Lyrics Guns N' Razors - Ghostface Killah, Trife Da God, Cappadonna

Guns N' Razors

Oh shit, look at them, they running on foot
They picked the car up, they on some Flintstone shit
Oh shit… and them niggas stuck together
On some Siamese shit… yo
Yo, classic murders, slick gun material
Burnt up bodies that rot with no burial
Hammers that hardly work, go to work
Like a slave on a hot day, with no water
Blow you for props, in the cop’s face, might get knocked up
Jakes that play hero, they can get popped up
Face fallin' off they cheekbone, gotta take meat
From they ass, to sew it back, I’m a beast, homes
It’s ground beef, in the streets, so we squeeze chrome
Like fresh fruit, from a tree, so the heat’s blown
Your momma missing, your boys are crying
Cut ya balls out your nutsack, the chinks are buying
Shit bags is like gift bags, you get it for free
If you master fronting, classic cutting
You keep stunting, them gem star’ll rip something
Look homey, it’s the bloody sweepstakes
Glove club you down in the club, how you like that, sweet cakes?
Yo, it was a minute after twelve, when the tragedy struck
Niggas emptied on son, and left 'em leaning right in Valerie’s truck
The red Cherokee blood was pouring out his head heavily
The only motive for murder was wetter, either jealousy
They found him slumped over the wheel, horn blowing
Bullet holes showing, property stolen, motor still going
Driver’s side door wedged open, the window was broken
Glass fragments shredded his grill, his collar was soaking
He probably knew the killas, cause they jinxed him with ease
Cops comb the perimeter, thirsty, looking for leads
Knocking on doors, questioning tenants, the lieutenant
Was the first to arrive on the scene, he knew he was finished
DeWayne Roberts knew him in college, mid-twenties
Stopped being brolic, V.A.
driver’s license in his wallet
The last call on his mobile phone was back to home
Sorry, Miss Amonia’s son was found dead with two in his dome
This be the bird’s eye view of things, look how we doing things
We stick niggas up and we take they rings
Mission Impossible, Theodore Unit, we unstoppable
Spit razors out of our mouth and start chopping you
Bank robbers, blood jakes out with the obstacle
Ropes hanging down from the roof, my parachute
Soaking water, heat smoking, we scrape and we Pillage, man
Wherever we broke in, Theodore, pulverize
Boat rides and tours, smashed 'em in the crib with they coke in they straws
Dudes step off the scene, black face and four-four
The CREAM that we stack up, cake and whores
Cash in abundance, the cats that I run with
Got gats stashed in motels and stacks by the hundreds
I don’t ask if I want it, my attitude is run it
I don’t ask if I want it, my attitude is run it, yup
Mega ice neck, with some fish, with some fish dishes
Rakim gems, my mind shine is what my weight misses
Anything else is uncivilized, send the kind of niggas
Other men despise, you can see the venom rise
My nine leaves them tenderized, I don’t need my men to ride
I’m in the moshing squad, beside the car that’s highly energized
Been advised, before, that fucking with I, is genocide
Many men have died, from playing games from what they feel inside
Brawl with it in me, put it on my enemy
Be warned, defending me, like killing off a Kennedy
I silly song M.C.'s get sent on base
Type of nigga spit the Remy or laugh in ya face
This dig in my waste, is mastery, step out of place
Shatter that ass, like glass, and break fast like a neglige
Play with the biscuit, dick, don’t even risk it
I, snatch up my misses, and dash on the interstate