Ghostface Killah, 60 Second Assassin - Stay True lyrics
[Ghostface Killah, 60 Second Assassin - Stay True lyrics]
Oh, yeah, motherfucker it's real
Y'all niggas hold your guns
Throw your guns down, put 'em down
Yo, we in the fields with heat
You fake niggas eat kid meals to me
We street referees, we rock
Jean jackets, thick shirts over turtlenecks
Certified doctors in hoods that
Still oil techs but wait, roll cameras
Babyface money blowin like Beech Nut
Call off the mutts, it's me again
Ghost, your host this evenin
(Ladies and gents I'd like to thank
You all for comin out tonight)
Tux tight, all sharp, light up a bark
Let's mingle
Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds
Flare leg Gucci joints, I never wore
I might give 'em to my brother-in law
Fitzpatrick, rich bastard
Worth more than Egyptian marrows
Borrow the God jewels, Gucci goggles
That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five
My orals like Smokey's voice, little moist
But choice
We guzzle Dom's, smoke with scratchy throats
Live on the edge, bracelets
Shades and classy coats
Jumbo in the club, we play Columbo
Frosty the Snowman, frozen as the milky way
Ice on the floor, El-Producto in the sleeve
In the seam of his mink
He said he don't drink
Think before he talked
He walked like he ordered
Champ room down in Vegas
Vendin machines that shoot Alize'
Compliments of E&J
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had us years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had it's years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)
Y'all niggas hold your guns
Throw your guns down, put 'em down
Yo, we in the fields with heat
You fake niggas eat kid meals to me
We street referees, we rock
Jean jackets, thick shirts over turtlenecks
Certified doctors in hoods that
Still oil techs but wait, roll cameras
Babyface money blowin like Beech Nut
Call off the mutts, it's me again
Ghost, your host this evenin
(Ladies and gents I'd like to thank
You all for comin out tonight)
Tux tight, all sharp, light up a bark
Let's mingle
Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds
Flare leg Gucci joints, I never wore
I might give 'em to my brother-in law
Fitzpatrick, rich bastard
Worth more than Egyptian marrows
Borrow the God jewels, Gucci goggles
That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five
My orals like Smokey's voice, little moist
But choice
We guzzle Dom's, smoke with scratchy throats
Live on the edge, bracelets
Shades and classy coats
Jumbo in the club, we play Columbo
Frosty the Snowman, frozen as the milky way
Ice on the floor, El-Producto in the sleeve
In the seam of his mink
He said he don't drink
Think before he talked
He walked like he ordered
Champ room down in Vegas
Vendin machines that shoot Alize'
Compliments of E&J
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had us years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had it's years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)