Ghostface Killah - The Champ (Remix) Lyrics

"Just Blaze! "

[Ghostface Killah:]
Godzilla bankroll, stones from Sierra Leone
Yo I ain't got it all, that means I barely home
Trailblazer stay ballin, revenge is my arts
Is crafty darts, while y'all stuck on Laffy Taffy
Wonderin' how did y'all niggaz get past me
I been doin this before Nas dropped the Nasty
My wallos I did 'em up, them bricks I send 'em up
My raps y'all bit 'em up, for that now stick 'em up
Ten Four good buddy Tone got is money up
Worth millions still back your bitch lookin bummy what
Ya'll staring at the angel of death
Liar liar pants on fire You burning up like David Koresh
This is architect music, verbal street opera
Pop a 'tec man fully got the projects booming indeed
I ran through the tunnel, Terrorize speed
That's when I was still in the jungle slangin that D

[bell rings]

[Ghostface Killah:]
I'm a go hard on ya'll niggas
Dart ya'll niggas out, dropping science
To let ya'll know what the kid about
I hang like the disco ball, on the floor
I'm like John Travolta, suade blazing with my chest showing
Rings and them hard jeans, please, I'm comfy in the spot
So I'm never handcuffing my queen
It's a Theodore movement, glock holding kids
With the chocolate boomers, aiyo f*ck those rumors
Leave your chick around me, I'll get those bloomers
Bang that like Desi Arness, with the cowskin cougars
Keep staring down the eyes of the champ, anywhere in this rap shit
Punk muthaf*cka, I get you blamped, word life, my throat is high
See RiggaTone with the velvet mask on
Cleaning his glass arm...

[bell rings]

[Ghostface Killah:]
Who want to battle the Don?
I'm James Bond in the Octagon with two razors
Bet cha'all didn't know I had a fake arm
I lost it, wild and raw before rap, I was gettin' it on
Took a fat nigga out in like 40secs
My gun get hard with a 45 still erects and eagle on
Kangol hat slanted coconut bounce to Morocco
Guerilla medallions like Flavor Flav clock yo
Niggaz want me dead but they scared to step to me
Rip they guts out like a hysterectomy
When beef collide look on the flip by the penitentiary kite
Or get you bumped off from the inside
Jaws is hanging
Frauds is leftin they draws on the floor complaining
Bird ass nigga resemble Keenon Ivory Wayans
Stay in your place dirt born rappers get Shadow box for training
Ya'll still eatin bacon

[bell rings]

[Interlude: Ghostface Killah]
Yeah nigga, that's right
You know you messing with a dart master right now, yo

[Ghostface Killah:]
Yo, I've done walked on fire (fire), never got burnt (burnt)
Slept on glass (glass), never got cut (cut)
And broke a few nose bones, yo, light off a round or two
At certain dudes where they dropped they phones
Yo this straight crack (yeah), even my hand got tooken to jail
For writing murder, my wrist couldn't take it in bail
They left my fingers for dead, told 'em
"I ain't have nothing to do with the writing"
I hold you down when you be squeezing that lead
Shopping sprees, with my mans on the corner watch D's
Rolling in threes, in them purple capri's'
A gritty bop, my watch is bigger, wallo's with the gold tassels
Your old slave, with Starkey Love on the shackle
And I stay fly underwater, my toes is iced out
Poofed the nails off, ya faggots can figure the price out
It's chump change, ya'll bitch niggas go get my coco
Get my slippers, before I go gun ho!

[bell rings]

[Ghostface Killah:]
I like the deuce of diamonds cutting spades on a glass table
Half a mil on my left ankle
Terry cloth Guess shorts robes is comfortable
Bring me a nice bitch that means I'll f*ck with you
My swagger is Mick Jagger, 'stones' is 'rolling'
Prestige is cut to it tea spark when weed went up
The Cocoa leaf is slightly damp
Sprouting in the backyard next to Gran duke tomato plants
And jets get charted marquee shit with the cars on it
They head and they earl to the toilet and vomit
Back East summer MC king since Cuban
Pretty Tone Iron Man and Bulletproof and Supreme
Cuffi on, double deuce in the jeans
My man shape was on the floor with the mother load both of them green
IBF WBC Cruiserweight title shots and Rap belts belong to D.C.