| Holllllllld it!
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| Now you get out of here, I’m warning you
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| (You bastards can’t push us around — wanna fight?)
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| I’ll take you on That nigga’s twisted
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| Stop playin with that clip man
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| Close them fuckin blinds too man, y’knahmsayin?
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| Yo Don my man, get out of the stove man
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| Get away from the stove nigga
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| Stop playin man, the fuck is you talkin 'bout?
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| I’m in the crib watchin Larry King Live, the new Guccis on Refridgerator, smokin some kush, this nigga’s a lighter
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| Swisher, becomin a roach, go get the glass ashtray
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| Pour the glass of Crut, tap the bottle then toast
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| Barrie took a sip for the cause, yeah my son
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| Soon to be 3, tried to fill his bottle then run
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| Then I got a collect call, heard niggaz down the block is fightin
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| Some nigga got, knifed up brawlin
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| Heard the kid was 19, Lil’Infinity too
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| His father worked up at the dealer he loved boo
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| They tried him for his Louis', son wasn’t havin it though
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| Yeah, yeah my nigga, the color of glue
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| Decided on a intervene, guess who tried to wild on me my nigga
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| This is like out of the blue
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| I’m in the Range stretch, jumped out, tucked the chain
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| Proceded to talk to him, then you heard the heavy face slap
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| Think I broke my wrist, now I’m at the hospital vexed
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| Fucked up my writing hand, that’s my check
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| Now I wanna kill this lil’nigga true
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| Only thing that stop my gun flamin cause he related to you
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| Who? |
| He ain’t related to me Just that I knew him for like 18 years until he violated, stealin my gear
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| If my lil’homey, yo he eat anything for me Send him uptown, he get bagged, yo he never call me Come home and still blow cats for me Pump crack, stabbin all them hoodrat shorties
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| A live gunslinger well known, born to dance
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| When the heat is on, Stapleton days, shoot hisself in the groin
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| The gun went off, it looked like a flick
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| When he fell to the floor, holdin his nuts, screamin «God damnit
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| Shit I put one in my balls, what the fuck y’all lookin at me for?
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| Call the police, do somethin
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| Motherfuckers standin around, watch when I get better
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| All hell’s gonna be terror
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| Death to you, you,"he pointed at Red
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| I said chill that’s fam duke
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| He put real work in that make you cute, fuck that
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| But anyway son indeed, he stole two Polo rugbies
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| Swore to his dead mother, I couldn’t take it Yo Lord I knocked out his teeth
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| Now he’s rockin those false joints like everything’s peace |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song R.A.G.U., artist - Ghostface Killah. Album song GhostDeini The Great, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп