Lyrics Raekwon – Die Tonight
Text:
Intro:
Yeah, yeah!
What up, son?
Oh, word?
Uh, that bitch is crazy, B
She do anything, nigga
That bitch eat cookies in the bed and all that shit, man
Be careful, man – word up, man
Aight?
Hold it down, hold it down, one
Verse 1:
So when it’s over, we demandin’ our weapons
Stop, cock, shoot – now I’m in the Ghost of perfections
Smooth Willie chillin’ with his Spartans
Park in front of your bitch, squeeze her tits, move aside, pardon
Paid niggas don’t talk, just straight to the bar
Buy the whole shit out, then light up a bark
Colorful kings, wardrobes is different from yours
You don’t want no beef, better take it to Moe’s
Put the drink on the side and said «what?»
My mans with the turban on mouth froze, y’all niggas is fucked
He was my son out of Gun Hill, I know him through Tek
If it’s the last thing we do we gon’ get at his neck
Bartender give me the check, keep him right here, I’ll be back
Now everybody knowin’ I’m connected
Hopped in the Seven, left 57 on my wools
This is personal… niggas don’t fret
Hook:
One more man gon’ die tonight
If it’s a M on the table I’m down
Yo, don’t be yappin’ off at the mouth
When niggas don’t see through the round
One more man gon’ die tonight
One more hand gon’ rob tonight
If it’s a M on the table I’m down
Yo, don’t be yappin’ off at the mouth
When niggas don’t see through the round
Verse 2:
Eatin’ Kentucky Fired, lucky guy, him and his kid
From the first bite a bullet would’ve flew through his wig
Beast move, chill, wait for the kids
Older nigga not that stupid – I see the gun on his rib
Fuckin’ catch him by the crib, yo, he live with his whiz
She the bow-legged stripper bitch we fingered and lived
For a buck she will guzzle your kids
And let you kick it to him, pour a Heineken up in this shit
This wack-ass nigga frontin’, he actin’ all bitch
Behind the walls, niggas pissed on him, gave him the biz
Just a tough guy frontin’ ’cause he famous and shit
Back in ’89, baby crimes, rapin’ some shit
We should’ve killed him then…
He dusted, look at his piff
I should’ve milked him right there and then
Fuck it, son — yo, guzzle the gin
Let’s make the movie occur, then blow up in the spur, yellin’ «win»
Hook