lamp, Who cares?! They cooch is fierce, the only thing loose is hairs Thats right y'all, if a rap nigga say my name I'm a fight y'all Fuck a state, light charge My predicate status, irrelevant My man got the big rap sheet that's outweighing two elephants Jumbo shits from New Orleans Players and Pimps that bit off Fiends Quick, switch with the hands, Powder blue wally's is dyed, Vanilla bally's is mean Kid, none of y'all motherfuckers fuck with my team, Uh! [Chorus: Trife Da God] Aiyyo we the live niggaz holdin heat on the street corners Sic the beasts on you, turning mothers to morners Money launderers, neighborhood coroners, place bodies in bags Tango with dirty Cash, Cocaine jacks "Kings of the Hill", out to blow like propane gas Package the raw, Theodore, We got the game on smash 'Cause we cut from the same cloth Big guns ready to bang off Slide off the cables and take the rings off! [Verse 2] We hold the weight of four Synagogues Jelly'd uptown in them beat down rented cars Going mad wetting 'em Milk cash, heavy tecks, hood rats, sexin 'em Paris crew, little dudes, please!, I was reppin 'em Niggaz couldn't come through (word) Thats when the block was like wallpaper, loved sticking niggaz like crazy glue Blackouts happened, God forbid don't be around! The Bag Lady will murk you and let off in the next town! She struck two times, get caught, good luck blood, it ain't no heines Blow a hockey puck hole in the back of your spine She put two cut up mirrors in the place of your eyes So when the cops look they see theyselves, they all gonna die Its the tale of the crips and bloods, pimps and thugs Get your face bashed in on the concrete rug on that note I'm a say peace! Theodore! Word to Darryl Mack's teeth! [Chorus] [Verse 3] Yo, Ayo I'll break every bone in your wrist Smack you in the back of your head on the block while you holding your dick My semi, they call it the crouching tiger A hundred bowls of Total is trash, because my lead eat through fibers Peel your potato like Arriada On the day of your death people had candles but couldnt find no lighter Fuck your marrow! fuck your hood! You ain't a street legend like me! Blake Carrington holding the Dynasty I muffle motherfuckers up like meineke and write a thousand bar verse that all rhymes with "eat" Jewel theif, Shizzam bangles, in the vault deep And cruisin desserts mad heavy into salt treats Im the taste in Bush's mouth, nasty Afghanistan missions, gun training in the grassy fatigues Picking niggaz off by the Red Sea And did it all for Ghost, sniffin on caffeine!