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Artist: Raekwon f/ Lloyd Banks
Album:  Shaolin vs. Wu-Tang
Song:   Last Trip to Scotland
Typed by: Cno Evil

[Intro: Raekwon]
Yo, what up, what's good?
Yeah, nigga, hold this money right here, yeah
We already got them mapped out, you know
Alright, don't even stress it
Niggas got mad coke inside the Luvs pampy
Luvs Pampers box, nigga

That nigga pussy doing pig latin, he can't come to the hood
Might kill him off top up in the Staten
Son think he better than niggas, I think his rebels is resentful
Tried to kill him in his rental
He had an Idi Amin approach, hitting the roach
Had a hunger face, he drove his moms Seven in the ocean
It's a wild cowboy sling heroin, who rock the dead arm
Knocked the DEA agent out his Cheron
All his Eli's, macheted up, stainless --
You never heard nothing, all you hear is the guns blaze
Rocking pastel blazers, with a shorty from Iceland
Who old dad put him up on rice sand
Starving to make a wack debut, he came through the lot
Three coacher Devilles with him, a whitey, it's pathetic
Ragged monkey face, faggot dead it
Coming through the stairs with blow in his mouth, desperate
Watching him looking stupid, son know we on foot patrol
Come through the hole, niggas is spooking
Seven hundred shots, all leather gloves, six thugs
Two had a mask on, he took 'em off what
We got you now, nigga, blowing you down, niggas is foul
This is trauma king, by any means, blaow
They pushed his face in, fell out his Saucony's, snatched his homeys
Took his glock, you gon' be my tenderoni?

[Lloyd Banks]
Uhh, metal exchange, is the hood, the gun range
Everybody's a target depending on how you aim
Dice games and ice chains, pendant spelling your names
OG's setting the wrong example, telling the same
Look at Shorty Shitstain, grew up to be a fucking mess
Before his click came, he banged and never tuck his chest
Closet full of them things, he caught the gun connect
Riding around with A and Lil' Nino and they want respect
Son call, Nino want the show, everybody they straight
Shipping hood bitches to the bungalo
Pillow talking let the birds hawk it
Chatting bout what happen, and when and would it coming back in
Champagne's lacking trafficking while they travel
Word got back to old time friends and snakes rattle
Two different burners, but the one that dropped the birds got tail
Information for the ones that like to steal, got mail
Pussy power made the plans sour
Apartment full of party powder, outside a steak out for hours
Click batch from big gats and rags
Soon as the door squeaks, they running up on the grass
Bang flash, shots ride on path of broken glass
Comedy laughs, while they haul ass with the bags
Legends in my hood play bat, twin benzes whipping in black
Connect was like the old Maybach