Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Raekwon
Raekwon
Vocals
Ghostface Killah
Ghostface Killah
Vocals
U-God
U-God
Vocals
The Dramatics
The Dramatics
Sampled Artist
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Songwriter
Corey Woods
Corey Woods
Songwriter
Tony Hester
Tony Hester
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Executive Producer
Oli Grant
Oli Grant
Executive Producer
Mitchell Diggs
Mitchell Diggs
Executive Producer
Islord
Islord
Assistant Engineer
4th Disciple
4th Disciple
Assistant Engineer
Tom Coyne
Tom Coyne
Mastering Engineer
Dennis Coles
Dennis Coles
Executive Producer

Lyrics

One for you, one for me Two for you, one-two for me Three for you What? I'll smack fuck out ya Smack fire out your fuckin' ass What the fuck you think this is man? Get the fuck up outta here man So yo matter of fact, the man is back Think my head is madder than fuckin' fire Shit alright, this ain't even enough burn right here This ain't enough Fuck it man We gonna shoot right over there And yo them niggaz got the big cream over there So just chill So let's do this the fuck up, roll up like tropical kid Don't play me like I got a flowerpot head kid Just chill man On the real let's go get this money fast son I know how we gotta do this kid Scrungy-head motherfucker Lay on the crime scene, sippin' fine wines Pullin nines on, UFOs, takin' they fly clothes They eyes closed, we gettin' loot No doubt, check the word of mouth, unheard about Guns go off and now a murder 'bout, I'm out My raps play the part like a get smart secret agent In a maze and, styles blazin', Johnny Blaze And Tony Starks in a daze and Rhymin', my nigga Lou Diamond will wrap it up We like meth to go and fuck with noodles Havin' them poodles on the lockdown buyin' me Amarettas, and chewables, stackin' pharmecuetical Rap niggaz on dust and wools Yo, I told you, some kill, rob and fold The gold's untold, fuck it it beats parole So stroll marvelous, soul controller Of the whole globe, god damn I got it sewn And yo, whattup pop, pop the suitcase high And we can talk, you can walk out the fuckin' building And get caught, save the fully inflatable Rap relatable, drug relatable, niggaz here to play with you A hundred dollar rottweiler goes to spot sellers Guns and glocks go to niggaz who got props On top, jail niggaz get mad bigger And yo, mail a guy about a hundred pictures Word to momma, this rap wonderama team got drama Comma, plus smoke realize marijuana Chef may resign to boat across the farasana Immaculate plus all my guns so accurate They get cream and the cuisine in Queens I told you, money stated with the night beams and two rings Crazy fat, gettin ready to do this shit Sniff mad shit man, what the fuck! Who's the knucklehead, wantin' respect? Chop his fingers in the drug game, money well known Lead singer, humdinger, flash is the aftermath Here's his photograph Run up in his lab, take off the mask chaz and think fast Don't laugh, bag the cash Grab the hash, don't forget his stash Grab the tear gas, and place it in his face fast the full blast Then skate to the next state Further upstate, I heard they got crazy weight Bagged up by the gates, in crates like disco breaks Yo look out for jakes, give it all it takes Let's burn the place before we motivate Yo blake, niggaz don't fink, rape his mate If the bitch scream, for God's sake, grab the grey tape It's by the plate, with the blow crushed up with the flakes Killer snakes, four bodies found floatin' in lakes Drug related, paper talkin' 'bout the kids who didn't make it Hits without a trace Never seen the big C and ghostface Congratulations chef, let's celebrate and sip an eighth The rap scar is on rap chrome Put it on seal it on, we're silicone spark it on your talkathon This rap phenomenon, to word is bond to the arms Hit me on the hip and horns, rap chaperone Scars tone, bar clones, war tones, raw tones Blowin' out the door, bones but Your rap's fraudulent, float in these rap quarter inches Reinforced with suspense, be on your rap sword defense These microphone professional, sensational Fully operational, I got niggaz here to play with you You know the steez you know my whole program Brothers from the no-lands, all we want is the G's Guns and grams, livin' fat like the hoffa Mafia, sippin' eatin' pastas Layin' in the house tellin' the seeds about the sagas Before we got germanic and thoughts got sporadic We grabbed golden tablets and quick guarded the abbots Slugs hit the belly put tones into the telly Sucker tried to knock me out the box like skelly I smoke the weed dreams I drop top two degrees Honeydips spendin G's on nails and hair weave The crime boss, takin' no loss, excessive force We can play the A train, back off the iron horse Yo man, Y'know what I'm sayin'? Fuck it man
Writer(s): Robert F Diggs, Corey Woods Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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