[Intro: Raekwon] Yo, shorty, man Yo, I been seeing you, man, for real, man, come on, man Yo, man, tell your girl let me sleep with her, man I give you a thousand grams
[Raekwon:] He throw blow in lands, hit good pussy up, kush me up My dough is advanced and rover with the lambskin coat on Lighting reefer, my mans and them We got plans, man, but first show me where the grams went Ten fold scheme in the doorway, we all the way in now What they rolling for? We blowing them bowling balls Rifle with the knife on it, lifers jump right up on it Maseratis double piping, wrist lightning I rhyme for the flight men, the drug boys, thug noise They want, they come get it from me, it's like done I'm just a scholar with some street drug news, plug dudes No kidnappings, we mug dudes, I love jewels Might take your man shit, up in the jam and shit Listening to Eric B. and Rakim planning shit I'm all for the vandal shit, good nights Bet I got a good gun with long bullets and a Taruga light Come to the palace, chalices, hood pussy from Dallas All of this is childish, I allowed this Rap saved the babies, all these young niggas with these 3-80's Fronting like they robbed down Macy's Stop it, we them cockpit boys, we got shit Plus pop shit, grab your bird twatty; obnoxious Flashin' knots and shit, yachts that smell like piss It's all good, we only fucking in her mouth, partner The lock men, I rock, was robbing, met her out in Africa Yeah, yeah, bought her my glock, let me hold that man...
[Chorus x2: Raekwon] We the Dutch Masters, the blunts with the gun flashers Love maxing, watch niggas last moves Keep it cool, get those ones, play the building Get your run game on, and stay stashing
[N.O.R.E.:] Aiyo, octopus hands, slash backs of the gold rolly Shootouts in the liquor store, my man on parole owe me Old man freedom still preaching on the block Still talking, you can't sling drums and hold a walkman Fishcale dumped inside the quarter water juices Staircase madness, the hammer stash gooses Went to time flow, yo I heard they let Shyne go Big whip spaces, betting at the horse races Old school with it, banging Julio Iglesias Suaded leather seats, feet reclined, line back of moves Homey with the chipped tooth from Faragent, he arrogant Did a bid with him, gave him razors in the church hall Then he turn Muslim, Jihad to hurt ya'll Hooligan goon shit, never onto FUBU Never on computers, niggas never heard of Google Mink slippers lounging with the cashmere headband Still spending Euro's, Germany, Dresden Dubai high, drinking all the French water Champagne-yah, my campaign a, macarena Aim a flamer, his accent was Dana Daner I mean Dana Dane, distribution crazy 'caine Elvis sideburns, his appearance always crazy lame Move big weight though, winnebago Remind me of Dego, and Jose Canseco The man in San Diego, that's where he lay low His soldiers do what he say so, all day though Yeah, little nigga you gotta respect protocol That's where you come from homeyboy
[Chorus x2: N.O.R.E.] Aiyo, cigar niggas, Phillies my favorite Beat the affidavit, that good weed, you save it Run through the alleyways, ever since the valley days We been on that New York shit but smoking Cali haze
[Capone:] Aiyo, five grams crushed in a bill fold, he snorted it Coke professor, test it before he ordered it Lamping on a La-Z-Boy, real McCoy, flick the ashes Champagne bitches is butt naked, filling glasses Whips with the mean stashes, ox spitting gun clappers Onasis money, she fly with the package Easy Wider rider nigga, I'm a bamboo vandal Ran through cities, looking for white paper, that rice papers That bullshit, the back of the Bibles, the light saver I blow joints to the head, Al Queda raider Black bandanna, old hammer, phone scrambler Niggas wearing wires cause shit bad, lit on fire Old school marvels, pardon the middle, waves bust to the side Still rocking diddy bop like '85 Them pinky rings, diamond crust Diors is diamonds dusted, trust it My niggas rob to rob niggas, so fuck it Hip hop awards, I was low in them bucket, blowing kisses at Toya Luckett Before that I was backstage puffing
[Chorus x2: Capone] For my bamboo niggas, lay low playing the benches, relentless Fresh home from a sentence You know the rules, get your money and move, blast tools Clap dudes, keep they ear to the streets with tattoosTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
