Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Toney Sigel a.k.a. The Barrel Brothers, artist - Ghostface Killah. Date of issue: 31.12.2006
Song language: English
Toney Sigel a.k.a. The Barrel Brothers |
| Yo, straight out the ghetto, I’m damn hood |
| I stack a dollar like a whole rack of canned goods |
| Baggy jeans, no Timbs, ACG boots |
| Livin' in the crack spot, bangin' that Sheek Louch |
| The narcotics is far from garbage |
| Whether it’s cold or it’s late August |
| My shit is fresh cuz I catch the hottest |
| My little cousin bubble swatches and carry a couple oxes |
| Keep a deuce deuce by his ankle and get it poppin' |
| You know, we be the boys clockin' the graveyard shift |
| Big bubbles, countin' the cream, burnin' the lazar spliff |
| My man jumps out the whip with the AR 5th |
| And we ball from plenties of parties, 'cause we start shit |
| Parole holes, six months in the box |
| My little sister got her head shaved off |
| She made it home from shock |
| We sellin cartons, Pampers, Similac formula |
| Anything you take because the paper keep callin ya |
| Gangsters keep ballin fosho, we want more |
| We make it rain from the tech and the wop |
| The next coroner priests don’t have enough cups for us |
| To slow us up, they hit us with dusk |
| Then they rush-bust, my man Big Ron will break the cuffs |
| 300 pound nigga, po-po has to fuck him up |
| They say that my projects should undergo therapy |
| We never voted, we votin' for Oprah, Obama, and Eric B |
| Guns imported from Duval |
| Wheelchairs and shit bags |
| Peach Snapples and pretty scalpels, renaissance |
| I’ll stick a pick in ya gut at the chapel |
| I’ll blow a nigga for a box of Huggies |
| Cop-killers with a box of dummies |
| Dummies, stuck to the project floors |
| Niggas is suited up and we ready for war |
| It’s the Broad Street Bully and the Killah with no Face |
| My mac bullets burn like tequila with no chase, yeah! |
| My knife work like the guillotine sword, cutting niggas |
| Stop frontin' for my killa bee swarm, something |
| Empty out the whole clip and reload |
| Shotgun barrel leave it smoking like a broke stove |
| Yeah, and I’m all about that bullshit |
| The casket, the hearse, and the pastor in the pulpit |
| I kill a nigga at the drop of a dime |
| Just imagine what I’d do for a quarter |
| Ain’t no tellin what I’d do for a dollar |
| Pop a nigga right in front of his mama |
| Son a nigga right in front of his daughter |
| And I’m nothing like your father |
| You couldn’t come from these nuts I got |
| And C. Baltimore sucked this cock |
| I know most of y’all wouldn’t understand |
| Get it? |
| Understand? |
| Yeah some niggas will and some niggas won’t |
| Like some niggas kill and some niggas don’t (uh-uh) |
| You’s a fake-it-'til-you-make-it of nigga |
| I’m a straight-up-take-it type of nigga |
| Pistol-whip-a-nigga-'til-I-break-it type of nigga |
| I’m hard on chumps, most of these dudes is fags |
| Put the guarder on pumps, push the broom up they ass |
| Or the knife like American me, American Sig' is Muslim |
| So I ain’t feelin Bush overseas |
| I think with the wisdom of Malcolm, got the soul of a Panther |
| So by any means is the anthem |
| You gonna have to cut me out the track like cancer |
| I can’t stop, won’t stop |
| This how we do it from Philly to Shaolin |