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作词 : Dennis Coles/Shawn Wigs/Dennis Ames |
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作曲 : Danny Caiazzo |
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Let's go, baby, let's go |
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Verse 1/Ghostface Killah: Yo, Big paper, skyscrapers |
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The black Jerry Buss, I can buy the Lakers |
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Fly everything |
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Stand on the Bentley and toast to stones in every ring |
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Forty helicopters with choppers, back to Medellín |
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Undercover task force reveals |
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They get chills when on the heels of a killa |
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Way iller with his mask off |
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Three stooge of these n1ggas |
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Leave 'em in the dust on the crash course |
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I don't even ask for the pxssy, wizzes pass off |
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Cinco de Mayo, I'm into the bayou, one hell of a bio |
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I live that life you can stuff in the vial |
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Black 590 Mossberg'll knock off your smile |
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Tony wrist game water like it was dipped in the Nile |
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Forty-inch cable is fatal (Uh-huh), I need a neck brace |
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The gold I wore'll weigh more than your table |
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Jameson bags of scotch, the red dot on the label |
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If Chi-Town is Chiraq, Staten Island is Beirut |
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Chorus: Shawn Wigs & Sun God |
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All we want is the dead presidents, take measurements |
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You follow the old, we makin' new testaments |
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Supreme specimens, Wu-Tang regiments |
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Watch your mouth when you speakin' to excellence |
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Verse 2/Sun God: Yo |
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I probably left a couple scenes |
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but that's only through back exits |
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Mommy cryin', homie died, couldn't make it past eleven |
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Twenty-one, twenty gun salute, bring him back in seconds |
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Off that juice, hang 'em off the roof how n1ggas send a message |
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We be wildin', keep the toolie on us case you wanna check us |
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Off the line and get your homie clapped just for sending texts |
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Every spot Mr. JJ Watt, known to get them Texans |
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Quiet down, everybody now, God gon' send a message |
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In my country for what you worth, but you ain't life threatenin' |
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You ain't running, just drag your feet |
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'cause you ain't light stepping |
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Send 'em all to come dim your lights |
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you gon' need a light expection |
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Just give 'em a couple shots |
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we gon' give 'em light injections |
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I'm cleaning these n1ggas messes |
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but soon as I switched my groove |
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Got out and moved, these n1ggas became the death wish |
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N1ggas became reckless, young, black and flexin' |
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N1gga (Young, black and flexin') |
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Chorus: Shawn Wigs |
| [01:51.45] |
All we want is the dead presidents, take measurements |
| [01:55.11] |
You follow the old, we makin' new testaments |
| [01:57.86] |
Supreme specimens, Wu-Tang regiments |
| [02:00.98] |
Watch your mouth when you speakin' to excellence |
