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Ghostface Killah
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You realize who I am? I'm gonna break your bones into little bits Yo You could throw me in a lineup, rough beard Thick knot and my shines up Mediterranean bezel rocks planted like saltines Worth about six hundred thousand in the Auck scene I still jog in the hills of Brazil Twelve eggs and my conditioning coach is Anderson Sil He a prize fighter, and me, I'm a prize writer Time you industry niggas recognize fire Boric acid mixed with ricin Don't stand under a tree 'cause my flow is lightning Some say I should be prosecuted, death by lethal injection Electrocuted or Malcolm X 'em Or send a Chinese bitch in the club to stretch him And if that don't work, then it's on to the next one Beef, we can let it cook, fried to perfection Got the bulldog snub that'll cave your chest in You know what'd happen if I punched you really hard? Ayy, yo, my moms never knew that she was nursin' a wolf And I wrote this on 9/11, covered in soot Spittin' tobacco out my mouth in Claiborne fatigues Posted under a Brinks truck waiting to squeeze Stay on point like the nose of a marlin, Spartacus brawler Pressin' y'all pussies in public, nigga, you stallin' with Nowhere to run, faggot, I'll grab your ear My shootin' arm stay fresh like a bag of gear Goose coats, yachts, diving off of big boats My bitch pedicured up with a sick throat So cold, making you stutter "I-I-I c-c-can't believe Ghost is still gutter" Everywhere I go, I'm polyg'ed up Cohen optical frames of Breitling, dipped with a crisp cut See me on a Jackson 5 cover next to Randy They had black 'fros, mine was sandy Buckwheat Jackson You gonna fight or not? Get off, get off
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Ton pseudo sera publié. Laisses les champs vide pour rester anonyme.
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