Miguel Sanchez

Текст песни Ghostface Killah Feat. Trife Da God & Sun God - Miguel Sanchez

Uh, thirty thousand feet up in the air, up in the leer
Dressed in a black tux, forty cal tucked, strapped to the chair
Half asleep, hoppin' out of my seat, caught in a daze
Turned around and saw a White man's face, covered in shades
I must have passed out, can't remember shit before I blacked out
Three more niggas approachin' holdin' they macs out
One spoke, gave me the keys to a boat
Reached in his trench coat and pulled out a yellow envelope
Which contained twenty thousand in cash, a photograph
Of a Columbian nigga with a long mustache
Miguel Sanchez, keep a gun hidden in his pants leg
With armed bodyguards, surveillance around his land spread
He runs a billion dollar organization
Under investigation, plus he's wanted by immigration
Now I'm stuck, crazy look on my face, shocked in amazement
How the fuck I get involved with these federal agents?
They knew my background, knew about what happened out in Sac-Town
They knew about the route down south, they laid the facts down
Said I had two decisions, take down Miguel and his cartel
Or spend the rest of my life in prison
A classified mission on some James Bond shit
Double-0-7 style, up against some straight convicts
Now I'm pondering, my thoughts wandering
Got my girl on the phone, told her to
Kiss Lil' J, 'cause I be gone again
Honey, I can't speak, she suckin' her teeth
If everything go good, baby, I'll be home in a week
Pinchin' myself just to see if I'm dreamin', call up my team and
Meet me by the docks in Miami, I fly out this weekend

I got you, nigga, four-four pop two niggas
That drug lord that we want, got a spot for niggas
And if we kill him, it's back to the block, my nigga
He carry Rugers, thirty-four shots, I figure
He only holla at the kid when it's money involved
They pack shotguns, hollow-tips, dummies and all
When me and Trife doin' right together
Got no choice but give us ten like we sellin' white together
Left side, four-five, right, black Beretta
Takin' trips overseas, flippin' packs for better
Every flight a hundred stacks and better, so grind hard
Get your money up, get on your grizzlies, don't mind ours
Fuck a cop car, throw on some chumpers and drop charge
Hit the block hard, it's kinda hard bein' G-O-D
If he owe Trife, he owe me
Load up the mac rounds, M-I-A, call that the Shaq-Town
Tell niggas I'm on my way, comin' back down
Miguel, Mr. Sanchez, it's a wrap now
Dead-awg stomp in your shit, handin' out packs now
I used to listen to 50 and jam "Back Down"
Now I slang fifty kilos where I'm at now
Fifty a whop, purple top, nigga, I'm back, clown
Cristal bottles, Grey Goose for the chat lounge
Channel 7 news, urge a dude, murder gat found