Thirsty Fish - Wisemen, Raekwon

Yeah

Kevlaar on the beat

Yeah

Yo, I’ma let it soak in like some good soup on these niggas for a minute, man

Uh-Huh

You know what it is.

It’s Sparky Anderson in the building, baby.

(Gimme that one more time!)

Yeah

Let it float, like a white owl above your senses, man

(Blow out your senses with that while owl, baby!)

Aight

Yo, my soul’ll glisten

Jackie Joyner flow, driftin'

Mo' shit than a pigeon

Buddha make em' television

Blu-Ray precision

Blowin rods out ya engine

Not to mention

My enrichment make powder glow

Long arm pro

One novel split your avocado

Green cap, penny top rap

Cat-walk a model

Tyra Banks, Queen Sheba meet her — swallow liters

Crawl across burning desert, Mount St. Helen fever

Toast with a blunt, call me golden retriever

Green paper on tap like oxygen, two hydrogen pieces

This be my nitro glycerin thesis

Or it’s duct tape, white doves and death to the speaker

Find my luck late white gloves mix O.J.

with ether

See the dope game?

It’s the same, it’s or, or either

Now my waist got burns the size of 9 millimeter

I treat her how I treat her, Liter after liter

Smoke cedar after cedar, still breathalyze cleaner

Than a 12-Step leader

Bronzeman on the stand, never turn a Tina

Or parakeeter

Right hand on the heater, knowin' I barely teeter

'lute get it poppin like bottles

Fly chicks and models

El Dorados with the top tilt off

Far from soft

From Diggstown to a loft

Real brick nigga, workers lookin' up to the boss

Weight movers, ease thru scope-like view

Style rugby, no pads, run through ya crew

The shit I do, unexplainable

Liver than most

For the bread?

Meet his forehead with the toast

Full fledged, off the ledge

Live life on the edge

No comparisons, fuck what you see on the tube

They don’t play us on the radio, so fuck them too

Hardcore, reward point blank range

On that hurricane tip, fuck making it rain

Storm defiant, skinny nigga knockin' out giants

Killa season, presidential status to clients

Rise above tide, seat back enjoyin' the ride

We employers of the corners, it’s the cowards that hide

Hold my own weight, rocked out buck-65

Ask about me in my gritty city, 'lute get live!

Eyes low, cause I stay high

Far from average

Street Fighter, E. Honda concrete savage

It’s a wrap kid, ya’ll figures stuck in a drought

Known for X-ing niggas out, like my first name Malc'

What I’m about, nigga

Call me Prince Charles

My mother stay rocked up and glocked up

Rockin' a gun umbrella, size 8 Clarks

Love the game, sweet sneakers and speakers

Fly white beaches, pour shots

Mister, it’s all rocks

That’s me, new flamer

Double XL jag

Baby blue nozzles, xeon Nina

Shoot like the new and improved

Military regime rap

Magazines jump off clean racks

Wipe out the spouse, bag up

Welcome to The House of Flying Daggers, where niggas get grabbed up

Snatched like the actress, act up

The van with the old man drivin' wit' the hammer, that’s Black Putt

Slut niggas go up in ya bitch butt

Owe that money, we comin' at ya ass like, «Wassup?»

You gon' die, nigga you won’t lie

I figured I could help you

My homie, you wan' ride?