Raekwon The Chef - Verbal Intercourse Şarkı Sözleri

Raekwon The Chef şarkıcısının popüler şarkılarından Verbal Intercourse şarkısının sözlerini sizlerle paylaşıyoruz. Raekwon The Chef - Verbal Intercourse Şarkı Sözleri sitemize 31 Ekim 2019 Perşembe tarihinde admin tarafından eklenmiştir.

No tricks, no tricks baby
Yeah, aiyyo Rae
Check it out y'all
It's the science
Fly wonderful
Yeah y'all
Tony Starks and umm Lex Diamonds
Tony Starks, my nigga Nas
Strength my whole team is eatin off this type of shit
For all the fake niggaz out there, yaknahmean
Word up
Good shit, nigga next time, no more whatever shit
Fakes be celebratin but they be mistaken
Word to the wise
Keep your eyes open and your wallet in your front pocket
All types of shit, yo son
Rock it, RZA Chef Ghost and Nas niggaz is the prophet
Tell em it's on right?
Show those crabs how to rhyme
RZA Chef Ghost and Nas niggaz is the prophet
It's only like five percent out of a hundred
RZA Chef Ghost and Nas niggaz is the prophet
Do it to em baby

Verse One: Nas

Through the lights cameras and action, glamour glitters and gold
I unfold the scroll, plant seeds to stampede the globe
When I'm deceased, by then the beast arise like yeast
to conquer peace leaving savages to roam in the streets
Live on the run, police paying me to give in my gun
Trick my Wisdom, with the system that imprisoned my son
Smoke a gold leaf I hold heat, nonchalantly
I'm grungy, but things I do is real it never haunts me
while, funny style niggaz roll in the pile
Rooster heads profile on a bus to Riker's Isle
Holdin weed inside they pussy with they minds on the
pretty things in life, props is a true thug's wife
It's like a cycle, niggaz come home, some'll go in
Do a bullet, come back, do the same shit again
From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable
Guns salute life, rapidly, that's the ritual

Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef

Perhaps bullets bust niggaz discuss mad money
True lies and white guys, we can see it through the eyes
Catch the most on tape, kilos disintegrate
Pyrex pots, we break, fiends lickin plates
In the building niggaz building, like little children starin
Them older niggaz aint carin
Sirens circlin fiends are lurkin in your baggage
oh, one's gone now, what, smack him in his cabbage
In the woodwork, crack cells bubble like Woolworth's
in the projects, richest niggaz rockin all the real worth
Police questioning, rooftop cats invested in
Tradin in they Lexus' GS's sendin messages
Two and two makes four, Cristal's crazily pour
Gun wars my crew phantom like swords

Verse Three: Ghostface Killer

With the green leathers, hunded pound snakes and cakes
Fiends found in lakes, jeolously Jakes we shake
What I strive for is what I live for
Infatuated by material things, and it's wild like for war
like somewhere over the rainbow, I see a big pot of gold
Future stacks yo I hold
Thousands of cracks bagged up inside the shoebox
Don't keep jack in my lap, don't wanna see Tupac
Got two spots, a new lot, flooded with rocks
Shoot-outs making me hot, crooked cops Bad Tony and the ball drop
In the Now, I'm bangin niggaz for slide time
Hurry up Duke I'm next, show em mine
And what the fuck is you looking at?
By the way young blood, hit me off with that Green Bay hat
Watch your back inside the hall, new niggaz slide through
like doors yo, you're starin in the mess hall
Your adrenaline runs, cigarette niggas be swindlin
New jacks surrenderin, come home not rememberin
Made bail with different size kicks on, a white dress shirt
Lookin gay in the yard, and you got hurt
Flashbacks, of the day room, mop ringer style
Your faggot ass got bashed tryin to turn the dial
You told your boo you was whylin
Once you heard Wu, out of the blue, your family's from Shaolin
High class cooks, throw on vestes out of phone books
Infirmary niggas are screaming, "I got drugs!"
Sharpen toothbrushes 190 mixed with baby oil and shit
Your man's in the kitchen stashing ice picks
Well I'ma end this with a big red cherry on top
Me, Nas and Rae got the best product on the block

Strength my whole team is eatin off this type of shit
Word up, throw your hands up
Good shit, nigga next time, no more whatever shit
Cock back the Mac an say whatever
Keep your eyes open and your wallet in your front pocket
Your Hawaiian's stale, exoticness, fly shit
RZA Chef Ghost and Nas niggaz is the prophet
Floatin on in nine-five in the basement