Raekwon Lead Season Lyrics

Lost Jewlry Track Listing
Digital Media 1
  • 1 Intro "A Kings Chariot"
  • 2 Prince of Thieves
  • 3 Young Boy Penalties
  • 4 Hold You Down
  • 5 For the Listeners
  • 6 Die Tonight
  • 7 New Day
  • 8 Lead Season
  • 9 86'
  • 10 Came Up
  • 11 To the Top
  • 12 Whatever, Whenever
  • [Verse 1]
    Parked the Red Baron Beamer in the back of the cleaners
    Relaxing with an army gun Zima
    Medellin is in my blow like Floyd dance
    This chain I wear is skinny, baby, but the weight 80 gram
    Jumping out of silent shit, rugby marathon
    Peace to Rob Paragon, smoke with Aguillah
    Blow is designed for the ghost
    But I don't want it if it's biting the head off
    Come see me slap a don
    Great escape, me and that connect with the crimeys
    Back when me and Flex kidnapped the 90's
    I was king, call me Luther LeBron
    Make a dream team appear
    Court-side seats in the karmas
    Known for my get-down and fly wears
    Usually my eyewear that make me buy up everything bomb
    I'm a old Fila king with wings on
    Street sharp Nike suit
    Sharpey goon-face Milan

    We getting bread in the building
    Niggas getting money
    Quick to spread in the building
    Get lead in the building
    Bosses don't bite, they write checks
    I want the nigga head in the building
    Get fed in the wilderness

    [Verse 2]
    Ay yo, four-limb goose down to the Timbs
    The gems is coke-boy money, lay in the 700 Benz
    Blowing cheeba, dumping ashes
    The class of last year
    That'll throw your head through the glass
    Forty-five, all diamonds in it
    Grimies did it
    Chinese killers jump out and divot
    I will post in the New York Post, blueberry ghost
    You'll steady motion when I'm aiming my pitch
    We young niggas who die hard
    Fly ride hard
    Soft top, that means to push your head off
    I be famous, but my bodyguard Spanglish
    It's all miscellaneous, ain't nobody telling
    It ain't a issue
    Thick skits tapes with bombs in it
    Cooler than the velvet-grown pool
    And the pussy embalmed with it
    Yeah, Buddha texture's cashmere
    I beat your man up, drop five hundred, and blow and smash gears


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