Released: December 21, 2010
Songwriter: Scram Jones Ghostface Killah
Producer: Scram Jones
[Ghostface Killah]
Yo... yo
Y'all respect my tour bus
We got whores with no drawers ready to do all four of us!
Wildin, bustin big bags of Ruffles
Show money, rubber band'd up in the duffle
With dirtbomb niggas that steal cake from stores
Boostin niggas that pop tags in the mall
True spot hoggers, used a few stockings
Niggas hand over the cash when heat's to they noggin
I sing a lil' lullaby, who gon' testify
The way a gruesome murder been televised?
Stupid! My name still ring in the streets though
Eighty-six, used to slip crack through the peephole
Biscuit like vaseline if I was a crook
In rap I'm past the cream, brand more lean
If you niggas complain of sore throats
Shove the gun in they mouth, throat got scratched
They suckin on Halls yo
Yeah, yo
Yo this verse is like leavin the gas on
Hog-tie a nigga for his bread, have the Hefty bag on
By any means, a cheddar king
Got a '98 kid's voice on smooth like Lenny Green
Word to my mother I air y'all niggas out
Bigger chromers for the one who got the bigger mouth
("Shout, shout, I'm talking to you, c'mon!")
Go 'head and try me, you know you a bird
You could be on +Gangland+ wit'cha face all blurred
Skull deaded up slumped over the curb
Just watch next time how you write your words
Leave you hangin like your last name
Or a old man's nuts that sag with no shame
Payback's a bitch; yeah I smash y'all berries
'fore they find you dead in your +Little House on the Prairie+
Yo, I can do this on crutches black with no legs
Both arms in a sling, push me on stage
Style still linger in the air like Glade
Girls my early 20's I used to run trains
Chill I got next, go behind Dirt
Sometimes I had to chill instead get neck
Rich chandelier gown all over my flesh
'Bout to throw ladies to Haiti, peace to Wyclef
Blowed y'all cream never throw dollar bills up
You know we window baggin that krillz up
Fingertips hurt puttin that work in
Move that white in bulk nigga like Jergens
New rappers need to skip town
This the East coast music, Grandpa Ghost is around
Icon tellin y'all now
Be out before dawn 'fore shit get wild~!
Yo... yo
Y'all respect my tour bus
We got whores with no drawers ready to do all four of us!
Wildin, bustin big bags of Ruffles
Show money, rubber band'd up in the duffle
With dirtbomb niggas that steal cake from stores
Boostin niggas that pop tags in the mall
True spot hoggers, used a few stockings
Niggas hand over the cash when heat's to they noggin
I sing a lil' lullaby, who gon' testify
The way a gruesome murder been televised?
Stupid! My name still ring in the streets though
Eighty-six, used to slip crack through the peephole
Biscuit like vaseline if I was a crook
In rap I'm past the cream, brand more lean
If you niggas complain of sore throats
Shove the gun in they mouth, throat got scratched
They suckin on Halls yo
Yeah, yo
Yo this verse is like leavin the gas on
Hog-tie a nigga for his bread, have the Hefty bag on
By any means, a cheddar king
Got a '98 kid's voice on smooth like Lenny Green
Word to my mother I air y'all niggas out
Bigger chromers for the one who got the bigger mouth
("Shout, shout, I'm talking to you, c'mon!")
Go 'head and try me, you know you a bird
You could be on +Gangland+ wit'cha face all blurred
Skull deaded up slumped over the curb
Just watch next time how you write your words
Leave you hangin like your last name
Or a old man's nuts that sag with no shame
Payback's a bitch; yeah I smash y'all berries
'fore they find you dead in your +Little House on the Prairie+
Yo, I can do this on crutches black with no legs
Both arms in a sling, push me on stage
Style still linger in the air like Glade
Girls my early 20's I used to run trains
Chill I got next, go behind Dirt
Sometimes I had to chill instead get neck
Rich chandelier gown all over my flesh
'Bout to throw ladies to Haiti, peace to Wyclef
Blowed y'all cream never throw dollar bills up
You know we window baggin that krillz up
Fingertips hurt puttin that work in
Move that white in bulk nigga like Jergens
New rappers need to skip town
This the East coast music, Grandpa Ghost is around
Icon tellin y'all now
Be out before dawn 'fore shit get wild~!