Smith Brothers

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]<br>Uh huh, ba-by, ba-by, uh, it`s goin` down<br>This is that muthafuckin` nigga (off the sound)<br>Yeah, uh, bulletproof muthafuckin` gooses outdoors<br>For all the streets, all the dusts in the streets<br>(Let me get a sip of that, let me get a sip of that)<br>Rusty projects and all that, the radiators is bulletproof<br>Yo, yo, come on, ah yo yo<br><br>[Ghostface Killah]<br>What up cousin, this is most high wizardry<br>Got`s to watch niggaz, so I stay on my grizzly (uh)<br>These young boys comin` at me (yeah)<br>Lookin` at these faggots, like yeah, you get amped off of Pepsi<br>Damn, what kind of cards you delt<br>Does your elevator go up? (Nope) You ain`t rap too tight<br>Right, you can tell me, G-H to O-S-T<br>Two hundred Bees`ll get you killed by coke head Skeet<br>This is murder, you can get it, if my fam don`t eat<br>And, we slam niggaz, like we Lil` Malik<br>We want that Powerball money, Easter bunnies, Wool-light money<br>Hey dunny, we rock a half of mill and look bummy<br>And bounce to the projects, pop Becks, cop Tec`s<br>Top wrecks, execs got next, what the heck<br>I`m fed, you`se dead, that`s said, no more wet<br>The cameras is rollin`, bitch, quiet on the set<br><br>[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]<br>You can never front on, jump or you get lumped on<br>Burners in your face, don`t you get nervous on me<br>We got so many gats, and them big Mac`s<br>Somebody get the boy, I get the wildin` on black<br>Tell `em, we will, we will, rock you, pop you<br>We will, we still, got you, got you<br><br>[Trife Da God]<br>Aiyo aiyo, it ain`t a game (nah)<br>This kid is serious about his change (uh-huh)<br>Ya`ll a bunch of wacko jacko`s, amped off your names<br>Call me Sugar Ray, the way I dance on you lames<br>My right hand`ll sting you and ding you, leave stamps on your brain<br>I got, out of state of niggaz that`ll kill for beers<br>Cuz you, easy to pop like balloons filled with air<br>I dare ya`ll faggot asses, punch niggaz with glasses<br>Back in my third grade classes, squeezin` asses<br>My niggaz is never over, understand<br>I`m a 2Pac fan, this is the realest shit I ever wrote<br>Butter soft, lead the coke, matchin` my kicks<br>So make sure, you get my sneakers when you snappin` that flick<br>And I advise you, to carry that Bible for survival<br>Surprise you, return like Jesus, without the costume<br>Come on young`n, you dumbin`<br>I`ve been doin` this shit since King Culling, cookin` grams in the oven<br><br>[Chorus 2X]