Mighty Healthy Lyrics by Ghostface Killah

Mighty Healthy Lyrics

    -My God, so they are killers.
    I've heard lots of people say once a man's a killer, they just keep
    on killing and killing; they sort of develop a taste for blood.
    -Yeah, that's right. They kill one man, or kill ten,
    it's all the same (yes). After all, (indecipherable)

    [VERSE 1:]
    Both hands clusty, chillin' wit my man Rusty low down
    Blew off the burner kinda dusty
    The world can't touch Ghost, purple tape Rae co-host
    Monty Hall expo, intellect you red pro
    Son triflin fuck, wildflower on the cyclin
    Pick up the brew thought I was Michael an'
    Mics are writin' pool, now, I'm into Iron Duals
    Turn-ons the Earth's whoopee, she out of law school
    In hale break beats of hell A-Alikes propel parallel
    Duracell night, you flash a burnt cell
    Snap out of CandyLand, kids the old rumor is
    blacks become immune to shit, we never did like
    eati' dead birds chose the pharmacy over herbs
    Men marryin men, ill they got the herbs pulsar
    Scissor hand wig vanished in the winter
    Livin' off land you god damn right I fuck fans king me
    Check checkmate props like the micro chip founder
    Neck to neck stocks with Bill Gates now

    When we hug these mics we get busy
    Come and have a good time with G-O-D
    Make you snap your fingers or wiggle
    Scream, shout, laugh and just giggle
    Shake that body, party that body
    Don't fuck with Ghost you'll feel sorry
    That's word, I'm not the herb
    Understand what I'm sayin' [echo]

    [VERSE 2:]
    Hit mics like Ted Koppel, rifle expert
    Let off the Eiffel, burn a flag in the grass it's spiteful
    Ringleader set it off, rap Derek Jeter
    Culprit, prince of the game wish you could see us
    We lay low glitter wax full bangles
    Priceless rolls, lay around the God get tangled
    Woolly hair, eyes firey red, feet made of brass
    Twelve men, following me, it be the God staff
    Move, every script's like Miramax
    Smash the big boy totalled it, will shot fear effects
    Son beamin' wifee on the beach, sippin' Zima
    Wu 'binos, to latinos, we bust Selena
    Over night, God schedules, fed ex
    Pretty soloette velvet nice DNA scroll genetics
    Too hot, to handle one thought scramblin the mandolin
    Hundred game Wilt Chamberlain, smack em, say when
    He rollin up, face wrinkled up, hands is on his nuts
    Yo kid stop frontin' on the ground before you get touched
    It's Canada Dry sess, obsessed with Allah's sun
    We want rye, we want it so bad we might cry

    -What we do, depends on breath control, so it's the first thing you must
    learn. Fortunately it's easy. You'll soon learn.
    - My God so they are killers
    - Killing and killing, they sort of develop a taste for blood