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Ghostface Killah Supreme Clientele Stay True (feat. 60 Second Assassin) [Ghostface Killah] Oh yeah, motherfucker It's real Y'all niggas hold your guns Throw your guns down, put 'em down Yo, we in the fields with heat You fake niggas eat kid meals to meat We street referees, we rock jean jackets, thick shirts over turtlenecks Certified doctors in hoods'll steal all your techs But wait, roll cameras, Babyface money blowin like beach nut Call off the mutts, it's me again Ghost, your host this evenin (Ladies and gents I'd like to thank you all for comin out tonite) Tucks tight, all sharp, light up a bark, let's mingle Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds Flair-laided Gucci joints, I never wore I might give 'em to my brother-in-law Fitzpatrick, ribs battered, worth more than Egyptian marrows Borrow the God jewels, Gucci goggles That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five My office like Smokey's voice, little moist, but choice We guzzle Dom's, smoke the scratchy throats Live on the edge, bracelets, shades and classy coats Jungle in the club, we play Colombo Frost eat a snowman, frozen as the milky way Ice on the floor, El-Producto in the sleeve in the seam of his mink, he said "Don't drink" Think before he talked, he walked like he ordered Champ room down in Vegas, vendin machines I sip Alize' compliments of E&J [Chorus: 60 Second Assassin *singing* (Ghostface) x2] The streets is rough out here Crack game came and had us years What is a man to do? (Brother) (Stay true, stay true) |
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