Mathematics ... On Da Radio (Skit)

(feat. Ghostface Killah)



[Intro: Mathematics (Ghostface Killah)]

Aint never fuckin shit on here

Damn, the radio play the same shit every day

Some ol muthafuckin bullshit

(Yeah.... stay the fuck off my plantation

Yeah... Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang.... yo, yo, yo)



[Ghostface Killah]

Back on the block, smuggling rocks

Rocky graveyard rocks, one chain, fiendin on the block

Im fed up, dunn, trynna keep my head up, word up, pa

Sue to get this money, live out, my name God, word life, right

Gats come a dime a dozen, what up cousin?

Guess who got loose on these thugs again

Murder was the topic, manslaughter his little daughter

Had a hundred grand, actin like Rich Porter

For real kid, remember daffy did the bid

Bought sand, but first he ran up in his dreads quick

Stepped off, bought a phat loft, this thing must of worked

Cuz that white bitch he fucked, got an Ultima

Word up, word up, cat, cant call it pa

Yo Shallah, light up the owl, lets go crowd, pa

So we did it, weeded out, the skit ran

Dedicated to winners and losers, and then, kid

Fuck it, threw on the black thing, grabbed the mac

Im going out like Rambo, Rae count the grams, slow

Scheemin, dreaming for CREAM, fiend beamin

Plush eyed Steven, sniffin rat poison, half ass breathing

Wait, cant tolerate the smell on the fifth floor

Ricans got it locked it down, son, light the choc

Sure, we lit it, fat Pam gotta be home soon

Butt naked, faggot ass dred, in a back room

Approached him, through out the toast, snatched the jewel notes

Asked him wheres his African man, before his brain throws

Against the wall, guess who came out the door, yall

Downlow, that TNT cop, kill em now, yall

Shots rained for sure, fiends hit the floor

Crack pipes, Playboy books, and vouch galore

African kid bounced, cop lost his cape

Chef got blazed and Ghost lost a leg
[ ... On Da Radio (Skit) Lyrics ]