Raekwon The Chef

Raekwon The Chef - Spot Rusherz lyrics

Your rating:

(this is a best guess based on what's heard underneath Rae's conversation)
 [Ghostface] Who's the Wallabe kid  dress down  could never be Son
 Ricochet daily hit the deli for a cold one
 May I be blessed yes? My mic is like a laser beam
 that blow between the bushes  St. Ide's and I the king of things
 [Cappadon] Crack the bottle of the St. Ide's, sippin it's real
 and thrillin will I, drink it and we only
 too be dope, you can't die, them peoples do lie
 And if the street don't know, you're full of slang cane pain
 [RZA] It was hot, on the spot, so I jetted up the block
 I said, ock, I'm hot, let's go sit on the bay by the docks
 of the black, I'm fully packed, always got my Trojan
 Heads got bottles open, fill my cup till flowin

 *conversation*
 All that good shit
 Yeah
 KnowhatI'msayin, you come in, you come in lookin flavorful
 Word
 YouknowhatImean? You the whole shit of the whole night
 But I've seen it though, knowhatI'msayin? Like I seen it
 You know, my G is too futuristic for that shit, knowhatI'msayin?
 Word, did you try to get a little swerve kid on?
 Tried to man, youknowhatI'msayin, but she was come pullin off
 Word
 Word?
 Just come pullin off her as her drawers
 Worrrd
 Fuck that bitch though, knowhatI'msayin? Shoulda, on the real
 Yo yo tonight feel like a nigga gonna get burnt
 Yeah yeah
 It's like you hear something tomorrow right
 Some like yo, blahzay blahe
 It's the wind, I'm tellin you
 Yeah yeah word
 It's the air, I can feel it
 It feel hot, it feel feel hot at night and shit like
 the sun ain't even out
 Yo the sun don't shine nobody, knowhatI'msayin?

 Lyrics: Raekwon

 Yeah
 One-two, one-two, nigga
 Line for line, line for line
 How we get down wit da rhyme
 Yo, it be a line for line, line for line
 This is how we get down
 Yeah, line for line, line for line
 This is how we get down

 Yo! Can you feel me?
 Storytellin rap Magellan I ain't tellin
 Them niggaz ran in the spot for sellin
 Word up, pushed up, man got mushed up
 Seen him at a rap show actin like fat cat though
 Glasses gold, shinin like a real big boy
 This nigga had mega ice on Chips Ahoy!
 Cat surrounded, this political brown kid
 All out the wind yo, my man walked in
 Pullin mints out son had mad clientele
 Order me Cristal twice Kion, chill!
 Watch them niggaz, aiyyo that clique's from outta state
 They bubble weight in Far Rockaway with Blake Carrington
 You know the kid with the most doe-getters
 And terrors on fat shit clique they rock Lo sweaters
 That's my man, that's my man too
 Call him up on the strength of the Wu
 And watch me game, yo grab the cell
 I got a heist to pull off well
 At the end of the week, I'm buyin you a L
 Lexus nigga, I ain't talkin bout Hancock
 No time for weed plus no time to get locked
 That night, up in the staircase
 Cousin had me laced out, skeed all outta my face
 We gon' get dat cruchy chump for all of his lump
 Don't try to front, you was sweatin this Hilfidiger
 Guess who walked in - Abbott and his man from Farragut
 Confront him wit the Ruger on his back, walk in black
 Where's your man, where's the sky blue Land at?
 Stop playin Wu in the back, smacked him wit the gat
 (Yo, money said he be here in fifteen!)
 Stop lyin, wait for the Millenia green to pull up
 He got the Donna Karen shit on, two rings
 Six carats a piece plus the chain swing
 Like anchors on ships flooded wit all diamond chips
 Back pockets: two clips - four-fifths wit rubber grips
 Layin, two bottles of brass I was slayin
 Meditatin, red dot be waitin for my payment
 Heard the key in the lock, cocked the glock
 Turn the lights out, dip behind the couch
 Kion, gag his mouth
 Infra-redded his head when he entered
 But a soft Perry Ellis leather with Dorinda
 A friend of, Kion's wife, Kenya, the bitch larger than life
 Yo, shorty be fuckin mad Columbian niggaz
 Fuck it, get on the floor meet the black Lex Luthor
 Stripped fast, the bitch had on Claiborne drawers
 Yo Rae, you about to scrape her, chill Ghost
 Thought for a second, turned around
 Threw the nine in his meatloaf
 Yo, where's the cash and the stash that's mixed?
 I don't know!
 Shot his hand, he started screamin like a bitch
Get this song at:
bol.com
amazon.com

Copyrights:

Author: ?

Composer: ?

Publisher: ?

Details:

Language: English

Share your thoughts

This form is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

0 Comments found