My God  so they are killers.
 I've heard lots of people say once a man's a killer  they just keep
 on killing and killing; they sort of develop a taste for blood.
  Yeah  that's right. They kill one man  or kill ten
 it's all the same (yes). After all  (indecipherable)

 VERSE 1:
 Both hands clutchy  chillin' wit my man rusty low down
 Blew off the burner kinda dusty
 The world can't touch Ghost purple tank Rae co-host
 Mafia whore expo, intellect you red pro
 Son triflin' fuck, wildflower on the cyclin'
 Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an'
 Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into iron do's
 Turn-ons the earth's whoopee, she got a love screw
 In hale break beats of hell aerolight propel parallel
 Doris sell night, you flashin' burnt cells
 Snap in the candy land kids the old rumor is
 Blacks become immune to shit, we never did like
 Eatin' dead birds shut the pharmacy over herbs
 Men maryin' men, ill they got the herbs pulsar
 Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter
 Livin' off land you god damn right I fuck fans Camay
 Check checkmate prize like the cycle champ rounder
 Snake the next stock with Bill Gates now

 CHORUS:
 When we hug these mics we get busy
 Come and have a good time with G-O-D
 Make you snap your fingers or wiggle
 Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle
 Shake that body, party that body
 Don't fuck with Ghost you'll feel sorry
 That's word, I'm not the herb
 Understand what I'm sayin' (echo)

 VERSE 2:
 Hit mics like Ted Coppo, rifle expert
 Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful
 Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter
 Culprit, prince of the game wish you could see us
 We lay low clear the wax phone bangers
 Priceless roll, lay around the God get tangled
 Woolly hair, eyes firey red, feet made of bread
 Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff
 Move, every script's like Miramax
 Smash the big boy totalled it, will shot fear effects
 Son beamin' wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima
 Wu binos, to latinos, we bust a leaner
 Over night, God schedules, fed ex
 Pretty soloette velvet nice DNA scroll genetics
 Too hot, to handle one thought scramblin' demandlin'
 Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack em, say when
 He rollin up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts
 Yo kid stop frontin' on the ground before you get touched
 His counter in drive sex, wit a Narc son we movin' ri' (right)
 We want it so bad we might cry

 -What we do, depends on breath control, so it's the first thing you must
 learn. Fortunately it's easy. You'll soon learn.
 - My God so they are killers
 - Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood