Ghostface Killah - Conditioning lyrics
[Ghostface Killah - Conditioning lyrics]
You realize who I am?
I'm gonna break your bones into little bit's
Yo
You could throw me in a lineup, rough beard
Thick knot and my shines up
Mediterranean bezel rocks planted
Like saltines
Worth about six hundred thousand
In the Auck scene
I still jog in the hills of Brazil
Twelve eggs and my conditioning
Coach is Anderson Sil
He a prize fighter, and me
I'm a prize writer
Time you industry niggas recognize fire
Boric acid mixed with ricin
Don't stand under a tree 'cause
My flow is lightning
Some say I should be prosecuted
Death by lethal injection
Electrocuted or Malcolm X 'em
Or send a Chinese bitch in
The club to stretch him
And if that don't work
Then it's on to the next one
Beef, we can let it cook, fried to perfection
Got the bulldog snub that'll
Cave your chest in
You know what'd happen if I
Punched you really hard?
Ayy, yo, my moms never knew that she
Was nursin' a wolf and I wrote this on 9
11, covered in soot
Spittin' tobacco out my mouth
In Claiborne fatigues
Posted under a Brinks truck
Waiting to squeeze
Stay on point like the nose of a marlin
Spartacus brawler
Pressin' y'all pussies in public, nigga
You stallin' with
Nowhere to run, faggot, I'll grab your ear
My shootin' arm stay fresh like a bag of gear
Goose coats, yachts, diving off of big boats
My bitch pedicured up with a sick throat
So cold, making you stutter
"III c-c-can't believe Ghost is still gutter"
Everywhere I go, I'm polyg'ed up
Cohen optical frames of Breitling
Dipped with a crisp cut
See me on a Jackson 5 cover next to Randy
They had black 'fros, mine was sandy
Buckwheat Jackson
You gonna fight or not? Get off, get off
I'm gonna break your bones into little bit's
Yo
You could throw me in a lineup, rough beard
Thick knot and my shines up
Mediterranean bezel rocks planted
Like saltines
Worth about six hundred thousand
In the Auck scene
I still jog in the hills of Brazil
Twelve eggs and my conditioning
Coach is Anderson Sil
He a prize fighter, and me
I'm a prize writer
Time you industry niggas recognize fire
Boric acid mixed with ricin
Don't stand under a tree 'cause
My flow is lightning
Some say I should be prosecuted
Death by lethal injection
Electrocuted or Malcolm X 'em
Or send a Chinese bitch in
The club to stretch him
And if that don't work
Then it's on to the next one
Beef, we can let it cook, fried to perfection
Got the bulldog snub that'll
Cave your chest in
You know what'd happen if I
Punched you really hard?
Ayy, yo, my moms never knew that she
Was nursin' a wolf and I wrote this on 9
11, covered in soot
Spittin' tobacco out my mouth
In Claiborne fatigues
Posted under a Brinks truck
Waiting to squeeze
Stay on point like the nose of a marlin
Spartacus brawler
Pressin' y'all pussies in public, nigga
You stallin' with
Nowhere to run, faggot, I'll grab your ear
My shootin' arm stay fresh like a bag of gear
Goose coats, yachts, diving off of big boats
My bitch pedicured up with a sick throat
So cold, making you stutter
"III c-c-can't believe Ghost is still gutter"
Everywhere I go, I'm polyg'ed up
Cohen optical frames of Breitling
Dipped with a crisp cut
See me on a Jackson 5 cover next to Randy
They had black 'fros, mine was sandy
Buckwheat Jackson
You gonna fight or not? Get off, get off