Ghostface Killah - Cocaine Trafficking lyrics

rate me

(feat. Trife Da God)<br />

<br />

[Intro]<br />

Yeah Agent Burke here<br />

(Check this shit out, nigga, I got a bust for you<br />

Some major niggaz from New York, slinging rocks over here, majorly)<br />

Where they at? Get that gun, where them matches at, come on!<br />

<br />

[Ghostface Killah]<br />

Cocaine trafficking, your boy's back again<br />

Moving bricks like I got a degree in scaffolding<br />

Fucking with some cats from Newark, half of them Jewish<br />

Cool white boys riding around, blasting my music<br />

And I'm taxin' them like Jackson-Hewitt, make sure them packs is moving<br />

We out in Baltimore, the home of the Bruins<br />

Up top the cops raiding my spot, my product got ruined<br />

Drug case pending, but my lawyer is suing<br />

Cuz them faggots put my arm in a tussle, let me start in the scuffle<br />

Son, they tried to put the God in a duffle<br />

But them boys can't knock the hustle, like Hov' said<br />

We expose fed, nigga, just give me the code red<br />

They say a close mouth don't get fed, well that's a lie<br />

Cuz them faggots who be snitching on niggaz, they sure to die<br />

You don't want to wake up, with your seed in a cradle missing<br />

Sweating bullets hearing wheels peel off from Mercedes engines<br />

<br />

[Chorus 2X: Trife Da God]<br />

Aiyo, these blocks ain't big enough for all of us to eat<br />

These corners is mines, so evil bow down or go to sleep<br />

It's like jail, in order to live, you gotta earn your keep<br />

Prepare for the shakedown, new law and order on the street<br />

<br />

[Trife Da God]<br />

Yeah I write raps, but I sling crack for a living<br />

Punk, anywhere, I ain't gotta ask for permission<br />

Trife Dies', know the fiends can't miss him<br />

Everyday on the shift, like transmission, making them transitions<br />

From New York to Great Britain, up state to San Quinton<br />

Every corner, every block, from Broad Street to Van Sithlin<br />

The grand picture, haul ass when them vans blitz in<br />

Watch for police, the word on the street is your man's snitching<br />

I'm rider like Pac, ain't no stopping my ambitions<br />

Getting money, twenty four seven, bredren, my hand's itching<br />

Got me looking through the eye of the scope, and real killas move smooth<br />

With a quiet approach, silencers on the tools when they fire the toast<br />

And if you ain't dead or in jail, then why the hell you crying you broke<br />

I tell a bitch, let me slide in your throat<br />

And have her gnawning on my head like she high off of dope, get it? good<br />

<br />

[Chorus 2X]<br />

<br />

[Outro: Trife Da God]<br />

Uh, uh, uh, uh<br />

Theodore, nigga..