Album: Only Built 4 Cuban LinxnYear: 1995nTrack: 14nTrack Produced By: RZAnSamples: "St. Ides Commercial" by Wu-Tang Clan &nDialogue from Ca...
Album: Only Built 4 Cuban LinxnYear: 1995nTrack: 14nTrack Produced By: RZAnSamples: "St. Ides Commercial" by Wu-Tang Clan &nDialogue from Carlito's Way nnnnLyrics:n*sounds of the street, Wu-Tang St. Ide's commercial is in the background*n(this is a best guess based on what's heard underneath Rae's conversation)n[Ghostface] Who's the Wallabe kid, dress down, could never be SonnRicochet daily hit the deli for a cold onenMay I be blessed yes? My mic is like a laser beamnthat blow between the bushes, St. Ide's and I the king of thingsn[Cappadon] Crack the bottle of the St. Ide's, sippin it's realnand thrillin will I, drink it and we onlyntoo be dope, you can't die, them peoples do lienAnd if the street don't know, you're full of slang cane painn[RZA] It was hot, on the spot, so I jetted up the blocknI said, ock, I'm hot, let's go sit on the bay by the docksnof the black, I'm fully packed, always got my TrojannHeads got bottles open, fill my cup till flowinnn*conversation*nAll that good shitnYeahnKnowhatI'msayin, you come in, you come in lookin flavorfulnWordnYouknowhatImean? You the whole shit of the whole nightnBut I've seen it though, knowhatI'msayin? Like I seen itnYou know, my G is too futuristic for that shit, knowhatI'msayin?nWord, did you try to get a little swerve kid on?nTried to man, youknowhatI'msayin, but she was come pullin offnWordnWord?nJust come pullin off her as her drawersnWorrrdnFuck that bitch though, knowhatI'msayin? Shoulda, on the realnYo yo tonight feel like a nigga gonna get burntnYeah yeahnIt's like you hear something tomorrow rightnSome like yo, blahzay blahenIt's the wind, I'm tellin younYeah yeah wordnIt's the air, I can feel itnIt feel hot, it feel feel hot at night and shit likenthe sun ain't even outnYo the sun don't shine nobody, knowhatI'msayin?nnLyrics: RaekwonnnYeahnOne-two, one-two, nigganLine for line, line for linenHow we get down wit da rhymenYo, it be a line for line, line for linenThis is how we get downnYeah, line for line, line for linenThis is how we get downnnYo! Can you feel me?nStorytellin rap Magellan I ain't tellinnThem niggaz ran in the spot for sellinnWord up, pushed up, man got mushed upnSeen him at a rap show actin like fat cat thoughnGlasses gold, shinin like a real big boynThis nigga had mega ice on Chips Ahoy!nCat surrounded, this political brown kidnAll out the wind yo, my man walked innPullin mints out son had mad clientelenOrder me Cristal twice Kion, chill!nWatch them niggaz, aiyyo that clique's from outta statenThey bubble weight in Far Rockaway with Blake CarringtonnYou know the kid with the most doe-gettersnAnd terrors on fat shit clique they rock Lo sweatersnThat's my man, that's my man toonCall him up on the strength of the WunAnd watch me game, yo grab the cellnI got a heist to pull off wellnAt the end of the week, I'm buyin you a LnLexus nigga, I ain't talkin bout HancocknNo time for weed plus no time to get lockednThat night, up in the staircasenCousin had me laced out, skeed all outta my facenWe gon' get dat cruchy chump for all of his lumpnDon't try to front, you was sweatin this HilfidigernGuess who walked in - Abbott and his man from FarragutnConfront him wit the Ruger on his back, walk in blacknWhere's your man, where's the sky blue Land at?nStop playin Wu in the back, smacked him wit the gatn(Yo, money said he be here in fifteen!)nStop lyin, wait for the Millenia green to pull upnHe got the Donna Karen shit on, two ringsnSix carats a piece plus the chain swingnLike anchors on ships flooded wit all diamond chipsnBack pockets: two clips - four-fifths wit rubber gripsnLayin, two bottles of brass I was slayinnMeditatin, red dot be waitin for my paymentnHeard the key in the lock, cocked the glocknTurn the lights out, dip behind the couchnKion, gag his mouthnInfra-redded his head when he enterednBut a soft Perry Ellis leather with DorindanA friend of, Kion's wife, Kenya, the bitch larger than lifenYo, shorty be fuckin mad Columbian niggaznFuck it, get on the floor meet the black Lex LuthornStripped fast, the bitch had on Claiborne drawersnYo Rae, you about to scrape her, chill GhostnThought for a second, turned aroundnThrew the nine in his meatloafnYo, where's the cash and the stash that's mixed?nI don't know!nShot his hand, he started screamin like a bitch! Less
