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 |