Ghostface Killah - Mighty Healthy

My God, so they are killers I've heard lots of people say once a man's a killer They just keep on killing and killing They sort of develop a taste for blood Yeah, that's right They kill one man, or kill ten It's all the same (yes) After all, they can only hang you once

Both hands clusty, chillin' with my man Rusty Low down, blew off the burner, kinda dusty The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape, Rae co-host Monty Hall expo, intellect, you read pro Son's triflin' fuck, wildflower on the cycle and Picked up the broom thought I was Michael-in' West Brighton Pool, now I'm into Iron Duels Turn nuns to Earths, Whoopi, she at Allah school

Inhale break beats of Hell a-alikes propel parallel Duracell knot, you flashed a burnt cell Snap out of Candyland, kids, the old rumor is Blacks become immune and shit, we never did Like eating dead birds, trust the pharmacy over herbs Men marrying men, ill they got the urge, pulsar Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter, living off land You goddamn right, I fuck fans, king me Check, checkmate, props like the micro chip founder Neck to neck stock with Bill Gates now

When we hug these mics, we get busy (busy) Come and have a good time with G-O-D (G-O-D) Make you snap your fingers or wiggle (wiggle) Scream, shout, laugh or just giggle (giggle) Shake that body, party that body Don't fuck with Ghost, you'll feel sorry That's word, I'm not the herb Understand what I'm saying, saying, saying?

Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in your grass, spiteful Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter Culprit, prince of the game, wish you could see us We lay low, glitter wax full bangles Priceless ropes, lay around the God, get tangled Woolly hair, eyes fiery red, feet made of brass 12 men following me, it be the God staff

Move, every script's like Miramax Smashed the big boy, totaled it, Wilshire and Fairfax Sun beamin', wifey on the beach sipping Zima Wu 'binos to Latinos, we love Selena Overnight, God schedules, FedEx Pretty silhouette, velvet nice, DNA scroll genetics Too hot to handle, one thought from scrambling the mandolin Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack 'em, say when

He rollin' up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts Yo kid, stop fronting on the grounds 'fore you get touched It's Canada Dry sess with Allah, son We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry

For every blow, depends on breath control So it's the first thing you must learn Fortunately, it's easy You'll soon learn My God, so they are killers Killing and killing They sort of develop a taste for blood My God, so they are killers My God, my God, so they are killers