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作词 : Dennis Coles/Jason Hunter/Darryl Hill |
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作曲 : Danny Caiazzo |
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Intro: Ghostface Killah |
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Yeah, baby, yeah |
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You know what it is, Yap City (All day) |
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C'mon |
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Sh1t make you wanna smack somethin' off top |
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Word up, check it |
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Yeah, y'all n1ggas is goin' to hell, yo |
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Verse 1: Ghostface Killah |
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I pledge allegiance to crime, right hand on the burner |
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Death to all cornball niggas who wanna turn up |
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I call it gettin' it in, you call it animosity |
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Listen, you could never match my velocity |
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Too much stamina, glitter in front of cameras |
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On the red carpet, still clean your clock like a janitor |
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Favorite Pac joint was "I Ain't Mad at Cha" |
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Skinny jean faggot, you ain't man enough |
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You ain't got the heart to snuff plus cut, stab, or bust |
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We wrestle down elephants, two hundred grand per tusk |
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The ball spinnin', spillin' Spades on Asian women |
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Love them pretty black joints, lil' Malaysian in 'em |
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Ghost got a gambling habit, I burn bookies |
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Smack so many promoters out here, they scared to book me |
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Verse 2: Inspectah Deck |
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Scared to book n1ggas, your highness |
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Diamonds on the Yankee sign, dirt on the camo |
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Six stones floodin' the left hand like Thanos |
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While you sambos dance to Bo Jangles |
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I'm verified, toasting on boats with hoes, damsels |
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Yeah, son, I'm loving the hate |
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Why I keep a knife on me, so I'm sure to get a cut of the cake |
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Now my name hold double the weight |
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That's an actual fact, a million plus motherfxxkers relate, yeah |
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I'm on them heavy bags like Deontay |
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And I'm wild caught, y'all n1ggas farm-raised |
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For 50 Cent, I went to war with many men |
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Then slapped them with the jacket like Benny Hinn |
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I'm hittin' that jet fuel, you're new in the game, lame |
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You'll never use Deck for a step stool |
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Verse 3: Cappadonna |
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They don't wanna hear that sh1t, they want Dorothy |
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Fire comin' out of my mouth, that's an arsony |
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I'm so hood, tossed the nine when I left it |
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Rubber bands wrapped around my thoughts the more I stretch it |
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When it come back, I pop that sucker shit |
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I smoke blunts and I spit on that rhetoric |
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Original ties in, SI gutter |
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Let's get it right, f11k you and your brother |
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My raps in the back of your head like two mufflers |
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So pull your dress up, your ass ain't tough enough |
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N1ggas cuddle up with the wife, they can't come out |
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I be at the club all night, I might dumb out |
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You fxxk around with big dawgs, ain't no bark here |
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Fxxk you and your friends, n1gga, you can't park here |
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My sword indeed make more n1ggas bleed |
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Leave it to the specialists, we mean business |
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Come and get some, you want none |
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I hit it Wu-Tang style, caught up in the mix |
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(Wu-Tang style, caught up in the mix) |
