Paisley Darts

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yeah, yo, yeah, yo

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]

Catch me on your 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 TEC

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, cock 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

[Verse 2: 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 nigga we bless, we hit up, automatic love

The Cuban Link niggas is the realest

My wallet walk, speak to niggas, cops, judges

We put it down, Colombian style, with three killers

Based on money, dummies'll die

It ain't funny, trying to front on mine, we get in your 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, let me get in your ear

You know what time it is, crime it is

No matter what rhyme it is

We gon' stay fly, hit lye, rock diamond shits (no question)

Based on a general's Fist of Fury

Neck, arm, money, all of that's crispy jewelry

[Verse 3: 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

400 grand in the couches, 200 grand on the houses

At any time I could move up out this

And go and cop some shit up in the moutains

[Verse 4: Trife Da God]

Yo, 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 niggas 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

[Verse 5: 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 Sex 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...

[Chorus: 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)

(Smack you with the almanac) Where actual facts is sold as facts (Yo)

[Verse 6: Cappadonna]

We on our grown man shit like Quincy Jones

Travelling across the world while we smoking the bone

We out here grinding, y'all niggas 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 your face like a New Jack tool

Right back at you, yeah me and my dude Toney

We don't fuck with fake contracts and niggas 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*}