Sheek Louch, Ghostface Killah - Trading Places lyrics

[Sheek Louch, Ghostface Killah - Trading Places lyrics]

Wu Block
Ayo Ghost I'm about to go in right here son

Yo there's no place to hide
Tints on the window
Three fifty-seven pointed out the ride
Treat 'em like a dutch
Dump his insides, blood on the door
Blood on the floor
They ready for the battle I'm
Prepared for the war
Money on stupid, soldiers on call
Follow you for real
Chase niggas through the mall
Rolls on the table I'll show you how to ball
Don don I blow weed on the weave with no
Shirt on I got tricks up my sleeve
Suffocate flow make it hard to breathe
I don't want that bitch I'm
Just that hard to leave
Yea, you see the goons that I bring
D-Block chillin' with the wallaby king
My Staten Island niggas they gon'
Let that shit ring
My dudes locked up hold it down in the bing
Police think I'm carrying like
Every kind of drug
I just say what's up, no dap, no hug
I just keep it movin'
I see they all fake but they don't really
Want beef they like Common Sense and Drake

Ayo yo Ghost check this out right
I just killed one of your classics
It's only right you kill one of mines
You got me son? Let's go

When Nas made one love I
Was on the bench still
Mask on, contemplating a kill with one glove
In deep thought, paper bag cover my oe
Heard they got long nickels
Slangin' the four deep
Uh, Medina niggas, Gowanus and Park Slope
Mad heavy, cashmere low coats
Pumpin' at the joy spot
Stepped to this fiend served him from Queen
He had a nose like Floyd Pops
Armed him with a trey deuce
Tell him to knock twice
Tell 'em you want two
Show 'em your nice bike
The door knob turned, somebody cracked it
Bernard walked in, i'm right behind him with
The all black ratchet
Surprise bitches, welcome to Staten
The first nigga that flinched I blast him
The fiends laughing
Foot locker bags unwrapped raw
Stacks on the table
The nigga I shot beginnin' to crawl
He in his boxers
Seen the ounce on the plate with oxys
Baggin' up mad shake
Yo B, yo watch him, while
I search the fridge
Cabinets and the back room
Half a brick in the grit's box and the vacuum
Drugs is what we all about
Cash and it's all around
Tell them niggas to get on they
Face and pat 'em down
I got the goods let's be out son
Slingin' of a nigga head
Word to everything they get out done
Let's kill these niggas

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