Ghostface k**ah - Cartel Gathering lyrics

[Ghostface k**ah] Yo yo yo! Word to ride n***a, yeah [Verse 1: Ghostface k**ah] Aiyyo we four or five n***as with furs on Up top gated up, big tables got the reserves on Blowin on saxophones, the band is rough So much ice on looks like my wrist been cut And we just made it back from Beijing Seen my j**eler, told him melt the bird down to eight rings And the music stopped, Jada stood up (yeah) Before the speech, he had everybody raise they cups He said, I been in spots where I can't even mention it "Don't drink the Cris', Ghost mighta pissed in it!" Romanian dude, black down, pourin the saki Face slumped to the side like Rocky Then Strahan came through, with his bullsh** ring He said YIKES, when I pulled out my monster bling Don't be afraid of the New York street talk I switch gear all day bro, like you do on your peach porch The chairs is suede, the walls is velvet Marquise ballroom, so live I felt it Fat a**es in fishnets, shakin they pelvis Playin with they p**y, middle finger drippin, I smelt it Poker tables, crap joints just for rap n***as Me and Sheek, walkin around b**h-slappin n***as There go Rae, there go P Yo Chop whattup! Whattup? [Verse 2: Raekwon] Sam Cooke writin hand, all of my lightning, damn Used to rob n***as in Sam's, buy shams For my dude's baby shoe or booster baby, rollin with steel Eatin Jamaican food under the wheel You know the deal, book somethin then blow When from a O to a low, little apartment in Brookdale Gold was my motto, lotto numbers is what? Had it in me, rolled down coolin with coke That's the 90's, Chef era take over America Bag Ugly Betty up, make her Ms. Guerrera Pinky wench in sweaters, cortex burnin the mic booth Travel right past my heritage Them old school n***as is me Taught me how to read, get skee'd, everybody missin a ki Yo I do this with a natural movement Catch me by the {​?}​, scope on me, f** it I'm losin it [Verse 3: Jadakiss] AH-HAHHHH! Uh, yeah, yo I did it my way, lights off on the highway Greek statues on both sides of the driveway Word to the stamps on the diesel The way these n***as is lookin either they got cramps or they evil One go we all go, D-boy fresh but hard dough Cashmere and suede cargoes On top of the beige Wallo's 45 government edition clippers, straight hollows My Clientele is Supreme and it's proven That I'm Only Built 4 the Link if it's Cuban I'm a pioneer, I'm not a vet (uh-uh) "Last Kiss" is a French one, it's not a peck (uh-uh) Movin powder, piff and a lot of wet You're gonna die, that's a promise, not a threat Yeah, but I ain't with the chatterin Cause I'd just rather splatter them This is a Cartel gatherin, what?