| Yeah... yeah.. | |
| Yo, yo | |
| [Ghostface Killah] | |
| Talk about it, if you live it, if not, don't even spit it | |
| **** your niggaz and them rap credits | |
| I'm in the '88 candidates, paisley'd out | |
| In them Coca-Cola rugby's, two bitches, with a front in my mouth | |
| That's right, standin' in the lobby with tech | |
| Briefer sheets, make the leaf, taste better, we love that wet | |
| Got the new Patrick Ewing Jr.'s, square you, it was boomin' | |
| We was robbin' digits, James or Rakim, he kept it smooth and | |
| Mona Lisa, Mona Lisa, can I bone you? Say I can | |
| Yes, I can, I'm lethal | |
| None of these rappers can touch my pen | |
| I'mma killer, that's why I bounce back in the end | |
| I'm not, Freddy or Jason, or on probation | |
| The lifetime achievement award is what I'm facin' | |
| It's time for sentencin', the game, I'mma just rewrite it | |
| Puttin' it to sleep, don't try to fight it, come on | |
| [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] | |
| Me and Trife, yo, we wicked with lead-a | |
| Especially, when both of our tummies ain't fed-a | |
| Theodore click, aimin' for your head-a | |
| We the twat team, when we be gettin' that head-a | |
| Don't get it twisted, yo, we out for the bread-a | |
| It's on and poppin', like we rock blue and red-a | |
| You wonder why these faggots poppin' up dead-a | |
| We love hip hop, gives us our cred'-a | |
| [Trife Da God] | |
| I'm from the era, when the chronic was hittin', Onyx was spittin' | |
| Throw Ya Gunz in the air, that year, have party's slippin' | |
| Back then, power dollars was the party admission | |
| Air Jordans, and Scottie Pippen's had the latest addition | |
| And number 5's, with the lead on the side | |
| Used to rock the L used jean suit, and the letters in dye | |
| Doo-rags under my Starter cap, nigga, I started that | |
| And if a nigga stepped on your sneakers, you caught a heart attack | |
| Bumpin' The Artifacts, mixed it on the fader | |
| Freestylin' up like DJ Tone, playin' the Sega | |
| Neighbors handin' out papers, promotin' g's to save us | |
| Tryin' guide us, hopin' one day, we'll change our behaviors | |
| Floatin' on traitors, them haters, they got the vapors | |
| Now we style on 'em, kids that bitches, that tried to play us | |
| And to them faggot ass cops, that tried to slay us | |
| You can't stop it, this is what the streets fight us | |
| [Chorus] |
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