Hell's Wind Staff / Killah Hills 10304

Lyrics for Hell's Wind Staff / Killah Hills 10304

Yeah, it's the good life, you know (fuck is that, hell's angels?) Ah, Mr. Bobby Steels, Tony Starks on line one for Mr. Bobby Steels (Steels over here, Steels over here) Peace, Starks what's going on, baby? Yeah, everything is lovely over here Yeah, the Maximillion is sure I'm over here with Noodles and I got Lucky Hands with me (She got soul, R&B, classics? All that shit right?) Yeah, yeah, Greco is right in front of me right now Greco is standing right here Yeah, he has a briefcase Oh, okay, okay, I got you, aight, thanks (Bobby Steels) Mr. Greco, good to see you, good to see you, good to see you (a pleasure) So is everything okay, is everything working as we planned? (Everything is working out, very nicely) (Do you have the cash, twenty-thousand dollars?) Do we have the cash? We don't have to talk that, hey, hey (get the fuck outta here with that Hell's Angels bullshit) Look, we got the cash, we know Cash Rules Everything Around this motherfucker (fuck outta here) Um, let me ask you (Do you have the full amount? twenty thousand as we agreed upon?) (Fucking hells bastards) Let me ask you a question, Mr. Greco Do you know a a Don Rodriguez? (I know no such person) Don Rodriguez from the Bronx? Don Rodriguez? (Don't know who you're talking about) I think you do know him because your fuckin' friend Don Is down at 120 Precinct right now Singing his fucking ass like a fucking bird (Life of a drug dealer) The fuckin' guys is coming (Do you believe him?) Killah Hills 10304 Restaurants on a stakeout, so order the food to take out Chaos, outside a Sparks Steak House Maintain the power, I feel the deal's gone sour Nigga missed the wedding, late a fucking half-hour And his man who bought land from Tony Starks While he was contractin' bricklaying jobs in city parks He's a loan shark, interest rates a grand to a finger In the garment district, got it sewn like Singers 'Cause all that talk blasphemy This kid after me for the heist in a Burlington Coat Factory Fuck it, he turned state's on my nigga Castro This copilot who used to drop sacks of blow On this remote area we label Dead Man's Island Two hundred miles South from Thailand Right off the docks, I got luxurious custom made yachts Burial plots, for my niggas hit with fatal shots There's no need for us to spray up the scene I use less men, more powerful shit for my team Like my man Muhammad from Afghanistan, grew up in Iran The nigga runs a neighborhood newsstand A wild Middle Eastern bomb specialist Initiated at eleven to be a terrorist He set bombs in bottles of champagne And when niggas popped the cork, niggas lost half they brains Like this ex-worker, tried to smuggle a half a ki in his left leg Even underwent surgery They say his pirate limp gave him away As the feds rushed him, coming through U.S. Customs Now look whose on the witness stand singin' A well known soprano, a smash hit from Sammy Gravano Here's the plan, minimum for the hit, two hundred grand Half-time at the game, blastin' niggas out the stands The sharp-shooters hit the prosecutor Judges are sent photographs of they wives taking baths Along with briefcase filled with one point five, that's the bribe Take it or commit suicide First rule, anyone who schemes on the gold in Syria I want they small intestines ripped from the interior I got a price for those jewels, ship 'em freight cargo Don't forget to launder the cream through Wells Fargo Reconstruct those processing plants for the call of Costa Rica Four hundred barrels of ether Two hundred pounds of reefer, and fifty immigrants with fake Visas