Street Opera-Ghostface Killah

(feat. Sun God) [Intro: Sun God] Sun God... get 'em, official... [Sun God] I stay far from my opponents, pardon me dogs That's why lead the call, they moving up on us But them g's on the corners, move when I move That's a warning, or I'mma have my goons spin a garment Think it's sweet, and try to creep or run up on us Sh*t'll get deeper than twelve foot, and you be leaking out of order Don't beef, if you ain't beefin' for no quarters Cuz pain is money, you float funny when you surfin' the water I'm that dude slangin' pack by the border I love my life, I live it twice, cuz it's up to me sorta You a fool with a mental disorder, and it's probably your daughter That really love me, for the sh*t that I taught her Will Smith on the guest list, pops is the king I'm the fresh prince, forty oil tune, kick ya chest in Us that got the universe confession, pardon your dame I'm new to the game, but true to my lessons [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] Jeans, hoods, guns, crack [Ghostface Killah] Visions of me swallowing crack, being chased by jake And the sound of the razor keep hitting the plate And tooters is flab with rugers, with daggers and them jeans We chew through it, like we coming down off woolas And my P.O., she half Creole, I move from Philly to Dallas With true talent, like my name is T.O. So when I piss, I gotta piss slow, she know I kick them Vasine bottles Cuz if I'm dirty, I ain't letting it go Your project steps is Ajax down, dry blood Maintenance men with the scrub brush, scraping the ground Diapers, baby rattles and broke lighters, I led many Horses to water, just to see if they like it Taste my, Betty Crock', ready rock, bet he cock, now News flash, my ni**a ridin' L, laid a cop down Any of ya niggas want beef, I will stop clowns I got a bad ox' fifth, now how the glock sound? [Chorus] [Ghostface Killah (Sun God)] Aiyo, what up S.G.? (Aiyo, what's poppin' my ni**a I'm just oil in the toolies, exercising my trigger Finger, I got the biggest bangers) Yeah, I got a crispy stainless Your mans ain't f**king those hoes, they just a bunch of gamers (Them head shots, neck shots, probably blow they brains in I'm so close to the edge, pushin' they f**king face in) I bet you now, them muthaf**kas really start complaining (No hesitation, my reputation'll leave 'em chaining) We go hard, like the NARC's when we start invading (I copped the license and registration, to cock and aiming) It's all entertainment (And all my niggas made it) We hard body like Wu-Tang and Iron Maiden (I keep the iron blazing, hands hurt Like a b**ch when she putting braids in, I think it's so amazing) We ran trains for hours, up in the Days Inn Hood rats and crack motels, we seen baking [Chorus] [Outro: Ghostface Killah] [Sounds of crunching and eating] Yeah, good...