Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Ghost Deini , by - Wu-Tang Clan. Release date: 11.03.2004
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Ghost Deini |
| Yo, summer time, holding the nine, split the Vega in half |
| Jeeps rumble and my dogs puff grass |
| Bank stopping, hide your rocks, hydraulic |
| The kid with the most knowledge |
| Will obtain and touch top dollars |
| Hold me down, hand me my cake |
| Dusty, bake, activate |
| Fuck your corny debates |
| I’m like cake, or maybe like ten thousand dollar rabbits |
| The kid walked through, switch up his accent, now I’m from Paris |
| Cash the bill, frozen elements in gold |
| Signs from the most high causes me to break the mold |
| How the fuck was y’all niggas thinkin'? |
| You think I fell off the ledge? |
| The legendary Ghost Deini might be dead? |
| Never, impossible, pull out black burners like tonsils |
| Two Galants, hitting if we got to |
| Busting at y’all niggas daily, wall to wall, hawkin' |
| Sucking your teeth 'cause God chain-talking |
| Like Ghostface this, Ghostface that |
| Ghost sold crack, now his revelations spoken through rap |
| Velour-ed down like the Sheikh of Iran |
| Gasoline CREAM wrapped in hospital bands |
| Model vans, Michael Davis, it’s me against housing |
| Extraordinary pro-black, sold God creations to control thousands |
| Catch me at the flicks, Apollo rap Frederick Douglass |
| You know what? |
| Aiyo, fuck this! |
| Aiyo, how can I move the crowd? |
| First of all, ain’t no mistakes allowed |
| Here’s the instructions, put it together |
| It’s simple, ain’t it? |
| Well, quite clever |
| Marvin, Marvin, you were a friend of mine |
| You stood for somethin', ugh |
| 2Pac, Biggie, ohhhh, how we miss you so |
| We want y’all both to know |
| We really love you sooo |
| Aiyo, I’m Gucci down, Wally boots, Jamaican hat, long 4-pound |
| Ask niggas how I get down |
| Don’t speak much, deluxe plush imaginations |
| Hold a note like Willie Hutch |
| You might’ve bumped into me on the Rikers bus |
| Weed in my cheeks, gem in my beauty sleep sleeve |
| Dead serious, knowledge by 2% triple geese |
| Come on, we juggle mics |
| Three Card Molly, amps advance to the final |
| Show these niggas how the way we dance |
| Hot night, Jamaica |
| Came through in a booger green '68 Pacer |
| Mad paper, high as a fuck, truck |
| Two rappers got stuck that night, I ain’t saying no names |
| They know who, thank you for the chains |
| Outdoor event, New Year’s Eve, Cali weed |
| 30 seconds 'til we tear and decease |
| Quick, call my seeds, dipped in the crowd |
| The ho spotted me, he knew not to call my name out |
| He walked off softly, we exactly |
| Formed like Christ and his disciples |
| Black fatigues, lethal-faced doonie, he held the rifle |
| We had the whole shit shook |
| Your favorite rappers dropping they drinks |
| On the low tucking they links, we made eighty off the books |
| One of the illest since Magic Johnson, no disrespect |
| But metaphors’ll keep me out the projects |
| Rap connects’ll keep me correct |
| Aiyo, I wrote this on Donnie roof, after his funeral, on one knee |
| Thinking his killer’s following me |
| So to my nigga Donnie, up there |
| Can you please tell God that we fucked up here? |
| You got beer, weed, guns, AIDS |
| All these obstacles, it’s hard to make it nowadays |
| Why’s the Devil winning? |
| Some say it’s our fault |
| If that’s the answer, you know smoking cause cancer |
| Let me drop a bracelet, leave a chain behind |
| My tape stay at the beginning 'cause that’s how they rewind |
| Y’all know how we dine, we don’t eat swine |
| And we don’t drink wine |
| If you don’t bring me some motherfucking cognac, I’ll kill you |
| I can’t feel you, ain’t in my senses, and you ain’t in my dollars |
| I fuck with rottweilers, no leashes, no collars, brolic scholars |
| That’s Ghost Deini! |