Ghostface Killah Motherless Child(feat Raekwon The Chef Lyrics

Motherless Child(feat Raekwon The Chef Lyrics

(Sometimes I feel... like a motherless child)

 (Yo yo guzzlin forties, let's get it on fella, no doubt)

 The wiley Wu-Tang comes back, Iron Man strikes back

 (Lou Diamonds, Tony Starks) Raid your whole empire

 No doubt!

 

 [Verse One: Raekwon the Chef, AKA Lou Diamonds]

 

 Rich man, poor man, read the headlines

 Nigga getting murdered for spot and bigger dimes

 Jobs and drug wars

 Living by gun law

 Jailcats come home and want to take yours

 As the young one, growing up broke me and my people

 as the self, huh, I guess we all in the same boat

 Think it, plus drinkin that 90-proof

 Playin' on the roof sayin'

 we need a next man to shoot...

 

 (Sometimes I feel, like a motherless child...)

 

 [Verse Two: Ghostface Killer, AKA Tony Starks]

 

 Yo, I know a rich kid, who got hit for three bricks

 Showin off his 850 plus, what a nice whip

 Young blood guzzlin' fourties hussled in a rain

 Old Earth, shootin' dope in her veins 

 He never had it all, the kid loved basketball

 Had a favorite song, "I Miss You" written by Aaron Hall

 Now back to the original, neighborhood, criminals

 Clocking dollars, by the hour like his digital

 Styrofoam silencers, he rolled around with the

 Wildest niggaz peeling caps known as the Islanders

 from Staten, where crazy clips be clappin

 Slept in his principal spreads, threads, made of satin

 Labeled as the cow he had crazy beef

 Seen him at the flicks, he pulled out on Duke, Hez and Latief

 But he fucked up, he shoulda kept it real and went for kill

 cuz if he don't, these niggaz with black barrels will

 But, shit will never calm down, one day downtown

 He dropped an ounce off 

 Money had slept like a nightgown

 He rolled up in the Albee Square, relax like he lived in there

 Two kids was beamin him, them niggaz from the movie theatre

 One had all Guess on, lookin like he had a vest on

 The other felly pell tucked with a firearm

 Movin slow, baseball hats, crazy down low

 Word life God, this bull kag nigga gotta go

 Oh shit!  Bookhead, just bought a 5, G headed King Tudpea

 About the size of Little Maurice

 We got to get up baby, no cousin, count to ten

 I'm runnin in my first instance, is to return em the time is now

 Warfare and pull delf

 Remember me, the nigga from the UA and you pulled out

 Don't move don't even flinch

 Fix em up, drop the head, don't want to get blood in the tux

 He burped, I shot him, bitch screamed out I'm robbin him

 Had to hit him ten more times make sure I got him

 Told the owner lay on the floor, shake the comedy

 Randy came out wacked out with a half a shotty

 I laughed, grab the King Tud head and the cash

 Then he shot my man in the ass and broke mega glass

 Damn, had to go out with a blast

 I shot my way up out of the Albee fast

 (Sometimes I feel, like a motherless child)

 Oh shit, what the fuck?

 This shit is horrible.