The Low Spark of High Heeled Boys - Traffic



featuring Cam'Ron Killa Sha RZA



[Cam'Ron]

Uh thug shit Killa Cam thug shit Yo yo

I want my steak with a funky dame

Honey claim cash like the Money Train

Faces of death eatin monkey brain

Chunky change call it iced out and flawless

For all my niggas upstate with food inside the toilet

Yo I'm like Hoffa mixed with Sinatra

La costa nostra dude packed a toaster

True motherfuckers y'all blew it motherfuckers

Told you how we do it, stupid motherfucker

I chew motherfuckers, know how I do it motherfuckers

Lay your block down when I come through it motherfuckers

Niggaz want murders, maybe I'll call

Ladies'll fall, yo we killin babies and all

I mean, one up in the cabbage, one up in the carriage

Bing-bing-bing like ricochet rabbit, faggot

Your mother sayin look at they 'matics, damn look at they habits

Oh, look at they karats



[Killa Sha]

Paint the picture, 2-5-2 killa scripture

Verse six: Chapter five, touch more lives

Try to survive in this frontline with mines

Deep, but I'm in the minds of foul men

Too much gin, too much hash, too much cash

Kinda hard to let this good shit pass

So I dabble in it, heads eat and killa sin it

Ya bitch niggaz wanna get in it but can't fit it

Many is callin, but few is chosin

And them faggot ass niggaz thats holdin, ain't goin

Sha Luminatti, uh-huh, god-body

Hail, rain, and earthquakes when I break

A warning to the fakes (true that)

Play the dark and brought to the light

Lift up your dress for spite

Lyrical fight, for forty days and forty nights

Automatically tight, to the blind I bring sight

Ninety-nine omega, captivate through your vega

Rhyme slayer, do



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