| «We're sorry, the number you have reached is not in service»
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| Fuck… fuck is these niggas at, man
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| «Please check the number or try your call again»
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| (Aiyo, hello?) Aiyo, bring that shit (what happen, son?)
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| That’s my word, yo, these niggas is fronting out here (where at, where you at?)
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| I’m in Jersey, you know where the fuck I’m at, nigga, I’m in Jersey
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| (Aight, so, what happen though, man, what happen?) I need that shit
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| I tell you when you get here, don’t even worry about that shit
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| (Aight yo, I’ll be right there, man) Just hurry the fuck up, bring
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| that big joint
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| (That's my word) Yeah (one) Yeah
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| In the crib on this rainy day, I’m chilling
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| Glass pianos and Portuguese drapes, hang from the ceiling
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| Persian rugs, Moroccan sofas
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| I walk to the house in paisley robes and Ferragamo loafers
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| And Iron Chef just season the salmon
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| It’s coming down pouring, he watching BBC, eating a salad
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| I’m on the couch hitting the chalice
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| Checking my textes and out of nowhere, my dick is hard as a callus
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| I stood up, pulled back my sleeve, checked my watch
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| Where the, fuck is my wife, it’s 12 o’clock on the dot
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| Very impatient, I’m getting nervous, can’t stop pacing
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| My heart’s racing, her Nextel don’t get no service
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| Damn, all this over a gallon of milk
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| Something, happened to her, somebody wig’ll get peeled
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| Okay, let me calm down, maybe she at Keeba house
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| Her birthday’s today, we both bought her jeans and a blouse
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| Since 7 o’clock, she been gone for Owls
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| Jetted up the steps to the master suite, checked the shower
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| Nope, all that is there is towels and soap
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| Stomach is nauseous, caught a big lump in my throat
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| Found a phonebook with mad names, looked down
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| Bow, there go Keeba, tying my shoes, I put the bitch on speaker
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| And bluntly adressed her, 'where's my girl?' |
| (Yeah, she ain’t out here)
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| (Last time I seen her, Ghost, she beat it on an old nigga)
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| Yo, Keeba stop playing, yo (Nah, we took a shot of Henn')
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| (Lately she work out by 10, I told her, bitch, buy a Benz)
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| (Or even shot a car, I’m getting me some Advil)
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| (Show these muthafuckas, how Keeba love to drive stick)
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| I snatched up my raincoat, the grass was soaked
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| Under the bed in the guest house, where I keep my toast
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| I yelled to the Chef, yo, watch for Kayla, check the pool and the bowling alley
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| If anything, just hit my cellular
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| Hopped in the go cart, the yard is dark, I’m bugging
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| Few feet from the guest house, is where I parked
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| Hope she’s OK, is what I say in my heart
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| But something don’t feel right, so is what I’m saying to God
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| As I got closer, something ain’t kosher
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| I heard a bunch of squeaky sounds from the house, I don’t think I’m suppose to
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| Is this the end, of the Starks regime?
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| Let me find out somebody on my ground, yo, is pounding my queen
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| Yo, I’mma kill, yo! |
| (Hold on, cuz)
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| Shut the fuck up, you got caught moaning with your legs up
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| Eyes all red, what? |
| Did ya’ll just blaze up?
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| Then froze for a sec, so I dipped quick, lift the mattress
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| Aimed the biscuit at both of them bastards
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| What ya’ll excuse now (Yo, cuz, she said she live with her pop)
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| (Her dude mad strict, that’s why we up in the spot)
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| (And yo, this little trick of yours, bought me a ten G watch)
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| He reached down for his drawers, thats' when I let off a shot
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| Back the fuck up, snatched his covers
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| Had 'em looking like the black Adam &Eve, some sinful lovers
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| (Chill, Tone, put the gun down) How you know my name, son?
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| Yo, ya’ll two is done
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| (Just let me put my drawers, get dressed, before I get rocked)
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| (Cuz real talk, is looking like you trynna let off that glock)
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| Yeah, you right, you look familiar, you put my cable in, right?
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| The FiOS nigga, and you fucking my wife?
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| (Yeah, I put that cable in, nigga, we both got caught)
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| (And she a triflyn ass chick, don’t act like it’s all my fault)
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| Mind your business
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| (Now Kayla, don’t stop him, let the sucker do what he do)
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| (He touch me, and he finished)
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| What, nigga, hold that, eat it
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| (Oh shit, what the fuck) You forgot your drawers
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| And your little tools, nigga
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| You FiOS mustache wearing muthafucka, I got you nigga
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| (Fuck you, nigga, I’mma see you nigga)
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| (Fucker, fuck) That’s why you dive out the window
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| On some Jim Kelly, shit, nigga, fuck that
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| «We're sorry, the number you have reached is not in service»
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| Fuck… fuck is these niggas at, man
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| «Please check the number or try your call again» |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Guest House , by - Ghostface Killah. Song from the album Ghostdini Wizard Of Poetry In Emerald City, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп