Eghck Lyrics – Clipse

[Verse 1 – Pusha T]

It go hot waist – Desert taste, four pounds of metal, tri-angle faceHesi-tate? Never, I’ll put hole in whoever
Don’t make Push’ Russian Roulette ya
Gamble with ya life
Change came from cocaine I’ve measured
White was the treasure, comfort was the steelI pedal to the corner like a child on a big wheelFlow more sicker, so much shake in the street
They measure my weight in Richter
Make no mistake, I rhyme for the public
But still I push yay that make the ghettos quakeBy all means I’ve seen I’ve lived
By 22 years old, 50 thousand dollar vehicles I rimmedMy dreams start over the stoveI ran over the globe and back again
You seen em, five-ten, hair swingin, dark skinned
Gun on my hip like a sergeant
Wrist Green Power, Chris Tuck’ in my watch
Anytime the small hand move, it’s Rush Hour
Homie you don’t want no probs wit us
Cause we the type of dudes who don’t think when we bustYou die (Eghck!)
When you come close to
And you get held back cause you’re not supposed to
You die (Eghck!)
When we roll up on dubsAnd get VIP all up in the club
You die (Eghck!)
Homie I am a star
And you might get hurt walking up to my car
[Verse 2 – Malice]

I offer y’all, 24 bars of rawLike eight balls in hard or soft
Time I, push em off, they need help now
Cause I, flood the street with straight melt downAnd I’m not proud, in fact I hate this route
This the same game got my brother strung out
So I, count the ways that it fucked up his life
So I don’t have a problem with upping my price, uhAnd who said the game ain’t fair?
A God damn loser!
Look, just like chicks, them cats they be runnin’ they lips
Worried to death am I still in the Clipse
Well, here’s a secret bout me and the Clipse
Even in my absence I’m still the shit ya dig?!
Everything doing it big, from the cars to the home
From the cash to the chrome, they can’t say the game ain’t grown
Did they tell you bout the nine? I keeps me that
And I don’t ever fall off like Adebisi HatWhen times get tight, the coke game like riding a bikeYou heavy as me? Not in your life. Hang it up


[Verse 3 – FAM-LAY]

See me in a gold Hummer
With two ??? bitches that makes ???
Somebody touch them, then I’m a bust them
Both hoes is accustomed
To getting coke through customs
They ain’t’ the average women would cut them
Trey Eighters out the leather blazerPoint ’em at your Chevy BlazerThen bust holes in your Pelle blazerYou ’bout to ride in Hell’s elevator
You got somethin’ else to say to God?
You gonna have to tell him later
Time is money
Doubt none of y’all find this funny
See I ain’t got time for dummies
So I keep the Nina Ross right beside the tummyAnd I’m leavin’ with the scratch and the finest bunnyI’m so far from a million dollars
If y’all feel me, holler
Put your drinks in the air, then peel your collar
Chrome wheel Impalas
Make ’em bounce for FAM-LAY
Cuz your drunk ass might get killed tomorrow
Narcs jumpin’ out of U-Haul trucks
Leavin’ you all stuck
Behind a park bench, balled-up
So I sleep all day, hustle all night
Like a vampire
But I don’t suck blood, I bust slugs
Liquor got me trigger-happy
I can tell that you a hater how you lookin’ at me
Young boy, but I’ll pop
16 from a magazine
Washing machine
Kill the first
Cop on the scene
I’m stupid