| Okay, yeah, yo yo
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| Son I walk down the block like it’s '76
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| Pimp robe, fur hat just to match my kicks
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| And my chain’s like 80 pounds of frozen ice
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| I got four bitches with me, no need to look twice
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| Throw rice at my feet, rose petals, Malaysian salt
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| I smoked two Cuban cigars and a Newport
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| An ounce of the blueberry, big bottle of Tito’s
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| Count the plaques on the wall, like I sang for The Beatles
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| Went from label to label, changed my name to Clark Gabel
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| Tony Starkaroni probably fucked your aunt Mabel
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| In the stash house owned by El Patrón
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| Big friends in high places, always flyin' outta zones
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| Big banks in Sweden, vaults in Morocco
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| But my all time favorite is a Columbian taco
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| If I walk the walk, talk the talk, sling therapy
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| If I spit what I knew then the courts would burn me
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| Feds’ll lock me up and throw away the key
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| But my word is bond, that’s the code of the street
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| If I walk the walk, talk the talk, sling therapy
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| If I spit what I knew then the courts would burn me
|
| Feds’ll lock me up and throw away the key
|
| But my word is bond, that’s the code of the street
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| Original, a lot of style, boom-pow
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| Blowin' on the pound, puh-puh-puh-puh-pow
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| Way up in the cloud
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| Misbehave the flav', now let me show you how
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| To maintain and sustain as I crush game
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| Smooth as silk with a little bit of Kush, mane
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| Plush game, lavish livin'
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| Bust on the pigs with bad intentions
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| Smoke dope, go for broke, young loc
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| The homie said 9−1-1 is a joke (Fuck tha police!)
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| And I believe that so I protect and serve
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| Every nigga on the block, that’s my word
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| Cadillac drivin', stackin', providin'
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| Listen to the sounds of the sirens
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| I’m a O.G. |
| nigga on a mission
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| Beans don’t burn in the kitchen
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| I’m twistin' while dippin' and crippin'
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| If I walk the walk, talk the talk, sling therapy
|
| If I spit what I knew then the courts would burn me
|
| Feds’ll lock me up and throw away the key
|
| But my word is bond, that’s the code of the street
|
| If I walk the walk, talk the talk, sling therapy
|
| If I spit what I knew then the courts would burn me
|
| Feds’ll lock me up and throw away the key
|
| But my word is bond, that’s the code of the street
|
| Guard at the gate, live in a mansion
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| Rap career longer than an extension
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| Still hold it in court
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| Got my wine in the World Report
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| Or should I say the duPont REGISTRY?
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| If it ain’t now, it will be
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| Grew up on purple, went from humble
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| Be bumpin' a bubble truck full of rumble
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| In a major way, E-40 cookin' out the double
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| Pot in the kitchen at all times
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| I’m a boss, still write my own rhymes
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| Been there, done it, been factor, trapper 'fore rapper
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| Been 100 from day one, quick thinker, fast reactor
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| Been a fixture, I don’t think it’s many left
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| Been the shit like your baby mama breath
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| Been in it for a while, benefittin'
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| Custom houses and cars is how I’m livin'
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| If I walk the walk, talk the talk, sling therapy
|
| If I spit what I knew then the courts would burn me
|
| Feds’ll lock me up and throw away the key
|
| But my word is bond, that’s the code of the street
|
| If I walk the walk, talk the talk, sling therapy
|
| If I spit what I knew then the courts would burn me
|
| Feds’ll lock me up and throw away the key
|
| But my word is bond, that’s the code of the street |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Saigon Velour, artist - Ghostface Killah. Album song Ghost Files - Bronze Tape, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп