Lyrics Pull Tha Cars Out - Wu-Block, Ghostface Killah, Sheek Louch

Pull Tha Cars Out

We make the club jump every time we walk in this bitch
Yea, we shining.
You can tell my niggas is rich
Rozay and Patron at my throne, women at my feet
Staring like they want me to beat
This New York rap, I’m on the other side of the map
Nine nickel plate strap with a bitch on my lap
Back to back on the FDR, big cigar
You can tell there’s a star in one of these cars
She’s with Ghostface, yeah a bird on her wrist
Mask on face, gorillas in mist
Everybody try but they can’t do it like this
This Don Donna it starts I bet I won’t miss
Hey yo
Pull them cars out
We gettin money over here
Them bottles on the table
The weed in the air
Your woman starin at us
Them haters ice grillin
Wu-Block, you know we in the buildin
Verse 2:
Every little spot they know me
Loyal females who can’t just give me the twat
They show me like I’m a big stock broker on Wall Street
I said, «Nahh, I’m that big drug dealer from 4E!»
A lot of guacamole, know a lot of parolees
Slung in front of a lot of these delis eatin cannolis
I stayed on the front line like private events in airports
And live by the code I’mma bust mine
Word, tunes, start shorty while I got a tongue in my ear
Don’t get a stain on my Porsche
Light-skined said she a virgo
Said she love my roll game and my bird yo
A baby ghost appeared from the blunt smoke
It lingered through her hair and set into her clothes
Her bag fell, I saw a 38 snub nose
I stole that and still fucked her when the club closed
Buck fifty on your face, hundred stacks on the car
If I spend a rack today, get that rack back tomorr
I’m a cash ruler, rulers zig-zag allah
Get my money off the hook like I’m Abdul-Jabar
Get my money off the book like Steve Paul
Then fall, act hard, but they livin
They think like a man, but act like they women
I never trust a broad with that in God trust only trust in God
Look at me, I’m what these little haters wanna be
I’m your man, 50 grand and I keep it a hundred G
I’m that block on fire, it’s like a hundred and three
Rappers come a dime a dozen but they don’t come in tha peace
I only need a few raps when you comin with cheese
And the people you come up with, they be comin to me
We got the city under siege
Where the tightest ladies
Wear the tightest dungarees