Box In Hand (remix) Lyrics

Box In Hand (remix) lyrics

Verse One: Ghostface Killah



Yeah, assorted flavor Clarks

No doubt

The beer champ

Yeah, curly head kid

Yo, yo, yo



From Gators to blazers, low fades and razors

Big dick saloon, I contact the womb; the black asian

Which location keeps circulating

I want the twin power after day shit on his mason

A God steam represent the gummy with the green

who walk fiend stand up on your block and burn a bean

Sir Ballentine, lookin at this bitch walk behind

The thing that's fucked up appeal us that's wine

They turn around take my last pull off the L

these niggas on the block keep looking at me well

But they want the jewel it ain't hard to tell

I'm recognize his face, he actin like Denzel

But fuck him, I went to check low for chop

on a ball gone the size like faith up top

Now it's a whole new ball game, strategic mind frame

My dialogue's rebellious raid and razor fame

Glass out a red light, see Killah get on a ninja bike

Show my love to the God he peeled out and made a right

**Sound of speeding motorcycle**



Chorus:



When you walking down the street with your - Box in your hand

and you bringing the music of the - Wu-Tang Clan

And you hear Ironman on your - radio rapping

Your feet start the dancing and your - hands start the clapping



Verse Two: Street



Street's running through your dancehall gunning

like Lee Harvey Oswald stunning slapping MC's with summons

for pumping - that watered down substance

Beef there's slugs finger creeping

making moves like Crying Freeman

Prince of thieves, earth's third seed

Heavyweight like golden fleeces homicides stroll the street

If Luther preached it, look at the thugs holding heat

In the city beef got me plotting trilogy

To the smoke enemies sneak attacks I'm beyond and above that

Seen that done that, respect black

I catch a slug to your hardhat 

lounging in the everglades, surfing the airwave

Catch a buck fifty where the razorblades swiftly

Shaolin cats be shiesty, strictly

drunk off the Irish whiskey



Chorus



Verse Three: Method Man



Rest your headpiece on this one sun

cough up a lung

Sleeping on my murderous type ones I get you done

I'm looking at these cuthroat kids and how they live

It's like we was partners in spades and you renege

Can't fuck with no nigga like that he get me jack

Or sent back, meaning whole life fade to black

I'm looking in the half of right and roll tight 

fool me once but can't fool me twice, I'm 25

To life on this mic device ain't nothing nice

a mixture of long wild rice and no spice

Inflicted, rap addicted, track I stick it, flip it

daddy long dick-ed, slide

A little bit beyond twisted, mind in stitches

You thought weak but meant wicked

Niggas choke off my second hand smoke lifted

everyday is like my birthday I'm mad gifted, dead calm

Hit me with the eighteen bronze, buddah palm

About to blow like Napalm, before your arm

Prepare for the warfare, or buy a share

Oh what the fuck we dealing with, yeah

Johnny about to go there

need another year

Bust a shot for my sons that didn't make it here



Chorus