Ghostface Killah – 260 (ft. Raekwon) (Audio, Lyrics)

Throwback to the “260” single by Ghostface Killah featuring Raekwon. Listen, stream, buy, mp3 download and read the lyrics to the song produced by RZA.

Ghostface Killah 260

It goes without saying that Ghostface Killah is a legend, boasting one of the most prolific discographies in the entire rap game — one that’s set to expand with the upcoming release of Supreme Clientele 2, currently in the works. In honor of Ghost’s enduring legacy, it feels appropriate to look back to where it all began. On October 29th, 1996, Ghostface Killah released his official solo debut Ironman, a project produced entirely by the RZA and featuring a prominent presence from both Raekwon and Cappadonna.

Though there are plenty of iconic cuts to highlight, it’s hard not to gravitate immediately to a straightforward duet with Raekwon, one of which lands on “260.” Over a grimy and minimalist instrumental from The RZA, Ghost kicks things off with a rugged storytelling verse, his imagery leaping off the page. “But on the low I heard he got Born Original sent,” he spits, as the plot thickens. “Back in a drive-through Kentucky Fried shot up his Ac / we got to get him dunn, aliens is snatching our bread.” Raekwon tags in seamlessly, bringing mafioso panache to the mix. “Two hours later, scheming like DeNiro in Casino,” he raps. “Son better have more coke than Al Pacino.”

Ghostface Killah – 260 (ft. Raekwon) (prod. RZA)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sfn5WMHC0T0

Lyrics

Cat I got to take him off of here, that’s right
I got to take him off of here
Cause there’s only one, and that’s me
You understand? ‘fore all that fighting, you understand
That sucka think he good, that sucka think he can whoop me
And I know he can’t whoop me, I…
Ay boy, the nigga whole style is chump
You understand?
Let me get mines first
Then after I get mines, you can do what you want to do…

[Intro: Ghostface Killah]
Yeah, scandalous
Yeah miraculous, the arsonists

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, kicked down the door in the spot, 260
2L, I heard they had O’s for sale
I heard the same shit, money drive a burgundy whip
Keep a low fade, license plates engraved “PAID”
Where’s the cat from, think he’s from New Jerusalem
Pretty Rick did his thing for him, but he was using him
Boss Sun’s younger physical, you know the God
He go with Tip, the one who called Lover of God
Why Equality Self, I know the Master Allah Now
It’s time to get the God U and blow like mines
But on the low I heard he got Born Original sent
Back in a drive-through Kentucky Fried shot up his Ac
We got to get him dunn, aliens is snatching our bread
UFOs moving in with bigger plans than Feds, yo
Knock on Daddy-O’s door get the scope
He’s not home, he took Ishmael to Park Slope
There go the the dreads yo, swindle two bags of that skunk
That get you crashed out had you laid out like bums
Peace Kiana, what’s up with your girlfriend Wanda
She drive a cream Honda, with legs like Jane Fonda
I just left her, she took Regine to Pathmark then
Jetted to Canal to get her man some Clarks
She should be back in ninety minutes, Ghostface
God forbid she safe, BCW was watching the kids

[Verse 2: Raekwon]
Two hours later, scheming like DeNiro in Casino
Son better have more coke than Al Pacino
Kiana ain’t telling no lies, last year she did a sting and a half
With Tymeek bought him a aircraft
But anyway, yo, Daddy-O home, we need the shotties nid-ow
When we get back, throw you a thid-ou
Later that night, stay mesmerized yo
Go get the green 5, meet you on the corner of Now Why
You ready, you got the E&J and the machete?
We going upstairs, I hope one nigga is heavy
We walked in, both of us, looked like terrorists
Masks on, second floor, dun yo, I handle this
Kick in the crib, the whole shit looked graphical
Natural, fucking a white bitch, actual
Fiends chanting, “Do your thing Chef, handle it”
I shot him in the neck, it ricocheted and hit Carolyn
Ran to the back analyzing, much disguising
Surprise is coming in their eyes and tranquilizing
Bugging, throwing the twin cousins at his nugget, fuck it
Meet shottie waddy slug body hobby
Where the drugs, where the ounces you be bouncing
Fake cats announcing on the block, you lounging
Where the blow at, I ain’t got shit, stop fronting
(Yo Chef, throw the joint in his mouth, money’ll stop stunting
Bitch, hold that pit, before I push your wig back
Chef stop waving that, show him where the paper at)
Come here Valerie, you know the God he need a salary
Put down the pipe here’s two tickets to a coke gallery
It’s in the kitchen in the ceiling
(Baby girl kept squealing
Only found a white block of cheese from New Zealand
Ohhh shit! Yo, yo where that shit at yo?
Yo Chef, where that shit? What? What? Aiyyo…)