Released: July 7, 2019
Songwriter: Danny Caiazzo Ghostface Killah
Producer: Danny Caiazzo
[Intro]
You realize who I am?
I'm gonna break your bones into little bits
Yo
[Verse 1]
You could throw me in a lineup, rough beard
Thick knot and my shines up
Mediterranean bezel rocks planted like saltines
Worth about six hundred thousand in the Auck scene
I still jog in the hills of Brazil
Twelve eggs and my conditioning coach is Anderson Sil
He a prize fighter, and me, I'm a prize writer
Time you industry niggas recognize fire
Boric acid mixed with ricin
Don't stand under a tree 'cause my flow is lightning
Some say I should be prosecuted, death by lethal injection
Electrocuted or Malcolm X 'em
Or send a Chinese bitch in the club to stretch him
And if that don't work, then it's on to the next one
Beef, we can let it cook, fried to perfection
Got the bulldog snub that'll cave your chest in
[Interlude]
You know what'd happen if I punched you really hard?
[Verse 2]
Ayy, yo, my moms never knew that she was nursin' a wolf
And I wrote this on 9/11, covered in soot
Spittin' tobacco out my mouth in Claiborne fatigues
Posted under a Brinks truck waiting to squeeze
Stay on point like the nose of a marlin, Spartacus brawler
Pressin' y'all pussies in public, nigga, you stallin' with
Nowhere to run, faggot, I'll grab your ear
My shootin' arm stay fresh like a bag of gear
Goose coats, yachts, diving off of big boats
My bitch pedicured up with a sick throat
So cold, making you stutter
"I-I-I c-c-can't believe Ghost is still gutter"
Everywhere I go, I'm polyg'ed up
Cohen optical frames of Breitling, dipped with a crisp cut
See me on a Jackson 5 cover next to Randy
They had black 'fros, mine was sandy
Buckwheat Jackson
[Outro]
You gonna fight or not?
Get off, get off
You realize who I am?
I'm gonna break your bones into little bits
Yo
[Verse 1]
You could throw me in a lineup, rough beard
Thick knot and my shines up
Mediterranean bezel rocks planted like saltines
Worth about six hundred thousand in the Auck scene
I still jog in the hills of Brazil
Twelve eggs and my conditioning coach is Anderson Sil
He a prize fighter, and me, I'm a prize writer
Time you industry niggas recognize fire
Boric acid mixed with ricin
Don't stand under a tree 'cause my flow is lightning
Some say I should be prosecuted, death by lethal injection
Electrocuted or Malcolm X 'em
Or send a Chinese bitch in the club to stretch him
And if that don't work, then it's on to the next one
Beef, we can let it cook, fried to perfection
Got the bulldog snub that'll cave your chest in
[Interlude]
You know what'd happen if I punched you really hard?
[Verse 2]
Ayy, yo, my moms never knew that she was nursin' a wolf
And I wrote this on 9/11, covered in soot
Spittin' tobacco out my mouth in Claiborne fatigues
Posted under a Brinks truck waiting to squeeze
Stay on point like the nose of a marlin, Spartacus brawler
Pressin' y'all pussies in public, nigga, you stallin' with
Nowhere to run, faggot, I'll grab your ear
My shootin' arm stay fresh like a bag of gear
Goose coats, yachts, diving off of big boats
My bitch pedicured up with a sick throat
So cold, making you stutter
"I-I-I c-c-can't believe Ghost is still gutter"
Everywhere I go, I'm polyg'ed up
Cohen optical frames of Breitling, dipped with a crisp cut
See me on a Jackson 5 cover next to Randy
They had black 'fros, mine was sandy
Buckwheat Jackson
[Outro]
You gonna fight or not?
Get off, get off