The Cool Kids, Ghostface Killah - Penny Hardaway lyrics

Them Bally loafers and them Cartiers
I do my thing Penny Hardaway
And if you're knowing where we’re going
Then you'll probably be coming with us!

Friday night nice, Saturday sharp
Edge upon the hairline, side tapered and ball
Sunday winning in the linen shorts
Sent from the mall
Pieces out the dry cleaning
Stitched seams and all
That glitters ain't gold but this is
Cars hoppin in them
Mars spike editions at the
Palace like the Pistons
Peep the way I flipped it
The color on this one is like them other ones
But these colors complement it
You might wanna catch that later alligator
Maury I had another color way
Before they made it
Cordless phones on them like
It’s free activation
For them homes you would end up
In the lab for it
Championship rings wrap bills
In jeans fabrics since we spend? these ropes
Like tennis rackets
Tennis bracelets Andre Agassi tennis
Shoes and jackets cartier frames and Ballys

I tilt my woods up
Slide them up the bridge of my nose
Them Guccis cool, but they are not originals
Those are like digital clocks
Mind shots riddle the block
‘till it moves up
Blew two blunts of king koopa
What a loop scooper troopers
And khaki suit blazers
And my bracelets do a loop and
My wrist like a race, wait!
We ain't say grace we at Shaw's Crab House
Everybody got a lobster on their plate
I get a nice fade, nice waves, wait a minute
Slice gang, chop it up, slap chop
I’m saying!
You can’t know the roster without playin'
I’m not Kevin Costner I'm not
Dancing with no wolves
Acting like they sheep
Peep the Benetton Don hopping out that Jeep
Man the tassels on them Ballys
Checkers or the Rally's
Saying "I don't think they got
It like in Cali"

In my years I sported igloos, Alaskan Ice
The light bulbs in my jewels
Show off in the night
So stay back, stark's flow is toxic
You can catch me and my robes is heavy
Blunted in paisley boxers
Photoshoots in the Sahara Desert
Camels and Cartiers
In the sky facing the half-moon crescent
Wow, it looks beautiful
The stars is praising me and The Cool Kids
Say something wrong they'll shoot at you
They shootin' stars these ruthless bars got
White girls holding their mouths
Like, "oh my God! No he
Didn’t", give him a bib
Cause he keeps spitting
Lines that's so cold where
Every word's frost-bitten
And his man's pulling up in the Maybach
White linen, three quarter rope
Ballys from way back with Cardier frames
White gold all around the rim
Holding their dicks in the club
Niggas honor them