Styles P - Gateway to Wizardry lyrics

[Verse 1 - Action Bronson] Yeah, good hoodie, shorty got the good p**y Sniff coke off a crisp hundred Stay blunted, silk pants, sip France Chicks dance, I stand in the pimp stance West coast, laid back feel the breeze Burnin' trees in diplomas, earn degrees In the winter, mockneck circle ski Wanna party, pop that purpley Oh sh** bam bam in the building Scrape the women, hide the children Give a b**h rimshot like a Zildjian Me and Mildred eating like a pilgrim Huh, yo Tommy Lasorda Dodge bullets, dive into the water True lies, diamonds at the porter Shoot like Terry Porter, pimpin' with your Asian daughter I'm always ready for a minor bid Not for long cause I need me some vagina, kid Tryna catch strange soup in the silk Well-built with the coupe in the kilt I need some mouth from a woman I couldn't get it, so I took it, though I shouldn't Sick sh** like Ferrara with the footage Stick shift in Ferrari, oh my goodness Hood b**h, sweatpants, good tits Fat bu*t, 97 Acura Big b**h, make me want to tackle her f** around Urlacher her Enough of that, I'mma shoot dice, abusin' the wall 'Til I cruise on the shore, barbecues on the four Mad d** on the table and I'm doing 'em all And I'm never gon' fall [Bridge] x2 Last time we locked eyes, slapped hands with the kid Now you rambling kid, you should have handled that sh** When you see me motherf**er better handle your biz Better handle your biz [Verse 2 - Action Bronson] Put the flame to his sneakers, I'm a pyro Barrel revolutions got us spinning like a gyro The suitcase is filled with filo Here's a side-note f** around, leave you on the side road Five stars on the dinner plate Pardon 'em, see me studded like Cardamom Play your part cause you don't really want no part of 'em Take the key out the ignition, shouldn't have started 'em Joints twisted like a sprained foot Red beard, big blue eyes, a strange look It's like I'm chopping down trees Jump out the chopper on skis, maltese I'm stunned by the mountains and the sunrise Stash work in the mattress where your son lies Enter the casket under dirt and the guns cry I'm going out blazing, squeezing at the one time [Verse 3 - Styles P] You ain't a boss, you just playin' boss Pop him in his head, pray on his corpse Knee on his neck and his sternum Askin' for forgiveness, when I'm done I'mma burn him You dancin' with the demons I know you see the European leanin' And the chain and watch gleamin' And you thinkin' this a dreamin' Welcome to the nightmare Blunts, the Delorean This sh**'ll travel light-years But you gon' end up right here My rap style is impeccable Standing still in the mirror but seein' my reflection move Phantom no vehicle, ghost no vehicle A Ouija board, it ain't weed what the f** I need it for And what the f** you got me heated for Real cool n***a, show you what the heat is for Ghost and Bronson, shoot like Bronson Cook you like Swanson, now look at your conscience