Lyrics Busta Rhymes – Goldmine
Text:
Raekwon
Old dro bottles, and blow, blowin from both zones
Layin in them Tahoes we own the projo’s
Three for tenement we in the lobby with the big
Live for the street, ask, you die in the war
‘member that — blast that three atcha — hide in the wall
We gangsta, republicans with them big things, big rings
Get your head shot off, daddy you don’t believe chains
Loose cameras, big hammers, Station Wagon, blue Phantoms
Smokin the block up, y’all witness the zoo gamblers
We ain’t takin no shorts, its just the early 80’s
That made me, now I sit paid and then maybe
Nothing but my Lords and raps, these bags of dope
Under the mattress and I clack like a slave key
Wash your squad up, I roll double refuse to rock
Closed up my door up and murked you on the job (aww)
Hook: Busta Rhymes
Gettin money like back in the days
niggaz get like shower posse in a spec of the drug games
Slayin niggaz, steady sprayin niggaz, till the task forces roll up
In unmarked vehicles and will be layin niggaz
Streched out, focus, see you come back triple
When we O.T. cut it with bakin soda, acquire now
Strategize, gettin paper like the chivey Jamacians
And them George Chain niggaz, might we set up a goal?
Busta Rhymes
We got guns tucked in our waistlines, wit raps
Hangin from our back pockets miraculous money nigga
Can’t stop at Sherlock — Home can go’s
Phenomenal property, drug money, scram wrap em
A hundred EX — golden like a hundred graham crackers
Sidewindin niggaz tryna infiltrate blindside
A nigga hit you wit the eight, three in the club
Dumbin out, drunk in fronta the airbrush
Backdrop ones out, five dollars for bitches wit the guns out
Juggle for a couple days close shop thinkin,
To you the bubble until the strip is hotter than a microwave
Don’t stop, travel all my spare time and keep niggaz wit us
To push shit like George Jefferson Airline
No fro niggaz better go chill, ‘fore this gun
Goes up your nose like coke sniffin up your nose dude
Hook
Raekwon
Ay yo, snoop me kid, coop me in the red room booth
And eatin Fruit Loops its all for the loot boo
Designated hammer that’ll lay ya up scrambling
Blant ninjas get ’em more popped up, and start blowin niggaz magnums up
Caught me in the mix wit some rich soldiers, that reaction
Is a key action, black sent forty doja’s up
We hunt ’em like big plans, my big mans and them
Slick as the shit breaks from outtas you, rip dip, then quakes them
Busta Rhymes
See I was always good at science, in the class I was hopin
Ask ’em for the chemistry temperature now I’m cookin the coke up
Used to sit and watch them older niggaz for hours
And did acknowledge to how cold water quickly harden the powder
Took your turn into somethin big to accredit (uhh)
But ya needs connect shit up from South America
Money calculations, told B.I.G. I sit up on it still
Holdin old hundred dollar bills, wit small faces
Hook
