| Song | Surgical Gloves |
| Artist | Raekwon |
| Album | Only Built For Cuban Linx 2 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Maman, Woods | |
| Eight million stories, nigga | |
| Take ya'll niggas somewhere, man | |
| Ya'll niggas never heard niggas rhyme like this before, man | |
| This ain't no | |
| Wizard of | |
| Oz shit neither, man | |
| For real, man, aiyo[Raekwon:] | |
| Surgical gloves, snubs in the grass with his blood | |
| Homey hold that, the four black, we black down | |
| Gold Jag', | |
| Ol' laughing yo, yo, what the fuck happened? | |
| They clapped him and the scalp it flew that way | |
| Yo why they capped him? | |
| It went through his lap | |
| Snatched his older mom's pink hat, took his mango, get at | |
| He painted it, slayed blocks, aiming it | |
| Hit a child, this is foul, but he styled with his flamer flaming shit | |
| Teddy with the red | |
| Range, supercharged | |
| KangolsRae & | |
| Ghost CD in his change, yo, | |
| AngelSpanish kid lingo, all | |
| I know is where he hang though, kept it sideways, angle | |
| Good brush, tough talk, keep it real, daddy, got them thangos | |
| I respect on how the game goes, the same goes | |
| Forget fresh niggas, test niggas, extra bless niggas, with them egos | |
| We blow you out your peacoats | |
| Haha, adios mios, we get them twelve a ki, yo | |
| Keep it moving, slide off in the | |
| G.O.'sFreeloaders, the | |
| D's over, your shit won't sell no more | |
| Breeze over...[Chorus: Raekwon] | |
| Money, gear, drugs, guns, | |
| GoodyearsAll my niggas sit, smelling the tears | |
| Cookin snow white, it's just the poor life, never living off fear | |
| We all millionaires, now where my shares?(Money) | |
| You know the code, drug money, gear money, baby(Money) | |
| You know we fold the stash holders, cash blowers, yeah(Money) | |
| So when the | |
| D's come, we float and grab the boats, yea(Money) | |
| Spend off, | |
| I got my win off, have a potent year[Raekwon:] | |
| X6's red, up in | |
| Albany with the dreds | |
| Bags of black, fuck the feds | |
| Papers in | |
| Aruba's, gold tuba from | |
| BermudaIn my living room spreads, cameras action, got the calico cranked | |
| Where the food at? | |
| Hood jewelry on, | |
| I gots to do that | |
| Long chain hatchet flooded up, you knew that | |
| Baby blue mack, stones on the nozzle stick | |
| Bulletproof brocco's with the | |
| Jew bitches, all | |
| I got is two cracks | |
| Gazelle lenses, clear rude wraps, bagging every ziplock | |
| And my peoples sit around, cops split that | |
| High potent white kit kats, we sell up in the hood | |
| Going door to door, every floor, every get back | |
| My gangsta shit, get gats, for every man, here go a gram | |
| Meet me by my drop head and drop your lip back | |
| Forty-seven quick claps, spray off on something[Chorus][Outro: Raekwon] | |
| Spray on one of ya'll man, the streets is mine, nigga | |
| You know what we do, for real | |
| Straight up, it's how we playing right now, man | |
| Cause the streets, man, streets is making ya'll niggas see, man | |
| But some of ya'll is blind, for real |
| zuo qu : Maman, Woods | |
| Eight million stories, nigga | |
| Take ya' ll niggas somewhere, man | |
| Ya' ll niggas never heard niggas rhyme like this before, man | |
| This ain' t no | |
| Wizard of | |
| Oz shit neither, man | |
| For real, man, aiyo Raekwon: | |
| Surgical gloves, snubs in the grass with his blood | |
| Homey hold that, the four black, we black down | |
| Gold Jag', | |
| Ol' laughing yo, yo, what the fuck happened? | |
| They clapped him and the scalp it flew that way | |
| Yo why they capped him? | |
| It went through his lap | |
| Snatched his older mom' s pink hat, took his mango, get at | |
| He painted it, slayed blocks, aiming it | |
| Hit a child, this is foul, but he styled with his flamer flaming shit | |
| Teddy with the red | |
| Range, supercharged | |
| KangolsRae | |
| Ghost CD in his change, yo, | |
| AngelSpanish kid lingo, all | |
| I know is where he hang though, kept it sideways, angle | |
| Good brush, tough talk, keep it real, daddy, got them thangos | |
| I respect on how the game goes, the same goes | |
| Forget fresh niggas, test niggas, extra bless niggas, with them egos | |
| We blow you out your peacoats | |
| Haha, adios mios, we get them twelve a ki, yo | |
| Keep it moving, slide off in the | |
| G. O.' sFreeloaders, the | |
| D' s over, your shit won' t sell no more | |
| Breeze over... Chorus: Raekwon | |
| Money, gear, drugs, guns, | |
| GoodyearsAll my niggas sit, smelling the tears | |
| Cookin snow white, it' s just the poor life, never living off fear | |
| We all millionaires, now where my shares? Money | |
| You know the code, drug money, gear money, baby Money | |
| You know we fold the stash holders, cash blowers, yeah Money | |
| So when the | |
| D' s come, we float and grab the boats, yea Money | |
| Spend off, | |
| I got my win off, have a potent year Raekwon: | |
| X6' s red, up in | |
| Albany with the dreds | |
| Bags of black, fuck the feds | |
| Papers in | |
| Aruba' s, gold tuba from | |
| BermudaIn my living room spreads, cameras action, got the calico cranked | |
| Where the food at? | |
| Hood jewelry on, | |
| I gots to do that | |
| Long chain hatchet flooded up, you knew that | |
| Baby blue mack, stones on the nozzle stick | |
| Bulletproof brocco' s with the | |
| Jew bitches, all | |
| I got is two cracks | |
| Gazelle lenses, clear rude wraps, bagging every ziplock | |
| And my peoples sit around, cops split that | |
| High potent white kit kats, we sell up in the hood | |
| Going door to door, every floor, every get back | |
| My gangsta shit, get gats, for every man, here go a gram | |
| Meet me by my drop head and drop your lip back | |
| Fortyseven quick claps, spray off on something Chorus Outro: Raekwon | |
| Spray on one of ya' ll man, the streets is mine, nigga | |
| You know what we do, for real | |
| Straight up, it' s how we playing right now, man | |
| Cause the streets, man, streets is making ya' ll niggas see, man | |
| But some of ya' ll is blind, for real |
| zuò qǔ : Maman, Woods | |
| Eight million stories, nigga | |
| Take ya' ll niggas somewhere, man | |
| Ya' ll niggas never heard niggas rhyme like this before, man | |
| This ain' t no | |
| Wizard of | |
| Oz shit neither, man | |
| For real, man, aiyo Raekwon: | |
| Surgical gloves, snubs in the grass with his blood | |
| Homey hold that, the four black, we black down | |
| Gold Jag', | |
| Ol' laughing yo, yo, what the fuck happened? | |
| They clapped him and the scalp it flew that way | |
| Yo why they capped him? | |
| It went through his lap | |
| Snatched his older mom' s pink hat, took his mango, get at | |
| He painted it, slayed blocks, aiming it | |
| Hit a child, this is foul, but he styled with his flamer flaming shit | |
| Teddy with the red | |
| Range, supercharged | |
| KangolsRae | |
| Ghost CD in his change, yo, | |
| AngelSpanish kid lingo, all | |
| I know is where he hang though, kept it sideways, angle | |
| Good brush, tough talk, keep it real, daddy, got them thangos | |
| I respect on how the game goes, the same goes | |
| Forget fresh niggas, test niggas, extra bless niggas, with them egos | |
| We blow you out your peacoats | |
| Haha, adios mios, we get them twelve a ki, yo | |
| Keep it moving, slide off in the | |
| G. O.' sFreeloaders, the | |
| D' s over, your shit won' t sell no more | |
| Breeze over... Chorus: Raekwon | |
| Money, gear, drugs, guns, | |
| GoodyearsAll my niggas sit, smelling the tears | |
| Cookin snow white, it' s just the poor life, never living off fear | |
| We all millionaires, now where my shares? Money | |
| You know the code, drug money, gear money, baby Money | |
| You know we fold the stash holders, cash blowers, yeah Money | |
| So when the | |
| D' s come, we float and grab the boats, yea Money | |
| Spend off, | |
| I got my win off, have a potent year Raekwon: | |
| X6' s red, up in | |
| Albany with the dreds | |
| Bags of black, fuck the feds | |
| Papers in | |
| Aruba' s, gold tuba from | |
| BermudaIn my living room spreads, cameras action, got the calico cranked | |
| Where the food at? | |
| Hood jewelry on, | |
| I gots to do that | |
| Long chain hatchet flooded up, you knew that | |
| Baby blue mack, stones on the nozzle stick | |
| Bulletproof brocco' s with the | |
| Jew bitches, all | |
| I got is two cracks | |
| Gazelle lenses, clear rude wraps, bagging every ziplock | |
| And my peoples sit around, cops split that | |
| High potent white kit kats, we sell up in the hood | |
| Going door to door, every floor, every get back | |
| My gangsta shit, get gats, for every man, here go a gram | |
| Meet me by my drop head and drop your lip back | |
| Fortyseven quick claps, spray off on something Chorus Outro: Raekwon | |
| Spray on one of ya' ll man, the streets is mine, nigga | |
| You know what we do, for real | |
| Straight up, it' s how we playing right now, man | |
| Cause the streets, man, streets is making ya' ll niggas see, man | |
| But some of ya' ll is blind, for real |