Ghostface Killah - Supreme Clientele

Stay True Lyrics

by Ghostface Killah
Album: Supreme Clientele (2000)



[ghostface killah]
Oh yeah, motherfucker
Its real
Yall niggas hold your guns
Throw your guns down, put em down

Yo, we in the fields with heat
You fake niggas eat kid meals to meat
We street referees, we rock
Jean jackets, thick shirts over turtlenecks
Certified doctors in hoodsll steal all your techs
But wait, roll cameras, babyface money blowin like beach nut
Call off the mutts, its me again
Ghost, your host this evenin
(ladies and gents Id like to thank you all for comin out tonite)
Tucks tight, all sharp, light up a bark, lets mingle
Fetch me a remy martin on diamonds
Flair-laided gucci joints, I never wore
I might give em to my brother-in-law
Fitzpatrick, ribs battered, worth more than egyptian marrows
Borrow the God jewels, gucci goggles
Thats how the God do, motown twenty-five
My office like smokeys voice, little moist, but choice
We guzzle doms, smoke the scratchy throats
Live on the edge, bracelets, shades and classy coats
Jungle in the club, we play colombo
Frost eat a snowman, frozen as the milky way
Ice on the floor, el-producto in the sleeve
In the seam of his mink, he said dont drink
Think before he talked, he walked like he ordered
Champ room down in vegas, vendin machines
I sip alize compliments of e&j

Chorus: 60 second assassin *singing* (ghostface) x2

The streets is rough out here
Crack game came and had us years
What is a man to do? (brother)
(stay true, stay true)


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