Breakfast in Cairo

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Malice] You'll never catch these fugitives, this high speed With hoppin' water, see-thru blue on jet skis They twist trees, bangin' they head to my single Meanwhile we minglin' with chicks that's bilingual Haters be like we sick of them, niggas in the whip sippin' gin Switchin' lanes without signalin' But they watch they mouth, cause my dogs they ignorant While I'm laid back, rockin' the Link, fuck what ya'll think Stress-free, index finger mixing my drink You see we hot like two 4-5th with gold clips Ain't none of y'all fuckin' with this, it's hopeless Malice on that raw Shawshank, cut your throat shit [Hook: Clipse] This is for my thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of the Clipse with the whole clique in black Hummers Stackin' them chips and let them tricks get nothing from us My thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of the Clipse with the whole clique in black Hummers Stackin' them chips and let them tricks get nothing from us [Verse 2: Noreaga] I'm wit' Kurupt, in L.A., you know, my main homie Readin' books by thugs, it's like Monster Cody Get on some N.O. shit, like what up woady Hey yo, off top, I'm like Puff, just won't stop I get drunk and hit them hoes with the Smirnoff cock Neptunes lace the beat that'll rock your block I'm movin' on like Mya and Silkk We don't mix like Henny and milk I got the cover and grill Now, everybody a thug, look what I built I keep it hot, while them sissy niggas been done chill I let 'em live, you know I could've had them killed Five thousand and one, stay laced by Troy Fuck with Nore then you know that you some dumb boy Me and Clipse got clips for ya'll faggots and boys What! [Hook: Clipse] This is for my thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of the Clipse with the whole clique in black Hummers Stackin' them chips and let them tricks get nothing from us [Verse 3: Kurupt] I blaze bombs, nowadays it's like Vietnam My nigga Nore run 'round wit' a Glock in his palm I'm a specialist at this with, twist cock assist (what's that) All your money homie, ain't nothin' funny homie You gotta fat bitch, I bet she can eat a big fat dick with them big ass lips Triangle the game, changin' the game Sweet arrange, make all the hoes bounce Neptunes, blaze an ounce Now all the hoes strippin', all the niggas trippin' D.P. dippin', sippin', hittin' switches What you tryin' to do homie, tryin' touch me Cock back and bust, screamin' mother fucker Blaze up a sack, I wonder where the gangsters at Where the thugs are at, where all the bustas and slugs are at I'm a general, raw dog assassin homie Assassin nigga, bitch nigga, be blastin' nigga I'm a pimp, I'm a g, something you wanna be Malice and Terrar said bust two to the head, bitch [Hook: Clipse] This is for my thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of the Clipse with the whole clique in black Hummers Stackin' them chips and let them tricks get nothing from us [Verse 4: Pusha-T] I spit that raw shit, ya'll niggas is tailor-made Find Clipse and Nore, racin' the Palisades Or in the hovercraft floatin' the Everglades Whatever the setting, count on three renegades In bandanas, remind you of Santana Joints fully auto, shells out of bananas This triangle's strong, these walls never be torn Love is love, all our hearts are warm Try to infiltrate, you feelin' more than the norm The barrage of hollows hit hard like brick storms Even in the pristine, Chapel of the Sistine I'm still prone to leave you glistening I'll mouth to you what joy does this bring And stagger away calm withdrawn and whistling I speak in this vain so you know what lines to cross You can start breathin' again, Terrar signin' off [Hook: Clipse] This is for my thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of the Clipse with the whole clique in black Hummers Stackin' them chips and let them tricks get nothing from us My thug hustlers, dealers and gun runners To my niggas locked, holdin' it down in body numbers Think of the Clipse with the whole clique in black Hummers Stackin' them chips and let them tricks get nothing from us