a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

the champ (remix) - ghostface killah lyrics

[intro]
“just blaze!”

[verse 1]
godzilla bankroll, stones from sierra leone
yo i ain’t got it all, that means i’m barely home
trailblazer stay ballin with vengeance,my arts
is crafty darts, while y’all stuck on laffy taffy
wondering, how did y’all n-ggas get past me
i been doing this before nas dropped the nasty
my wallos i did ’em up, them bricks i sent ’em up
my raps y’all bit ’em up, for that now stick ’em up
10-4 good buddy, tone got his money up
worth millions, still bag your b-tch looking bummy what
ya’ll staring at the angel of death
liar liar pants on fire, you burning up like david koresh
this is architect music, verbal street opera
pop a ‘tec man fully got the projects booming indeed
i ran through the tunnel, terrrorized speed
that’s when i was still in the jungle, slinging that d

[verse 2]
i’mma go hard on ya’ll n-ggas
dart ya’ll n-ggas out, dropping science
to let y’all know what the kid about
i hang like the disco ball, on the floor
i’m like john travolta, suade blazing with my chest showing
rings and them hard jeans, please, i’m comfy in the spot
so i’m never handcuffing my queen
it’s a theodore movement, glock-holding kids
with the chocolate boomers, aiyo f-ck those rumors
leave your chick around me, i’ll get those bloomers
bang that like desi arness, with the cowskin cougars
keep staring down the eyes of the champ, anywhere in this rap sh-t
punk m-th-f-cker, i get you blamped, word life, my throat is high
see riggatone with the velvet mask on
cleaning his gl-ss arm

[verse 3]
yo, who wanna battle the don?
i’m james bond in the octagon with two razors (yeah)
bet y’all didn’t know i had a fake arm
i lost it, wild and raw before rap, i was gettin’ it on
took a fat n-gga out in like forty seconds
my gun get hard (uh!) wit a forty-five still erection
eagle on, kangol half-slanted, coconut ballys from morocco
guerilla medallions like flavor flav clock, yo
n-ggas want me dead but they scared to step to me
rip they guts out like a hysterectomy
when beef collide look on the flip by the penitentiary kite
or get you bumped off from the inside
jaws is hanging
frauds is left in their drawers on the floor complaining
bird -ss n-gga resemble keenon ivory wayans
stay in your place dirt born rappers get shadow boxed for training
ya’ll still eatin bacon

[interlude: ghostface k!llah]
yeah n-gga, that’s right
you know you messing with a dart master right now, yo

[verse 4]
yo, i done walked on fire (fire), never got burnt (burnt)
slept on gl-ss (gl-ss), never got cut (cut)
and broke a few nose bones, yo, let off a round or two
at certain dudes where they dropped they phones
yo this straight crack (yeah), even my hand got tooken to jail
for writing murder, my wrist couldn’t take it and bailed
they left my fingers for dead, told ’em
“i ain’t have nothing to do with the writing”
now hold you down when you be squeezing that lead
shopping sprees, with my mans on the corner watch d’s
rolling in threes, in them purple capri’s’
a gritty bop, my watch is bigger, wallo’s with the gold t-ssels
your old slave, with starkey love on the shackle
and i stay fly underwater, my toes is iced out
poofed the nails off, y’all f-ggots can figure the price out
it’s chump change, ya’ll b-tch n-ggas go get my coco
get my slippers, before i go gun ho!

[verse 5]
i’m like the deuce of diamonds cutting spades on a gl-ss table (uh!)
half a mil’ on my left ankle
terrycloth guess shorts, robes is comfortable
bring me a nice b-tch that means i’ll f-ck with you
my swagger is mick jagger, ‘stones’ is ‘rollin’
prestige is cut to a t-spark when weed went up
the cocoa leaf is slightly damp
sprouting in the backyard next to gram duke’s tomato plants
and jets get charted, marquee sh-t with the cars on it
the haters, they earl, run to the toilet and vomit
back east i’m a mc king since cuban
pretty tone, iron man, bulletproof, and supreme
kufi on, double deuce in the jeans
my man shape was on the floor with the mother lode, both of them green
ibf, wbc, cruiserweight, t-tle shots, rap belts belongin’ to d.c

- ghostface killah lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular