Rap Burglars

[Intro: Raekwon] The niggas commercial... Fuck outta here, you know where we came from Word? Word up... nigga don't wanna shadowbox this, son Right, right, right... yeah, wheelie in one hand Right, you know it God, check the tale of the tape Tale of the tape, yo, son, yo, son, yo [Raekwon] This Alaskan nigga approached me, he had suede on Caesar head half moon, had his weight on Five sixty drop, rest in Barbados Stacked potatos, like he rich shit, have Play-Doh What's your name? Louis Rich the Third Back your herb, half of that, kid, polly your bird Now we speakin', took off my hat, waves leaking Beat your beak, he acting like he know about reef' He still unsure, other than that, feel more than safe Let money fake, I got three, for his hate That more up, thought a nigga would front and fold up Threw a medallion out, rocks all rolled up Whose your beagles, money grabbing his gin Puffin' illegal, that's chico, yo, what up with Rico? He's chilling, plan status, nigga with that rams had Check the stands, then check where his hands at Jewels is gorgeous, priceless shit that's foolish Fifteen, thousand in the trunk, he asked for Louis Cat reached, grabbed his burner, shots'll lease Like a new Sable, yo, except one touch the God niece Emotional, throwing up shots like they promotional Shorty run for the door, hit the floor composable Stop playing, banging on the door, jakes laying Something crazy, he had a eighty in the cab BM [Hook: Raekwon] Stay still kid, them niggas over there, want drama Hold your head, sorta like Wu vs. Llama Rap pehito, salute them niggas who got shit Calico pop shit, rap burglar rock shit [Inspectah Deck] You bein watched like you new on the block, from roof tops Get your bruise on, it's hot shots, pop, music stops Party's over, bold soldier move for his holster Shot the lights out, struck the bouncer in his shoulder Hard times for po-9, they can't control the masses, scream for Wu Backstage, we slingin' V.I.P. passes Jakes sprayin mace, riots be takin place When the Clan show they face, the fans slow they place Get your blunt rolled, fuck the 5-0, they want it dun' know Bitches gettin' trampled, niggas wildin the front row Fire marshall catch a beat down, tryin to cut my sound Radio dispatcher, back-up, bustin rounds Without intermission from a crouched position Bullets ricochet off the strobe-lights, strikin Christians My nigga slipped in, 'nuff ammunition, to bust back Fuck that, them out-of-town cats'll take the rap It's war on the dance floor, quarter to 4 Before we peeled off, they tried to seal off the back door Gats for the beast, high persuit down the side streets Shot up my getaway Jeep, crashed the front glass And blew the head rest off the passenger seat I grabbed the heat, ditched the whip and then escaped on feet While the locals interrogated for names and photos Work with 5-0, swappin info for dough [Hook 2X] [Outro: Raekwon] What, what, from here to Indianapolis...