Action Bronson - Meteor Hammer lyrics

[Ghostface k**ah] I don't touch that swine I want that unnecessary beef You smoke garbage buds We smoke tons of keef Fishing, looking for that big-mouth ba** And flashing, jack your whole stash In fashion, keep my goons lined In an orderly fashion It's glossy with 500 horsies in the Benz Tinted out to spend the night You ain't got angel funds is low, stack Your b**h been a ho, jack Still scoop her up, bring her home And blow that, cause Ghost be mostly Looking pretty toasty Front row at Mayweather vs. Mosley With the Bin Laden bottle A Brazilian model Got the paparazzi jumping Like I hit the Lotto Party hard, like I'm fresh Out of the cages Outrageous like Charlie Sheen out in Vegas [Action Bronson] You drop your pants to your ankles At the urinal at the ballgame I'm on the stool getting brain From a tall dame, cause I'm 5'8'' Shorty like 6'2'' Feed her coke, locked jaw Like a pitbull. I was born to rep You f**ing with a hornet's nest Old shooters in the corner like Hornacek Young boys that be handling the rock Chris Paul dish off, hammer in the sock Gold flakes in the Gold Schlager The ammo green XJ12, you know the old Jaguar I got the birchwood lacing the interior Poppy bagels getting flavored out in Syria Only the Fonz, best laced plates That reach maturity, dick s**ed by Shannon Doherty Take your temperature an*lly and orally Make a batch of hummus drizzle royally with oil, B [Termanology] Hopping out the Rolly Royce Rolls Gold Nuvo Diamond-studded shoe soles Flyest n***a you know Puerto Rican version of Scarface f** with the god's say Disrespect, piss in your broad's face Chains stay chunky like Oprah's belly Got the purple and the brown: Peanut bu*ter and jelly When I step up in the spot with the rock, you see the Popular pop rappers go into their pocket and pull out their wallet When I click-clack, now get up on the ground Cause I Onyx, Pete Rock, Chuck D shut em down You know Term, I'm the kid with the 'preme beats bu*ter Pecan J Lo, chick with the mean cheeks Rubies on my gold fronts, iced out notebook Making volcanos in the kitchen when the coke cook I rode around with all kinds of thugs High on d**, pissing out tiger blood