Generals on deck, what's up, son?
|
(Yeah, yeah, yeah... come on!)
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Salut this (Library shit)
|
(Rock the belt, uh-huh, you know what time it is)
|
They understand and support us
|
(I ain't goin' out) Theodore (Uh-huh!)
|
|
[Ghostface Killah]
|
Eh-yo!
|
Stark edition, rock Christian's
|
The crystalized rock got the big jury dealers on a mission
|
Slick taste of lace, I done smacked New York City
|
The four-fifty went poppin' when he tried to dip me
|
Balled out in bingo halls, reported skiied out in jury duty
|
Judge Judy, big groupie bitch blew me, Beigen rush Cuffies
|
Blast the last uzi, ship me to Africa, right? I share rubies
|
Due to the night up on my behalf
|
I threw the shotti in the glass so I could have a double bash
|
Duffle pass, couples, teamed with the knuckle clash, fast
|
Rain, hail, snow, sleet, still bust that ass
|
Uppercut, bad, you in the grass slumped out and ya faggot-ass man hauled ass
|
Slammed body in the G-Y-M, G-Y-N'
|
Love Doctor in the hood, fucked bitches, all their friends
|
So, yo...
|
|
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah (sung)]
|
Party people, you're the reason we're here
|
Cuz we love the game and our music is projects
|
So, so, yo, hello! Makin' sure y'all still there
|
On stage here tonight be the almighty Theodore Click
|
|
[Trife]
|
Yeah! Yeah... yo!
|
I'm a little dude but I hold guns the size of Europe
|
Y'all niggas is sweet like pancakes with extra syrup
|
Whatever y'all put up, I double that
|
Stapleton is where I hustle at, 2-12 is where I bubble at
|
Yeah, I'm talkin' money-wise, you funny guys
|
I'm quick to yolk you up like eggs that's cooked sunny-side
|
Catch me at the honey hive, runnin' the strip
|
Gun on the hip, posted for hours, slingin' dope and power
|
Culture power, throwin' nitros, lettin' the pipes blow
|
Got remote control cars and they're not made by Tyco
|
This the Theodore, drunk off Smirnoff
|
Bit ya ear off, therefore, the drama is what I'm here for
|
From the block to the stage
|
I represent for those, locked in the cage
|
'Til I'm dropped in the graves, every line I spit, is like a, shot from the gauge
|
Move accordingly, even when I'm actin' disorderly
|
|
[Chorus - minus last 2 lines]
|
|
[Twiz]
|
Who you wit?
|
See? See? Yo!
|
I'm a Don, dead form, look upon Ezekials
|
To the generals in my click, there'll be no sequels
|
Them hot ones'll crease, the vultures'll feast you
|
The loved ones will shiest you, gorillas will beast you
|
Just served fiends walkin' up the block yawnin'
|
Late night game, damn, forgot I got a warrant
|
Got in, laid down, then start snorin'
|
P-O kickin' ya door in, 4 in the mornin'
|
You blockin' my lane-lane like John Stockton
|
With the uttermost disrespect just like, Bernard Hopkins
|
Simply, it's PC within the verse
|
See we could be peoples later, in business, Money Comes First (First)
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Theodore (feat. Trife & Twiz)
|
| Ghostface Killah |
