(feat. Ghostface Killah)
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[Intro: Styles P (Ghostface)]
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Yo Vinny Idol, what do you call under the underground?
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(Twin Ghost Experience!) YEAH!
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[Styles P:]
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From a hood where niggaz is miserable
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Either gon' dead you or leave you in critical
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Niggaz talkin money then show me the visual
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And then stand right there and get plucked like a chicken feather
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Stickin up the stick-up kids, nigga I'm sick as ever
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The gun is my bitch, and I bet you we stick together
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Stuck like two dogs fuckin
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You must be ready to die, fuckin with me like, you want somethin
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Ring your bell and I have you like "Who call? "
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Smack you with a bat like Pujols, bottom of the ninth
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You don't wanna see me at the bottom of the pint
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Rowdy, be outtie cause I'm a problem for the night
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Problem for your life, leg or arm missin
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I can step it up, have you doubt or your mom missin
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S.P. the Ghost and I'm trom' hittin
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Arm kickin anytime I'm spittin nigga just like a bomb hittin
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[Chorus: Styles P (Ghostface)]
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Somebody food gettin ate (gettin ate, yeah)
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Somebody gettin robbed for they plate (for they plate nigga)
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You know I go hard for the cake
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When it come to bein hard, I'm the star of the state (nigga what)
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I'm the star - somebody food gettin ate (food gettin ate, gettin ate)
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Somebody gettin robbed for they plate (robbed for they plate motherfucker)
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You know I go hard for the cake (it's the Twin Ghost Experience!)
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When it come to bein hard, I'm the star of the state
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I'm the star
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[Ghostface Killah:]
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Yo, yo, yo I'm a tell you how we do on the Island
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Squeeze your girl ass, now what, knock your punk ass off balance
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You can't come through Mickey D's, no burger no cheese
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Find your head missin, do you still want the #3?
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+Big Mac+, large order of 9's, no shake, we got shells
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Pissin on y'all bitches like R. Kell's
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And more or less staple your balls together
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And light you in kerosene, melt your whole face in your sweater
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You see the rubber gloves, thugs
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Nervous doctors play in the E.R., still wind up pullin the plug
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Cause it's a Twin Ghost Experience, flesh and spirit
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We bang, even the dead listen to deadly lyrics
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Make Big turn in his grave, even 'Pac can hear it
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Cochran, on Dirt's death, yo they tryin to appeal it
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But fuck that, all we want is the crack, the cash in bags
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Come through heavy, you might get yapped; motherfucker!
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[Chorus]
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[Styles P:]
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A lot of niggaz hoped I would die young
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Pitched in the hood hard, want me to Cy Young
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Real sharp words, guess I got me a fly tongue
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Always get high cause I feel high-strung
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I don't buy jewels, I buy haze and I buy guns
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Or they "hear me now" like the dude from Verizon
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Look at my eyes son, you won't see the next horizon
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Kickin that typical rap, despicable rap
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Or to get a hawk in your face, clip in your back
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Guess who, still keep the thing in the sweatsuit
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Hot blood leakin out your face is the best soup
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Food in the kitchen nigga, shit in the restroom
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Wreck when it's wreck time, S.P. the Ghost is five star
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Orders to the death when I rep mine
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King and the queen die, just like chess time
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If I don't kill you now I'll catch yo' ass next time
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[Chorus]
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Star Of The State
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| Styles P |
