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GHOSTFACE KILLAH lyrics : "Rec-Room Therapy"

(feat. Raekwon, U-God)

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]

Ight, now, this is how we gon' do this %#@!
Youknowhatimsaying? ^!$$%z wassn't out in the streets back then
When was doing this %#@! son, youknowhatimean?

Yeah, check the story

[Ghostface Killah:]

I done flushed bags of powder down project toilets
You could of found of me on the steps dusted, unable to call it
Jums in my pocket, the rental was stolen, tapping pockets

On the local drug dealers, just to see what they holding
I know, ^!$$%z with crack viles stuck to they colon
The acid, done bubbled up, now they stomach's is swollen

That just, life in the hood, surrounded class, who we bag in our stash
The ultraviolet haze, we hit it and pass
We toast to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old ager hump

We rap renegades, must stay paid

[Chorus: Raekwon (Ghostface Killah)]

Get money (get money) Get money, Ghost (get money)
Get money (get money) Get money, Ghost (get money)

[Ghostface Killah:]
Big fluffed out gooses on, Stan Smiths
The housing cops can suck our dicks, we jumping out

Of convertible matchbox %#@!s, next drip inhaling
Chilling, my throat frozen, my orange brick
Bottles of Cru', (*##$es with Baby Phats, they swinging ax

They singing, you still blinging, daddy, now bring it back
The smokest rap ^!$$%, honey, I'mma need a match
To bust the game wide open, I'mma need an ax

I juggle this, practice, smuggle [email protected](% in the cactus
Keep a hood, I still go and $#[email protected] a fat (*##$
Actress, slinging the backs of five Cleopatras

A cocaine Chef, I stretch money like elastic
My raps is bigger, dynamics with the muscle advantage
Jake Cutler on dust, when I blam %#@!


Yo, we been bagging since 18, kid, Polo Rugs on with gloves on
Rented cars, fronting on winning broads

Gum slow, half moon, leather pants, Avia' days
Keep your hands off my blunt and my waves
Beneton, Superman bomb, everybody in the lobby, we clapping

Hats on, protecting your moms, you know how we play
Spray something down if the team say
It's on, I dedicate my lines to the PJ's

Triple beams, Pyrex jars, smoking nickle weeds
All we did is look mad fly, icicle rings
Whatever homeboy, you want it? You could get your receipt

A little closer, you can sense we got heat, it's only me
Plus four other I'll gangstas, we all anxious
To blow up your block and spank %#@!


Yo, I'm down for the get down, hit the town, sick the bloodhounds on 'em
I rip clowns, I flip pounds, I spit rounds

I'm on the prowl, my stomach growl, crushed by the crowd
Rush through Loud Records, drop mushroom clouds
I'm not a rapper, I'm spellbound, I melt down

Your G-Force, with heat walks
Free falling to a better money, bet he's hungry
Spread the honey, big head inside the Humvee

Mix lead inside my lungies, spend bread on my Dungarees
And such and such, Ghost plugged me with this [email protected]#%
Don't hug me, bug me, I'm ugly when I $#[email protected]

I'm hard like a jungle hunter, bust off in Heather
Double cross me, lift your boss off your feet, 'course he's feather
Whatever, whatever, he cried indepence

Tennis players get fried, playing both sides of the ends
Keep your eyes on your friends, cause they spy for the feds
Watch me rise from the dead, I got ties with the dreads


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