Ghostface Killah

Ghostface Killah - Biscuits lyrics

Your rating:

(feat. Trife)

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]

Yo... who the fuck brought me this chocolate shit, man?

I said a banana nutriment, man

Ya'll heard the fuck I said... I gave you.

I wrote it on the fuckin' paper, man

Ya'll muthafuckas always fuck around and forgettin' something and shit

Smart dumb niggaz and shit, runnin' around here and shit

Ya'll niggaz need to wisen up, man, yo..

Fuck that special ed, shit



[Ghostface Killah]

I said Big O, hydro-face, pass me the sazone, it's on

There go son, tap out the hash bone

Half moon, he rock, three's fourth quarter length

No jewels, no rocks, it's not worth the spotlight

His gun tool, was a half a hill

That's a six digit slip behind five sticks, eatin' steel, fuck him

We gon' -- we gon' get our money

If he front, they gon' read about the rocks in his tummy

Mouth was red, socks was bloody, fuck all the talkin'

Safety off and shit, crept out, "What up money? Freeze!"

Don't move, turn around, act like James Brown

And get down! Get slapped with the put down

Wasn't you the same clown? Uptown, yappin'

I keep big Shirley on my side, so What's Happenin'?

Try eatin' these shells, they non fattening

After you digest gat, I'mma stomp you bastards

So take that.. blaow, blaow! Ghost, he still breathing

Blaow, blaow! Anything after that it don't matter

Your homies and your close relatives

Even them nosy ass pigs'll get splattered

It's the TH-EO-DORE, send me to Iraq I come back with don heat

Teeth, less than a week, they be callin' me

Keep with the fists, cuz I sure do cook when it's beef



[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]

Yo, what up? Meet, these, O.G.'s, quote these and

Baller' shit, long biscuits

Fuck around, take all your shit

Call your bluff, y'all faggots don't want no beef

Grind your teeth, and just, roll with it, don't risk it

Fuck around, and be a statistic



[Trife]

Yo, yo, niggaz ask why I use my glock

Cuz it's 2003, muthafucka, I refuse to box

I'm true to block, strip you for your shoes and socks

Remove your watch, yo I'mma have to lose your top

I'm from a place where chunkheads and zombies dwell

And niggaz keep they heat blazin' like laundry wells

Don't ever talk to a nigga like I'm one of your kids

Cuz I'll cock back the mag and pop one in your ribs

So homeboy, keep runnin' your jibs, I'mma run in your crib

Pistol whip you right in front of your wiz

My nigga, that's how it is, I get it, just how I live

Cuz me without a gun, is like Queens without the bridge

Classic cut, this is how a O.G. live

Lamp in village, and still get heard with no spins

This is Trife Diesel, New York's backbone, back home

Black blown, it's Theodore, nigga, fuck your wack stones



[Chorus 2X]



[Outro: Ghostface Killah]

That's right, it's real!

It's that muthafuckin' Theodore Unit

Nahwhatimean? Staten Island, live shit, y'all

Straight up and down, nothin' but that cutthroat shit

Blowin' niggaz back home, you know what I mean?

I don't give a fuck... we could take it there

Whatever, peace, we got him nigga

Yeah, now I'mma strangle it there

No doubt, it's real right now, muthafucka

Ya'll niggaz done done it, fuck y'all yeah

I'mma get the fuck outta this booth



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