Paisley Darts )
Ghostface Killah Lyrics


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[Intro: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yeah, yo, yeah, yo

[Ghostface Killah]
Catch me on yo' brochure with beachballs, at least three whores
Head wop Queens know how to work they jaws
They skintone is coffee and milk, mixed up
Ass as big as my boss' wife, stomach ripped up
Spitting liquor in they mouth, cold Moet
Captain Morgan, taking flicks, posing, holding my tech
With cowboy hats and coach bags, they party like rockstars
Bo Gary watches, just chill, they down in the shark bars
And me, gunslinger, clips, cock D
My fashion on, I'm rocking 'em new Rasheeds
I'ma finish ya, go in brother like Mr. Cee
You could find me fucked up like the mice in cheese
Life's a B, Bentley and big bills
Bottles, biscuits, bitches, blunts, bad boys bodying pit bulls
Karate, black belt and I bring booze
To big bar brawls, ball games blasting, fuck 'til my balls blue

[Raekwon]
We like the black Yankees, old vets who sit in the rest
Thankful, counting up currency and move when it rain, pour
From every bitch that we bless, we hit up, automatic love
The Cuban Link niggaz is the realest
My wallet walk, speak to niggaz, cops, judges
We put it down, Columbian style, with three killas
Based on money, dummies'll die
It ain't funny, trying to front on mine, we get in ya mommy
Keep cool, nigga, read him the rules, before he bleeding in pools
And fuck my shit up, and I'ma just lose
Paid a lot of paper to live here
American Gangster status, Big Brother, lemme get in ya ear
You know what time it is, crime it is
No matter what rhyme it is
We gon' stay fly, hit lye, rock diamond shits (no question)
Based on a general's fist of fury
Neck, arm, money, all of that's crispy jewelry

[Sun God]
Let me show you how I g ride, nina on both sides
Nobody riding shotgun but the four-five
Nigga, if you won't try, I'll give ya something to regret
Throw that mothafucking semi to ya neck
Throw the other black Jimmy to ya chest
If you budge, you get stretched, nothing more, nothing less
Pay respect, I'm a element of Homicide Housing
In other words, bitch, I'm the resident from Homicide Housing
Known for drug dealing, stack thousands
Four hundred grand in the couches, two hundred grand on the houses
At any time I could move up out this
And go and cop some shit up in the moutains

[Trife Da God]
Aiyo, aiyo, you know ya boy stay fresher than produce
Timberland snow boots, collecting more CREAM than a toll booth
I grind daily, Patriotic like Tom Brady
I'm the bomb baby, cuz what I write is beyond crazy
I'm the Don with the teflon armor, good karma, mac palmer
Call me Arab Diesel cuz I'm a track bomber
Roger that, my niggaz ain't got it cracked
All we do is dollar stack, get twisted like bottlecaps
While you on the block getting indicted
We island hopping, globe trotting through the friendly skies flying United
There's a party over here and everybody's invited
The headliners is Theodore and everybody's excited

[Method Man]
Fuck that, 'bout time we took it back to the block
The task force coming, I got crack in my sock
White Rock on the dinner plate, get cash, shit is hot
Smash whips on the Interstate, we dash on the cops
It's them dudes, drug slingers, 1-6-Ooh
Crime figure, rhyme spitter, his gun spit too
Call 'em Sex Pistols, ravishing, nigga, I'm Rick Rude
And ain't many mothafuckas could fit up in Rick's shoes
Man, listen, ice glisten, they love the life we living
That's a given, like football players love white women
White linen, a tight denim, that ass look right in 'em
Shit, I'm riding 'em, cool as Kahlua's with ice in 'em, shit...

[Hook: Ghostface Killah (Cappadonna)]
Aiyo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo I pass the mic to Cap (Nah, I pass it back)
Never, son, hold that, you the master of the rap attack
So knick knack patty wack (This is how we do it black)
(Slap you with the almanac) Where actual facts is sold as facts

[Cappadonna]
We on our grown man shit like Quincy Jones
Travelling across the world while we smoking the bone
We grinding, y'all niggaz know what we do
We get it in with the Murderland, Chi-town too
Hit you up, something nice 'til the death of Yakub
Swagger stuck on ya face like a New Jack tool
Right back at you, yeah me and my dude Toney
We don't fuck with fake contracts and niggaz that's phony
Trying to get this money, right homey
And lay back in the Riverside, just chill, relax the domepiece
Link up with a fly dime, brick and a chrome piece
Coming for that gwop, yeah nigga, you got beef





[skit of Ghostface and co. speaking during concert follows]

Overall Meaning

In the song Paisley Darts, Ghostface Killah, Raekwon, Sun God, Trife Da God, Method Man, and Cappadonna describe the lavish and dangerous lifestyle of drug dealers from different parts of the world. Ghostface Killah raps about his extravagant parties with beachballs, expensive liquor, designer clothes, and beautiful women. RaeKwon boasts about the Cuban Link niggaz being the realest in the game and their ability to handle business with cops and judges. Sun God shares his experience of living in homicide housing, selling drugs, and stacking thousands of dollars in cash in couches and houses. Trife Da God describes his fresh style, patriotism, and love for making music that goes beyond craziness. Lastly, Method Man takes it back to the block and talks about his streetwise approach to dealing with the task force, making money, getting women, and living the high life.


Line by Line Meaning

Catch me on yo' brochure with beachballs, at least three whores Head wop Queens know how to work they jaws They skintone is coffee and milk, mixed up Ass as big as my boss' wife, stomach ripped up Spitting liquor in they mouth, cold Moet Captain Morgan, taking flicks, posing, holding my tech With cowboy hats and coach bags, they party like rockstars Bo Gary watches, just chill, they down in the shark bars And me, gunslinger, clips, cock D My fashion on, I'm rocking 'em new Rasheeds I'ma finish ya, go in brother like Mr. Cee You could find me fucked up like the mice in cheese Life's a B, Bentley and big bills Bottles, biscuits, bitches, blunts, bad boys bodying pit bulls Karate, black belt and I bring booze To big bar brawls, ball games blasting, fuck 'til my balls blue
Ghostface Killah describes his wild lifestyle filled with women, alcohol, high-class fashion, and luxurious cars and money.


We like the black Yankees, old vets who sit in the rest Thankful, counting up currency and move when it rain, pour From every bitch that we bless, we hit up, automatic love The Cuban Link niggaz is the realest My wallet walk, speak to niggaz, cops, judges We put it down, Columbian style, with three killas Based on money, dummies'll die It ain't funny, trying to front on mine, we get in ya mommy Keep cool, nigga, read him the rules, before he bleeding in pools And fuck my shit up, and I'ma just lose Paid a lot of paper to live here American Gangster status, Big Brother, lemme get in ya ear You know what time it is, crime it is No matter what rhyme it is We gon' stay fly, hit lye, rock diamond shits (no question) Based on a general's fist of fury Neck, arm, money, all of that's crispy jewelry
Raekwon boasts about his riches, Cuban connections, and his ability to deal with any situation. He also warns those who try to go against him while acknowledging the importance of money in his life.


Let me show you how I g ride, nina on both sides Nobody riding shotgun but the four-five Nigga, if you won't try, I'll give ya something to regret Throw that mothafucking semi to ya neck Throw the other black Jimmy to ya chest If you budge, you get stretched, nothing more, nothing less Pay respect, I'm a element of Homicide Housing In other words, bitch, I'm the resident from Homicide Housing Known for drug dealing, stack thousands Four hundred grand in the couches, two hundred grand on the houses At any time I could move up out this And go and cop some shit up in the moutains
Sun God describes his violent and dangerous lifestyle, where he rides around with two guns and is ready to use them to protect himself and his business. He also mentions his success with drug dealing and his ability to earn a lot of money.


Aiyo, aiyo, you know ya boy stay fresher than produce Timberland snow boots, collecting more CREAM than a toll booth I grind daily, Patriotic like Tom Brady I'm the bomb baby, cuz what I write is beyond crazy I'm the Don with the teflon armor, good karma, mac palmer Call me Arab Diesel cuz I'm a track bomber Roger that, my niggaz ain't got it cracked All we do is dollar stack, get twisted like bottlecaps While you on the block getting indicted We island hopping, globe trotting through the friendly skies flying United There's a party over here and everybody's invited The headliners is Theodore and everybody's excited
Trife Da God brags about his sharp fashion sense, skills in making money, and his abilities as a rapper. He also contrasts his success with the struggles of those who are caught up in crime on the streets. Finally, he invites his listeners to a party where he and his fellow rappers are the main attraction.


Fuck that, 'bout time we took it back to the block The task force coming, I got crack in my sock White Rock on the dinner plate, get cash, shit is hot Smash whips on the Interstate, we dash on the cops It's them dudes, drug slingers, 1-6-Ooh Crime figure, rhyme spitter, his gun spit too Call 'em Sex Pistols, ravishing, nigga, I'm Rick Rude And ain't many mothafuckas could fit up in Rick's shoes Man, listen, ice glisten, they love the life we living That's a given, like football players love white women White linen, a tight denim, that ass look right in 'em Shit, I'm riding 'em, cool as Kahlua's with ice in 'em, shit...
Method Man takes it back to the streets, describing his criminal activities and drug dealing. He also boasts about his rap skills and fashion sense. Finally, he talks about the advantages of his lifestyle, like being able to have sex with many women.


Aiyo, yo, yo, yo, yo, yo I pass the mic to Cap (Nah, I pass it back) Never, son, hold that, you the master of the rap attack So knick knack patty wack (This is how we do it black) (Slap you with the almanac) Where actual facts is sold as facts
Ghostface Killah and Cappadonna engage in some playful back-and-forth banter, with Ghostface initially offering to pass the mic to Cappadonna, only to eventually decide to keep it himself. They also reference the importance of being truthful in their music.




Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group, MEMORY LANE MUSIC GROUP
Written by: DENNIS AMES, THEO BAILEY, DENNIS COLES, LEVAR COPPIN, DARRYL HILL, DELENO MATTHEWS, ROBERT MILLER, CLIFFORD SMITH, COREY WOODS

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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