Stroke Of Death

(albüm: Supreme Clientele - 2000)

[Solomon's Child (formerly known as Killa Bamz)]
Yeah, Soloman marked for life, a million to life
Thug for life, forever eyein the kid
'89 stick-up kid, King of New York
Regulation party, daddy hard body
Rowdy Brighton God-body
Smooth like a leather bop, '83 hip-hop
Top of the world, get it rizzight
Big to your wizzife, murder cats for the right prizzice
Four-hundred and fifty-six on the dizzice
This is real lizzife, ain't nothin sweet God
Sit down and think it through God
Cuz comin all outta ya face'll get ya clap God

[Girl]
You are now listening to the sounds of Supreme Clientele

[Ghostface Killah]
Step in to the party, it's me
God Almighty, Ghost still holdin that shotty
Dustin Alize', three-quarter Timbs
Terry-cloth robes, crisp hundreds in the envelope
Duke it on the globe, thank God for my Wallabee shoes
They done saved me, up three-nothin and Salt Lake City
Burgundy minks, whips with sinks in em
Brocolli blown, illa disease breath, elephant skin
Meet the black Boy George, dusted on my honeymoon
Bitch like my wife, she popped my Ghostface balloon
Bitches think that I'm Dominican, slap-hash Indian
Milk on my mustache, drop to my chiny-chin
Dive into dangerous parts, buildin with thirsty mammals
White man scream, "Swim Starks sharks!"

[RZA]
Smack the girl, bailbonds man stripped of eighteen bronz man
Tall like Carl Malone "Mailman", framed on Larry Johnson
Tony Montana blow, creamy white Havana Joe's
Old Suzanna hoe, pussy sweet, banana flow
David Banner, gamma ray shots, beast will marinate
Bones splitted fatal Wu swords, sour amputate
Duck Savanna wait, we splashed the glass, ice rocks
Our cash high right stock, our logo's on your rice box
Plus your dice box, on the side upon your white socks
Bobby got the mic cocked, BUCK BUCK, nice shot