| You got to be kiddin', five hundred?
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| Who you think we are, baggage handlers?
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| The goin' rate on a boat, is a thousand a night, man
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| You know that (first you got to work your way up to 500, cedigo)
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| Ok, what I did for you guys in Freedomtown, what was that?
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| Return of the kitchen kid, with the axe
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| All I know is real detail, coke, lasagna and them E pills
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| Million dollar merchandise, we on, get ya groove back
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| A hundred yukons, we all moving crack
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| All my soldiers got big rank, pa, Sicily money
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| Y’all had a bitch that got pregnant in Iraq
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| What’s the movement? |
| Superman money in the Ooh building
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| A few dudes who make a lotta rules sayin' 'you get it'
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| Right, wavy hair, all my niggas is polic'
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| You stay off the roof, or jakes see the crib
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| No snitchin', this Amityville detention
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| Might fuck around, get caught, or shot down, play position
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| Yeah, here they come, sizin' them up, you know my status
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| This is raw way, lookin' in his eyes, and he butt
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| Yo, what’s happenin'? |
| I heard you got the streets back, captain
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| Yup, all niggas is dead, unless they team clappin' something
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| He felt the generals plans, recognize, we going all out
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| I might throw three in his man
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| Had the slick look, looking all Cubaned up
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| Don’t get it twisted, nigga we’ll swiss swish you up, what?
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| From all day to morn', noon, night
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| Recognize we gotta re-up (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
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| You all listen, pay attention
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| Word to the team, we gonna key up (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
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| Get ya birds off, playground
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| Yo, stay out my business, you gon' see us (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
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| For all them real Cash Rule Everything Around Me
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| Niggas get y’all stee up (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
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| The kid that endorse Maxmaris, shorty show support
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| Take your sweatpants off, fix your mascara
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| Four hundred nineteen ounces, out in Long Island
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| Twelve strong bitches that’s real, who not scared of housing
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| Yes, throw on them raccoon, chinchilla feathers
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| Let it drag on my boots, the jean burned leather
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| Jog through the back of the building, drop the L
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| Got the scope on your nosey ass mother, fuckin' up sales
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| Forty karat locked in, bowtie, chillin' at the Democrat party
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| Yo, Chef, your coat, got it poppin'
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| Coming soon, Purple Tape, circle up the city let 'em know I’m back
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| Four hundred bricks, and yup, the kids stance
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| Sponsored by my cousin in Stan', maintainin'
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| Got the call from Tony Young Montana, my son campaignin'
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| Yup, I’m not no fuckin' bellboy, I war anything out there
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| The ring is mine, you can tell Roy
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| That’s when I was hit with the call, your whole motto is get tour
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| Drug rap owner, you will rip all
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| Live like the pope, and get a big hall
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| Flipped them a claren, the front, like the Jag back like the store
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| From all day to morn', noon, night
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| Recognize we gotta re-up (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
|
| You all listen, pay attention
|
| Word to the team, we gonna key up (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
|
| Get ya birds off, playground
|
| Yo, stay out my business, you gon' see us (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
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| For all them real Cash Rule Everything Around Me
|
| Niggas get y’all stee up (Yo, it’s Cuban Link 2, motherfucker)
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| Yea, we back in the motherfuckin' staircase, nigga
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| You know that kid is coming, Cuban Linx, nigga
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| Louis Rich, the signature, bitch
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| (Every dog has his day, huh, Mel?
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| You wanna job Ernie? |
| Ok, then, you call me tomorrow) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Baggage Handlers , by - Raekwon. Song from the album The Vatican Mixtape, Vol. 1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп