Ghostface Killah - Mighty Healthy lyrics

rate me

INTRO:

-My God, so they are killers.

I've heard lots of people say once a man's a killer, they just keep

on killing and killing; they sort of develop a taste for blood.

-Yeah, that's right. They kill one man, or kill ten,

it's all the same (yes). After all, THEY CAN ONLY HANG YOU ONCE.

VERSE 1:

Both hands clusty, chillin' wit my man Rusty low down

Blew off the burner kinda dusty

The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape Rae co-host

Monty Hall expo, intellect you red pro

Son triflin fuck, wildflower on the cyclin

Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an'

Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into Iron Duals

Turn-ons the Earth's whoopee, she out of law school

In hale break beats of hell A-Alikes propel parallel

Duracell night, you flash a burnt cell

Snap out of CandyLand, kids the old rumor is

blacks become immune to shit, we never did like

eati' dead birds chose the pharmacy over herbs

Men marryin men, ill they got the herbs pulsar

Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter

Livin' off land you god damn right I fuck fans king me

Check checkmate props like the micro chip founder

Neck to neck stocks with Bill Gates now

CHORUS:

When we hug these mics we get busy

Come and have a good time with G-O-D

Make you snap your fingers or wiggle

Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle

Shake that body, party that body

Don't fuck with Ghost you'll feel sorry

That's word, I'm not the herb

Understand what I'm sayin' (echo)

VERSE 2:

Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert

Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful

Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter

Culprit, prince of the game wish you could see us

We lay low glitter wax full bangles

Priceless rolls, lay around the God get tangled

Woolly hair, eyes firey red, feet made of brass

Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff

Move, every script's like Miramax

Smash the big boy totalled it, will shot fear effects

Son beamin' wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima

Wu 'binos, to latinos, we bust Selena

Over night, God schedules, fed ex

Pretty soloette velvet nice DNA scroll genetics

Too hot, to handle one thought scramblin the mandolin

Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack em, say when

He rollin up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts

Yo kid stop frontin' on the ground before you get touched

It's Canada Dry sess, obsessed with Allah's sun

We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry

-For every blow, depends on breath control, so it's the first thing you must

learn. Fortunately it's easy. You'll soon learn.

- My God so they are killers

- Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood

Thanks to Shaun for these lyrics