One - Ghostface Killah

Yo, yeah

Yeah, to glorious days

Yeah God, check it out y’all

We back, yes yes y’all

(Fake roller derbies)

Yeah, masked avengers

We’re here to sharpen your sword

All praises due to T.M.F., Wu-Tang Clan

Scream on it, Ghost

Eh yo, we at the weedgate, waitin for Jake

We want eight ravioli bags, two thirsty villians yelling belly aches

Heavyweight rhyme writers hittin the grass

Stash the right bitch, pull out his kite from this white bitch

Talkin bout, «Dear Ghost, you the only nigga I know

like when the cops come, you never hide your toast»

Guests started mashing, CVL, Ice Water battlion

Past tense place to gold caskets

Dru Hill bitches, specialist loungin at the mosk

Suede cufy, Rabbi come dig up a dentist

Rhymes is made of garlic, never in the target

when the NARC’s hit, rumor is you might start to spit

You nice Lord, sweet daddy Grace, wind lifted

on the dancefloor, mangos is free followed by Ghost

Dug behind monument cakes, we never half-baked

Alaskan, cess-capade, pushin new court dates

Trauma, hands is like candy canes, lay my balls on ice

Branches in my weed be the vein

Swimsuit issue, darts sent truly from the heart, boo, I miss you

See that he rock a wrist, dude

Moder-en slave God, graveyard spells, fog your goggles

Layin like needles in the hospital

Five steps to concer, Ax Vernon debt, big ass whistle

Ziploc your ear, here thistle

To my real bitches take your draws off

To all my high niggas, snatch her skirt off

Just in case she wanna play, get up in that bitch face

and tell her Ghost said, «Take your clothes off!»

Eh yo, the Devil planted fear inside the black babies

Fifty cent sodas in the hood, they goin crazy

Dead meat placed on the shelves, we eat cold cuts

Fast from the heart y’all, and GROW UP

Eh yo, crash thru, break the glass, Tony with the goalie mask

That’s the pass, heavy ice rollin, layin on the grass

Love the grass, colliflower hurtin when I dumped the trash

Sour mad surgeon, every glass up at the Wally bash

Sun splash, autographed lesson with your name slashed

Backdraft, four powders, screamin with the pearly hats

Children fix the contrast as the sound clashes

Misses Dash, sprinkle wit her icsicle eye lashes

Ask coward Pendergrass for backstage passes

Special guest, no more Johnny Blaze, Johnny Mattress

Acrobat, run up on that Love Jones actress

Distract that cat while I’m hot sugar get a crack at this

Dickin down Oprah, jump rope, David think he’s rasta

Black man, DC hit to mocha

Two tangerine sofa, two super soakers in the Rover

Hit the sport’s bar, tell a young lady to bend over

Meditated yoga, powder ball, dancin with the vulture

Pastor Troy layin for Travolta

Yo, switch the lingo, five-nine-seventy

God glow, seven-fifteen, fall be heavenly

Eh yo, the Devil planted fear inside the black babies

Fifty cent sodas in the hood, they goin crazy

Dead meat placed on the shelves, we eat cold cuts

Fast from the heart y’all, and GROW UP

Eh yo, Wu-Tang Clan, T.M.F.

in the motherfuckin joint

We all connect as

(Aw shit, baby) Straight up and down y’all

(Staple-town, y’all) Yo, how many girls you gotta fuck, yo?

(Ah-hah, knowI’msayin? Trey-Mack, what?)

How many nuts you might bust?

Haha, straight up and down

(How many shots?)

(That's it) Word up How many cakes we bake, y’all?

(Yo, yo, yo)

(Aw shit, haha)