| Money Miggs, let’s get him
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| I need help to plan an attack twist back these youngin’s
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| Tired of the run-in's, these niggas ain’t live
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| Nine years in the desert, son, they couldn’t survive
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| We’re gonna ambush. |
| Blow out the windows, set flames
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| Turn the pilots on, set up bombs by the maze
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| Blow brains, tie niggas up to the radiators
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| They ain’t gladiators we gon' crush 'em
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| Push 'em to the edge, bomb rush 'em
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| You know how we do. |
| OG style I dress like the pizza man
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| And when they answer the door you come out the van blazin'
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| Flame-throwing niggas like shish kebabs
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| Toasty, roasty, they be like Ghost be crazy as shit
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| They fucking with the wrong one
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| Son of a gun, I make murdering fun
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| You took my baby, my block, and corrupted my hood
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| I’m a do it for my hometown, New York understood
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| I see laboratories, chemicals and shit
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| They cooking right here on the block. |
| I’m throwing a fit
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| Destructo, destroying houses like wreckin' balls
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| Crushing your foundation you sit somewhere, inspect the fall
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| Chill. |
| Back the fuck up; |
| it’s gonna blow
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| He gotta face full of powder and that blue-like snow
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| The explosion threw him twenty feet in the air
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| He hit the floor and his face just stuck in blank stare
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| Hey yo, Tone. |
| Hey yo, Tone. |
| Wake the fuck up
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| The chemical burns on his face, I wanna throw up
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| I hugged him, felt his heart beatin', his chest breathin'
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| Fuck the police, son, I ain’t leavin'
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| Scooped him, threw him in the van and split
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| Took him back to the crib and shit, we gon' fix it
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| Hey yo, get him (I got 'em)
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| We gon' rock 'em
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| Try dealin' shit on my block, you got a problem
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| It’s Tony Starks and Money Migg, the OG’s
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| Schoolin' niggas in these streets with no degrees
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| «Yeah. |
| That’s right, nigga. |
| What you want? |
| black ass.»
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| I hear 'em talkin' gun talk, that’s my language (language)
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| Hollows up in the chambers, a hundred shots that’ll (yeah)
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| Soon as a nigga aim 'em, they blowin' like James Ingram (word)
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| Nickle plates from '88, shit’ll «Wrath Of Kane"em (Kane 'em)
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| I’ll pee on a handball court wall where they paint 'em (now hold that)
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| I’ll fuckin' yellow-stain 'em
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| Them niggas out of pocket with it (word)
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| Buck shots, left his big man chopped to a midget (blaow-blaow)
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| Rippin' crazy shit, poppin' from a Civic
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| Soprano put this nigga Starks in a barrel
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| Them slugs hit the wall, I assassinated his shadow (damn)
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| At the train yard, my tires rollin' over gravel (yeah)
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| I hope I hear him step on the third rail and crackle
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| Now I’m hoppin' out the whip, gotta finish this
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| My bigger about to show him what the business is
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| Parked trains, darker rain, ain’t no witnesses (where he at?)
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| I swore I heard his footsteps right behind me (word, yo)
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| So, I turned around quick to do this nigga slimy
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| Nothin' but a black stray cat ran over line three (what's that?)
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| A homeless man rollin' cans in a shoppin' cart (oh, shit)
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| And then, from top of the train, came a pop, a spark
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| Wish I could pop back but I was locked in a arch
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| The nigga hit his mark right on top of my heart (aw, damn)
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| My whole chest went numb and the pain got sharp (down)
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| Fell face down on the ground, saw the Timberland mark
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| He bopped, swingin' the gun like a pendulum arm
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| The silencer on the shit was like a Michelin part
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| Then everything faded out, became of victim of Starks |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Dogs Of War , by - Ghostface Killah. Song from the album 36 Seasons, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп