Sonnys missingftd-Raekwon

作曲 : Phillips, Woods Then who will beat him? I don't know, you know I can't reveal that sort of thing to you Well I haven't got my money yet Head splash, caught him... (eight million stories or something) Eight million stories, nigga Word up, from the hard streets of NorfolkMotherf**ker to New York, all over the world, nigga We win, all day everyday, n***a (Son is missing right now, man) Ya bitch-ass nigga, watch what happens (Get on it man, for real) Check the shit, yo, aiyo, aiyo... They found his head splashed, caught him by the side of the building He had a mask on, four-five why did you kill him? It was supposed to happen, clicked the s**t back Yo, this is the deal, you get on the floor and lay in the grass Had me handcuffed, take two puffs of the kush I see you out here, your name's real, can't let you get touched He had a team, Japanese fiend, all of them greened down Chiba lit, blood on his Adidas was thick One second homey, walked over, weapon was boney Long nose joint, "Hold him", grabbed the n***a head, broke his RoleyWhere the blow shorty? Shorty start smiling, "Y'all niggaz is puss" Yo, Lex, these niggaz, ain't vets, they gush Chunk of meat flew off his cheek bone, broke a seat Had a hole in his ' Lo shirt and took all his weed Untied him, he fell, legs weak and son wouldn't tell Now it gets deep, son start falling asleep They woke him back up, smacked him with the Mac, "Where ya slut? " I heard you copped a new Beemer and them glasses is rough They was the Furla joints, eighteen karets, bought 'em right in BrazilHe had the steal on ' I'm, niggaz went savage, they had him spread out T position, opened his jeans up Shot him in the leg bone, he rose up like Kung TutStill riffing, this why for real my niggaz'll still get it All of us yelling, he I'll with it Mouth bloody, muddy Gucci joints on, them shits was nine hundred Couldn't wait to kill him, his sons wanted it Champion hoody was gone, they broke his neck in like five places Pushed him down the rail and it skipped his face Yo, chill, nigga, chill Police, police, the bullhorn...(Aiyo, son, niggaz better start flushing the f**king toilet, man) They just f**king killed this nigga, my nigga(Better stop leaving ya dirty f**king Fila hoodies around, man) Hit this n***a in the back of his f**king head You, man? (Yo, man, the n***a whole f**king head desintegrated, nigga)(There's a hundred police outside) Listen, B, aiyo... They running through the building, man(Y'all niggaz gotta shut the f**k up, man)(Then you wonder why niggaz be getting busted?Man, y'all niggaz is yelling, manWe in the back cooking, B, come on, manWhat the f**k? Langston, go to the storeI'm stilling waiting for the baking soda)