Ghostface Killah

Ghostface Killah - The Drummer lyrics

rate me

I don't want the horns, blowing..

I don't want the streets to play a melody...

(yeah, it's hip hop, it's hip hop

The mic needs to be a little bit more crystal)

I don't want to hear the good time is coming..

Don't want to hear the voices in back of me...

(youknowhatI'msaying? Cuz I'm bout to go in)

I'm not gonna hear it! I don't want the drummer..

Awwwww, Meth Tical, yo, you stepped on my corns and shit

Got the charm lit, bomb wrist, what type of arm is this?

I seen you at the Grammy's with a triple Bar Mitz'

Can I kick it? (Hell No!)

That's why she got hair in her elbows and she real slow

And a, every two weeks she gotta see her P.O

She's a disgrace to signs, she fuck it up for Leos

Method Man (Toney Starks) the most important M.C. in the whole wide world

Is you and you hardly even know it, know it, know it..

Watch me shock the world, move the masses like a landslide

It's a literal stickup, everybody's (hands high)

See the bigger, picture, I'm out for the grand prize

I'm not a role player, senor, I'm the franchise

Aiyo, with Trife sweatin', every bullet is life threatenin'

And you could get a chest full of slugs in a slight second

Yo, my nine milli' pistol's really official

So you can Analyze That like DeNiro and Billy Crystal

Aiyo, it's Ghost with the sky blue kufi, smashin' groupies

Leavin' them fiend out, like New Jack's Pookie

Every line is like ninety nine dimes

Shrine auditorium rap, aquarium's in my wall in the back

Now that you know my name, niggaz know my game

If you feel me, then you know my pain

I seen you rap dudes done stole my slang, try'nna hold my fame

Ain't even strong enough to hold my thang

Wanna flow, fuck with me though, baby, I'mma try'nna see dough

My squad got them caught in the yard screamin' for C.O

Every time we blow, it raise the prize on the padrico

Ya'll niggaz shoot your guns like Shaq shootin' a free throw

Spark the fluid, hop out and park the Buick

I got fiends blowin' CREAM like Martha Stewart

We on that up north jail shit, harder than steel chips

Ya'll niggaz better bail quick, before you inhale clips

Ya'll better get low, before I let the Tec blow

Streetlife, I'mma try'nna get more dollars than Kreftlo

The whole hood echoes, every time my nine let go

Get out of line or steal your life like a klepto

When Biggie died, they came out with Biggie fries

Big biscuits got me over, in the streets wide

Prada gloves, layin' for thugs, prayin'

Drop a bronco buster, G-37 on the rap patient

I'mma leave the shit this summer in that H2 Hummer now

Mami gotta call your bean ass ay caramba, now

Eh boy el loco, oh no, I ain't Yoko

My hoes, I keep 'em lookin' good, right, but no dough

I don't want no horns blowing..

I don't want the -- I don't want the drummer..

I don't want the -- I don't want the drummer..

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