- GZA Gold 歌詞
- Genius GZA
- Aiyo shorty, yo thats my word
Oh, yall smelling yall piss now yall think yall gold
Yo anybody get caught flinging over here
Im returning em, thats my word they getting blasted
Anything from 220 to 140, thats mine
Yall need to step the **** off
Yall ****** aint crazy for real
Yo, the fiends aint coming fast enough
There is no cut thats pure enough
I cant fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
Im deep down in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more deep than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, waiting for the train to make noise
So I can blast a ***** and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the **** sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow Jones stock
I had a connect to cross-sales, to catch more mills
Than ho-* ****** got birth control pills
Im in the park setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum ***** sleeping on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the address of my condo
And how I changed a ***** name to John Doe
And while we set up camp, we got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his *** **** fangs apart
Snake got smoked on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the frame like Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his lungs was torn
A kingpin just castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block that played lookout
For preying predator with a Glock, he should have took out
No neighbourhood is rough enough
There is no clip thats full enough
I cant fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
Fiends aint coming fast enough
There is no cut thats pure enough
I cant fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
Its mandatory that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread em out like crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they repaint the scene
Like the last episode on gates, and other ******
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes thick
And flows through, all they knew, hes gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on parquet floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade wars
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, hes out to hurt
For instance, chop off hands, attack worth
His idols would lock down airports and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in hills
They move keys and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, release triggers
And live large and bigger than my *****
Who promised his moms a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a hundred grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organizes crime and drug wars
Fiends aint coming fast enough
There is no cut thats pure enough
I cant fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
No neighborhood is rough enough
There is no clips thats full enough
I cant fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
Theres no cuffs thats tight enough
There is no ****** thats **** with us
I cant fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be sold to you
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