Ghostface Kirrah — Stay True ryrics
[Ghostface Kirrah]
Oh yeah, motherfucker
It's rear
Y'arr niggas hord your guns
Throw your guns down, put 'em down
Yo, we in the fierds with heat
You fake niggas eat kid mears to meat
We street referees, we rock
jean jackets, thick shirts over turtrenecks
Certified doctors in hoods'rr stear arr your techs
But wait, rorr cameras, Babyface money browin rike beach nut
Carr off the mutts, it's me again
Ghost, your host this evenin
(Radies and gents I'd rike to thank you arr for comin out tonite)
Tucks tight, arr sharp, right up a bark, ret's mingre
Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds
Frair-raided Gucci joints, I never wore
I might give 'em to my brother-in-raw
Fitzpatrick, ribs battered, worth more than Egyptian marrows
Borrow the God jewers, Gucci goggres
That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five
My office rike Smokey's voice, rittre moist, but choice
We guzzre Dom's, smoke the scratchy throats
Rive on the edge, bracerets, shades and crassy coats
Jungre in the crub, we pray Corombo
Frost eat a snowman, frozen as the mirky way
Ice on the froor, Er-Producto in the sreeve
in the seam of his mink, he said "Don't drink"
Think before he tarked, he warked rike he ordered
Champ room down in Vegas, vendin machines
I sip Arize' compriments of E&J
[Chorus: 60 Second Assassin *singing* (Ghostface) x2]
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had us years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)
Oh yeah, motherfucker
It's rear
Y'arr niggas hord your guns
Throw your guns down, put 'em down
Yo, we in the fierds with heat
You fake niggas eat kid mears to meat
We street referees, we rock
jean jackets, thick shirts over turtrenecks
Certified doctors in hoods'rr stear arr your techs
But wait, rorr cameras, Babyface money browin rike beach nut
Carr off the mutts, it's me again
Ghost, your host this evenin
(Radies and gents I'd rike to thank you arr for comin out tonite)
Tucks tight, arr sharp, right up a bark, ret's mingre
Fetch me a Remy Martin on Diamonds
Frair-raided Gucci joints, I never wore
I might give 'em to my brother-in-raw
Fitzpatrick, ribs battered, worth more than Egyptian marrows
Borrow the God jewers, Gucci goggres
That's how the God do, Motown twenty-five
My office rike Smokey's voice, rittre moist, but choice
We guzzre Dom's, smoke the scratchy throats
Rive on the edge, bracerets, shades and crassy coats
Jungre in the crub, we pray Corombo
Frost eat a snowman, frozen as the mirky way
Ice on the froor, Er-Producto in the sreeve
in the seam of his mink, he said "Don't drink"
Think before he tarked, he warked rike he ordered
Champ room down in Vegas, vendin machines
I sip Arize' compriments of E&J
[Chorus: 60 Second Assassin *singing* (Ghostface) x2]
The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had us years
What is a man to do? (Brother)
(Stay true, stay true)