Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Street Bullies, artist - Ghostface Killah. Date of issue: 31.12.2009
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Street Bullies |
| Geah! |
| Aiyyo Starks, whattup? |
| What it do family? |
| We street bullies for cheddar, and that’s our word |
| Pop bottles and spend money on chicks with curves |
| We the youth poetic justice, the kings and the Yankees |
| Our flows is vicious, check check, check out my melodies |
| We gifted with vocab to make the streets spaz |
| And I’m infatuated with money like Mr. Krabs |
| Blow bags of that purple 'til I’m purple like Grimace |
| Burn spinach cause it keep up flows, Shawn’s a menace |
| Even Barack watch «The Wire,» the streets is political |
| Watch how the '89 analog switched to digital |
| It’s a miracle, we gettin rich, offa visuals |
| Millionaires open doors, split them residuals |
| And still don’t know how to act, spend 5 beams on jeans |
| Steady blowin cream by the stack |
| I get my change, now go cop, get’cha a drink |
| And have a ho butt-naked washed up by the sink |
| Blowin stink, and I don’t see grass on the field |
| So I’mma tear ass on that field |
| The Doe Wilson walk around with a bottle of Spades |
| Diamonds lookin like I flossed in a cascade |
| Dee dee dee da dee, dee dee dee dee da dee day |
| You asked for Donnie G oh won’t you please come out and play |
| They know I keep that black girl, the black guns and the AK’s |
| I’m comin where you lay, and yeah I’m gonna spray — hey! |
| Motherfucker what’chu lookin at? |
| The crook’s back |
| Staten Island got my back, Brooklyn niggas let it clap |
| Half these niggas ride out, Harlem niggas keep it real |
| Bronx got a shorty there, that’s my little hideout |
| , Rose, Donnie cake, souflee |
| M6, no top on it, toupee |
| Rubber grip, stainless steel, the night look gray |
| Yeah, this that fly shit, patch over the eye shit |
| Slick Rick, bruh, these bitches be on my dick |
| Yeah I’m the new draft pick, about to get my ass licked |
| Street bullies blastin, you ain’t gotta ask it |
| Ghostface, Wigs, will put you in a casket |
| Can I, kick it? |
| Yes you can |
| Can I, kick it? |
| Yes you can |
| Can I, kick it? |
| Yes you can |
| Well I’m gone — are you gonna miss me when I leave? |
| Besides this 8 times 5, got tricks up in my sleeve |
| Guaranteed, ain’t nobody around these beez |
| See the team, we don’t sleep, cause niggas need green |
| We bleed different, we chase money, y’all can chase dreams |
| Came a long way, don’t fuck that bread up in between |
| Tell 'em God sent you, load up that wop and let it ring ock |
| It’s more than raindrops, when your nigga name get scratched off |
| Like his name dropped, that’s when that thang pop |
| Y’all niggas thought once too much, that’s why your brain stopped |
| Lock and load both of them 40's I make the place hot |
| You can’t wipe that up with no shirt, that take mops |
| Out the window here’s another bomb let that bass drop |