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Poisonous Darts Lyrics

from Ironman

"Poisonous Darts" is track #16 on the album Ironman. It was written by Diggs, Robert F. / Coles, Dennis David.
"Poisonous Darts" is track #16 on the album Ironman. It was written by Diggs, Robert F. / Coles, Dennis David.

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So what the fuck I got to lose ha?
Word to God let's get it on
Clap your heels three times, grab the magic wand
Nameless, these stonewashed cats, leave 'em brainless
Somewhere out of this world, stranded on Uranus
With coke and a dollar bill stems and crack capsules
Take a blast boo, booby trap a cruise it's natural
Like soybean, burn like a laser beam
My vaccine I shoot it firm and it connects like sideburns
The segment, rare fragment comes together like magnets
Attract heads captured like Dragnet
Goin through mad phases, of all ages
Killa bees locked the fuck up behind cages
The Genovese swallow this line and caught a freeze
Press caller ID for me to quote more degrees
The fortune teller tuck a sleeping gas umbrella
Award winning dining in the back of Armanbella
Now who, don't believe that cash must rule
I don't eat meat, I slap blood out of Purdue
Keep a wireless mic, mics on strike the session
Is over, I file this and glow like flourescent

Peace to y'all, let's get our rhyme on
Yeah peace to y'all, let's get our rhyme on

Yo yo, mountains of blow like snow constant cashflow
Rockin a Shaft afro, Tony got mad glow with hoes
Mega powder drippin from they nose
Fuckin Jet magazine bitches with wide pussy pose
Centrefold the whole night, deadly venom horror snake bites
Only Built 4 Cuban Link kings who shoot dice
Holdin money bags, convertible Benz with feathered bags
With the mongoose your man's got two seeds down in Bagdad
You onionhead niggas spread out and parlay
Yo Rae these itch days get crashed with ash trays
I pull stings like, guitar strings down in Spain
I'm so hyped Jakes label God "crack cocaine"
Y Equality Self God, yeah yeah you know it kid
Ricky fucked up a G-Pack, blow his wig
He's rockin Wu Wear, the latest in fleece uniform
He's a newborn, look at money swearin' like he on
But anyway back to furry Kangols, Jamaican Wallabees
My back is on the wall, bombin' devils with tricknology
My heart is cold like Russia, got jerked at The Source awards
Next year two hundred niggas comin with swords!

Songwriters
DIGGS, ROBERT F. / COLES, DENNIS DAVID

Published by
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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