Lyrics Milk Crates - Ghostface Killah

Milk Crates

Eh yo, I’m here to toast an MC like my name was Grand Puba
Run up in the large house and — throw out the Ruger
Some say I’m good — others pray — the want me to fall
Battle me — come one, come all — I leave ya jaw hangin'
New York City Slinger — Stark Nitty
I’m straight like a flat chester with some low titties
Plus my chain hangin' down to my dick
CB hits — grand on the hits — Star Trek VI
Black flicks — come on.
We fuck prostitutes — tie 'em to the bed
Throw 'em in the lasso — givin' me backstage hed
Picture me in Isreal sandles — Gucci open-toe
Book of Life — two on Camay — no H2O
Bandit — I’m like Moses — split the sea
Y’all split jeans — my last tape was the illy poster
Move crowds like the March of Dimes — fuck this rhyme.
«Up next.»
Walter in Dr. Jay’s — rock the Jay’s
Spot niggas with K’s — son they feelin' your ways
It’s like mayonaisse — old people love you — corns on their feet
Fifteen, twenty deep — you walked in, cross street
Walk under red light — sound went through Crown Heights
Even had 'em on bikes — they was startin' fights
New Years had 'em all drunk — lazy eye Milton
Found a bump — tried to buck and
Scotty snatched Janet’s wig off that night
Shit got hectic — barber Jim fuckin' old man Chef
But God shit’s real as a fuck
Throw a buck on Chuckle-Up — Thunderbird in cuffs
Skeeter with no teeth — night train lips
Beefin' with police — Grade-A inch knees
Duke blew a bag with him — he got butt-naked in the 'villes
Plus he fucked a whitey in the hill.
Throw a buck on Chuckle-Up — Thunderbird in cuffs