"Shiva Call" lyrics
ILL BILL & Stu Bangas Lyrics
(feat. Goretex)
Anyone ever die in your arms you cocksucker?
A family member? Someone you love?
No
Well give it time, see if I can't make that happen for you
Check it, yo
Fit chrome stick up kids and coke sluts
My friends rip ATMs out of walls with tow trucks
Bunch of Crazy Eddies with machetes
Sprinkle a little snow up top instead of cherries
They had a shoot out in the lobby
A hollow ricocheted off the intercom knobs and popped little Tommy
The projects gave me a sense of humor
Fuck expensive shooters
My goons are Freddy Krugers
Love my jacuzzi and my limousine
But all I need is my Uzi and my triple beam
Flirting with tenderonies (what up ma?), perverted ceremonies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Kill any fella
After prosciutto, oil and mozzarella, mortadella
Dave Mustaine veins, hit 'em like Lou Piniella
Baking soda, undercovers looking like Yanni
They want coke
Stu gobbled up in the Maserati cutting soap
Ten commandments
Get them bagged up, elephant grams
80's fish scale like pelicans, Cubans with twenty plants
All she wanna do is dance, Van Halen coke vixen
Met her on Southern and Pickern, face mask tradition
Windows tinted like the eye on a pigeon, surgical precision
Stove tops, cook crack and crush victims
Hebrew scholar, quick to bomb your car for a dollar
Spit the Qabbalah, MC Lyte razor teeth to my collar
Stay hot 'cause I got the same tailor as Tex Watson
Impaled Nazarene in the Datsun
From Brooklyn to Yonkers
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
A family member? Someone you love?
No
Well give it time, see if I can't make that happen for you
Check it, yo
Fit chrome stick up kids and coke sluts
My friends rip ATMs out of walls with tow trucks
Bunch of Crazy Eddies with machetes
Sprinkle a little snow up top instead of cherries
They had a shoot out in the lobby
A hollow ricocheted off the intercom knobs and popped little Tommy
The projects gave me a sense of humor
Fuck expensive shooters
My goons are Freddy Krugers
Love my jacuzzi and my limousine
But all I need is my Uzi and my triple beam
Flirting with tenderonies (what up ma?), perverted ceremonies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Kill any fella
After prosciutto, oil and mozzarella, mortadella
Dave Mustaine veins, hit 'em like Lou Piniella
Baking soda, undercovers looking like Yanni
They want coke
Stu gobbled up in the Maserati cutting soap
Ten commandments
Get them bagged up, elephant grams
80's fish scale like pelicans, Cubans with twenty plants
All she wanna do is dance, Van Halen coke vixen
Met her on Southern and Pickern, face mask tradition
Windows tinted like the eye on a pigeon, surgical precision
Stove tops, cook crack and crush victims
Hebrew scholar, quick to bomb your car for a dollar
Spit the Qabbalah, MC Lyte razor teeth to my collar
Stay hot 'cause I got the same tailor as Tex Watson
Impaled Nazarene in the Datsun
From Brooklyn to Yonkers
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
Pour a little liquor for our dead homies
