[Verse 1: Method Man]
No-no-no-no-no-no-nobody eatin’
That’s everybody, I mean anybody
I might leave somebody bleedin’
Or watch me catch a homi', even hit you in the lobby
Shotty pop ya like a molly, probably leave you hardly breathin’
Don’t try to Blaze with Johnny even if you got an army
Dirty money in the laundry, don’t ask why, I got my reasons
I puff that Bob Marley, might hit you with the Tommy
You can catch me in the party near the speaker not speakin’
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Form better niggas, club night, no sparkles
Forty wolves on deck with burners in their snorkel
Criminology, pea soup Wallabees
Ghostface Killahs with degrees in gun-ecology (Yeah)
Shoot your old lady in her privacy (Word)
A bunch of ho-ho-hoes wanna ride with me (Go Santa)
I’m caught up in these strong-arm robberies
Flee with the lottery, these pussy niggas shot at me
[Verse 2: Sean Price]
Yo, you ever been face-fucked with a four-fifth?
Sweating, facial expression is stressing like ‘oh shit’
That’s the shit that I don’t like
Non-rappin’ rappers in the booth and they don’t write
Fuckin’ stupid ass rappers
Acting out of their character, I shoot and stab rappers
P! What it do, nigga?
I fucks with Wu-Tang and a couple of new niggas
I don’t weirdo with queer clothes
I share flows, when it enter your earhole
Shit, it’s a thing of pure beauty
Everything that’s spittin’ is written by yours truly
Nigga, when Sean write hard
Niggas do anything for it like Klondike Bars
Pa, I’m the greatest of all-time
How should we forget the latest with Alzheim’s?
No-no-no-no-no-no-nobody eatin’
That’s everybody, I mean anybody
I might leave somebody bleedin’
Or watch me catch a homi', even hit you in the lobby
Shotty pop ya like a molly, probably leave you hardly breathin’
Don’t try to Blaze with Johnny even if you got an army
Dirty money in the laundry, don’t ask why, I got my reasons
I puff that Bob Marley, might hit you with the Tommy
You can catch me in the party near the speaker not speakin’
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Form better niggas, club night, no sparkles
Forty wolves on deck with burners in their snorkel
Criminology, pea soup Wallabees
Ghostface Killahs with degrees in gun-ecology (Yeah)
Shoot your old lady in her privacy (Word)
A bunch of ho-ho-hoes wanna ride with me (Go Santa)
I’m caught up in these strong-arm robberies
Flee with the lottery, these pussy niggas shot at me
[Verse 2: Sean Price]
Yo, you ever been face-fucked with a four-fifth?
Sweating, facial expression is stressing like ‘oh shit’
That’s the shit that I don’t like
Non-rappin’ rappers in the booth and they don’t write
Fuckin’ stupid ass rappers
Acting out of their character, I shoot and stab rappers
P! What it do, nigga?
I fucks with Wu-Tang and a couple of new niggas
I don’t weirdo with queer clothes
I share flows, when it enter your earhole
Shit, it’s a thing of pure beauty
Everything that’s spittin’ is written by yours truly
Nigga, when Sean write hard
Niggas do anything for it like Klondike Bars
Pa, I’m the greatest of all-time
How should we forget the latest with Alzheim’s?
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