Wu-tang Clan - Meteor Hammer lyrics

rate me

<i>[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]</i>

I don't touch that swine

I want that unnecessary beef

You smoke garbage buds

We smoke tons of keef

Fishing, looking for that big-mouth bass

And flashing, jack your whole stash

In fashion, keep my goons lined

In an orderly fashion

It's glossy with 500 horsies in the Benz

Tinted out to spend the night

You ain't got angel funds is low, stack

Your bitch been ho-jacked

Still scoop her up, bring her home

And blow that, cause Ghost be mostly

Looking pretty toasty

Front row at Mayweather vs. Mosley

With a Bin Laden bottle

A Brazillian model

Got the paparazzi jumping

Like they hit the Lotto

Party hard, like I"m fresh

Out of the cages

I rages like Charlie Sheen, I'm vacant

<i>[Verse 2: Action Bronson]</i>

You drop your pants at your ankles

At the urinal at a ballgame

I'm on the stool getting brain

From a tall dame, cause I'm 5'8"

Shorty like 6'2"

Feed her coke, locked jaw

Like a pitbull. I was born to rep

You fucking with a hornet's nest

Old shooters in the corner like?

Young boys that be handling the rock

Chris Paul dish off, hammer in the sock

Gold flakes in the Gold Schlager

The ammo green XJ12, you know the old Jaguar

Got the burch wood lacing the interior

Poppy bagels getting flavored out in Syria

Only the Fonz, best laced plates

Cheese that reach maturity, dick sucks from Shannon Doherty

Take your temperature anally and orally

Make a batch of home drizzle royally with oil

<i>[Verse 3: Termanology]</i>

Hopping out the Rolly Royce

Rolls Gold nouveau

Diamond-studded shoes, so

Flyest nigga you know

Puerto Rican version of Scarface

Fuck with the God's say

Disrespect, piss in your broad's face

Chains stay chunky like Oprah's belly

Got the purple and the brown:

Peanut butter and jelly

When I step up in the spot with the rock

You'll see the popular pop rappers

Go in their pocket and pull out their wallet

When I click-clack, now get up on the ground

Cause I Onyx, Pete Rock, Chuck D shut em down

You know Term, I'm the kid with the 'preme beats

Butter Pecan J Lo, kid with the mean cheeks

Boobies on my gold fronts, iced out note book

Making volcanos in the kitchen when the coke cook

I rode around with all kinds of thugs

High on drugs, pissing out tiger blood