J Dilla - Murda Goons lyrics

[Intro: Ghostface k**ah] Yeah, testing one-two, one-two Testing, one-two, yeah, one-two [Ghostface k**ah] I've lived the life of Sonny Carson Favorite slacks was the baby blue knitted sharkskins Custom made like the ace of spade Switching robes when I leave the forum In the sleeve is a cla**ic date Russian cut, mustard handle, bout the same size Of little tight Shawn with his Nikes on, still blamp you Vamp you, throwing h*mo's out they sandals Leave your brain all chunky like I'm advertising soup from Campbell's Bowl legged old man give me props, all I do is buy 'em a bottle Hit 'em off, like "peace, pops!", Fishscale got the streets hot All you gotta do is go on the road, with Dipset, Rae & D-Block And that's how we take New York back (yeah) Flex and the Pitbulls, Heavy Hitters, Kay Slay, Absolut Camillo, Lantern, load the wax up, co*k and shoot Cypha Sounds, DJ Clue, Envy, next, Staten be the scoop [Hook: Ghostface k**ah] We them brick, flippin' n***as with Cash Rule, relax duke Doctor bills, funerals, that's what cash do Come around here, fronting, we'll splash you Staten Island murder goons, cousin, we'll scratch you [Ghostface k**ah] Yo, heard some of ya'll singing like Lou Rawls Try to f** me, you gon' suffer from blue balls Tone's a karate champ, shottie champ You period n***as be spotting with bad cramps Intestines looking like chitlings All we need is hot sauce, my pork eaters, go and get rid of 'em Kites and d**h threats, ya'll keep sending 'em For every dart you throw, my last one's k**ing 'em Like cancer patients, in the process, losing they hair You'll be fighting for life, scratching and gagging Panicking, gasping for air, suffocating from no-wind syndrome Like somebody cut the neck of a deer It's algebra in the third, Alfa Alfa with the gun to the rascal Jessica Alba is one of my birds Plus AlcaSeltzer's blowing up bursts Out to melt you brain cells like Alien herb [Hook] [Ghostface k**ah] Get lost in my hood, it's like you lost in El Mira You might get poked up, smoked up, throat cut Rocking them little fly chains, get yoked up Ya'll Boar's Head n***as, ya'll just cold cuts Victims of night time street horror, going home with casualties The twelve gauge blew a path in your knee That's what happens in war, when the high heaters don't eat We creep, our stomach growls loud, so we don't sleep, tote heat Won't speak, (we them), we them grill n***as, we smoke beef [Hook]