Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ghostface Killah
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Anita Poree
Songwriter
Dennis Coles
Songwriter
Jerry Peters
Songwriter
Vance Branch
Songwriter
Ghostface Killah
Arranger
RZA
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
RZA
Producer
Jose "Choco" Reynoso
Mixing Engineer
Chris Athens
Mastering Engineer
Gabe Chiesa
Recording Engineer
Choo
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Ayo
I'm like Malcolm, out the window with a joint
Hoodied up, blood in my eye, I let two fly
Like fuck it, look how these **** duck shit
One kid hollerin' "What!" lookin' up, he the big wig
Fake ass cat, low life, sodomized mind
Beatin' ****, big bricks of bread, sell them as dimes
His feet hurt, networkin', he get no work
Yo, smack him where his hand hurt, fuck what he worth
Yo, he sucked his thumb, Slew footed kid, laced with the pink gums
Stuntin' to my Baltimore **** that he on the run
Plus he ill on the drums, heartburn for life, calcium man
Watch him grab the tums, he's a front
Pigeon-toed Tyler's sister with the fat ass
Show hash for Hines, up the block, plus he smashed her
Big Buck did him something deadly, act premeditated
Buck 60 strike was the medley
Nice like Van Halen, seen him at the tunnel with his skin peelin'
Did two days, thought he was jailin'
You get close look at his hands
That's the same kid that cut his wrists, talkin' bout "the cuffs did it"
He bantam weight, frontin' majorly, eyes like Sammy Davis Jr.
Rounded off with a fade, G, he sport the Bob Hope classics
Rand down Asics, K-mart, the short sleeve shit be the basics
He eat hams, shitted on himself twice, big-hatted Jews
Rushed the **** out in Crown Heights
[Verse 2]
Yo let me tell you how the game go
We gettin' rid of all the prostitutes
Tony wants the streets back fo sho
Too many hustlers, too many thieves
We're fuckin up, who's willin' to fight and teach the seeds?
Too much TV, guns and robberies
Lust and greed and hate, the 4 devils' jealousy
[Verse 3]
Yo I Cham-punched Mase in his face over some bullshit
The other night they kidnapped his brother, pokin' it with knives
It's rainin', 85 degrees, kinda muggy
One of them nights they throw it in his face, it's real ugly
Yo we up in Jonesy's posin', all these **** know me
From fuckin' wit under these ****, heavy parolees
Yo we played the speaker
And from a distance we could see these chains
The P slayed, flat on his chest was two planes
Ashy hands yo, no need for rings at all
He just cracked the V8, backed up, leaned against the wall
Look at Flower, he just came home, he on like a fuck
Did a dime for holdin' up the guards up in the armored truck
Ten years later, son 280 on the weight tip
He throwin' up six plates, plus he studied Matrix
He's a Wally horse, shout it out, sweatin' through his velour
Cock-eyed ****, back of his neck, he had sores
Sammy eagerly, rode up on him
Toxi off the turkey with the joint on him
Flower, look his man stood up before him
The bitches hit the table, Jahking stripped off his cables
Shots went off, Sam'll get a chance to make his debut
Flower grabbed Tiff, his man with the sideburns, hat fell off
We noticed ring worms, he hid behind Rich
C-Allah hit the light switch, young girls were trampled
In the measured pool, pistol with Mase and broke the handle
Desperate, crawlin' to the door on all fours
Shim kicked the jukebox, the theme song rode in was "It's Yours"
Oh my goodness, Ba grabbed the Mo bottle thrashin'
He layin' like a gay model shoutin' out Sebastian
He smiled with his teeth missin', beggin' for mercy
No more god, the 68 thousand down and Pier 3
Out cam the cannon, whistled out zaggin'
Cham snatched his flag, four big rocks, enter the dragon
It's over, another story told
Lyin' with the snakes, tongue kissing' cobras
[Verse 4]
Yo let me tell you how the game go
We gettin' rid of all the prostitutes
Tony wants the streets back fo sho
Too many hustlers, too many thieves
We're fuckin up, who's willin' to fight and teach the seeds?
Too much TV, guns and robberies
Lust and greed and hate, the 4 devils' jealousy
Written by: Anita Poree, Ghostface Killah, Jerry Peters, V. Branch, Vance Branch