Turn-ons the Earth's whoopee, she out of law school
Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an'
Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff
Yeah, that's right, they kill one man or kill ten
Don't fuck with Ghost ,you'll feel sorry
My God so they are killers
Blacks become immune to shit, we never did like
Understand what I'm sayin', sayin', sayin'
Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert
Men marryin' men, ill they got the herbs pulsar
They just keep on killing and killing
It's all the same after all, they can only hang you once
He rollin' up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts
Livin' off land you god damn right, I fuck, fans king me
Snap out of CandyLand, kids the old rumor is
My God so they are killers
We lay low glitter wax full bangles
We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry
Shake that body, party that body
What we do, depends on breath control
It's Canada Dry sess, obsessed with Allah's sun
Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful
The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape Rae co-host
Culprit, prince of the game, wish you could see us
Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack 'em, say when
Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter
Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood
Check, checkmate props like the micro chip founder
Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into Iron Duals
Pretty soloette velvet nice DNA scroll genetics
Eatin' dead birds chose the pharmacy over herbs
Son beamin' wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima
Yo, kid stop frontin' on the ground before you get touched
Neck to neck stocks with Bill Gates now
Move, every script's like Miramax
Son triflin' fuck, wildflower on the cyclin'
Smash the big boy totaled it, will shot fear effects
Make you snap your fingers or wiggle
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
Monty Hall expo, intellect you red pro
Duracell night, you flash a burnt cell
In hale break beats of hell A-Alikes propel parallel
Wu 'binos to latinos, we bust Selena
Fortunately it's easy, you'll soon learn
Both hands clusty, chillin' with my man Rusty low down
Over night, God schedules, fed ex
Too hot to handle one thought scramblin' the mandolin
Priceless rolls, lay around the God, get tangled
That's word, I'm not the herb
They sort of develop a taste for blood
When we hug these mics we get busy
Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle
So it's the first thing you must learn
Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter
Woolly hair, eyes firey red, feet made of brass
Come and have a good time with G O D
