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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Ghostface Killah
Performer
Raekwon
Performer
Method Man
Performer
Superb
Performer
Chris Liggio
Drum Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Ghostface Killah
Composer
Robert Diggs, Jr.
Songwriter
Cory Woods
Composer
Clifford Smith
Composer
RZA
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ghostface Killah
Executive Producer
Raekwon
Executive Producer
RZA
Producer
Mitchell Diggs
Executive Producer
Oli Grant
Executive Producer
Tony Dawsey
Mastering Engineer
Lyrics
Yeah
(Just had to catch it, you know?)
That was locked, you know?
(That was Gorillas, gorillas)
Tranquilize, tranqulize, yo
Yeah, yeah, c'mon
Ayo, what is it, lord?
See me in the club, got a gun on my leg
Select paper and invade all the illest ****, tally up paid, yo
Live Crew meetin', layin' in the lab with robes of fly Mo
We hold all **** eatin'
Racquetball gangsters, unleash the law, straight up
Colorful drawers, bad whores on the weekend
Eat it raw style like flounder
Fuckin' with mine or how we design, my **** might find ya
Layin' in the Tropics, big dick shit on park
The way his Clarks look, **** on topics
Movin' out, colored Durangos, picture me broke
That's like picture rich **** with the same coats
Or rich **** with the same coke
You can catch us cruisin', ballin' a ship, fully equipped
On a StarTAC, callin' a bitch, I'm what you get
When that Absolut and Hennessy mix (Ultimate! Ultimate!)
Wu shit, my whole clique (Ultimate! Ultimate!)
Rub-a-dub, ass in the club, showin' me love
Sayin' "Peace" to the **** that thug, I got the drugs
And the .38, snub-nose, striking a pose
Baby girl spilled her drink on my clothes, the new Girbauds
Louis Rich, Hot Nikks, ****, what's happenin'?
Ain't shit, holdin' my dick, smokin' a clip, thanks for askin'
Mashin' the latest fashion
Dance floor packed in, whites, blacks and Latins
All in together, together for worse or better
Now I put it down whether it's Methy, Method, or Meth-Tical
Rock, skate, roll, bounce
I'm bound to wreck your body as they turn the party out
All magazines lay, fly life we live
The lingo was to let y'all **** know how **** rep
I'm set lightin' the purple in a new Lex
Triflin' work, let's murder everything that move on the set
I better pay Big Mama for using his lyrics
I better pay Big Mama for using his lyrics
I better pay Big Mama for using his lyrics
I better pay Big Mama for using his lyrics
And my mouth stay dry 'cause I swallow the struggle
I might connect you to a VCR after they plug you
I'm not a gangster and I hate thugs, too
I'm just a **** that paint a picture without a paintbrush, too
Without a paintbrush, too
Bulletproof Wallets, 20G kitchen sets made out of Korea
Top Sear, gots to be a lots to see a rocks
Knots we re'd up behind the stove askin' how Maria popped Lea
Cursed out Nia, burst out her purse
With the gods you jeer from Stark's Pizzeria
Peace, hate to be ya (Uh-huh), especially when them shots ring off
In slow motion when your head hit the meter
You lost two liters, at the same case speeder
Peter slid through, shook 'em down for his reefer
James chased Theresa with a hatchet on Easter
Two murders in the hood, we call it double features
Watch how I eat this, freak the best teacher
After prayer with the preacher, I get skied in the bleachers
And your girl, I might eat her
I'm a lover, not a biter (Word up), I still catch her for a pizza
You can be as good as the rest of them or as bad as the worst
So don't hate me, you better move over, yeah
You fucking idiots! (Yo, uh-huh)
Wallets, motherfucker! (That's right)
All my shit is bulletproof (You slew-footed motherfucker!)
Bulletproof projects (Yeah), bulletproof wallets (Duck fiend)
R.A.G.U., you heard, you bird-ass **** (Word)
Y'all **** ain't got a chance, chance, chance, chance
Written by: Clifford Smith, Cory Woods, Ghostface Killah, Robert Diggs, Jr.