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- Ghostface Killah f/ Raekwon, U-God - Rec-Room Therapy Lyrics
- Uploaded by LOVE4LYRICS at Pastebin.com
- [Intro: Ghostface Killah]
- Ight, now, this is how we gon' do this shit
- Youknowhatimsaying? Niggaz wassn't out in the streets back then
- When was doing this shit son, youknowhatimean?
- Yeah, check the story
- [Ghostface Killah]
- I done flushed bags of powder down project toilets
- You could of found of me on the steps dusted, unable to call it
- Jums in my pocket, the rental was stolen, tapping pockets
- On the local drug dealers, just to see what they holding
- I know, niggaz with crack viles stuck to they colon
- The acid, done bubbled up, now they stomach's is swollen
- That just, life in the hood, surrounded class, who we bag in our stash
- The ultraviolet haze, we hit it and pass
- We toast to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old ager hump
- We rap renegades, must stay paid
- [Chorus: Raekwon] + (Ghostface Killah)
- Get money (get money) Get money, Ghost (get money)
- Get money (get money) Get money, Ghost (get money)
- [Ghostface Killah]
- Big fluffed out gooses on, Stan Smiths
- The housing cops can suck our dicks, we jumping out
- Of convertible matchbox shits, next drip inhaling
- Chilling, my throat frozen, my orange brick
- Bottles of Cru', bitches with Baby Phats, they swinging ax
- They singing, you still blinging, daddy, now bring it back
- The smokest rap nigga, honey, I'mma need a match
- To bust the game wide open, I'mma need an ax
- I juggle this, practice, smuggle heroin in the cactus
- Keep a hood, I still go and fuck a fat bitch
- Actress, slinging the backs of five Cleopatras
- A cocaine Chef, I stretch money like elastic
- My raps is bigger, dynamics with the muscle advantage
- Jake Cutler on dust, when I blam shit
- [Chorus]
- [Raekwon]
- Yo, we been bagging since 18, kid, Polo Rugs on with gloves on
- Rented cars, fronting on winning broads
- Gum slow, half moon, leather pants, Avia' days
- Keep your hands off my blunt and my waves
- Beneton, Superman bomb, everybody in the lobby, we clapping
- Hats on, protecting your moms, you know how we play
- Spray something down if the team say
- It's on, I dedicate my lines to the PJ's
- Triple beams, Pyrex jars, smoking nickle weeds
- All we did is look mad fly, icicle rings
- Whatever homeboy, you want it? You could get your receipt
- A little closer, you can sense we got heat, it's only me
- Plus four other ill gangstas, we all anxious
- To blow up your block and spank shit
- [Chorus]
- [U-God]
- Yo, I'm down for the get down, hit the town, sick the bloodhounds on 'em
- I rip clowns, I flip pounds, I spit rounds
- I'm on the prowl, my stomach growl, crushed by the crowd
- Rush through Loud Records, drop mushroom clouds
- I'm not a rapper, I'm spellbound, I melt down
- Your G-Force, with heat walks
- Free falling to a better money, bet he's hungry
- Spread the honey, big head inside the Humvee
- Mix lead inside my lungies, spend bread on my Dungarees
- And such and such, Ghost plugged me with this slut
- Don't hug me, bug me, I'm ugly when I fuck
- I'm hard like a jungle hunter, bust off in Heather
- Double cross me, lift your boss off your feet, 'course he's feather
- Whatever, whatever, he cried indepence
- Tennis players get fried, playing both sides of the ends
- Keep your eyes on your friends, cuz they spy for the feds
- Watch me rise from the dead, I got ties with the dreads
- [Chorus]
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