He Comes

He Comes

Ghostface Killah

"Oh, whaddya know? He comes."

[Posdonus]
Down, like water, fresh out the clouds, clown.
Drown you like terrible weather.
Nobody does it better than I, so approved by Carly Simon.
Most rappers is real hard, but still hardly rhymin'.
To all - rise and shine; give God the glory.
I already give a percent of mine to Bert and Cory,
And still got bills and employees to pay.
So excuse me, Lord, we'll settle up towards the end of my days.
My ways of control is hard to swallow.
Known to lead, but some would rather see me follow behind.
Sorry to dis-appoint, but dis joint's mine.
Dis-play your indie, but say no more or I'll blind you like spit did to Remo.
To the dirt, and edit the clip and lost Kano.
My mens wear problems like Timbs.
See it all in they face; ask Mase, he got wars to win,
Scores to settle, crews to crush.
You rush right in to see him do it with a smile.
It's Long Isle y'all; longevity sustainin' my celebrity status.
From A-M to P-M, you see him on file, y'all.
I was told to step righteous, so when it's done
Everyone will say I stepped right.
And whether through religion, or stopped by the cop,
Shinin' his flash in my face, I'm bound to see the light.

"A few short words, and whaddya know?"
"Oh, whaddya know? He comes."

[Dave]
Aiyyo, I'm up against these walls; here's my back, stiff, straight up.
Dazzle and razzlin' broads like I'm little Juan Magic.
Magnetically handle mics, they don't drop.
Top drama every time these commas don't drop.
Pop spots like lint on your shirt; the net worth.
To shoot the rock homey in many courts of ball;
Four couldn't do it, so we bring all six.
I circumcise the track; you just a dick, overlapped and hooded.
Skin repeated like Stutterin' John.
I repeat like yesterday; it don't stop.
George of this poor life, pop, put to Scarlet;
In a place she believes much better than your lies.
She say she lookin' better in my eyes; bullshit!
Same crock she done ran to duck, crammin' to fuck.
I put the pudding on her like Bill Cosby.
I tried to speak my piece in court, but Judge Mills paused me.
Bifocusedly die, hopeless sometimes.
Yo, cry your poker face; you oughta try it one time.
When God is an non pos' you stand to download.
Demanded like slaves on trial; we want free.
Man, cock aim ready; it's time you MC.
So you rappers bust bibi guns; graffiti runs
Through my veins, since cable with the wired remote.
Woodgrainin' like you wired his float.

[Ghostface Killah]
C'mon, Pretty Toney and De La Soul.
We was rhymin' through the frozen street since eight years old.
Take us back to eighty-eight; you couldn't catch our flow.
A group of kids so original.

[Ghostface Killah]
You heard?

[Ghostface Killah]
Tony 'Tana with big hammers for bad manners; who got 'em?
We kiss cannons for Scrangelous crew and his whack dancers.
Bitin' is forbidden, pah, pay that tax.
And don't you ever look at us funny, boy, we'll bring rap back.
And that'll hurt you like Superman, chased by a group of men.
With dyna-mics, real hip-hop'll do you in.
For you like Loo Goo Kim, or Moo Loo Inn.
Hula hoop all bitches; crew full with brand new Keds.
Cutmaster kill 'em; make sure we cut classics.
Buck bastards in broad day and tuck caskets.
Next to Uday and Qusay, how can the group shoot the P-A,
And just lay whooptay, whooptay?
Use the ruse, sport beads, and snatch a dude's toupee.
Since tunin' into T-La Rock'n A-J,
Ghostface gats is freshed squeezed, like a glass of O-J.
Girls, you can go cruisin' in my O-J.

"A few short words, and whaddya know?"
"Oh, whaddya know? He comes."

Written by RECORD, EUGENE / JOLICOEUR, DAVID J. / MASON, VINCENT L. / MERCER, KELVIN / WEST, DAVE / COLES, DENNIS D.
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, JELLYBEAN MUSIC GROUP, BMG RIGHTS MANAGEMENT US, LLC, BMG GOLD SONGS OBO RUGGED JOINTZ

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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