(You know they're killers themselves
People die for them
You know, guys that I fooled with were killers themselves
Want it?, how you want it? stop that!, stop that!)
These are the men who lead the crime families of America
I control 26,000 men
Except for dope, we operate in all aspects of organized crime
And if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that drugs destroy your mind
And destroy your home
In the end it'll only lead our country into ruin)
[Ghostface]
We eat fish, tossed salads and make rap ballads
The biochemical slang lord'll throw the arrows in the dope fiend
Vocal chords switch laser beams my triple sevens
Broke the slot machines out in Queens, Grey Poupon is rebel on rap
Smack on, swing like batons, most want niggas smoked like Hilshire Farms
Check the gun we sew, underneath my shoe lies the tap
That attract bow-legged bitches with wide horse gaps
In steel mills iron he'll smoke the blow on Duns
You run heroins, Primatine mist is afraid of my lungs
Turn my channel, it'll blow your whole bench off the panel
Like 80 roman candles that backfired then slammed you
Every day is like a video shoot, check this shit
I take you back to Playboy, stash guns and whips
Picture afro, big shish-ka-bobs and daishikis
1000 civil marched blazed their fists in early sixties
People die for them
You know, guys that I fooled with were killers themselves
Want it?, how you want it? stop that!, stop that!)
These are the men who lead the crime families of America
I control 26,000 men
Except for dope, we operate in all aspects of organized crime
And if there's one thing I'm sure of, it's that drugs destroy your mind
And destroy your home
In the end it'll only lead our country into ruin)
[Ghostface]
We eat fish, tossed salads and make rap ballads
The biochemical slang lord'll throw the arrows in the dope fiend
Vocal chords switch laser beams my triple sevens
Broke the slot machines out in Queens, Grey Poupon is rebel on rap
Smack on, swing like batons, most want niggas smoked like Hilshire Farms
Check the gun we sew, underneath my shoe lies the tap
That attract bow-legged bitches with wide horse gaps
In steel mills iron he'll smoke the blow on Duns
You run heroins, Primatine mist is afraid of my lungs
Turn my channel, it'll blow your whole bench off the panel
Like 80 roman candles that backfired then slammed you
Every day is like a video shoot, check this shit
I take you back to Playboy, stash guns and whips
Picture afro, big shish-ka-bobs and daishikis
1000 civil marched blazed their fists in early sixties
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