Originally Posted by
dreClark
Originally Posted by
Seymore CAKE
... Punk $*%*$! _'s Stealin My Light...
Dre, Just Wait Til I Get To The Crib.... Y'all know I definitely bring that Wave when it comes to Ghost post...
Uh Huh Uh Hu Watch Me Duke Watch Me!!!
This _ gone be on dummy when he post again....
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YOU DON'T EVEN UNDERSTAND....
Yo, check these up top murderous
Snowy in the bezzle as the cloud merges
F.B.I. try and want word with this
Kid who punked out bust a shot up in the becon
Catch me in the corner not speakin
Crushed out heavenly, U.G. rock the sweet daddy long fox minks
Chicken and brocolli, Wally's look stinky
With his man straight from Raleigh Durham, he recognized Kojak
I slapped him five, Masta Killa cracked his�hieney for him
E'rybody break bread, huddle around
Guzzle that, I'm about to throw a hand in your back
Since the face been revealed, game got real
Radio been gassin %!**++, my imposters scream they ill
I'm the inventor, '86 rhymin at the center
Debut '93 LP told you to Enter
Punk %!#%!%�_'s stealin my light!!!!
Crawl up in the bed with grandma,
beneath the La-Z-Boy where ya hid ya knife
Ghost is back, stretch Cadillacs, fruit cocktails
Hit the shells at Paul's Pastry Rack
Walk with me like Dorothy
�tried to judge these
plush degrees, said the cow, wrap the fees
Gettin waxed all through the drive-thru
Take the stand, throw my hand all on the Bible
and tell lies too,
I'M THE ULTIMATE!!!!
splash the Wolverine Razor Sharp ring, dolomite
student in role holdin it
Aiyyo, this rappin's like Ziti, facin me real TV
Crash at high-speeds,
As we approach, yo herb, the Gods bail
These Staten Island ferryboat cats bail
Fresh cellies, 50 thief up in the city
We banned for life, Apollo kids live to spit the real
A pair of bright phat yellow Air Max
Hit the racks, stack 'em up Son,
$20 OFF NO TAX!!!
Street merchant tucked in the cloud, stay splurgin
Rock a eagle head, 6-inch height was the bird
Monday night Dallas verse Jets, dudes slid in with one hand
Two culture-ciphers, one bag of wet
Heavy rain @#*%*+ my kicks up
Wasn't lookin, splashed in the puddle
�laughin, 1st thought
Mossied off gracefully,
New York's most wanted tee-ball hawk
Seen the yellow brick road, lust of pastries
Same Ghostface, holy in the mind
Last scene: Manhatten Chase
We drew the six-eight digit in the briefcase
Rawness, title is Hell-bound
Quick to reload around faces, surround look astound
Real spit I had to stop this track after the $20 Off No Tax...
I WAS TOOOOOOOOO AMPED FOR A SUNDAY...
PUT THAT ON CAKE!!!
Oh yea....
peep my guy's swag... rappin into an icecream cone, my guy Easy pointed this out to me... He's TOOOOOOOOOOOOO Cold
