True Master, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah - Batman & Robin lyrics
[True Master, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah - Batman & Robin lyrics]
Yeah yo shorty, move man
You know you ain't supposed to be over here
For real don't make us come and get you, man
Word up, man tell your brother, man
That nigga better come around, man
Be good, man
We ain't sweatin' that little bit of money
Flooded the lobby with the big nickels
Playin' my square talk halves only bitch
Eat a pickle i'm melted up with Guess jeans
Champion sweat hood on
Philadelphy hat two blings
The Aston is dynamite red
Double-pipin' with the wrist lightning white
I shit on the hoodlings
All we hold is pedico and Eagles, Diesel weed
This time, I'm a shit rhymin' for kilos, yo
Who dare wan' test us? I
Flip the accent like Jamaicans
Kid, one stare, we shot your peoples
I'm always Bally'd up
Nigga, you want me? yeah, we both street
I'm under the building, all in me, Yoshi
Bugged out, Bugs-Bunny-money niggas
Plus my hands is licensed that's right
Shoot up some dummies
Dare niggas it's gon' be
Hell up in everywhere, when we find you
Plus we chopped off your mother hands
And packaged it up
And then mailed it to your brother's house
We want that coke, nigga
Every last fuckin' ounce
You fuckin' with the wrong team I'll
Blow meat off your shoulders
Got more than just thugs
I pack heat in my Crown holders
Louie Vuitton Wallos
Keep a ox in the gummy sole
Chain so big, nigga, it look like dummy gold
You funny
Though fuckin' with some savage my niggas
That'll kill when it comes to
Six O's in the figure gun clappin'
Have 'em ready to bust they triggers
You's a goner
Gonna find you slumped in the river
With a Cuban Link purple tape
Stuck in your face
I'm a ghost, choked out, no prints to trace
No leads in the case, got a secret identity
Throw loose change in the game, son
Peep the documentary
I know ya'll motherfuckers like the
Back of my hand
Fuck around with big Ton' and
Get stomped by the Clan, asshole!
You know you ain't supposed to be over here
For real don't make us come and get you, man
Word up, man tell your brother, man
That nigga better come around, man
Be good, man
We ain't sweatin' that little bit of money
Flooded the lobby with the big nickels
Playin' my square talk halves only bitch
Eat a pickle i'm melted up with Guess jeans
Champion sweat hood on
Philadelphy hat two blings
The Aston is dynamite red
Double-pipin' with the wrist lightning white
I shit on the hoodlings
All we hold is pedico and Eagles, Diesel weed
This time, I'm a shit rhymin' for kilos, yo
Who dare wan' test us? I
Flip the accent like Jamaicans
Kid, one stare, we shot your peoples
I'm always Bally'd up
Nigga, you want me? yeah, we both street
I'm under the building, all in me, Yoshi
Bugged out, Bugs-Bunny-money niggas
Plus my hands is licensed that's right
Shoot up some dummies
Dare niggas it's gon' be
Hell up in everywhere, when we find you
Plus we chopped off your mother hands
And packaged it up
And then mailed it to your brother's house
We want that coke, nigga
Every last fuckin' ounce
You fuckin' with the wrong team I'll
Blow meat off your shoulders
Got more than just thugs
I pack heat in my Crown holders
Louie Vuitton Wallos
Keep a ox in the gummy sole
Chain so big, nigga, it look like dummy gold
You funny
Though fuckin' with some savage my niggas
That'll kill when it comes to
Six O's in the figure gun clappin'
Have 'em ready to bust they triggers
You's a goner
Gonna find you slumped in the river
With a Cuban Link purple tape
Stuck in your face
I'm a ghost, choked out, no prints to trace
No leads in the case, got a secret identity
Throw loose change in the game, son
Peep the documentary
I know ya'll motherfuckers like the
Back of my hand
Fuck around with big Ton' and
Get stomped by the Clan, asshole!