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American Cream Team - Power Lyrics

[Introduction: Raekwon]
Take it off, sho' 'nough kid
Take it off
We gon' take it from the East to the West
To the North to the South
Show y'all what it's about
Don't make me throw no gun in your mouth
You know?
How long is your CREAM? This long?

[Verse 1: Raekwon]
Eh yo, his belt got karats in it
Swift description, E-320 nigga pitchin
Rock a raw dinosaur chain, hang to his thing
It's like, he pump isolated, still cashing in cream
Niggas in the hood hate him, drew a face of him
Blaze 'em, he acting like Shallah raisin him
This is hydrogen, son ain't live as him
He like MacGyver in the chin four spies with him
Roll relentless, desert that he hold is a gift wish
Smash the list, give his miss dick
Technique, Operation: TEC scream
About to bet cream, them alligators jet like a vet's wing
Nigga like Nicolas Cage with the gauge in your braids
Two cannons that'll spray, rockin banana suede
Suck this drunk alcohol dick
Fuck y'all niggas with hits, we bout to shit on y'all shit
[Verse 2: Baby Thad]
Y'all brothas wanna call us out?
Name names, otherwise it'd be wise to shut the fuck up
Get pimp-slapped up, jacked up and macked up
You're scared and froze of bein’ exposed
I own Harlem, I bone Harlem
Call me the mayor, it's my borough, you don't want no problems
I'm on now, you dead pop, all jokes aside
I ride the top, you glide the bottom
Pitfall, 5 foot 9, my dick, balls
Shit y'all, leave flat lines and stiff jaws
We flip off basic and brace it
8 kills, 47 ways to taste it
Never understand what you've never been told
You did your book bitin off of my scrolls
We hit man, Colombo, coats and hats to match
Bust off quick and then guns go back

[Verse 3: Superb]
Ayo, I move like Arthur Ash against God
Four racquets, eight balls and no practice
Every cypher's a heated discussion
The industry was like a beat that needed percussion
I brung the music, shit that make crews flip
State that I'm the illest, this is Q.U. shit
I used to heat-hole, now I'm takin over like the repo'
Know bitches that roll Cee-Lo that'll sniff a kilo'
We went from franks and beans to shanks and greens
Now we drive our Navigators to banks in Queen's
Y'all can't fuck around, your words ain't right
Every time I touch the mic, they say "Perb ain't right"
But that's the truth though, d'oh, infact that's it
When they drop this shit, I'm gon' cop that shit
This the new star, you want me? I'm at the juice bar
Y'all once hap' niggas, give me two stars
[Verse 4: Chip Banks]
Yo, I hear what y'all rapping about, but bring your stash out
You shouldn't throw rocks if you live in a glass house
Sneaking weak shit at us, on the low though
Where these cats come from, speaking about po'
We got cash to cop it and crash it {*car crashing*}
But half of y'all cats just catching up to Rae' last shit
Got guns in the jungle, call 'em Jurassic
The chrome, the steel, the 22-shot plastic
While y'all niggas cop jars, me and my niggas cop bars
Getting head from rock stars
We blowing everything apart, I'm smashing the charts
How I see it? (Yo, how you see it?)

[Chorus: Raekwon]
Ayo, what you wanna be when you grow up?
Yo, I wanna be a leader
Slow your speed up and stop tryin to be us
Say somethin always, got a future? Stay out the hallways
And get yourself right, a hundred more ways

[Verse 5: Rhyme Recca]
Fly like iceberg, nice with verbs, precise words
Bently swerve, hit the curb, jump out, cock back, spit out
Shut your block down, get out, criminal route
Gangsta shit, can't talk now, gun in your mouth
Cream Team killas, cacoon cats like caterpillars
Giant size gorillas, break niggas backs for the skrilla
Scratch, greenback track, Fed's berserk
That's my word, disrespect Recca, get what you deserve
Inferno melt down mic's, millionaire in my afterlife
Broke bread with Christ on the last night
Apocalypse, sleep with 4-5th, two clips
Passport, cellphone with the removable micro-chip
Specialist, 40-karat Sicillian necklace
Matching bracelet, Cream Team crisp the basic