DJ Clue

DJ Clue - Cream 2001

rate me

(feat. Ghostface Killah, Raekwon)

[Intro: DJ Clue (Raekwon)]

Word up, word up

New shit.. Raekwon.. Ghostface

(Eh-yo, eh-yo, eh-yo..)

CREAM.. 2001

(Who you? Who you?)

Fetch out.. my nigga RZA

(Yea.. yea.. yea..)



That's right..

My nigga Clueminatti fuckin wit the intro, to murder somebody

We cheque-cash niggas wit four fingers on 'em

Callin the Lord, "Help me!", that's us

Thrustin through ya hood wit the dust (HOOOOO!)

Lord have mercy, niggas look thirsty, yo

End the swine, meet the inventor, plus the winter

It's mine, gasoline jump, just spiked gloves, nines

Watch my wave push, one chain faded out

Racin to Spain, half a million dollars in Boyd

Willy Aims, slap bop top of ya glocks, plus black Reebox

Rockin real nigga shit, callin me Pops

Golden pro', kitchen designer shit

Chinchilla blankets, H. Winston anklets on

Drug dealer banquets, hands out, fire when we spit (Haha)

The position is lit, drop fifty out a blimp

Roast ya ornaments, Super Bowl ring on each finger

Gettin fly, might linger, those of you ride

So let the lye sprinkle yo

[Chorus x2: Raekwon (Ghostface Killah)]

Yo we put together like CREAM

Matter of fact like a Jamaican team

Sprangler stats, hatin like Mitch Green

Off the wall auction that dumb out

(We organize exortions)

Burn niggas labels down, frostin 'em

[Ghostface Killah]

Eh-yo, how you like two Ac's?

Max in the trunk, lookin real dumb

Eighty-eight paper and our nose is numb

Prayed over Marvin Gaye's grave

He said Ghost, "Pop merked me at an early age

Hit ninety in the back of me days"

There's supreme fingers all on my dick

Loved the way I sung the Cherells

"Mercy, mercy, son", made 'em cum

I wrote songs for the people

Verses that'll make Nixon resign

You can do the same thing with rhymes

"I swear Ghost is doobie, just imagine"

Check out what I started

Who's the first to rock 'fros with out a part in it?

Featherhats partin it, Gladys was the baddest, she wore a six

Pretty-ass foot with an arch in it

Big cars, slammin eight-tracks, slammin tracks

King died in sixty-five, Motown cried

Saw a tear drop from Stevie's eyes

Fogged out glasses

The plan was to bring together all the masses

[Chorus x2]

[Break: DJ Clue *during chorus*]

DJ Clue.. Desert Storm

Fetch out.. Rip Right

Loud Records, Steve Rifkin, Epic



Money Mohammed Ali niggas who keep clean sneakers on

Beef and take niggas eats, streets brought all my features

Temped to clog bed rallies, imagine only seventeen wildin

Who spent thousand on 'em Ballies?

Now I'm just lampin, just stylin out in Cali

Actin like raw is the mission, mission is to slap 'em

Bang jars, movin in psalms, manipulatin my accountant

Relaxin like.. blacks get jobs

Slangin in bangles y'all, chillin from all angles

Don rock more thank you's, gettin my shit washed

Elevator music, Rolex doors with thirty-seven whores

Countin the paper, takin y'all to walls

[Chorus x2]

[Outro: DJ Clue]

DJ Clue.. Desert Storm

The Professional, Pt. 2

Stupid! Fetch out.. Dame Dash

My nigga Jigga, Big Harper

You know how we do things, word up

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