Ghostface Killah Lyrics

Album: The Pretty Toney Album

Metal Lungies Lyrics

(feat. Sheek Louch, Styles P)

 [Intro: sample]

 World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere

 World, world, world, premiere, premiere, premiere

 

 [Ghostface Killah]

 What these clown niggaz hollerin'?

 What they need to be hollerin', is "There go Theodore!"

 Put the ball down, we can't score

 They pen shit to blackboards, make queens out of wack broads

 You see us comin'? Fuck that Fam shit, just pass off, you bitch

 Crystal' Dana Dane's wrapped around your neck

 Lookin' rich, baow, you fucked up now

 See my gun, nigga? This baby got stuffed uptown

 Shouted out, made a whole safe with the pump root pounds

 My buddy, keep my gun, right next to my tummy

 Ask the click, yo, they spit metal lungies

 Detach wigs, kill flunkies off contact, sonsee

 Didn't mommy tell y'all niggaz to wear clean undies?

 See y'all should of listened to her

 She knew her son had a big mouth, and some day death would accur

 Please for Ms. Gale's sake, and her seeds

 Pass the flurry, ain't fuckin' around, they knocked to her weave

 

 [Chorus: Ghostface Killah]

 Uh-oh... (word up) This still... (what you talkin' bout, baby?)

 Real kids spit that shit..

 

 [Sheek Louch]

 Let's go, let's go, let's go, yo, yeah

 Me and Starks clear projects parks

 With our '93 shit, army coat green and light tan Clarks

 Niggaz think I'm lucky, bitches wanna fuck me

 And put me in the tub with them like I'm a rubber ducky

 I got a revolver in the pump about the size of Chucky

 I remember faces easy as I tie my laces

 Here, put the metal in your mouth, like you was rockin' braces

 I spit an iron lungie, yeah, I'm old school like the Iron Monkey

 My shit powerful enough to lift a fuckin' donkey

 I got heavy chrome, niggaz don't care if you live to die

 They happier than Marbury home

 Ya'll niggaz better kill me, my street niggaz feel me

 Louch gotta eat, ends gotta meet

 The hard shit you kickin' bout is on beat as Tweet

 This is Theodore, D-Block, the year adore

 It's son who fall, with the four-four, niggaz like..

 

 [Chorus]

 

 [Styles P.]

 Yeah... nigga this is Ghost with Ghostface

 I don't sell millions but I get millions from the v's who smoke base

 Somebody leavin' out with a poked face

 Tone, you burnin' to kick his teeth out, and sware don't catch no case

 I'mma make you look like you smoke taste, and we don't leave no trace

 These rap niggaz sware that they so safe

 I don't wanna talk to you holmes, I don't communicate

 My guns they in my hand, one in my palm

 And I could dial your number, like a smile off the face

 With the H.K. 9, I'm the all black hummer

 Metal lungies'll spit the grungiest shit

 Hungriest shit, seventeen dummies a clip

 Tell them rap niggaz to suck my dick, fuck the industry

 And shift, shut down the store, bust my shit

 I got some hustlin' ass niggaz that'll pump my bricks

 And some dust head niggaz that'll dump my clips, what?

 

 [Chorus]