Ghostface Killah

Ghostface Killah - Apollo Kids lyrics

rate me

<i>[Ghostface]</i>

Uh-huh, uh-huh, motherfucker, uh-huh

Yeah, I see that, I see that

All y'all fake motherfuckers up in the joint, huh?

Stealin my light, huh? Watch me, duke, watch me

Yo, check these up top murderous

Snowy in the bezzle as the cloud merges

F.B.I. try and want word with this

Kid who punked out bust a shot uip in the becon

Catch me in the corner not speakin

Crushed out heavenly, U.G. rock the sweet daddy long fox minks

Chicken and brocolli, Wally's look stinky

With his man straight from Raleigh Durham, he recognized Kojak

I slapped him five, Masta Killa cracked his tiny form

E'rybody break bread, huddle around

Guzzle that, I'm about to throw a hand in your bag

Since the face been revealed, game got real

Radio been gassin niggaz, my imposters scream they ill

I'm the inventor, '86 rhymin at the center

Debut '93 LP told you to Enter

Punk faggot niggaz stealin my light

Crawl up in the bed with grandma,

beneath the La-Z-Boy where ya hid ya knife

Ghost is back, stretch Cadillacs, fruit cocktails

Hit the shells at Paul's Pastry Rack

Walk with me like Darthy tried to judge these

plush degrees, said the cow, wrap the fees

Gettin waxed all through the drive-thru

Take the stand, throw my hand all on the Bible

and tell lies too, I'm the ultimate

splash the Wolverine Razor Sharp ring, dolomite

student in role holdin it

<i>[Chorus: Ghostface]</i>

Aiyyo, this rappin's like Ziti, facin me real TV

Crash at high-speeds, strawberry, kiwi

As we approach, yo herb, the Gods bail

These Staten Island ferryboat cats bail

Fresh cellies, 50 thief up in the city

We banned for life, Apollo kids live to spit the real

<i>[Ghostface]</i>

A pair of bright phat yellow Air Max

Hit the racks, stack 'em up Son, $20 off no tax

Street merchant tucked in the cloud, stay splurgin

Rock a eagle head, 6-inch height was the bird

Monday night Dallas verse Jets, dudes slid in with one hand

Two culture-ciphers, one bag of wet

Heavy rain fucked my kicks up

Wasn't lookin, splashed in the puddle

Bitch laughin, first thought was beat the bitch up

Mossied off gracefully, New York's most wanted tee-ball hawk

Seen the yellow brick road, lust of pastries

Same Ghostface, holy in the mind

Last scene: Manhatten Chase

We drew the six-eight digit in the briefcase

Rawness, title is Hell-bound

Quick to reload around faces, surround look astound

<i>[Raekwon]</i>

We split a fair one, poker nose money

Gin rummy with glare, spot the lame, bit his ear

Yo, you taste a tea-spoon, 300 goons, stash baloons

Locked in lab rooms, hit with glock, stashed in Grant's Tomb

Clocked him like a patient, his stock's full, hustle invasion

Knowin now, we cocked a block off, the chain tri-color

Freezin in valor, ice-sicle galore

Gas station light gleamin on the wall

Cop WiseGuy jams, James Bond vans

Niggaz flipped Timbs, rock boats under water, watch clams

pose at the stand-off, mad timid

hopin that the gun fall, guess him like lottery balls, yo

<i>[Chorus]</i>

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found