She's A Killah (feat. Ron Browz)

[Intro: Ron Browz]

Ether Boy, Def Jam, Ghostface, Ron Browz

Oh, oh, oh

[Ghostface Killah:]

It's no special when them shots go down

You can catch one in the gut, and go down

The silencers work to muffle that sound

Snuck through tools and on the low down

Gangstas give it up, what

Big cups of Goose stay filled-it up, we stay four wheeled-it up

I would talk to shorty but her ass ain't big enough

Her friends look like the type that'll just give it up

From abyss to gecko, stay bumrushing them hoes like Joe Klecko

It's hard to get a ticket like the Funkmaster Flex show

Even fat girls get twist into pretzels, Toney Starks special

[Chorus: Ron Browz]

She's a killer (oh) she's a killer (oh)

She's a killer, mami, you'se a killer

She's a killer (oh) she's a killer (oh)

She's a killer, shorty, you'se a killer

Oh, hop in my four wheeler, oh, ain't nobody realer

Oh, you got a man, I'm a steal ya, oh, my ice is iller

Yeah, we drinking Patron and, put your number in my phone and

Ain't trying to take you home and, we partying to the morning

Oh, to the morning, oh, to the morning

Oh, to the morning, to, to the morning

Oh, to the morning, oh, to the morning

Oh, oh, we partying to the morning

[Ghostface Killah:]

My co-defendant, her name's Alexis

Niggas get caught up by the side of her breastses

She'll murder you while eating your breakfast

You'll die wanting to try how good her sex is

Baby's shit wiggle like J-Lo, her thing so good

Before you hit it, you be having to pray, yo

Don't wanna bust fast, best be on your J-O

She strictly dickly, don't go both ways, yo

She independant and she fly

Bout 5'5, 5'6, bout yay high

Button-up pink boss shirt, blue necktie

Every nigga in the club wanna eat that thigh

Surprise she stay on her toes like a prized ballerina

She tight, her stomping grounds is out in Medina

This pretty thing handle her biz, she carry those things

Ready to die like she related to B.I.G.

[Chorus]

[Ghostface Killah (Shawn Wigs):]

Everybody's acting like they killing the town

(Pardon me lord, I was sipping that brown)

This goes for the rappers, non-gun clappers

Yo, Wigs, get the cameras these is a bunch of actors (action)

Yet, my heat sing like Shirley Caesar

You can come test me at, your own leisure

I'm ballin', gettin' Arab money and I pop champagne

And go hit shorty, shaking that thang, cause

[Chorus]