(feat. Busta Rhymes)
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[Intro: Raekwon]
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Come on, man, you a wild dude, Chef
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Talk to them niggas, man, stop playing, man
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For real, man
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[Raekwon:]
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Redskin leather, Indian sex
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Pair of fresh Mocs on, lighting Lear on my flesh
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Let my arm roll, fresh off the honor roll, platinum bottles of Cru'
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All my niggas do what I got 'em for
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Extra flashy grind, hit 'em with a crisp rhyme
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Lines is nothing, blunt out, fuck him
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All we know is jewelry and I mashed that, everybody excited
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To see whatever bling on, smash that
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Clever, more like a fox and ox together
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Two stainless glocks, rocks and a feather
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Yeah, I'm from the lead era, shoot at
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Anything that move, and move out America
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And all we ever want is needed, seen it
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Like a young Filipino in Kuwait getting treated
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Heavy horror armor, spike a bitch like her
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Half a pound of good weed, then float through Gowanus
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Brilliant master, sixteenth chapel in the Apple
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Flooded up, Warridge wackos
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Park Hillians getting hillions, that means millions
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All on feet like Nigerian
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[Busta Rhymes:]
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Shallah, I got 'em
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Heat-seeking missile spit, don't even try to hide, nigga
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Sizzle through your skin bars, call me cyanide, bitch
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Try me if you want, homey, violation's a no-no
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I am the health hazard, skull & bone, poisonous logo
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Unleash the dragon, massacre the scene
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I'm spitting, burn a hole through the speaker,
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And start melting the street up
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Somebody please call the fire department
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And I'm a strong believer,
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Ya'll know that I ain't the one to start with
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Cause once the fuse is lit and we strike a match and the spark smell
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My fangs bleed and we nam them up like ox tail
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Ya'll see what's happening, ya'll know what the truth is
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Somebody please ask Shallah Rae why he making me do this
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Cause once I finish dudes, it's unfortunate for them yappers
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Throw them in the trash, they ain't no recycling bin for rappers
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I microphone control, it's the current dominant factor
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The records been bodied, I personally request the pastor, gone
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Crane Style
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| Raekwon |
