Song information  On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Alex (Stolen Script) , by - Ghostface Killah. Release date: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
 Song information  On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Alex (Stolen Script) , by - Ghostface Killah. Alex (Stolen Script) | 
| Yeah… that’s right | 
| Hardy Boys shit… uh huh | 
| Smoke a Winston to this shit, nigga | 
| Word up, 'bout to fuckin' throw ya head up, yeah | 
| Yo, yo he got his stones from Greece | 
| In mouth he had like thirty plus karats | 
| Big ratchets, smoke cigars like a Bogart classic | 
| Told niggas if he dies he want a glass casket | 
| Parents died when he was five years old | 
| Made his way inside the US with Colombian Gold | 
| A fake name in the passport | 
| Benetton luggage, one sister, pretty thing, light skin | 
| Niggas will body over her like fuck it | 
| With a scar by her left eye | 
| Her brother Alex was extremely close, he sold coats and minks | 
| Had trays put in toilets and sinks | 
| Loved to roller skate, ninety nine did time up in Rahway | 
| Came home blown, the thorough kings and soldiers | 
| Never gave a fuck about that MC beef in Queens | 
| Alex, he was a rich nigga | 
| He had close to ten bodies under his belt | 
| His man did the last one and got murdered himself | 
| Took him a while to get his head together | 
| Alex one day out in LA, made a call in New York | 
| Told his man Oc, God it’s goin' down, fly the whole team in for support | 
| Remember that Ray shit that Jamie Foxx played? | 
| That was my shit | 
| I never got paid, they got rich off a stolen script | 
| In ninety eight I seen Charles on the Cali strip | 
| Showed him the copyrights, his life in the real flick | 
| In Braille, he read it in no time | 
| Hit me with his math, said I’ll give you some more lines | 
| Real talk, stand up dude | 
| Said how you like Jamie Foxx to replay you? | 
| He said yea that’s cool | 
| But under one circumstance, you think he can bow my walk, flip my talk and my | 
| hands? | 
| I said sure why not, he can imitate anything trust me this young boy hot | 
| Shook his hand then I bounced in the limo | 
| Grabbed my cell, bit my cigar and then rolled down the window | 
| Contacted Stony Brook and Roberts | 
| Told them we got an intent letter, yo Ray Ray signed it | 
| Now we can move on and shoot this live shit | 
| With mad options, Paramount and DreamWorks we shop it | 
| Or Mandalay and New Line cop it | 
| I go and get ten mil' and blow it on the independent market | 
| But anyway down in PF Changs, I had a meeting with this rich investor | 
| Said they’ll throw twenty million on the kid’s film only if he chose the cast | 
| He was drunk, he was talkin' real fast | 
| So I test his mouth, laid back then I put him on blast | 
| Where exactly we gon' get this cash? | 
| I gotta ill Gotti Gigante connect | 
| Wise guys that kill Bulotti, catching bodies, earnin' respect | 
| The waiter came in a dropped off the shrimp fried rice he ordered | 
| I said thanks as he poured my water | 
| Then out came the veggie rolls, sesame chicken and mint tea | 
| Rice wine had me wanting to pee | 
| Said excuse me I’ll be right back, pardon me | 
| Grabbed his glass and he nodded to me | 
| Skated off to take a piss, the shit felt like a nut | 
| Got back the dude vanished, briefcase, script, and all | 
| Ask the waiter where he go, the motherfucker spoke Spanish |