Ghostface Killah, Trife Diesel, Sun God - Miguel Sanchez lyrics
[Ghostface Killah, Trife Diesel, Sun God - Miguel Sanchez lyrics]
Uh, thirty thousand feet up in the air
Up in the lear
Dressed in a black tux, forty cal tucked
Strapped to the chair
Half asleep, hopping out of my seat
Caught in the daze
Turned around and seen a white man's face
Covered in shades i must of passed out
Can't remember shit before I blacked out
Three more niggas approaching
Holding they mack's out
One spoke, gave me the keys, to a boat
Reached in his trenchcoat
And pulled out a yellow envelope
Which contained twenty thousand in cash
A photograph
Of a Colombian nigga with a long mustache
Miguel Sanchez
Keep a gun hidden in his pants leg
With armed bodyguards
Surveillance around his land spread
He runs a billion dollar organization
Under investigation
Plus he's wanted by immigration
Now I'm stuck, crazy look on my face
Shocked in amazement
How the fuck I get involved
With these federal agents
They knew my background
Knew about what happened down in Sac Town
They knew about the wrap down south
They laid they backs down
Said I had two decisions
Take out Miguel and his cartel
Or spend the rest of my life in prison
A classified mission on some James Bond shit
007 style, love to get some straight convicts
Now I'm pondering, my thoughts wandering
Got my girl on the phone
Told her to kiss little Jay
Cuz I'll be gone again
Honey, I can't sleep, she sucking her teeth
If everything go good, baby
I'll be home in a week
Pinching myself just to see if I'm dreaming
Call up my team and
Meet me by the docks in Miami
I'll fly out this weekend
I got you nigga, four-four pop two niggas
That drug lord that we want
Got a spot for niggas
And if we kill 'em, it's back to the block
My nigga
He carried rugers, thirty four shots I figure
He only holla at the kid
When there's money involved
They pack shotguns, hollow tips
Dummies and all
When me and Trife doing right together
Got no choice but give us ten
Like we selling white together
Left side, four-five, right, black beretta
Taking trips over seas
Flipping packs for better
Every flight a hundred stacks and better
So grind hard
Get ya money up, get on your grillies
Don't mind odds
Fuck a cop car, throw on some chumpers
And drop charge hit the block hard
It's kinda hard being G-O-D
If he owe Trife, he owe me
Load up the mack grounds, M-IA
Call that the jack town
Tell niggas I'm on my way, coming back down
Miguel, Mr sanchez, it's a wrap, now
Theodore extorting your shit
Handing out packs, now
I used to listen to 50 and jam "Back Down"
Now I slang fifty kilo's where I'm at now
Fifty a wop, purple top, nigga, I'm back
Clown crystal bottles
Grey Goose for the chat lounge
Channel seven news, older dude
Murder gat found
Up in the lear
Dressed in a black tux, forty cal tucked
Strapped to the chair
Half asleep, hopping out of my seat
Caught in the daze
Turned around and seen a white man's face
Covered in shades i must of passed out
Can't remember shit before I blacked out
Three more niggas approaching
Holding they mack's out
One spoke, gave me the keys, to a boat
Reached in his trenchcoat
And pulled out a yellow envelope
Which contained twenty thousand in cash
A photograph
Of a Colombian nigga with a long mustache
Miguel Sanchez
Keep a gun hidden in his pants leg
With armed bodyguards
Surveillance around his land spread
He runs a billion dollar organization
Under investigation
Plus he's wanted by immigration
Now I'm stuck, crazy look on my face
Shocked in amazement
How the fuck I get involved
With these federal agents
They knew my background
Knew about what happened down in Sac Town
They knew about the wrap down south
They laid they backs down
Said I had two decisions
Take out Miguel and his cartel
Or spend the rest of my life in prison
A classified mission on some James Bond shit
007 style, love to get some straight convicts
Now I'm pondering, my thoughts wandering
Got my girl on the phone
Told her to kiss little Jay
Cuz I'll be gone again
Honey, I can't sleep, she sucking her teeth
If everything go good, baby
I'll be home in a week
Pinching myself just to see if I'm dreaming
Call up my team and
Meet me by the docks in Miami
I'll fly out this weekend
I got you nigga, four-four pop two niggas
That drug lord that we want
Got a spot for niggas
And if we kill 'em, it's back to the block
My nigga
He carried rugers, thirty four shots I figure
He only holla at the kid
When there's money involved
They pack shotguns, hollow tips
Dummies and all
When me and Trife doing right together
Got no choice but give us ten
Like we selling white together
Left side, four-five, right, black beretta
Taking trips over seas
Flipping packs for better
Every flight a hundred stacks and better
So grind hard
Get ya money up, get on your grillies
Don't mind odds
Fuck a cop car, throw on some chumpers
And drop charge hit the block hard
It's kinda hard being G-O-D
If he owe Trife, he owe me
Load up the mack grounds, M-IA
Call that the jack town
Tell niggas I'm on my way, coming back down
Miguel, Mr sanchez, it's a wrap, now
Theodore extorting your shit
Handing out packs, now
I used to listen to 50 and jam "Back Down"
Now I slang fifty kilo's where I'm at now
Fifty a wop, purple top, nigga, I'm back
Clown crystal bottles
Grey Goose for the chat lounge
Channel seven news, older dude
Murder gat found