Tekst:
Clientele The

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

In an enemy land Ack, just by destroying starks enterprises We could cripple their national defense So you professor Finkle, the world's greatest expert

[Ghostface Killah] I think it happened on a Saturday I heard the phone ring, ding, ding Who this? 'Vine yo.. Wise guy killed last night by the Tracks,

Yo, Saturday night, uptown Ridin' past Kansas fried chicken What's poppin' kid? we in the mix It's chilly forty below Gate's closed gotta catch Dr. J'

Ayo I'm like Malcolm out the window with the joint Hoodied up blood in my eye, a lead to fly Like fuck it, look how these niggas duck shit One kid hollerin

too many roughnecks Give two of these to Flex, tell him it's real rap like Ghost Had to beat niggaz with toast clubs V.I. clientele we lay it down flat

down and think it through God, God 'Cuz comin' all outta ya face'll get ya clap, God You are now listening to the sounds of Supreme Clientele Step in

Pretty little Sally sat up by the tree trunk White miniskirt with a Betty Boom bum She had a ass like Deborah Cox, face like Lauryn Waist like a Coke

up? [Hook x2: Polite] Who don't know? They don't know, betta let 'em know There they go, here we go [Raekwon] Aiyo Clientele Kidd Layin in the crib