Gold
(专辑: Liquid Swords - 1995)
[Intro: Method Man] Aiyyo shorty, yo that's my word Oh, y'all smellin y'all piss now y'all think y'all gold Yo anybody get caught playin Over here, I'm returnin em that's my word that they be blasted Anything from two-twenty to one-forty, that's mine Y'all need to step the
fuck off Y'all niggaz ain't crazy for real [Chorus: Genius] Yo, the
fiends ain't comin fast enough There is no cut that's pure enough I
can't fold, I
need gold, I
re-up and reload Product must be sold to you [Verse 1: Genius] I'm deep down in the
back streets in the
heart of medina About to set off something more deep than a
misdemeanor Under the
subway, waiting for the
train to make noise So I
can blast a
nigga and his boys for what? He pushed up on the
block and made the
dope sales drop Like the
crashin of dow jones stock I
had to connect to cross seals, to catch more mil's Than ho-bitches got birth control pills I'm in the
park, settin up a
deal over blunt fire Bum niggaz sleepin on the
bench, they had em wired Peeped my convo, the
address of my condo And how I
changed a
nigga name to john doe And while we set up camp, we got vamp Put the
stake through his heart, I
ripped his fucking fangs apart Snake got smoked on the
set like brandon lee Blown out the
frame, like pan am flight 103 He got swung on, his lungs was torn, the
Kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a
pawn A
regular on the
block, and played look-out For playing predator with a
glock, he should have took out [Chorus:] No neighborhood is rough enough There is no clip that's full enough I
can't fold, I
need gold, I
re-up and reload Product must be sold to you.. yo Fiends ain't comin fast enough There is no cut that's pure enough I
can't fold, I
need gold, I
re-up and reload Product must be sold to you [Verse 2: Genius] It's mandatory that I
supply all my troops with mega firearms Big apes, and spread em out like crops on a
farm To get cream, sometimes they repaint the
scene Like the
last episode on gates and other niggaz Plant bombs til the
smoke from the
blast becomes thick And flows through all they knew, he's gun sick His glock clicks, like high-heeled shoes on parquay floors Mad sick, stand on hills and invade wars Filthy foul, shoveling dirt, he's out to hurt For instance, chop off hands, attack worth His idols would lock down airports and extort Some import, catchin ten percent of what the
fiends snort Up in the
ski resorts, up in hills They move keys and had skis making drops on snowmobiles The
plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers And live large and bigger than my nigga Who promised his moms a
mansion with mad rooms She died, and he still put a
hundred grand in her tomb Open wounds, he hid behind closed doors And still organized his crime and drug wars [Chorus:] Fiends ain't comin fast enough There is no cut that's full enough I
can't fold, I
need gold, I
re-up and reload Product must be sold to you No neighborhood is rough enough There is no clips that's full enough I
can't fold, I
need gold, I
re-up and reload Product must be sold to you The
peers that come is tight enough There is no niggaz that's fuckin up I
can't fold, I
need gold, I
re-up and reload Product must be sold, to you