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Nutmeg Lyrics

from Supreme Clientele

"Nutmeg" is track #1 on the album Supreme Clientele. It was written by Andrews, Stephanie / Kersey, Ron / Cornelius, Don / Coles, Dennis D. / Diggs, Robert F..
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"Nutmeg" is track #1 on the album Supreme Clientele. It was written by Andrews, Stephanie / Kersey, Ron / Cornelius, Don / Coles, Dennis D. / Diggs, Robert F..
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Yeah, whassup, y'all, whassup?
This is Ghostface, straight from Staten Island
You know I don't really mean no harm

But it just happens you know
When I step approach a motherfuckin' wack nigga
That tryin' to spit his darts and can't spit 'em
Check it out though, aiyo

Scientific, my hand kissed it, robotic let's think optimistic
You probably missed it, watch me dolly dick it
Scotty, watty, cop it to me, big microphone hippie
Hit Poughkeepsie crispy chicken, verbs throw up a stone Richie

Chop the O, sprinkle a lil' snow inside a Optimo
Swing the John McEnroe, rap rock, 'n' roll
Tidy Bowl, gung-ho pro, Starsky with the gumsole
Hit the rump slow, parole kids, live Rapunzel

But Ton' stizzy really high, the vivid laser eye guide
Jump in the Harley ride, Clarks I freak a lemon pie
I'm 'bout it, 'bout it, Lord forgive me, Ms Sally shouted
Tracey got shot in the face, my house was overcrowded

You fake cats done heard it first on how I shitted on your turf
At times, Cuban Link verse, yo
Check out the rap kingpin, summertime fine jewelry drippin'
Face in the box, I seen your ear twitchin'

As soon as I drove off, Cap' came to me with three sawed-offs
Give one to Rae', let's season they broth
Lightning rod fever heaters, knock-kneeder, Sheeba for hiva
Diva got rocked from the receiver bleeder

Portfolio, lookin' fancy in the pantry
My man got bigger dimes, son, your shit is scampi
Base that, throw what's in your mouth, don't waste that
See Ghost lampin' in the throne with King Tut hat
Straight off

Yeah, yeah
I just wan't y'all niggaz
Smack all y'all niggaz, niggarettes
Universal death threats, yeah
This be the God Body, yeah, no doubt
Judge Wise

Aiyo, spiced out Calvin Coolidge, loungin' with 7 duelers
The Great Adventures of Slick, lickin' with 6 rugers
Rock those, big boy Bulotti's out of Woodridge
Porch for the biggest beer, season giraffe ribs

Rotissiere ropes, hickory scented mint scented glaze
Perfected find truth within self, let's smoke
All hail to my hands, 50 thou' appraisal
Dirty nose with the nasal drip, click flipped on fam

Dancin' with Blanch and them bitches, flickin' goose pictures
Kick down the ace of spades, snatch Jack riches
Olsive compulsive lies flies with my name on it
Dick made the cover now count, how many veins on it

Scooby snack, Jurassic plastic gas, booby trap
Ten years workin' for me, you wanna tap shit?
Bung, bung, bung, your bell went rung, rung, rung
Staple-Land's where the ambulance don't come

Yeah, you see what I mean?
You see what I mean, you motherfuckin' crybabies?
Get in line punk, you should be studyin' your odds
Instead of studyin' me

That's how you lost your first job, punk
Now, get in line, for you get your lil' thick-ass tossed up
Shit, I studied under Bruce Lee, nigga
He was on the fourth, I was on the third

Pass me a honey-dipped spliff, black mental cause continental drift
One whiff of Pow, you gets my divine stiff
Brick rock, late night, hear the tick-tock of my clock
I used to run up and pick a crab lock

Hit his stash, dip back, to the Lab, make him flip
Uptown, boo-doop, now we back on your ass
Incognito, fatal aikido blow, pop a needle
Dick a knock-knee hoe, bust out her fetal

Nine inch long, strong, Bobby pop the bitch thongs
Spit on her, then I banged on my chest like Kong King
Merciless Meng, point the killa bee sting
Ring dings right through your head bing

Snap the wing off of bats, my battle-axe tongue hacks tracks
Once the ball drop, I'ma snatch ten jacks
Pass the crack to a niggarette, puff a looseleaf cigarette
While your man search the Internet for Bob Digitech

In Stereo, crazy as Shapiro
Multiply myself ten times standin' next to zero
And snap my fingers like the Fonz
And bag me a golden bronze skinned girl with the honey blonde

Dip hair, make a nigga flip in his chair
Had the armpit shaved off perfect with the Nair
Stomach fat as a pancake for her man's sake
Used to fuck her when she menstruate
But it made her hyperventilate

Brooklyn
I know, I know, I know, I know
Queens
I know, I know, I know, I know

Shaolin
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, I know, I know

Bronx
I know, I know, I know, I know
Jersey
I know, I know, I know

Long Island
I know, I know, I know, I know
I know, I know, I know, break it down

Songwriters
ANDREWS, STEPHANIE / KERSEY, RON / CORNELIUS, DON / COLES, DENNIS D. / DIGGS, ROBERT F.

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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