Box in Hand
Method Man, Ghostface Killah, Street
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Wu Tang will survive no no no no no no Wu Tang will survive Cause every time they flip a party You know the party screams and shouts Cause you, damn! Aw T-C that was the bomb Get all my peoples get all my peoples headphones All of em Lay em a death warrant Ah yo show it off kid show em what what Let em have it bust it hey yo, hey yo Blend wine, who want to win mine Shorty get a ten-round for floatin' With the richest, huh Flexed out, Flinstone style Your crimi-nal pen pal kidnapped Loud, jetted the Mosyin, posin' for them niggas up in Poland Rollin wax style museum, G 'em Them richest niggas bless this Like Russian cut V-V-S's Slide the hatchback, black were finessing this Them niggas over there know, Gaselle goggles And them Lottos, 88 style, throwin' bottles (bottles) Scenario rap, rap imperial, material (uh, yo yo, yo, yo) Murderin' cats is like that real Yo come do me somethin word to Michelob peep the Land Rov' Sleeper hold club faggots lay your dome on a stove It's like space kid, the whole world is pitch black, granola rap Dough got smaller famous team, walked up in Photomat Black down, numerous rounds, boots is brown Getaway driver, this white bitch from out of town We love horse races shakin Jakes and high-speed chases Porno stations, drinkin' violations, God relations 90 minute Maxell tapes, instrumental breaks Bangin' earaches, lay my verse down in two takes The speaker pops, the Winchester rifle's in the kitchen Murder the DJ's eyes twitchin', woofer hissin' Yo, he's strong armin', manipulatin' niggas, scrapin' niggas Takin' play from niggas, hate fakin' niggas, yo you hear me? The whole shit's like wrestling What you dare me? Back the f*ck up kid, we flexin This rap shit bust yo' gums, and leave you stunned Pull your plug, now you can't function There's no to-tal or sum to this equa-tion, you fro-sen Many may come but few are cho-sen Pretty niggas want to play the war po-sin When the ruckus come, they be the first to get their shine stolen Do or die, it be I, Meta-physical Man Holding court from my Wu, indivisible clan I see your thoughts and your hand reachin' It's getting deep in this mud Cats heat seekin', for one blood Nameless thugs with aimless slugs, shootin' at these stank bitches Less he gon' bring this above, I make switches From the lamp I grant three wishes Johnny be parlayin', I Blase britches, then I roll One hundred percent mind, one hundred percent body One hundred percent soul, individual Assholes tend to run From this PLO extortion to the one The next chamber, you fuckin' with the star spangler To the dawn's early light with this head-banger Boogie, represent this shit fully Like I'm constantly at war with the town bully Who want that pressure, about to get smacked silly Like a fat bitch in Spandex, free Willy! We on some milli, check the joint, engine number nine Niggas wastin' time worryin' about me and mine Get your own shit
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Written by: Clifford Smith, Dennis David Coles, Patrick Charles, Robert F. Diggs
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Spirit Music Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Box in Hand Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 23 Apr. 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/5228267/Street/Box+in+Hand>.
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