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Credits
AUSFÜHRENDE KÜNSTLER:INNEN
Ghostface Killah
Künstler:in
Just Blaze
Klavier
Rob Mathes
Klavier
Larrance Dopson
Orgel
Lamar Edwards
Orgel
Jeff Kievit
Trompete
Tom Timko
Altsaxofon
Birch Johnson
Posaune
KOMPOSITION UND LIEDTEXT
Dennis Coles
Komponist:in
J. Smith
Komponist:in
Rob Mathes
Arrangeur:in
PRODUKTION UND TECHNIK
Just Blaze
Produzent:in
Ryan West
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
David Brown
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Andrew Wright
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Anthony "Acid" Caputo
Aufnahmeingenieur:in
Gimel "Young Guru" Keaton
Mischtechniker:in
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Godzilla bankroll, stones from Sierra Leone
Yo, I ain't got it all, that means I'm barely home
Trailblazer stay ballin' with vengeance
My arts is crafty darts, why y'all stuck on Laffy Taffy?
Wonderin', yeah, how did y'all **** get past me?
I been doin' this before Nas dropped the Nasty
My Walla's, I did 'em up, them bricks, I sent 'em up
My raps, y'all bit 'em up, for that, now stick 'em up
10/4, good buddy, Tone got his money up
Worth millions, still bag your bitch lookin' bummy, what?
Y'all starin' at the angel of death
Liar, liar, pants on fire, you burnin' up like David Koresh
This is architect music, verbal street opera
Pop a TEC, mad fluid, got the projects boomin' indeed
I ran through the Tunnel, terrorized speed
That's when I was still in the jungle, slingin' that D
[Verse 2]
Who wanna battle the don?
I'm James Bond in the octagon, with two razors
Bet y'all didn't know I had a fake arm
I lost it, wild and raw before rap, I was gettin' it on
Took a fat **** out in like forty seconds
My gun get hard wit' a .45 steel erection
Eagle on, Kangol half-slanted
Coconut Ballys from Morocco
Guerrilla medallions like Flavor Flav clock, yo
**** want me dead, but they scared to step to me
Rip they guts out like a hysterectomy
When beef collide, look on the flip, by the penitentiary kite
Or get you bumped off from the inside
Jaws is hangin', frauds is left in they drawers on the floor
Complainin', bird ass **** resemble Keenen Ivory Wayans
Stay in your place, dirt poor rappers get shadowboxed for training
Y'all still eatin' bacon
[Verse 3]
I'm like the deuce of diamonds cuttin' spades on the glass table
Half a mil' on my left ankle
Terrycloth Guess shorts, robes is comfortable
Bring me a nice bitch, that means I'll fuck wit' you
My swagger is Mick Jagger, Stones is Rolling
Prestige is cut to a T, sparkin' weed went up
The coca leaf is slightly damp
Sproutin' in the backyard next to Gram Duke Tumatoe plants
And jets get chartered, marquee shit with the cars on it
The haters, they earl, run to the toilet and vomit
Back East, I'm a MC king since Cuban
Pretty Tone, Iron Man, Bulletproof, and Supreme
Kufi on, double deuce in the jeans
My man's shape was on the floor with the motherlode
Both of them green
IBF, WBC, cruiserweight title shots, rap belts belong to D.C.
Written by: Dennis Coles, J. Smith