Jim Jones, Ghostface Killah, CRIMEAPPLE, Peter Rosenberg - Snake Eyes lyrics

Yeah, yeah yo, yo

I used to tap dance all around a nigga jaw
Too much flair
Put Iron Sheik in a figure-four
Two lil' niggas hold and go
And stickin' liquor stores
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, motherfucker
Pick a door we come in gunnin'
Don't grapple like Chael Sonnen
We hold, the cops pull us over
We laugh and rip the summons
Cruise on boats
Stuff our hundreds in a gold vase
Found right beside
Tucked in between both legs
Coca, royal cigars while I'm buzzin'
Off a gold plate flyin' in the Swiss Alps
Bullet proof North Face
Chefs that do jiu-jit'su, Wu Tang rituals
Bricks being broken on a scale
Being shipped to you
Hairy chest Bee Gee music
You could sniff it too
Scattеr and Fat Nose Larry
They can sniff Peru

Dеsigner shit only the official
Should listen to my pockets on chicken coup
Got all my opps miserable
Popped up in the physical
Two hundred Hispanics
Now he wondering where his man went
Start to stutter and panic
All this butter on my hands
I oughta cover the planet
Rich homies hitting my line like
"You should come to the Hamptons"
I just be lampin' in a
Benz counting president faces but lately
One I tend to see the
Most is Benjamin Franklin
There's no dancing
Y'all retreating when we enter the function
A grown man become a
Fetus like Benjamin Button
Chickens love it, wanna rub my stomach
Even suck soft dick
I only bust three times during
Sex if I'm exhausted
December you might see me
In Colombia eating swordfish
Summertime I got a fever
Wrist and teeth frostbit
A mí ni me hablen de chavo'
I'm getting paper cuts
Todo lo que yo estiro, pesao'
You gotta weigh it up
You turn up stuffed then luggage in Lithuania
I pop up blunted with
Rosenberg at WrestleMania

Capo, ask Rosenberg about our
Very first encounter
He was talking slick shit
That could've been his worst encounter
I was fresh out the kitchen
I was still weighin', workin' counters
Triple the worth of the work and I
Take it to the out of towners
When Ghost was up in Harlem shooting
"Ice Cream" for the butter pecans
I was up in Harlem getting rid
Of them butter seed grams
They catch a body for ten
Cash two for an extra three gram
By the power of Grayskull
The dust had 'em feelin' like He-Man
When Barkley was at the line shooting up
Foul shots with a black eye
I was really up in houses supplying
The fiends with a crack high
There's five thousand ways that you could
Break down a crack pot
Niggas either duck or get struck by
These bullets when the MAC fly
Yeah, we that fly diplomats, I'm backed by
My gang, you get attacked by
Boy, when he up try to act I uh harlem