"Street Opera" lyrics

[Sun God:]
Sun God
Get 'em, official

I stay far from my opponents, pardon me dogs
Squad leader call, they're moving up on us
But them G's on the corners, move when I move
That's a warning, or I'mma have my goons pull a gun on em
Think it's weak and trying to creep or run up on us
Shit'll get deeper than twelve foot, and you be leaking out of order
Don't beef, if you ain't beefin' for no quarters
'cause change is money, you float funny when you surf in the water
I'm that dude slangin' pack by the border
I love my life, I live it twice, 'cause it's up to me sorta
You a fool with a mental disorder, and it's probably your daughter
That really love me, for the shit that I taught her
Will Smith on the guest list, pops is the king
I'm the fresh prince, forty oil tune, kick ya chest in
Usher got the universe Confession, pardon your dame
I'm new to the game, but true to my lesson

[Ghostface Killah:]
Jeans, hoods, guns, crack

Visions of me swallowing crack, being chased by jake
And the sound of the razor keep hitting the plate
Intruders is strapped with rugers with daggers in their jeans
We two zooted like we comin down off woolers
And my P.O., she half Creole, I move from Philly to Dallas
With true talent, like my name is T.O.
So when I piss, I gotta piss slow, she know i keep them Visine bottles
'cause if I'm dirty, I ain't letting it go
The project steps is ajaxed down
Dried blood maintenance men with the scrub brush
Scrapin the ground
Diapers baby rattles and broke lighters
I led many horses to water just to see if they like it
Taste my Betty Crock, ready rock, bet he cop now
News flash my nigga rotten L laid a cop down
Any of ya'll niggas want beef I will stop clowns
I got a bat, ox, fifth, now how the Glock sound?

Jeans, hoods, guns, crack

[Ghostface Killah (Sun God):]
Ayo. What, up SG?
(Ayo. What's popping, my nigga?)
(I'm just oilin' the toolies)
(Excercisin' my trigger finger)
(I got the biggest bangers)
Yeah, I got a crispy stainless
Your mans ain't fuckin' those hoes
They're just a bunch of gators
(Them head shots, neck shots, probably blow their brains in)
(I'm so close to the edge pushin' their fuckin' face in)
I bet you now them motherfuckers really stop complainin'
(No hesitation, my reputation will leave 'em chainless)
We go hard like the narcs when we start invadin'
(I cop the license and registration and cock it aimin')
It's all entertainment (and all my niggas made it)
We hard body like Wu-Tang and Iron Maiden
(I keep the iron blazin', hands hurt like a bitch when she puttin' braids in)
(I think it's so amazing)
We ran trains for hours up in the Days Inn
Hood rats in crack motels receive nothing

[Ghostface Killah:]
Jeans, hoods, guns, crack

Yeah, good...