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Correct Paisley Darts Lyrics
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Ghostface Killah
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Correct Paisley Darts
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(feat. Cappadonna, Method Man, Raekwon, Sun God, Trife Da God) [Intro: Ghostface Killah] Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yeah, yo, yeah, yo [Ghostface Killah] Catch me on yo' brochure with beachballs, at least three whores Head wop Queens know how to work they jaws They skintone is coffee and milk, mixed up Ass as big as my boss' wife, stomach ripped up Spitting liquor in they mouth, cold Moet Captain Morgan, taking flicks, posing, holding my tech With cowboy hats and coach bags, they party like rockstars Bo Gary watches, just chill, they down in the shark bars And me, gunslinger, clips, c*** D My fashion on, I'm rocking 'em new Rasheeds I'ma finish ya, go in brother like Mr. Cee You could find me fucked up like the mice in cheese Life's a B, Bentley and big bills Bottles, biscuits, bitches, blunts, bad boys bodying pit bulls Karate, black belt and I bring booze To big bar brawls, ball games blasting, fuck 'til my balls blue [Raekwon] We like the black Yankees, old vets who sit in the rest Thankful, counting up currency and move when it rain, pour From every bitch that we bless, we hit up, automatic love The Cuban Link niggaz is the realest My wallet walk, speak to niggaz, cops, judges We put it down, Columbian style, with three killas Based on money, dummies'll die It ain't funny, trying to front on mine, we get in ya mommy Keep cool, nigga, read him the rules, before he bleeding in pools And fuck my shit up, and I'ma just lose Paid a lot of paper to live here American Gangster status, Big Brother, lemme get in ya ear You know what time it is, crime it is No matter what rhyme it is We gon' stay fly, hit lye, rock diamond s***s (no question) Based on a general's fist of fury Neck, arm, money, all of that's crispy jewelry [Sun God] Let me show you how I g ride, nina on both sides Nobody riding shotgun but the four-five Nigga, if you won't try, I'll give ya something to regret Throw that mothafucking semi to ya neck Throw the other black Jimmy to ya chest If you budge, you get stretched, nothing more, nothing less Pay respect, I'm a element of Homicide Housing In other words, bitch, I'm the resident from Homicide Housing Known for drug dealing, stack thousands Four hundred grand in the couches, two hundred grand on the houses At any time I could move up out this And go and cop some shit up in the moutains [Trife Da God] Aiyo, aiyo, you know ya boy stay fresher than produce Timberland snow boots, collecting more cream than a toll booth I grind daily, Patriotic like Tom Brady I'm the bomb baby, cuz what I write is beyond crazy I'm the Don with the teflon armor, good karma, mac palmer Call me Arab Diesel cuz I'm a track bomber Roger that, my niggaz ain't got it cracked All we do is dollar stack, get twisted like bottlecaps While you on the block getting indicted We island hopping, globe trotting through the friendly skies flying United There's a party over here and everybody's invited The headliners is Theodore and everybody's excited [Method Man] Fuck that, 'bout time we took it back to the block The task force coming, I got crack in my sock White Rock on the dinner plate, get cash, shit is hot Smash whips on the Interstate, we dash on the cops It's them dudes, drug slingers, 1-6-Ooh Crime figure, rhyme spitter, his gun spit too Call 'em s** Pistols, ravishing, nigga, I'm Rick Rude And ain't many mothafuckas could fit up in Rick's shoes Man, listen, ice glisten, they love the life we living That's a given, like football players love white women White linen, a tight denim, that ass look right in 'em Shit, I'm riding 'em, cool as Kahlua's with ice in 'em, shit... [Hook: Ghostface Killah (Cappadonna)] Aiyo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo I pass the mic to Cap (Nah, I pass it back) Never, son, hold that, you the master of the rap attack So knick knack patty wack (This is how we do it black) (Slap you with the almanac) Where actual facts is sold as facts [Cappadonna] We on our grown man shit like Quincy Jones Travelling across the world while we smoking the bone We grinding, y'all niggaz know what we do We get it in with the Murderland, Chi-town too Hit you up, something nice 'til the death of Yakub Swagger stuck on ya face like a New Jack tool Right back at you, yeah me and my dude Toney We don't fuck with fake contracts and niggaz that's phony Trying to get this money, right homey And lay back in the Riverside, just chill, relax the domepiece Link up with a fly dime, brick and a chrome piece Coming for that gwop, yeah nigga, you got beef [skit of Ghostface and co. Speaking during concert follows]
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