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Wu-Syndicate - Ghetto Syringe lyrics
featuring Ill Knob, Trigga
[Chorus: Trigga - Money Makin' Operation]
We famous decorators
Outlaws with the force with the Money Makers
Wu-Tang when we bang we be regulators
Player haters can't play us cuz the thugs obey us
Bust a slug to save us
[Joe Mafia]
Straight missle, spit false gristle, snapper time
Pop the tops off of Anaheims, tropic refined
Extortin air time, imported from the Mason-Dixon Line
Look at my frigid eyes, fake fucks describe
Slap 'em paralyzed, analyze the lies
Kinetic, my word is all I have, slaughter trash
Monster mash, half ass on the war path
Suffer land, give a fuck, grand crashin the Pan Am
My squad Van Damme, the shit was suntan
VA so tanned, without the beenie rap, who?
Hoodini rap, Mussolini stack, Lambourghini crash
Kiss the genie lamp, henny big, excellency
No fake shit, wrong recipe, war speciality
Meet the headless heat
[Trigga - Money Makin' Operation]
Recognize, direct from them cats that fantasize
It's that nigga Trigga, Medallion Isle drug dealer
I slaughter pace on the reels, no more dough waste
This paper chase got me in the eyes of snakes
Brutalize projects, caught up with the fake
True villain, when I vacate I'm Cold Chillin
Niggaz spillin, picture the man, ice grillin
Gats with the muffle, groove on with my hustle
For 25 years of tears and no fears
Money Makers, Wu-Syndicate takin it, yeah
Let it be clear, Medallion Isle, we foul
Klik Ga Bow move man, woman and child
It's the swarm, Russ Prez smokin a storm
Far from norm, life legacy live long
Represent, I reside in eternal torment
Often survivors of abortion, lampin in coffins
Forcin, yea, wrap your tear in extortions
Yea, big before I return hit the porcellain
[Ill Knob - K.G.B.]
The K, the G, the B, Ill Knob bring the ruckus
Cuz I don't got time for these faggots, they frontin
But I'm about to break em out the havoc with the fire
I battle water, what you order?
You would run far from the slaughter
I'm gunnin out whoevers in the order
the hitch out, no bitch out Wu-Syndicate - Ghetto Syringe - http://motolyrics.com/wu-syndicate/ghetto-syringe-lyrics.html
I'm cold bloody, nigga, get your rich out
A nigga ditch out for yourself and your family
Cuz I don't want nobody layin, handin me
I'm livin life, profanity, insanity
Because I'm not sane, insane
When I rockin on the block I gots to push my cane
Got to live in this life, baby, times is trife
Have to be on my side if you playin my wife
No knife come between us, married to my Syndicate
Niggaz see this, playa hate and try to be this
It's hard to beat us and you don't wanna be this
When you warmin up ya fist, you don't wanna be missed
Buck! Buck! Bust a slug back, what the fuck?
[Myalansky]
This is yea, three burners, made Tina Turner dance
Probably you kidin me, only my man bust outta me
I was gotta slicin the pot by about a three
Dicks for them niggaz that snitch, whoever shot at me?
All up on my shit, pussies plottin three days to 'bout a week
Wu-Syndicate, most hypnitated 'cross the E-N-T
Entire, niggaz collapse and raid the empire
Where the stash at? Cryin, he broke, a damn liar
Yolk for the smoke, back room, medallion man croke
Now kneal, no jokes, get back, take it, no damn moat
Joke, lock the dough, pussy, stay down, lay down
Slow Napolean, get the duct tape, cave it for cash flow
Biography, million of my fans get painted robbery
A to Z enyclopedia, color photography
Penitentuary rhyme, soft get they ass took
Street turn, patiently speakin, you know the math
Make bitch niggaz ballerina, pull up they tu-tu
Smacked up in front of your bra, what his man do?
Eyes gluded to my right hand
Don't rush me, what that bitch nigga scream?
Runnin through traffic like lightnin
My loud boss screamin, yellin for wifin
You see that shit, another hit, Wu-Syndicate
Myalansky, Joe Mafia, Napolean, collie on
Marlon Brando rap, your rolie on
'97 bar, tighten storm door, war was on
'98, a twisted rate, kidnap and solemnly swore
to my pa', give my last call, pass the shoe horn
Don't shoot guys, calmly move on, totally we groove on
We above your valley cleaner, who clapped, Sally seen her
Black '97 beamer, bitch niggaz ballerina
Niggaz dance
[Chorus (x3)]
[Outro: Trigga]
Famous decorators, yea, yea
Poison Clan... *echo*