| You could throw me in a lineup, rough beard
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| Thick knot and my shines up
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| Mediterranean bezzle rocks planted like saltines
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| Worth about 600, 000 in the auction
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| I still jog in the hills of Brazil
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| 12 eggs and my conditioning coach is Anderson Sil
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| He’s a prize fighter and me I’m a prize writer
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| Time ya’ll industry niggas recognize fire
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| Boric acid mixed with ricin
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| Don’t stand under a tree cause my flow is lightning
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| Some say I should be prosecuted, death by lethal injection
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| Electrocuted or Malcolm X’d em
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| Or send a Chinese bitch in the club to stretch em
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| And if that don’t work then it’s on to the next one
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| Beef, we could let it cook fry it to perfection
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| Got the bulldog snub that’ll cave your chest in
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| Ay, o my moms never knew that she was nursing a wolf
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| And I wrote this on 9−11 covered in soot
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| Spitting tobacco out my mouth with Claiborne fatigues
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| Posted under a Brinks truck, waiting to squeeze
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| Stay on point like a nose of a marlin, Spartacus brawler
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| Pressing you pussies in public, nigga, you stalling with
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| Nowhere to run, faggot, ill grab your ear
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| My shooting arm stay fresh like a bag of gear
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| Goose coats yachts diving off of big boats
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| My bitch pedicured up with a sick throat
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| So cold making u stutter
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| I, I, I can’t believe Ghost is still gutter
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| Everywhere I go I’m plugged up
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| Cohen’s optical frames of Breitling, dipped with a crisp cut
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| See me on a Jackson 5 cover, next to Randy
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| They had black fros, mines was sandy
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| Buckwheat Jackson |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Conditioning , by - Ghostface Killah. Song from the album Ghostface Killahs, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп