Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Ghost Is Back, artist - Ghostface Killah.
Date of issue: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ghost Is Back |
Listen, man, it’s going on 2007, g |
I wanna wish ya’ll muthafuckas a happy New Year |
(New Year, let’s give it up) How your 2006 was son? |
(Go and get up, get up, ya’ll niggas is crazy |
Ya’ll know how I get, my 2006 off, nigga I broke two of my toes, nigga |
It’s going down nigga, that’s what’s up, ya’ll niggas is crazy) |
That’s why you came to the show with, um, peanut butter on your toes, that day |
(Nigga, why you gotta bring everything up? Man, everybody here enjoying) |
Nah, son, because your shit’s --- (crazy, a happy New Year |
This muthfucka) Nah, boy, yo (no, man…) But your shit was looking mad timid |
That was the funniest shit in the book, that day (Find out who…) |
That’s your toes right there! |
(Who the fuck said I broke 'em) |
Yo, how you put them little baby cast on there? |
(Just a little punk ass nigga |
man) |
How you put them in the baby cast like that, though, son? |
Come on, son, that’s what I was, that shit, yo |
Let me tell you something, I ain’t gon' front, yo |
I love you and all that, son (then say that!) |
You my first cousin, (then say that, Ghost, say that) |
You my first cousin, though, but come on, man |
You know how it is, son, I ain’t seen you in years though |
(You know how I get down) How you had peanut butter on your toes though, son? |
(Cuz the nigga asked for it, man, shit I fucked a nigga up, man) |
Yo, it’s New Year’s, yo (get back to me, muthafucka) |
Yo, it’s New Year’s son (fuck ya’ll niggas, this ain’t no |
Yo, Ghostface, my gold is fifty hundred, I want my money) |
NINE! |
EIGHT! |
SEVEN! |
SIX! |
FIVE! |
FOUR! |
THREE! |
TWO! |
ONE! |
I love you my nigga, Happy New Year’s! |
Fuck that, let’s get this paper! |
Yo, yo I was sitting at the table thinking |
How the hell do I murder these M.C.'s, sting 'em like bees |
My attitude’s that of Hannibal, not compatible |
Why I would damage you, fuck, if I drink, then ran with you |
Ya’ll chose to war, so called rich niggas wanna verse the poor |
I’ll rob you first, then go to your earth, it’s not gon' hurt |
If you try calling the cops, it’s not gon' work |
All you gotta do is lay in the dirt, we dug a hole |
And my guns weight more, yo, then Gerald Levert |
With more blubber than a Ruben Studdard, I grease the pan |
With rhymes, and ya’ll can’t believe it’s not butter |
I told ya’ll to chill, stretch all out like franks on the grill |
With a classic deal, I’m like a farmer when I’m playing the field |
Just painting my seeds, in 20−06, it’s time to build |
«Ghost is back…» — sample 4X |
Yo, I cooked up the beef, seasoned up the meat |
Fried 'em, tried 'em, took it out the grease |
Ghost came to steal the show, since you loving your broad |
I’mma lay back and reveal your ho |
She a brain therapist, chick you can’t kiss |
Opened up her legs, like «ooh, I smell fish» |
Yeast infection, queen, she love dick |
Shivlered up tits, she’ll bang the whole Knicks |
Now how can I salute you, kid, I’m planning to do you |
Crucial, blow rugers at who you with |
We bump heads while we out in the street, it’s all good |
My trigger fingers’ll matter, kick the back of your feet |
And your red monkey jeans, is looking like a scene from Baghdad |
That’s bad, flags red, dirt beds |
Ya’ll niggas is eating, crystal meth' heads |
We pissed out, wrist out, with the best threads |
Knockin' niggas off, knockin' niggas out |
Fucking up rappers is what I’m about |
I’m holding Staten Island down, ya’ll cats must be dead |
Keep fronting and lose your head |
«Ghost is back…» — sample 4X |
You can decide on who’s liver |
Toney Knight Rider, wisdoms love my saliva |
Slobbin' 'em down, hoggin' the mound |
Pitchin' 'em eightballs, robbing the town |
Don’t let your gangsta, get you murked up |
Faggot ass homeys done got you worked up |
Rappers can’t come around, ya’ll wide rap is dead |
Freeze, nigga, come off the bread |
Whole horizon, hit 'em with toast, a rap arising |
Ringing the boys bell like Verizon |
Eyes, looking suprised, that the four-five |
Yo Ghost, don’t even do it, I got some more pie |
Word up, aiyo I’d like to give a mean shout out to Staten Island |
Holding the boy down, ya’ll know what it do |
Theodore Unit, Big Trife, Wigs, Du-Lilz |
Yo Supa! |
Ya’ll know what it is, man, yaknowhatimsaying? |
My West Brighton niggas… let’s see that money come first |
That’s right, yeah, get up in that building |
You tell L.A. Reid and them niggas to crack that safe |
Word up, cause we coming, J-Love |
Aiyo Den, what up, Ice, C-Allah, what up, yo Un |
You knowhatimean, yo, Buck, hold ya head. |
aiyo Bean |
You know what it is, tell E, I said what’s the deal, man |
We gon' get this paper, this year, yo Irf, you know how we do |
I ain’t even gotta say that much, TaVon, come holla at your boy |
I know my jack be off all the time, but yo, that don’t mean shit, nigga |
Come through and holla, nigga, word up, this what it is |
Yo, S.G., that’s my son doola… ya’ll niggas keep ya’ll hands off him |
Youknowhatimean? |
Yo Ant Acid. |
what’s the deal, aiyo Tech, yo Plex |
Your boys here, nigga… word up, it’s all about paper this year, nigga, word up |
I got mad babies to feed, I got bills nigga, one… |
Wu-Tang for life, Cappadonna, Raekwon, what up? |
«Ghost got the juice, now» |