Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Majestic Accolades, artist - Ghostface Killah. Album song Ghost Files - Bronze Tape, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хопMajestic Accolades |
| Yeah, yo, yo |
| Close your eyes, let the track just play on repeat |
| All I hear is the genius on this beat |
| So I cradled the word, street to blame, spice the lingo |
| Breaker-breaker, one-nine, copy that, Kinkos |
| Bagged up flamingo, gave her the Mandingo |
| Met her on the first, amazin', I bounced on cinco |
| No Coronas, no lime, no Spring Break tequila |
| Kissed the blue sued coat, a pair of Filas |
| All white shit, I like that Mike Ty shit, Punch Out |
| A chick’ll suck dick and take her fronts out |
| No lunch out, no four-elevens |
| No Sunday at church, takin' flicks with the reverends |
| I gotta move baby, gotta date with the jeweler |
| Big shit, son slicked out like The Ruler |
| Don’t test me, bulletproof vest me |
| I get crunchy, all chunky like a Nestle |
| Bars, lines, verbal wordplay |
| Spit, darts, sharp like a DJ |
| Keep cuttin' 'em, I call 'em the butcher |
| See your bitch on the street, but I’ma push up |
| Bars, lines, verbal wordplay |
| Spit, darts, sharp like a DJ |
| Keep cuttin' 'em, I call 'em the butcher |
| See your bitch on the street, but I’ma push up |
| Yo, desperado designer, renaissance |
| Head of the wave, I freed the slaves |
| Lickin' shots up in the synagogue |
| Tramplin' the trendy, what up with all the Walmart models? |
| Frontin', gettin' over like counterfeit twenties |
| Switch topics, I crack atoms |
| And study how to transmutate metals with the talent to transform medallions |
| I came and lit it up from Spain to Libya |
| My next video should be shot in |
| My productive, my time managed |
| By nine planets, I shine equality, God illustrious |
| Make me wanna pop somethin', no champagne |
| Two fives on me, that’s only if the pockets boney |
| Cannabis cups, to only spit like I’m sellin' dope |
| You couldn’t visualize it with a dogan telescope |
| Knowledge I sprinkle it, with fresh trinkets |
| A man is what he think |
| If so I guess I be the most successful of my species |
| Tyrannosaurus mind, my outfit is forest fire |
| Grind, Gorgeous lord, the scoreboard is more than minds |
| Hold that chica, my pop-up shopas are lyin' around the corner |
| So loud like throwback sneakers |
| Bars, lines, verbal wordplay |
| Spit, darts, sharp like a DJ |
| Keep cuttin' 'em, I call 'em the butcher |
| See your bitch on the street, but I’ma push up |
| Bars, lines, verbal wordplay |
| Spit, darts, sharp like a DJ |
| Keep cuttin' 'em, I call 'em the butcher |
| See your bitch on the street, but I’ma push up |
| Clean my guns with God |
| I look down on niggas who I look up to |
| Blood pool, backstroke, Lord |
| on coupe |
| Shrooms in the iceberg jean coat |
| Superdry speedboat, all black like Catwoman |
| Tryna go up, sniff a coke plant |
| That forty inch rifle, man |
| We loud, proud, liquor niggas |
| I used to rock the fat lace |
| Caesar with the moon halfway |
| I’m movin' like the wind breaks |
| Wu chain when the acid face |
| The time minds provoke thought, you stuck in a war |
| Y’all niggas only beefin' with time |
| A couple wine bottles was enough |
| Impressed your bitch, had a fuckin' on her tits |
| She squirt like the star split |
| We all hit, and back flipped |
| Now that pussy like a mosh pit |
| Huh, Wolves jumpin' like Chris Bosh |
| Jumper in the fourth |
| You dealin' with the wave, love |
| Batcave killer, I’m writin' letters to silk, huh |
| Gandhi carpets you bleed on like milk |
| From Hempstead to killer hill |
| Swavo |
Artist lyrics: Ghostface Killah
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