Raekwon The Chef - Clientele Kidd lyrics

(featuring Fat Joe, Ghostface k**ah & Polite) [Intro: Raekwon] Yo straight up last minute, you know what time it is Word up, yeah, yeah, yeah Word up, blip blip blap blap blap What up? [Hook x2: Polite] Who don't know? They don't know, betta let 'em know There they go, here we go [Raekwon] Aiyo Clientele Kidd Layin in the crib gettin' ill money, those who 8 hours get gig Got rugby's on and 4/5ths Attractin' them n***az I go against, the money was his One nasty unit of murderers, all type of Goons'll watch Then four minutes later they burgulars I heard from the grapevine mine made it Elevate the name up, this gift gotta reign and his game went up And now he's stronger than ever, Nike jackets and Cla**ics Go against it and it's instant vendettas He run things, gun down Kings, check the joint the kid flyin' in Crib in Africa with two lions Somethin' like the Prince of a j**el thief, so smack the millions Came back wrapped it up, too sweet The game is missin' somethin' unique I put too much to fall back on, I rather just sleep [Chorus x2: Polite] CHEF! We designin', rhymin' with Diamonds CHEF! Ice Water, it was all in the timin' CHEF! He gave y'all n***az bricks on consignment CHEF! To the d**h and he Billboard climbin' [Fat Joe] Yeah uh Yo Don Carta' bomb harder over nearly everybody Very rarely you find me without the mini-shotti Just waitin' for Rae to give met he cue and you see about 100 Puerto Rican n***az shootin' Get down, lay down, we don't play around I don't know what you heard but, we don't play around It's cooked coke, but look, but what the f** happened? How you leave the dope game to persue rappin'? Already knowin' that ya sh** was trash Breathin' hard on the mic when yo' click is a** All we tryin' to do is bring dignity to rap And you kiddin' me? I'm literally the epitome of that Uh, we much better than y'all, Terre-error the Squad My n***az set it when we get in the yard Whether Marcy or Comstock, triggers 'pon co*k Straight punch in ya lung and you n***az gon' drop What? [Chorus x2] [Ghostface k**ah] Yo yo yo shoot him in his mouth.. (nah) f** him, get the gasoline tell Terry to pull the act up Bring him to Rae warehouse, hang him from hooks then skin his a** As lame as he look he ready to cook (yeah) And he pleadin' for mercy, bleedin' from his dome and he thirsty The first week we made him eat sh**! Videotaped his wiz and I f**ed his b**h Made him watch me on the couch havin' fun with his kids So what hurts more: is it me showin' love to ya fam? Or you in the box laid under the floor? Or keep you alive blow torchin' ya balls? My murder chainsaw, ya bloods on my Scarface walls Not even Ajax can clean that, Jack We need that maintenace man sh** that k** that greasy blood on contact Finish you off 'cause I'm pressed for time Your man and 'em will be next to die Mothaf**a! [Chorus x2] [Hook x4]