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I've heard lots of people say once a man's a killer, they just keep on killing and killing; they sort of develop a taste for blood. -Yeah, that's right. They kill one man, or kill ten, it's all the same (yes). After all, they can only hang you once... [VERSE 1:] Both hands clusty, chillin' wit my man Rusty low down Blew off the burner kinda dusty The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape Rae co-host Monty Hall expo, intellect you red pro Son triflin fuck, wildflower on the cycle an' Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an' Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into Iron Duels Turn-ons the Earth's whoopee, she out of law school. Inhale break beats of hell A-Alikes propel parallel Duracell, NAW, you flash a burnt cell Snap out of CandyLand, kids the old rumor is blacks become immune to shit, we never did like eatin' dead birds fuck the pharmacy over herbs Men marryin men, ill , they got the Earth pulsar Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter Livin' off land you god damn right I fuck fans, king me! Check checkmate props like the micro chip founder Neck to neck stocks with Bill Gates now [CHORUS:] When we hug these mics we get busy Come and have a good time with G-O-D Make you snap your fingers or wiggle Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle Shake that body, party that body Don't fuck with Ghost you'll feel sorry That's word, I'm not the herb Understand what I'm sayin' [echo] [VERSE 2:] Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter Culprit, prince of the game wish you could see us We lay low glitter wax full bangles Priceless ropes, lay around the God and get tangled Wooly-haired, eyes firey red, feet made of brass Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff Move, every script's like Miramax Smash the big boy totalled it, will shot fear effects Sun beamin', wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima Wu 'binos, to Latinos, we lust to lean 'em Overnight, God get jewels Fed-Ex'd Pretty soloette(silhouette)velvet nice DNA scroll genetics Too hot, the handle went off, scramblin the mandolin, Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack em, say when He rollin up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts Yo kid stop frontin' on the grounds before you get touched It's Canada Dry cess, obsessed with Allah's sun We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry -What we do, depends on breath control, so it's the first thing you must learn. Fortunately it's easy. You'll soon learn. - My God so they are killers - Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood |
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