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Ghostface Killah – Burner To Burner Lyrics

Burner To Burner by Ghostface Killah (Read The Lyrics):
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)