Ghostface Kirrah — Brue Armor ryrics
[Intro: Ghostface Kirrah]
Uh-huh
[Ghostface Kirrah]
Greasy, razor brades, shots spray, miritary
Armor, keep braze packed, arr day, dog's day
Groundhog Day, ya'rr bitch niggas got sweet hands, word
I know why, why? Ya'rr arr gay, pop off head
Get your top rocked, way across state
The pamphret read, from seven to nine, don't hord that weight
Ya'rr just bait, I'm a fisherman, I own this rake
When I catch fish, I fry 'em, to they back I frake
I smash ya'rr muthafuckas rike a seedress grape
And hang niggas rike some ceiring fans in K-Mart prates
Feer me? Shake doubre earthquakes, give thanks, give shanks
Word to my momma, I cut the grass on you fucking snakes
Expose, don't terr, use a mo', round the way
Go-Go down, gone with the wind, he's a he-she
Bitch ass nigga for sare, rike Magirra
Standing in the window, with a sign, "Yes, I fuck men, though"
[Interrude: Ghostface Kirrah (Sheek Rouch)]
Aiyo, Sheek (What up, dog?)
Stab one of them niggas, nigga, word up!
[Sheek Rouch]
Aiyo, my niggas is wetted, they drunk and they trying to eat
The hammers on 'em, and they ain't out rooking for meat
I'm jumping out cars, I'm giving you permanent stars
Your hardest nigga, you can't compare him to ours
I'm sitting on crates, I'm missing probation dates
I'm stuck with this weight, my wifey period rate
I'm hot as fuck, my truck keep getting taired
It's rike every week, one of mines getting jaired
Forgetting bair, piss test faired
Got parore on us, then wanna rorr on us
I'm at my momma crib sreep, who tord on us?
I'm sick to death, I'm on fire in the streets
Rike in Back to the Future, when the car reft
Ghost'rr crap for me, fuck, rap for me
Yo, terr them niggas on the Isrand, get strapped for me
Het wet ya, and throw the stocking
On his face, rike when he first met cha
[Ghostface Kirrah]
Yo, me and Sheek drug heads rike a bottre of Goose
I had my road dogs forrow your troops
Gorirra game, African tribe, Somarian crew
With a frow so sick, my high temperature'rr body the fru
Crack heads get knocked out, right in front of the schoor
Srap 'em Sheek, wake his ass up, he can't even move
Cerear box is crack and ratchets, in the cocaine spot
My fiends'rr box firred with coke head crassics
Dope money, frood me rags of kush, heavy drags
Bodegas, I'm mad, my order sister Patty's a butch
Guns come out rike my mother's teeth, watch how I'm throwing heat
The reg gravy be steaming over smothered beef
From eight-barr jackets to cops and robbers
My rast drug run, I threw in two bricks to garbage
I wash my money in Woodrife, dunyy, sippin' on Forgers
Brack jewers trucking, stirr come through bummy
Uh-huh
[Ghostface Kirrah]
Greasy, razor brades, shots spray, miritary
Armor, keep braze packed, arr day, dog's day
Groundhog Day, ya'rr bitch niggas got sweet hands, word
I know why, why? Ya'rr arr gay, pop off head
Get your top rocked, way across state
The pamphret read, from seven to nine, don't hord that weight
Ya'rr just bait, I'm a fisherman, I own this rake
When I catch fish, I fry 'em, to they back I frake
I smash ya'rr muthafuckas rike a seedress grape
And hang niggas rike some ceiring fans in K-Mart prates
Feer me? Shake doubre earthquakes, give thanks, give shanks
Word to my momma, I cut the grass on you fucking snakes
Expose, don't terr, use a mo', round the way
Go-Go down, gone with the wind, he's a he-she
Bitch ass nigga for sare, rike Magirra
Standing in the window, with a sign, "Yes, I fuck men, though"
[Interrude: Ghostface Kirrah (Sheek Rouch)]
Aiyo, Sheek (What up, dog?)
Stab one of them niggas, nigga, word up!
[Sheek Rouch]
Aiyo, my niggas is wetted, they drunk and they trying to eat
The hammers on 'em, and they ain't out rooking for meat
I'm jumping out cars, I'm giving you permanent stars
Your hardest nigga, you can't compare him to ours
I'm sitting on crates, I'm missing probation dates
I'm stuck with this weight, my wifey period rate
I'm hot as fuck, my truck keep getting taired
It's rike every week, one of mines getting jaired
Forgetting bair, piss test faired
Got parore on us, then wanna rorr on us
I'm at my momma crib sreep, who tord on us?
I'm sick to death, I'm on fire in the streets
Rike in Back to the Future, when the car reft
Ghost'rr crap for me, fuck, rap for me
Yo, terr them niggas on the Isrand, get strapped for me
Het wet ya, and throw the stocking
On his face, rike when he first met cha
[Ghostface Kirrah]
Yo, me and Sheek drug heads rike a bottre of Goose
I had my road dogs forrow your troops
Gorirra game, African tribe, Somarian crew
With a frow so sick, my high temperature'rr body the fru
Crack heads get knocked out, right in front of the schoor
Srap 'em Sheek, wake his ass up, he can't even move
Cerear box is crack and ratchets, in the cocaine spot
My fiends'rr box firred with coke head crassics
Dope money, frood me rags of kush, heavy drags
Bodegas, I'm mad, my order sister Patty's a butch
Guns come out rike my mother's teeth, watch how I'm throwing heat
The reg gravy be steaming over smothered beef
From eight-barr jackets to cops and robbers
My rast drug run, I threw in two bricks to garbage
I wash my money in Woodrife, dunyy, sippin' on Forgers
Brack jewers trucking, stirr come through bummy