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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005)
(feat. Trife Da God, Solomon Childs & Sun God)
[Intro: Ghostface Killah (Trife Da God)] Where the DJ's at? (Yeah) that's right What's the deal y'all? (Theodore, nigga) Theodore's in the building, Staten Island stand up (That's right, Gatten Island) Word up (I'm like Ray Charles, nigga Pay me my motherfuckin' bread in singles) That's what I'm try'nna tell ya, it's real (Heard me) Big Tone Starks in the building, now, come on [Chorus 2X: Trife Da God (Solomon Childs)] (Man up) Somebody gon' get laid down (Man up) Whether music or four pounds (Man up) Ain't no need to know me well We can get the drama popping, homey, I won't tell [Trife Da God] This is my year, eating like a baby in a high chair Fly gear, versace eye wear, we the pioneers I fuck bitches sipping on dry beer Only rock Timbs and Air Forces, yo, oc', give me like 5 years Fresh out the box with it, Chicago Sox fitted Uh, if the product is banging, first hit the block with it Set the drug charges and my criminal formula O-5 black suburban straight from General Motors Walk through give the niggaz the shoulder Just fucked this bitch on the sofa Twisted the chocha, me'll flip on the culture Had the bird niggaz shittin' in peels, clippin' your tail Let the four-five kiss ya, as I'm liftin' your bail Put a hundred wolves on you, have them pick up the trail While I'm in the honeycomb, weighing bricks on the scale Sippin' old M.A., me and my protege's, cause even on the coldest day Your boy stil shine, giving off solar rays [Chorus 2X] [Ghostface Killah] What you know about stepping out heavy, Just' jewels, no crew hurry My inside pants leg, I'm packing like two machetes One ratchet, two gloves and a mask Jumping out of green rover, niggaz ballin' me down That's when I reached over, figured they ain't go no matters Young boys round here, they don't know my status And niggaz looking for a full time jack move But they don't know, that these blades here, crack dudes Give it to 'em quick, something like fast food Take a nigga gun, like 'you gonna blast who?' Cinderella girl frontin' in them glass shoes Homo thug bitch ass nigga, I'll smash you You mad, cause you rockin' the shit bag Smellin' like piss, when it popped your click ran You fucking with powerful niggaz, devour your business It ain't gravy, you pussy niggaz, you the Avon lady, fuck you [Chorus 2X] [Sun God] Niggaz better stay in they place Cuz when I stash the plastic mask on, leave a hole in your face Who this young dude holding the weight Got every drug from dope to bud, even small package your face Niggaz bam, look God in the face, can't look in my eyes I tell you why, cause this thing on my waist Bread and butter, got it all for sale, and I'm duckin' the cops On every block, I ain't going to jail I ain't the type that'll rot in the cell Never talk or fist fight, with drama, I'll be popping these shells Hit your chest and your flesh get, hotter than hell Them hollow tips make it hard to inhale, you not worthy Vest and a white tees, and throwback jerseys Julius Irvings, black suburban Twisted off one-five-one, my whips swerving Try'nna see that chips, full clips, no splurging [Chorus 2X] [Outro: Ghostface Killah] That's right, yeah, another Theodore production Yeah, Anthony Acid on the beats, y'all Ones and twos y'all, yeah, that's right Big Ghost in the building, Staten Island in the mother-f'ing building Nigga, yeah, man up, bitch... |
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from Trife Diesel - Put It On The Line (2005) |