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- Ghostface Killah f/ Solomon Childs, Sun God, Trife Da God - Yapp City Lyrics
- Uploaded by LOVE4LYRICS at Pastebin.com
- [Intro: Ghostface Killah]
- {*church bell ringing*}
- Yeah, yeah, we want all that shit, we'll take all that shit
- Sneak up on 'im right, feel me?
- Soon as he turn around, just yapp this nigga
- I got everything, youknowImean?
- They ain't gotta do nothing, but just search them bitches
- Let's go...
- [Ghostface Killah]
- Nobody move, nobody get hurt
- This is a stick up, I want y'all to lift y'all skirts
- I mean shirts, take ya hoodies off, jackets and watches
- Before you put ya hands on the wall, empty ya pockets
- Fix ya face, this a robbery, nigga, respect the juks
- Stop shaking, you making me nervous, I know that you shook
- The fuck is that sticking out from under ya foot?
- Move, turn ya head around, nigga, you better not look
- Stacks, you hiding from Tone? I'll shake, rattle ya bones
- You killed him! Nah, hit him with the back of the fucking chrome
- In the dark, yo, I do this alone
- That's the reason why I don't shake hands, in case I gave you a phone
- That's a buck fifty, long hickey, when I strike I do it quickly
- Creep up on my victims swiftly, make it hard for you to stick me
- Cuz if we shoot it out, cuz if I die tonight you coming with me
- Bitch-ass nigga, eat through ya chest like some fucking whiskey
- [Chorus: Solomon Childs]
- BOY! Gut him like a pig in the dark
- Or auction off ya bitch body parts
- BOY! Poison a guard dog, disarm the alarm devices
- Throw ya head in vicegrips (yeah)
- BOY! Or stick a hot blade through his heart
- Get to sticking niggaz for the right prices
- BOY! Yeah, this is priceless.. GET 'EM!
- [Sun God]
- Aiyo, I post up, packed the shotti
- Black mags in lobbies, with red dots, to detach the body
- If you a boss, why ya cash is sloppy?
- This a Staten Island burglar gang, ock, not no Ave could stop me
- I'm on the road, not no massive robbery
- When it come to that dough, it over flow like paper bag tsunamis
- I take shit, lumberjacks and Tommy's
- Niggaz passing out bombs like Culpepper, so I pass behind 'em
- My black glove, black mask, requirements
- Sent the order to Trife Dies', and he gon' send 'em fast, they flying in
- These cowards couldn't clash our lion's den
- That forty-four mag'll twist ya aves and the cav you flying in
- We hoping out cabs like Iron Men
- It's hard to believe how niggaz leave with no bag supplying sense
- Empty cuz my staff is hiring
- Canine dogs with felonies duck fast when firing
- [Chorus]
- [Trife Da God]
- Aiyo, we carry arms like a octopus
- Shorty's strapped with the mac inside her pocket book
- Blowing all lots of kush
- Dark tints on the V so the D's can't spot the crooks
- Just throw ya hands in the sky, don't try to stop the juks
- Face down, lay on the ground, no sudden moves
- Yo, then, take off his Timbs and get the work out his shoes
- Rip off the pockets out his shoes, make sure he come out his used
- I hear sirens, plus the cameras is watching, it's time to move
- If you lolly-gagging, word to mama, I'll body bag 'im
- Leave his frame riddled with holes, looking like Gotti had 'im
- Bragging, juked, in the wagon, laughing
- We slid a few blocks down, this kid was frozen
- With stones so we decided to yapp 'im
- I put the tool in his mouth, said "You don't want the action
- These ain't E pills, nigga, these is fuckin aspirin
- Bean, blast 'im, Homo' get his girl for his cash and
- Yo, E, go stop the whip, they 'bout to witness a slashing" (BOY!)
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