"Windows" lyrics
[Ghostface Killah:]
Yo, yo, one-two, one-two
One-two, one-two
We in this bitch again, baby
Indiana Tone and the Temple of Starks, let's go (Yeah, yo)
Cazale's on, surfin' through Art Basels
Bengals on both arms, I make time travel
In gold dimensions, my souls is spent (Woo)
Cop ARs, fifths, 9s at the pole convention, biatch (Woo)
Fake niggas gettin' rolled in the triage
Stuffed like forty bricks in the doors of a Fiat (Ooh)
Bullet holes still leavin' them dents in the kiosk
Bustin' out the window, hit three of his mamma mias (Baow, baow, baow)
[Tom Jones (Ghostface Killah):]
Lookin' out my window (Come on), lookin' at the rain (Let's go)
Nothin' left but sorrow, nothin' left but pain (Come on)
Why'd you go and leave me? (Ah) Sad alone and blue (Watch out)
Lookin' out my window, woman, tryna find you (You better duck, nigga)
Why did you leave me? (Why?)
Why did you grieve me? (Yo)
Supreme Clientele, let's go (Yeah, yo)
[Ghostface Killah:]
Shout out to B-I-G to D-A-double-D-Y-K-A-N-E (Uh)
The T-O-N-E-Y, Starks need an Emmy
Full clip, weight fall off like Jenny (Uh)
Good times, got it all on my jacket just like Lenny (Woo)
Abomination, razor raps and conservation (Uh)
You can get popped on in population
Opps slid in the ox with like four in the box (Uh)
You see blood on the floor, just continue to mop
Or get lumped on with bars of Irish Spring in a sock (Uh)
Boil your blades in alcohol, it burn when it chop (Damn)
COs guard the wardens, release date, no pardons (Uh)
The akhis growin' them beards like James Harden
My crew be mobbin', I'm steady dartin'
Couple pin joints'll get you a Newport carton (Oh, shit)
The voice of Marcus, Malcolm, plus Martin (Uh)
See me and my team at the door, you let Starks in
[Tom Jones (Ghostface Killah):]
I'd like to tell you about the little girl (Told y'all)
That left us all alone and blue (Uh-huh)
Trouble is, if I paint the picture too well (That's how we goin' innocent, buddy)
You might fall in love with her too (Lock in)
Oh, she was about five-six
A little bag of tricks
My mama told me to watch myself, but I didn't listen
'Cause for you, I'd stretch out my arms, baby
Yo, yo, one-two, one-two
One-two, one-two
We in this bitch again, baby
Indiana Tone and the Temple of Starks, let's go (Yeah, yo)
Cazale's on, surfin' through Art Basels
Bengals on both arms, I make time travel
In gold dimensions, my souls is spent (Woo)
Cop ARs, fifths, 9s at the pole convention, biatch (Woo)
Fake niggas gettin' rolled in the triage
Stuffed like forty bricks in the doors of a Fiat (Ooh)
Bullet holes still leavin' them dents in the kiosk
Bustin' out the window, hit three of his mamma mias (Baow, baow, baow)
[Tom Jones (Ghostface Killah):]
Lookin' out my window (Come on), lookin' at the rain (Let's go)
Nothin' left but sorrow, nothin' left but pain (Come on)
Why'd you go and leave me? (Ah) Sad alone and blue (Watch out)
Lookin' out my window, woman, tryna find you (You better duck, nigga)
Why did you leave me? (Why?)
Why did you grieve me? (Yo)
Supreme Clientele, let's go (Yeah, yo)
[Ghostface Killah:]
Shout out to B-I-G to D-A-double-D-Y-K-A-N-E (Uh)
The T-O-N-E-Y, Starks need an Emmy
Full clip, weight fall off like Jenny (Uh)
Good times, got it all on my jacket just like Lenny (Woo)
Abomination, razor raps and conservation (Uh)
You can get popped on in population
Opps slid in the ox with like four in the box (Uh)
You see blood on the floor, just continue to mop
Or get lumped on with bars of Irish Spring in a sock (Uh)
Boil your blades in alcohol, it burn when it chop (Damn)
COs guard the wardens, release date, no pardons (Uh)
The akhis growin' them beards like James Harden
My crew be mobbin', I'm steady dartin'
Couple pin joints'll get you a Newport carton (Oh, shit)
The voice of Marcus, Malcolm, plus Martin (Uh)
See me and my team at the door, you let Starks in
[Tom Jones (Ghostface Killah):]
I'd like to tell you about the little girl (Told y'all)
That left us all alone and blue (Uh-huh)
Trouble is, if I paint the picture too well (That's how we goin' innocent, buddy)
You might fall in love with her too (Lock in)
Oh, she was about five-six
A little bag of tricks
My mama told me to watch myself, but I didn't listen
'Cause for you, I'd stretch out my arms, baby
Writer(s): Dennis D Coles, Marc D Shemer, Thomas Jones
