Burner to Burner - Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck, Cappadonna

Yeah, baby

You know what it is, Yap City (All day)

Shit make you wanna smack somethin' off top

Word up, check it

Yeah, y’all niggas is goin' to hell, yo

I pledge allegiance to crime, right hand on the burner

Death to all cornball niggas who wanna turn up

I call it gettin' it in, you call it animosity

Listen, you could never match my velocity

Too much stamina, glitter in front of cameras

On the red carpet, still clean your clock like a janitor

Favorite Pac joint was «I Ain’t Mad at Cha»

Skinny jean faggot, you ain’t man enough

You ain’t got the heart to snuff plus cut, stab, or bust

We wrestle down elephants, two hundred grand per tusk

The ball spinnin', spillin' Spades on Asian women

Love them pretty black joints, lil' Malaysian in 'em

Ghost got a gambling habit, I burn bookies

Smack so many promoters out here, they scared to book me

Scared to book niggas, your highness

Diamonds on the Yankee sign, dirt on the camo

Six stones floodin' the left hand like Thanos

While you sambos dance to Bo Jangles

I’m verified, toasting on boats with hoes, damsels

Yeah, son, I’m loving the hate

Why I keep a knife on me, so I’m sure to get a cut of the cake

Now my name hold double the weight

That’s an actual fact, a million plus motherfuckers relate, yeah

I’m on them heavy bags like Deontay

And I’m wild caught, y’all niggas farm-raised

For 50 Cent, I went to war with many men

Then slapped them with the jacket like Benny Hinn

I’m hittin' that jet fuel, you’re new in the game, lame

You’ll never use Deck for a step stool

They don’t wanna hear that shit, they want Dorothy

Fire comin' out of my mouth, that’s an arsony

I’m so hood, tossed the nine when I left it

Rubber bands wrapped around my thoughts the more I stretch it

When it come back, I pop that sucker shit

I smoke blunts and I spit on that rhetoric

Original ties in, SI gutter

Let’s get it right, fuck you and your brother

My raps in the back of your head like two mufflers

So pull your dress up, your ass ain’t tough enough

Niggas cuddle up with the wife, they can’t come out

I be at the club all night, I might dumb out

You fuck around with big dawgs, ain’t no bark here

Fuck you and your friends, nigga, you can’t park here

My sword indeed make more niggas bleed

Leave it to the specialists, we mean business

Come and get some, you want none

I hit it Wu-Tang style, caught up in the mix

(Wu-Tang style, caught up in the mix)