"Slick Talkin'" lyrics - THE WEATHERMEN

[Verse One - Tame One:]
As we go on a take
It's on it's on

Yeah
J-Zone in the
Mighty-Mi in the
Tame One up in the
Yeh, yeh...yeh

Dark-skinned Christopher Walken, slick Talkin'
Out in Brix flossin', t-shirt ripped off and
Wrapped around my head like it's a turban
Drinkin' Hennessey bourbon
Cursin' all over the clean version
Middle fingers up in my flicks
Ballin' out like I'm one of the Knicks
Razor blades under my kicks
Pretty much
Down to fill up a dutch
Comin' through in the clutch
Those that's feelin' me
This is for us
Construction Timb' rockers
Who tag on gym lockers
Multiple pill poppers
That dream to kill coppers
Tame's to spit that gangsta shit
It's like when banks get hit
I'm bringin' tanks and shit
I got a street team full of weed fiends that'll merk ya
So controversial I pay 'em off with the purple
Shoot to kill hooterville section, still reppin' it
'Till the coffin's signed with my last will and testament
Hot ta def with pasta breath
A mix of half-dime of goodie with some rasta cess
God bless anybody who stress my next written
One of the best spittin' you soft like wet kittens
My peeps on one-duece, might bubble your goose
Continue, wait with 2 thirty-eights up under their suits
Under the cummerbund, another one in case they find those
My P-P-P-people like black Sopranos
And you a big pussy, so how you gonna rap?
When I kidnap to wack you, tie you up to a statue
Toss you in the Passaic River, bustin' at you
Your beef ain't even real like White Castle's