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Tytuł: Box In Hand (Remix)

  • Wykonawca: Ghostface Killah
  • Wy¶wietleń: 607
[Verse One: Ghostface Killah]
  
  Yeah, assorted flavor Clarks
  No doubt
  The beer champ
  Yeah, curly head kid
  Yo, yo, yo
  
  From Gators to blazers, low fades and razors
  Big dick saloon, I contact the womb; the black asian
  Which location keeps circulating
  I want the twin power after day shit on his mason
  A God steam represent the gummy with the green
  who walk fiend stand up on your block and burn a bean
  Sir Ballentine, lookin at this bitch walk behind
  The thing that's fucked up appeal us that's wine
  They turn around take my last pull off the L
  these niggas on the block keep looking at me well
  But they want the jewel it ain't hard to tell
  I'm recognize his face, he actin like Denzel
  But fuck him, I went to check low for chop
  on a ball gone the size like faith up top
  Now it's a whole new ball game, strategic mind frame
  My dialogue's rebellious raid and razor fame
  Glass out a red light, see Killah get on a ninja bike
  Show my love to the God he peeled out and made a right
  [Sound of speeding motorcycle]
  
  [Chorus:]
  
  When you walking down the street with your - Box in your hand
  and you bringing the music of the - Wu-Tang Clan
  And you hear Ironman on your - radio rapping
  Your feet start the dancing and your - hands start the clapping
  
  [Verse Two: Street]
  
  Street's running through your dancehall gunning
  like Lee Harvey Oswald stunning slapping MC's with summons
  for pumping - that watered down substance
  Beef there's slugs finger creeping
  making moves like Crying Freeman
  Prince of thieves, earth's third seed
  Heavyweight like golden fleeces homicides stroll the street
  If Luther preached it, look at the thugs holding heat
  In the city beef got me plotting trilogy
  To the smoke enemies sneak attacks I'm beyond and above that
  Seen that done that, respect black
  I catch a slug to your hardhat
  lounging in the everglades, surfing the airwave
  Catch a buck fifty where the razorblades swiftly
  Shaolin cats be shiesty, strictly
  drunk off the Irish whiskey
  
  [Chorus]
  
  [Verse Three: Method Man]
  
  Rest your headpiece on this one sun
  cough up a lung
  Sleeping on my murderous type ones I get you done
  I'm looking at these cuthroat kids and how they live
  It's like we was partners in spades and you renege
  Can't fuck with no nigga like that he get me jack
  Or sent back, meaning whole life fade to black
  I'm looking in the half of right and roll tight
  fool me once but can't fool me twice, I'm 25
  To life on this mic device ain't nothing nice
  a mixture of long wild rice and no spice
  Inflicted, rap addicted, track I stick it, flip it
  daddy long dick-ed, slide
  A little bit beyond twisted, mind in stitches
  You thought weak but meant wicked
  Niggas choke off my second hand smoke lifted
  everyday is like my birthday I'm mad gifted, dead calm
  Hit me with the eighteen bronze, buddah palm
  About to blow like Napalm, before your arm
  Prepare for the warfare, or buy a share
  Oh what the fuck we dealing with, yeah
  Johnny about to go there
  need another year
  Bust a shot for my sons that didn't make it here
  
  [Chorus]