*featuring Sheek Louch, Styles P
|
|
[Intro: sample]
|
World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere
|
World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere
|
|
[Ghostface Killah]
|
What these clown niggaz hollerin'?
|
What they need to be hollerin', is "There go Theodore!"
|
Put the ball down, we can't score
|
They pen shit to blackboards, make queens out of wack broads
|
You see us comin'? Fuck that Fam shit, just pass off, you bitch
|
Crystal' Dana Dane's wrapped around your neck
|
Lookin' rich, baow, you fucked up now
|
See my gun, nigga? This baby got stuffed uptown
|
Shouted out, made a whole safe with the pump root pounds
|
My buddy, keep my gun, right next to my tummy
|
Ask the click, yo, they spit metal lungies
|
Detach wigs, kill flunkies off contact, sonsee
|
Didn't mommy tell y'all niggaz to wear clean undies?
|
See y'all should of listened to her
|
She knew her son had a big mouth, and some day death would accur
|
Please for Ms. Gale's sake, and her seeds
|
Pass the flurry, ain't fuckin' around, they knocked to her weave
|
|
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
|
Uh-oh... (word up) This still... (what you talkin' bout, baby?)
|
Real kids spit that shit..
|
|
[Sheek Louch]
|
Let's go, let's go, let's go, yo, yeah
|
Me and Starks clear projects parks
|
With our '93 shit, army coat green and light tan Clarks
|
Niggaz think I'm lucky, bitches wanna fuck me
|
And put me in the tub with them like I'm a rubber ducky
|
I got a revolver in the pump about the size of Chucky
|
I remember faces easy as I tie my laces
|
Here, put the metal in your mouth, like you was rockin' braces
|
I spit an iron lungie, yeah, I'm old school like the Iron Monkey
|
My shit powerful enough to lift a fuckin' donkey
|
I got heavy chrome, niggaz don't care if you live to die
|
They happier than Marbury home
|
Ya'll niggaz better kill me, my street niggaz feel me
|
Louch gotta eat, ends gotta meet
|
The hard shit you kickin' bout is on beat as Tweet
|
This is Theodore, D-Block, the year adore
|
It's son who fall, with the four-four, niggaz like..
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
[Styles P.]
|
Yeah... nigga this is Ghost with Ghostface
|
I don't sell millions but I get millions from the v's who smoke base
|
Somebody leavin' out with a poked face
|
Tone, you burnin' to kick his teeth out, and sware don't catch no case
|
I'mma make you look like you smoke taste, and we don't leave no trace
|
These rap niggaz sware that they so safe
|
I don't wanna talk to you holmes, I don't communicate
|
My guns they in my hand, one in my palm
|
And I could dial your number, like a smile off the face
|
With the H.K. 9, I'm the all black hummer
|
Metal lungies'll spit the grungiest shit
|
Hungriest shit, seventeen dummies a clip
|
Tell them rap niggaz to suck my dick, fuck the industry
|
And shift, shut down the store, bust my shit
|
I got some hustlin' ass niggaz that'll pump my bricks
|
And some dust head niggaz that'll dump my clips, what?
|
|
[Chorus]
|
|
-----------------
|
Metal Lungies
|
Ghostface Killah |