The Golden State Project - 3 Card Molly

Song Rating: 9.13/10

Song lyrics:

[Ras Ka**]
What, yeah, yeah
Black John McClane, Harold the Menace, and the Waterproof
With my n***a Budda, on the track
Golden State Warriors..
Eatin every rapper on the plate
Huh, feel me

[Verse 1: Ras Ka**]
I got three-oh-fos in three-one-oh
On section eight, with multiple one-eighty-sevens
Sport a Marilyn Manson t-shirt when I die and go to heaven
Smoke a beady, scrape my lungs, smoke the resin
Remember the name Ras Ka**-ciano
Get to clownin yall punk b**hes, cause Im a Mac, like Ronald
I make Mac make money, and mack murder wack rappers
My Makaveli verse Bomb First, the Mac-11ll gat cha
When I get at cha, the situation tenses
Fatality (Toasty!) before you ever reach your senses
Got so-called riders, crashing into brick fences
Like my name was Al Fayed so you die, like that white princess
If you lookin for sympathy, you better look
Between R and T, in the f**ing dictionary
See the object of the game is to win, stack some ends, sippin Henn
Whip a Benz and leave it to your next of kin

Chorus: repeat 2X

[RK] Pick a card any card, I bet you cant pull it
[GS] Golden State, number one with a bullet
[XZ] Its three card molly
[RK] Will they ever stop?
[XZ] Probably not
[SN] Pull your spine through your mouth and watch your body drop

[Verse 2: Saafir the Saucee Nomad]
The un-edited medic, on the cut, with a degree in metaphysics
A doctor, with a lot of patients/patience


And perseverance -- flows like an ocean liner
That sails/sales like a clearance, Im bilingual
Fly like a flamingo, Im a pitcha, everything I freak
I eat like Al Pacino, you dont like me baby
You aint happy, you need some Ecstasy
Now you in my properties, but you have to pay my equity
For the lowest point in my character
Ill reach the highest place in the house when I rock
Like the Quran, fuse hot, fluid with flavor like buillion cube
Been this way since I was fourteen
And like this I been runnin sh** without the use of Sportscreme
Rippin up tracks like immigrant Chinese, peep the game I lay
Im grim, I brim over my brow when I rip
Never write rhymes with slim fingertips
Each syllable you choose to use is light as a flower
Keep tryin to go gold
But all youre gettin is a golden shower

Chorus

[Verse 3: Xzibit]
Look, now if it wasnt for the West
These rap n***as wouldnt need a vest around they chest
Keep bustin about where you rest, and what you own, and what you drive
So the day some n***as come for you Im really not surprised
Mr. Black Bruce Willis, please dont k** us
I show mercy like Kevorkian, like a scorpion
We sting you from behind and put it in you, so meet me at the venue
Put you on the spot to put you on the menu
Frica**eed emcee, we be the ones that keep the p**y hot
Xzibit livin life, like a bull inside a china shop
Strippin everything, see you aint even got a dime to drop
Go ahead and call the cops, you aint said nathin
Jerry Spring-you out the studio, then Suge Knight you
To the parkin lot, n***as aint ready for all this heat we got
Picture yourself crushin Xzibit with your tough talk
Thats like Christopher Reeves doing the crip walk

Chorus

Date of text publication: 16.01.2021 at 05:08