Six Degrees

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah] Yeah, yo, ayo, dangerous thoughts, mind of a militia Bottles of the 150 poured over Twisters Broken bones and pillars, Staten Island's the illest The biggest land fillers, we creep like caterpillars Love razors, dirty guns with a few bodies Teach niggas how to walk again from the fucking shotty Sixth sense, six pack, six degrees of separation My evil 3rd eye blinks with no hesitation Dustbags, spoonfuls of sugar help the medi' Go down smooth and steady, blowing the green deadly Hen' weed pops, isolated of hash bricks Needle left stuck in his arm, died of a bad fix We still rock, still dry drawers on the stove Got bread from back in the days, it's growing some mold 2Pac's back, my Glock's fat After the gun smoke, you screaming, "Where my block at?" [Verse 2: Danny Brown] Both hands crusty, need a little lotion That shit don't matter when I mix the color ocean Smoking on potent, goons bagging up in the living room Blocking the flat screen while I'm watching Juice Move your big ass head, my favorite part on Q in the DJ battle, move or I'll scratch you 95s from '95 on the coffee table Got them selling dimes still shiny as a nickel Pistol in designer boxers, shoeboxes in bedrooms Some got stacks but most discontinued What's on the menu? Eat a rapper like butternut squash Bark on a nigga with the blade out Run up in your safehouse, how ironic Knock a ring on a nigga like somebody hit Sonic Smoking on chronic feeling like Nostradamic See dying in your future, nigga, I promise Vomit colors seven series, TiVo the World Series About to miss the game hitting sevens on the slot machine Dice game, Vice Lorder, drunk driving in the Charger With a big titty bitch looking like Toccara I don't know what you know but if you know what I know You better get ghost 'fore I get Ghost I don't know what you know but if you know how I know You better get ghost 'fore I get— [Verse 3: Ghostface Killah] Ayo, what up son? They talking that "money on the ground" shit UPS, FedEx, I deliver the pound shit Raw dog, my hood's like Crazy Eddie's stamp bag Stapleton niggas stash they guns in shit bags Doo-rags and blue and red flags, we keep new tags Skinny or big jeans, niggas they still sag Brag about two chains, four chains, six chains Spread eagle bitches in the crib giving brain Still keep them Clarks crispier than printed money And the champion gear that I rock will hide my face for me Mask down, .357 and a box of shells Seville dead-arm the kid in the stairwell Stem cell, my niggas is scientific We make crumbs and wax, the THC is prolific Fruitful, my Clan bundle cash like Pablo Bank in the Caimans, stash-houses out in Cabo