Peter Rosenberg – “Snake Eyes” [Audio, Lyrics]

Peter Rosenberg - Snake Eyes (ft. Ghostface Killah, CRIMEAPPLE & Jim Jones) (prod. Disco Vietnam)

American radio DJ, TV host, Wrestling personality, Peter Rosenberg is here with “Snake Eyes” featuring Ghostface Killah, CRIMEAPPLE & Jim Jones. The song was produced by Disco Vietnam. Listen, stream, buy, read the lyrics, mp3 download the song.

Peter Rosenberg Snake Eyes
Peter Rosenberg Snake Eyes

On “Snake Eyes,” Rosenberg delivers a cut-throat record with the assistance of Ghostface Killah, CRIMEAPPLE, and Jim Jones. Creeping through the crevices of New York alleyways, the three rappers offer vivid portrayals of drug trafficking over chilling production from Disco Vietnam.

Peter Rosenberg – Snake Eyes (ft. Ghostface Killah, CRIMEAPPLE & Jim Jones) (prod. Disco Vietnam)

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Lyrics

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]
Yeah, yeah
Yo, yo

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]
I used to tap dance all around a nigga jaw
Too much flair, put Iron Sheik in a figure-four
Two lil’ niggas hold and go and stickin’ liquor stores
Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, motherfucker, pick a door
We come in gunnin’, don’t grapple like Chael Sonnen
We hold, the cops pull us over, we laugh and rip the summons
Cruise on boats, stuff our hundreds in a gold vase
Found right beside, tucked in between both legs
Coca, royal cigars while I’m buzzin’ off a gold plate
Flyin’ in the Swiss Alps, bullet proof North Face
Chefs that do jiu-jitsu, Wu-Tang rituals
Bricks being broken on a scale being shipped to you
Hairy chest Bee Gee music, you could sniff it too
Scatter and Fat Nose Larry, they can sniff Peru

[Verse 2: Crimeapple]
Designer shit only the official should listen to
My pockets on chicken coup, got all my opps miserable
Popped up in the physical, two hundred Hispanics
Now he wondering where his man went, start to stutter and panic
All this butter on my hands, I oughta cover the planet
Rich homies hitting my line like, “You should come to the Hamptons”
I just be lampin’ in a Benz counting president faces
But lately, one I tend to see the most is Benjamin Franklin
There’s no dancing, y’all retreating when we enter the function
A grown man become a fetus like Benjamin Button
Chickens love it, wanna rub my stomach, even suck soft dick
I only bust three times during sex if I’m exhausted
December you might see me in Colombia eating swordfish
Summertime I got a fever, wrist and teeth frostbit
[?][1:47], I’m getting paper cuts
Todo lo que [?][1:51], you gotta weigh it up
You turn up stuffed then luggage in Lithuania
I pop up blunted with Rosenberg at WrestleMania

[Verse 3: Jim Jones]
Capo, ask Rosenberg about our very first encounter
He was talking slick shit, that could’ve been his worst encounter
I was fresh out the kitchen, I was still weighin’, workin’ counters
Triple the worth of the work and I take it to the out of towners
When Ghost was up in Harlem shooting “Ice Cream” for the butter pecans
I was up in Harlem getting rid of them butter seed grams
They catch a body for ten, cash two for an extra three gram
By the power of Grayskull, the dust had ’em feelin’ like He-Man
When Barkley was at the line shooting up foul shots with a black eye
I was really up in houses supplying the fiends with a crack high
There’s five thousand ways that you could break down a crack pot
Niggas either duck or get struck by these bullets when the MAC fly
Yeah, we that fly
Diplomats, I’m backed by
My gang, you get attacked by
Boy, when he up try to act— I— uh
Harlem

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