Angela Hunte - Soundboy k** It lyrics

[Verse 1: Raekwon] Ay-yo, life's good, cashmere sweaters in the rover Pull up at the club, getting love, pull em over Jump out the luxury stroller for ballers We sit, burn money all day, blow and roll up Fine broads around, that's fly, that's a low ball Paper settlin' its real for my gold club come up You ain't even know nothing, last week all on the street Yelling 'Let me hold something!' Now shorty throw your booty up n***as with cash Keep it above, we in Louis stuff Sit back, blasted, do me something When it comes to you, me and this rap sh** I'm quick to toolie up My style, my fly, my weather Yeah I drive high plus fly You a devil, you endeavor Mean days in Ciroc with the kettle Throwing cream at shorty's, love it, he a rebel [Hook: Melanie Fiona (Raekwon)] Watch the soundboy, he 'gon k** it (To every ghetto that's far, we here.) Yeah, watch the soundboy, he 'guan k** it (I seen so many scars from it) Yeah No, we can't turn back the rain Now we gotta find another way Cause we grind it, burn it, street life's Got me caught up can't you... Can't you see it's 'bout to blow? Can't you see it's bout to blo-o-o-o-o-ow? Raekwon, k** it! [Interlude: Raekwon] Ay-yo, wha gwan, you know what it is! Assa**in, soundboy gangsta, let's go! [Verse 2: Assa**in] Well mi say bodybag a zip up like a ziploc (Blaow! Blaow!) Murder soundboy, k** the disc-jock (Blaow! Blaow!) 8 ball lodge inna yu six-pack (Blaow! Blaow!) Say "it wasn't me" like Rik Rok (Blaow! Blaow!) Raekwon, we got the game inna we hand Control the dogs like Cesar Millan Assa**in on the track yo, call it microphone-icide Why? (Cause we murder every beat dat we on) Then, soundboy yu dead and inna freezer you gone Mi say you end up inna tomb, but anuh Giza yu gone Raekwon a tell me, "Yo Assa**in easy nuh man Yu nuh fraid dem tek weh yuh visa mi don?" Mi say no, sound fi dead, whole clique a dead When mi say di sound dead, all di speaker dead Amps dem, di control, all di tweeter dead Aye! [Hook] [Outro: Raekwon] It's real, man The Chef, Assa**in, Melanie Fiona Word up all my soundboy k**ers The DJs, hold the fort down man, word up man 100 cases of motherf**in' Guinness n***a you know how we win this Song feels so real 'til I finish this sh** Aah!