Ghostface Killah: Fire

(feat. Trife Da God)Don't play with me, cause you're playing with fire!(Whooo, smoking, smoking, smoking them Marley Marl'sSmile, smoking, them Marley Marl's now be smokingUh huh uh huh, smoking, light them Marley up nigga, youSmoking) {yeah, yo}[Trife Da God]When you motherfuckin' ducks gonna learn, that you playin' with fireNigga, everything I touch, I burnWhen I spark and that fire heat up, you better runTo the nearest telephone and call the fire chief upCuz I'm hazard, causin' disorder on your recorderSo run along with your little buckets of waterThere's not a nigga that can doubt my game or doust my flameI'm know to cause a panic when you shout my nameFire, you damn right, nigga, I bang pipesIt's not a fucking room in this building I can't lightI'm the definition when you mix heat with frictionWhen I walk through I set off all sprinkler systemsI'm that kid with the firey flow, the firey glowAdjust the mic levels or the wires will blowNew York's bravest, meet the man who inspired the pro'sThrow on your fireproof bombers and admire the show, let's go[Chorus: Ghostface Killah & Trife Da God]Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fightingFire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (nigga)Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fightingFire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (uh)Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fightingFire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (yeah)Gotta strike while the iron is hot, fightingFire with fire, you'll die on the spot, (let's go)[Ghostface Killah]Peep the barcode, leave the booth, wrapped it in charcoalSippin' on firewater, plus I keep a cigar rolledThe human torch, special effects, cannons is shootin' offLeave body bags full of ashes, we ain't no move to costSpit flammable bars, I got a whooping coughScarlet red, six forty five, with the dual exhaustMy barrel blow like dodgers, pop one in your riderAnd cause a meltdown at One Police PlazaI'm the opposite of aqua, hotter than a plate of pastaI'm the reason LaMar Odom was traded off the rosterThe hot stepper, crushing ya niggaz like hot pepperThe forty cal' squeeze a nigga, my heaters apply pressureIn the kitchen with the gun steaming, six hundred degreesFeeling like you in the desert with the sun beamingYou can't block me with the sun screeningUltra violet rays, shorten his days, we left his blood streaming[Chorus 2X]