Styles P - Metal Lungies lyrics

[Intro: sample] World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere [Ghostface k**ah] What these clown n***as hollerin'? What they need to be hollerin', is "There go Theodore!" Put the ball down, we can't score They pen sh** to blackboards, make queens out of wack broads You see us comin'? f** that Fam sh**, just pa** off, you b**h Crystal' Dana Dane's wrapped around your neck Lookin' rich, baow, you f**ed up now See my gun, n***a? This baby got stuffed uptown Shouted out, made a whole safe with the pump root pounds My buddy, keep my gun, right next to my tummy Ask the click, yo, they spit metal lungies Detach wigs, k** flunkies off contact, sonsee Didn't mommy tell y'all n***as to wear clean undies? See y'all should of listened to her She knew her son had a big mouth, and some day d**h would occur Please for Ms. Gale's sake, and her seeds Pastor Freddy ain't f**in' around, they knocked him with weed [Hook: Ghostface k**ah] Uh-oh... (word up) This still... (what you talkin' bout, baby?) Real kids spit that sh**.. [Sheek Louch] Let's go, let's go, let's go, yo, yeah Me and Starks clear projects parks With our '93 sh**, army coat green and light tan Clarks n***as think I'm lucky, b**hes wanna f** me And put me in the tub with them like I'm a rubber ducky I got a revolver in the pump about the size of Chucky I remember faces easy as I tie my laces Here, put the metal in your mouth, like you was rockin' braces I spit an iron lungie, yeah, I'm old school like the Iron Monkey My sh** powerful enough to lift a f**in' donkey I got heavy chrome, n***as don't care if you live or die They happier than Marbury home Ya'll n***as better k** me, my street n***as feel me Louch gotta eat, ends gotta meet The hard sh** you kickin' bout is on beat as Tweet This is Theodore, D-Block, the year adore It's son who fall, with the four-four, n***as like.. [Hook] [Styles P.] Yeah... n***a this is Ghost with Ghostface I don't sell millions but I get millions from the fiends who smoke base Somebody leavin' out with a poked face Tone, you burnin' to kick his teeth out, and swear don't catch no case I'mma make you look like you smoke taste, and we don't leave no trace These rap n***as swear that they so safe I don't wanna talk to you holmes, I don't communicate My guns they in my hand, one in my palm And I could dial your number, knock the smile off your face With the H.K. 9, I'm the all black hummer Metal lungies'll spit the grungiest sh** Hungriest sh**, seventeen dummies a clip Tell them rap n***as to s** my dick, f** the industry If sh** shut down, still bust my sh** I got some hustlin' a** n***as that'll pump my bricks And some dust head n***as that'll dump my clips, what? [Hook]