Ghostface Killah - Six Degrees Lyrics
[Verse 1: GFK]Dangerous thoughts, mind of a militiaBottles of the 1-50 poured over twistasBroken bones and pillars, Staten Island the illestThe biggest land fillers, we creep like caterpillarsLove razors, dirty guns with a few dead bodiesTeach niggas how to walk again from the *****ing shottySixth sense, six pack, six degrees of separationMy evil 3rd eye blinks with no hesitationDustbags, spoonfuls of sugar help the mediGo down smooth and steady, blowing the green deadlyHen we pops, isolated of hash bricksNeedle left stuck in his arm, died of a bad fiAnnotatexWe still rock, still dry drawers on the stoveGot bread from back in the days, it's growing some mold2Pac's back, my Glock's fatAfter the gun smoke, you screaming, where my block at?[Verse 2: Danny Brown]Both hands crusty, need a little lotionThat shit don't matter when I mix the color oceanSmoking on potent, goons bagging up in the living roomBlocking the flat screen while I'm watching JuiceMove your big ass head, my favorite part's onQ and the DJ battle, move or I scratch you95 (?) 95 on the coffee tableGot them selling dimes still shiny as a nickelPistol in designer pants, shoeboxes in bedroomsSome got stacks but most discontinuedWhat's on the menu? Eat a rapper like butternut squashBark on a nigga with the blade outRun up in your safehouse, how ironicKnock a ring on a nigga like somebody hit SonicSmoking on chronic feeling like NostradamicSee dying in your future, nigga I promiseVomit colors seven series, TiVo the World SeriesAbout to miss the game hitting sevens on the slot machineDice game, vice daughter, drunk driving in the ChargerWith a big titty ***** looking like ToccaraI don't know what you knowBut if you know what I know, you better get ghost 'fore I get GhostI don't know what you knowBut if you know how I know, you better get ghost 'fore I get Ghost[Verse 3: GFK]Hey what up son, they talking that money on the ground shitU-P-S, Fedex, I deliver the pound shitRaw dog, my hood's like crazy 80's stamp bagStapleton niggas keep they guns in strip bagsDoo-rags and blue and red flags, we keep new tagsSkinny or big jeans, niggas they still sagBrag about 2 chains, 4 chains, 6 chainsSpread eagle *****es in the crib giving brainStill keep them cars crispier than printed moneyAnd the champion gear that I rock? Will hide my face for meMask down, 3-57 and the box of shellsSeville dead-arm the kid in the stairwellStem cell, my niggas is scientificWe make crumbs and wax, the T-H-C is prolificFruitful, my Clan bundle cash like PabloBank in the Caimans, stash-houses out in Cabo
