Raekwon and Ghostface Killah - Wisdom Body

No, man, all bitches are the same, just like my hoes, you know?
I keep 'em broke
Wake up one mornin' with some money
They're subject to go crazy you know?
I keep 'em lookin good, pretty and all that
You know, but no dough
When I get a bitch, I got a bitch (right on)

Word up, that motherfuckin' brother wise
You know what I'm sayin? Teachin' the uncivilized
Yeah, runnin' the streets, know it's deep
Word up, check his technique, yeah
I be Ghostface
Flippin' the marvelous track
Yeah
You know the steelo, but yo, yo
Check the bangin' sounds that I invent
Fake niggas who tried to flex hard came and went
They couldn't match up with the fly nigga
Wit his back against the wall
Heads clocked once I came in the door
I played the speaker, sippin' a Kahlua
Saw this bad bitch wit' a switch
And, yo, I had to step to her in a manner
And rather wished the current was warm
When I had reached her, I looked and knew the shit was on
Peace, excuse me, allow to introduce myself
Yo, I'm the man, and honey, you've been rated top shelf
Yo, what's your name hon', hair wrapped up in a bun
Your eyes sparkle, just like glass in the sun
Never diss 'em, it's hard for a nigga just to miss 'em
Especially, when you're browsin', goin' fishin'
Your waistline, bangin' like a bassline
Physical form is well complexed
And, yo, I love your outline, boo
Your whole body is wild, wit your rugged profile
Enough to make a hard rock smile
You can't strikeout, tell me what can really go wrong
You're rockin' labels, Tommy Hil' down to Claiborne
Show me some love, hon', show me some love, boo
Show me the vibe and I'll be more than glad to shoot it through
Ayy, yo, peep it, I know you love Victoria's Secret
And lovin' all the marvelous slang on how I freaked it
Plus, see you're the type to make a nigga crash
Far from trash, your flesh is way softer than a baby's ass
Your body lotion is the potion, the shit got me open like dust
And yo, your stee' is high potent, yo
We can go the distance, I put you under wings
From this convo we can spark and see whatever brings
I walked the hot Arabian desert, barefooted
I grabbed your hand, you grabbed my joint and knew where to put it

Word up, yo, straight up and down, yo
Check the joint, baby
It be the Wu-Tang production
Yeah, yeah, and all types of shit
And brothers catchin' repercussions
Yo, straight up

Written by:
Corey Woods, Robert F. Diggs

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

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