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Ay, ay, Ghost-dini, wassup, nigga, ya heard? Where them Killa Bees at? When y'all was screaming Killa Bees I was running around with killer B's Wu-Tang, throw them W's in the air, ya heard? Wassup, nigga? Ay, Chef, wassup, nigga, when you had that Purple Tape, I was cookin' up every day to that shit, nigga Me and Cam, whip it, whip it, whip it, whip it VIP, thirty bottles and a bad bitch Smoke, coat heavy, that's the ratchet Russian diamonds, the wrist sparkle like chandeliers Photo shoots on glass roofs, come pull up a chair I turn cameras out I'm harder than steel luggage Catch a flick of me On your droid, the film won't develop You heard? I said the fuckin' film won't develop Talkin' like you got style I just came to sell it Gray Clarks and plum robes, unexplainable Got the club at a certain Fahrenheit, drainin' you See me mean muggin' I'm thinking 'bout flaming you Even when I don't speak, I'm still entertaining you Back of the club is where you find me Letras de cancionesSurrounded by killers, with a bunch of women with very big heinies Back of the club is where you find me Two stepping, feeling like DeJ Loaf, dare you to try me Six minutes, hit a lick Six minutes, sold a brick Six minutes, made it flip in six minutes Six minutes, took your bitch Six minutes, got you hit Six minutes, my niggas rich, keep a stick Six minutes, hit a lick Six minutes, sold a brick Six minutes, made it flip in six minutes Six minutes, took your bitch Six minutes, got you hit Six minutes, my niggas rich, keep a stick Six minutes, microwave shit, I'll cook a brick up Shorty jumped straight in the whip and ate my dick up Bullets hit him straight in his chest, that made him hiccup niggas think they catchin' us slippin', we staying gripped up She said "Oh, he got the cherry-red 8-50" Shawty saw the ride, she decide that she gon' skate with me Let Bobby know we in the drop, playing the late Whitney Pardon me, y'all You know I mean the great Whitney Six minutes, Doug E. Fresh, you're on Young lil' nigga just as fresh as the Fonz I'm blowing up like a Saudi with a vest full of bombs Well bitch, I'm feeling lucky, got a neck full of charms Let me take you back to a place Five Eighths, where we sold birds I'm talking after the Purple Tape, Ghostface with the gold bird Sitting on his arm, and I was sitting on the bomb Now the fiends know we got it, somebody ring the alarm, fucker Six minutes, hit a lick Six minutes, sold a brick Six minutes, made it flip in six minutes Six minutes, took your bitch Six minutes, got you hit Six minutes, my niggas rich, keep a stick Six minutes, hit a lick Six minutes, sold a brick Six minutes, made it flip in six minutes Six minutes, took your bitch Six minutes, got you hit Pretty Tony, I got them done Six minutes, my niggas rich, keep a stick Yo, ayo No jewelry but six houses and six tenants You clown niggas, how's that for my six minutes? I don't like to chill, I get the bag and keep steppin' Pistol license, nigga, I ain't gotta throw my weapon That nigga ain't ya man, y'all ain't talk in years His mom passed away, where the fuck is your tears? You still live in the hood, where the fuck is the deers? You on the 'Gram all day like, who the fuck cares? And I'm smart enough to know that these hoes ain't loyal You leave it out too long, all that food is gon' spoil Your whole town is dry, I just came to sell the oil Drop it in a pot and keep whippin' till it boil Fuckboy, my bars got bonkers Say what you want, but them niggas nice from Yonkers It's all jokes until somebody get shot Ayo Ghost, how much time they got? Six minutes, nigga Six minutes From Letras Mania