Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Guns N' Razors, artist - Ghostface Killah. Date of issue: 31.12.2005
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
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 |