Davey Chegwidden - Rec-Room Therapy lyrics

[Intro: Ghostface k**ah] Ight, now, this is how we gon' do this sh** Youknowhatimsaying? n***as wasn't out in the streets back then When was doing this sh** son, youknowhatimean? Yeah, check the story [Ghostface k**ah] I done flushed bags of powder down project toilets You could of found of me on the steps dusted, unable to call it Jums in my pocket, the rental was stolen, tapping pockets On the local drug dealers, just to see what they holding I know, n***as with crack viles stuck to they colon The acid, done bubbled up, now they stomach's is swollen That just, life in the hood, surrounded cla**, who we bag in our stash The ultraviolet haze, we hit it and pa** We toast to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old ager hump We rap renegades, must stay paid [Hook: Raekwon] + (Ghostface k**ah) Get money (get money) Get money, Ghost (get money) Get money (get money) Get money, Ghost (get money) [Ghostface k**ah] Big fluffed out gooses on, Stan Smiths The housing cops can s** our dicks, we jumping out of convertible matchbox sh**s, next drip inhaling Chilling, my throat frozen, my orange brick Bottles of Cru', b**hes with Baby Phats, they swinging ax They singing, you still blinging, daddy, now bring it back To smoke these rap n***as, honey, I'mma need a match To bust the game wide open, I'mma need an ax I juggle this, practice, smuggle h**n in the cactus Keep it hood, I still go and f** a fat b**h Actress, slinging the backs of five Cleopatras A c**aine Chef, I stretch money like elastic, n***a My raps is bigger, dynamics with the muscle advantage Jay Cutler on dust, when I blam sh** [Hook] [Raekwon] Yo, we been bagging since 18, kid, Polo Rugs on with gloves on Rented cars, fronting on winning broads Gum slow, half moon, leather pants, Avia' days Keep your hands off my blunt and my waves Benetton, Superman bomb, everybody in the lobby, we clapping Hats on, protecting your moms, you know how we play Spray something down if the team say It's on, I dedicate my lines to the PJ's Triple beams, Pyrex jars, smoking nickle weeds All we did is look mad fly, icicle rings Whatever homeboy, you want it? You could get your receipt A little closer, you can sense we got heat, it's only me Plus four other ill gangstas, we all anxious To blow up your block and spank sh** [Hook] [U-God] Yo, I'm down for the get down, hit the town, sick the bloodhounds on 'em I rip clowns, I flip pounds, I spit rounds I'm on the prowl, my stomach growl, crushed by the crowd Rush through Loud Records, drop mushroom clouds I'm not a rapper, I'm spellbound, I melt down Your G-Force, with heat walks Free falling to a better money, bet he's hungry Spread the honey, big head inside the Humvee Mix lead inside my lungies, spend bread on my Dungarees And such and such, Ghost plugged me with this s*ut b**h, don't hug me, bug me, I'm ugly when I f** I'm hard like a jungle hunter, bust off in Heather Double cross me, lift your boss off your feet, 'course he's feather Whatever, whatever, he cried indepence Tennis players get fried, playing both sides of the ends Keep your eyes on your friends, cuz they spy for the feds Watch me rise from the dead, I got ties with the dreads [Hook]