Ghostface k**ah - 9 Millie Bros lyrics

Bob Digi, U-G-O-D, Raekwon The Chef, the Inspektah Deck M-E-T-H-O-D the B-O-B-B (The Man) Straight up, Masta k**a, the GZA The Genius, it's the Ol' D-d-dirty ba*tard One, two, one, two (k**er Beats) Turn it up, turn it up The headphones, turn it up Yo, you hear me? (Yeah, whut up Toney?) W'sup Don' Don' (All the way up) You know how we do (Let's get this paper together) You motherf**in' right Pa, uh, huh (That's right, c'mon n***a) That's as far as it goes? Sound about to go off on some real live Wu sh**, uh, huh (WTC, Ghost-face) Lemme give y'all the bullsh** Hook for y'all n***as, check it out The burners in the stash, we about the cash We got females that got it like that The golden child's that bone the crowd See n***as in the place that bit my style Well I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers Wu-Tang got the answer 'Cuz if I had a chance to do it again I will still keep the heat in my pants, uh Y'all be nice to the crack heads, everybody listen up I shot one of my b**hes, the hoe ain't trick enough Word life to big screen Don, tapping dust-bones out With star-writers like I f**ed Celine Dion Stuck everything that's the God's honest beyond We airin' n***as out that's the type sh** that we on Official Wu-Tang head-banger Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part n***as got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose Yellow suede one matching hat with the gray gun n***as be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up We all wore down y'all broke n***as stay frontin' Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got no jury on Bet I'm still live and I'm coopin' Two of my silver-backs fun through a pack of your wolves Front on react and sippin' Cognac so relax dude Know I'm with these cracks dude Yo, one, two Yo, Dirt McGirt, solid tone smith with fifth shots Lick shots, leave your head like a Shaolin monk with six dots Brooklyn, zoo, zoo Brooklyn, zoo, zoo It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor Smash pretty boy n***as, crush they karma Eat bones with alligators, roll deep with my entourage My whole crew's fresh out the bars Diggler, a.k.a The Cab Driver Drop him off in the middle of fire Dirty Island, drag bodies to the murder land Knock n***as out hurtin' my hand I remember in the elevator we was playin' corners Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us Staten's where the war is Where the court system's running out of warrants Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus For real I can't call it You see I love Lucy 'cuz she Lawless She's exactly like that 10304 is Snitch n***as swallow your tongue Already know the island I'm from And y'all don't want no problems with them We got a history, full of lightning victories Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery Long vision, from giants in every way Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day From the East to the Ville, from the West to the hills Incredible rhymes, encouraging sk**s From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous They hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance MCs start fleeing in flocks Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock We grindin', down to the bone my name grounded in stone I'm Mr Violence we loungin' with Chrome Mr Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome Shining like a hundred thousand in stones Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero 160, my song, we throwin' elbows The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens Yeah we wild like rock stars who smash guitars Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't Ghost It's no joke, iron coat, rifle with a scope One toke, brains float, shot to the throat Before the smoke hit, witness the k**ing Southern crime scene, body on the block Eyes open from the shock of being popped in the neck Yet he's still hella lit cigarette between his fingers Danger when you step into the chamber with the master Disaster, gotta blast ya, 'cuz I have ta The rat pack is back from the Island of Stat' Leave you cursed us 'cuz you worship the gat The first one to snap drunk off your Smirnoff Blow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the boss Handcuffed to the turntables like Wizard Theodore See it's pure, let it rain pearly ounces Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast That n***a jumped up and did the Damon Dash