Ghostface Killah – 9 Milli Bros. LyricsFollow
Bob Digi, U G.O.D, Raekwon the Chef, the Inspektah Deck
M.E.T.H.O.D., the B.O.B.B.,
Straight up, Masta Killa, the Gza, the Genius
It's the Ol' d-d-d- d-d-d- d-d-Dirty Bastard!
[ODB] 1, 2, 1, 2, (Killa Beez) turn it up
The headphones, turn it up.. yo you hear me?
[Cappa] Whattup Tony?
[Ghost] Wassup don-don?
[ODB] All the way up...
[Ghost] You know how we do...
[Cappa] Let's get this paper together...
[Ghost] You motherfuckin' right Pa, uh huh
[Cappa] What's up, y'all?
[Ghost] We wanna do it nigga
[ODB] You know how I do...
[Ghost] Sound about to go in on some real Wu shit, uh huh
[Ghost] That's right
[Ghost] Ya know what I mean?
[RZA] GHOST-FACE KILLAH!
[Ghost] Lemme give y'all the bullshit hook for y'all niggas
Check it out...
[Hook: Ghostface Killah]
The burners and the stash, we 'bout the cash
We got females that got it like that
The golden childs that bone the crowd
See, niggas in the place that bit my style
Well, I'm a singer, dancer, we bulletproof brothers
Wu Tang got the answer
Cause if I had a chance to do it again
I will still keep the heat in my pants-uh
Y'all be nice to the crackheads, everybody listen up
I shot one of my bitches, the ho ain't trick enough
Word life to big screen Don, tapping dustbones out
With starwriters like I fucked Celine Dion
Stuck everything that's the god's honest beyond
We airin' niggas out, that's the type shit that we on
Official Wu-Tang headbanger
Flood your space with big waves like you did in Sri Lanka
[Raekwon the Chef]
Yo, I drink heavy gallons of Crew, play the big part
Niggas got squid on the grill, selling kids Clarks
Finesse notes, yo, the Guess on with the vest pose
Yellow swede one matching hat with the grey gun
Niggas be rhymin' for nothing, then my team pull up
We all throw down y'all broke niggas stay frontin'
Lines come digital stupid, plus ain't got
No jewelry on, bet I'm still live and I'm coopin'
Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves
Front on react and sippin' Cog-i-nac so relax dude
Know I'm with these cracks dude
Solid tone smith with 6th shots, lick shots
Leave your head like a Shaolin monk with 6 dots
Brooklyn, Zoo, Zoo
It's the return of Bin Laden, grab your armor
Smash pretty boy niggas, crush they karma
Eat bones with alligators, roll deep, with my entourage
My whole crew's fresh out the bars
Diggler, AKA the Cab Driver
Drop him off in the middle of fire
Dirty Island, drag bodies to the Murderland
Knock niggas out hurtin' my hand
I remember in the elevators when we was playin' corners
Now we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)
Staten's where the war is
Where the court system's running out of warrants
Where TNT be jumping out the Taurus
For real I can't call it
You see I love Lucy cuz she lawless
Exactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 is
Snitch niggas swallow your tongue
Already know the island I'm from
And y'all don't want no problems with them
We got a history, full of lightning victories
Conceptual breakthrough it ain't no mystery
Long vision, from giants in every way
Rap czars, magnificent flows for every day
From the East to the 'ville, from the West to the hills
Incredible rhymes, encouraging skills
From rat packs, the smallest crews were enormous
We hit 'em fast, with an effortless performance
MCs start fleeing in flocks
Especially those that's more sensitive to heat and shock
We grindin', down to the bone
My name grounded in stone
I'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with Chrome
Mr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on Rome
Shining like a hundred thousand in stones
Move mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero
1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbows
The hoes cling, sho thing, we know kings
Only dime dikes, with minds right, we choose Queens
Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitars
Yo son split his face with the toast, he ain't ghost
It's no joke iron coat rifle with the stroke
One toke brains float, shot to the throat
Before the smoke hit, witness the killing
On the crime scene
Body on the block
Eyes open from the shock
Of being popped in the neck
Yet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingers
Danger when you step into the chamber with the master
Disaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I hafta
The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'
Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gat
The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff
Blow the bouncer's head off, let him floss he the boss
Handcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard Theodore
See it's pure, let it rain curly ounces
Bang him with the thing that hang from the trousers
You don't want no drama, I'm flaming fast
That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash
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