Sniper Elite & Murder Goons

Lyrics

[Part I: Sniper Elite] [Intro: Steve Groves, Steve Kipner, David Ossman, DOOM & Joeski Love] "My family tree— my family tree— Is my history— is my history" "Uh, uh!" "My family tree— my family tree—" "What's up? He-hey, baby!" (Yeah) "Is my history" "Have mercy, have mercy, you bet your life, baby That's right, I'm down here with the world's most popular drinking areas, you understand?" (What— what-what— what) "The South Pole Lounge. Yes, yes! Where everything is nice and they do it twice" (Wha—what) "And everybody here's waitin' for the million-dollar jackpot number to come up, man!" (Yeah— yeah) "And you know, there's a lot of sincere confusion about just what the doctor said!" [Verse 1: DOOM & David Ossman] To the head The new June Moon shootin' on a Blue Lagoon Shoo, as DOOM zooms in a Platoon ("Too much, too soon!") Zing! Sniper elite Swipe 'em off his feet on this type of heat beat Stranger on a solo misflow dolo Paid, played the position by the poles glow Heard it on the TV promo Swear it ain't me in the P.E. Logo Remote control in his overcoat Polo Go for broke, get the dough, float on the go-go (Heh) Hopes and praise out of phase with the straight Through the middle crews hate the new riddle, too Late too little, Operation Doomsday complete On Jumpstreet dump the heat [Interlude: David Ossman] "Six to five of the working people I talk to wanna know Who's gonna take the responsibility, Bingle?" [Verse 2: DOOM] Vil, one shot—one kill Spotted him, got his off the top, done deal Spill your guts, they say they said the Don dead good You could ask the dread in your hood or John Ed Wood The truth is in the verse not on the bottle bottom Black devils is the worst, first you gotta spot 'em Ain't never get stuck on their boats And don't give a fuck if he gettin' their votes At most he may exchange pleasantries Really don't go for the sex change energies Or Ben & Jerry's berries Friends with make pretend fairies who take men's cherries Just don't boycott his shit The fake first amendment foils the plot, mischievous midget [Part II: Murder Goons] [Intro: Ghostface Killah] Yeah, testing one-two, one-two Testing, one-two, yeah One-two [Verse 1: Ghostface Killah] I've lived the life of Sonny Carson Favorite slacks was the baby blue knitted sharkskins Custom made like the ace of spade Switching robes when I leave the forum in the sleeve is a classic date Russian cut (Uh), mustard handle (Yeah), 'bout the same size Of little tight Shawn with his Nikes on, still blamp you Vamp you, throwing homo's out they sandals Leave your brain all chunky like I'm advertising soup from Campbell's Bowl legged old man give me props All I do is buy 'em a bottle, hit 'em off like, "Peace, pops!" Fishscale got the streets hot All you gotta do is go on the road with Dipset, Rae and D-Block And that's how we take New York back (Yeah) Flex and the Pitbulls, Heavy Hitters, Kay Slay, Absolut Camillo, Lantern, load the wax up, cock and shoot Cypha Sounds, DJ Clue, Envy, next, Staten be the scoop [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] We them brick, flippin' niggas with cash rule, relax, duke Doctor bills, funerals, that's what cash do (Blah) Come around here, fronting, we'll splash you Staten Island murder goons, cousin, we'll scratch you (Yo) [Verse 2: Ghostface Killah] Heard some of ya'll singing like Lou Rawls Try to fuck me—you gon' suffer from blue balls Tone's a karate champ, shottie champ You period niggas be spotting with bad cramps Intestines looking like chitlings All we need is hot sauce, my pork eaters, go and get rid of 'em Kites and death threats, ya'll keep sending 'em For every dart you throw, my last one's killing 'em Like cancer patients, in the process, losing they hair You'll be fighting for life, scratching and gagging Panicking, gasping for air Suffocating from no-wind syndrome like somebody cut the neck of a deer It's algebra in the third Alfa Alfa with the gun to the rascal, Jessica Alba is one of my birds Plus AlcaSeltzer's blowing up bursts Out to melt you brain cells like Alien herb [Chorus: Ghostface Killah] We them brick, flippin' niggas with cash rule (Ooh), relax, duke Doctor bills, funerals, that's what cash do (Blah-blah) Come around here, fronting, we'll splash you Staten Island murder goons, cousin, we'll scratch you [Verse 3: Ghostface Killah] Get lost in my hood, it's like you lost in El Mira (Mira) You might get poked up, smoked up, throat cut Rocking them little fly chains, get yoked up Ya'll Boar's Head niggas, ya'll just cold cuts Victims of night time street horror, going home with casualties The twelve gauge blew a path in your knee That's what happens in war When the high heaters don't eat we creep Our stomach growls loud so we don't sleep, tote heat, won't speak (We them) We them grill niggas, we smoke beef