Artist: Ghostface Killah f/ Tekitha
Album:  Supreme Clientele
Song:   Saturday Nite
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash, 320042425817-0001@t-online.de

[Ghostface Killah]
Yo
Saturday night, Uptown
Ridin past Kansas Fried Chicken
What's poppin, kid? We in the mix
It's chilly 40 below
Gaze clothes, gotta catch Dr. J's
Blowin my hand, rub on my nose
Tap the glass, stop frontin Duke, fresh pair of jeans
Look I got loot, 'leven in the Bass boots
Heard a screech pull up, these Jakes flashed me 5 pictures
One had my man's mug, Semi stepped brother hugs
You asked the wrong guy, son
I'm from Atlanta, "Yeah, we know Mr. Coles
Flew in two days ago to see your fam'
But we been watchin you", crazily
The whole Staten Island shittin on you
Wisdom Bird's pregnant out in Baisley
Hold up snow in your ear, fresh baldie tried to change up
Not drunk today, still lookin fly, still slammed up hung
Your mom pop in your trunk, slow your pace
Starks fixed your face, copped out the 6, five years probat'
You dealin with a lot of science, motherfucker we're watchin you
Make me wanna lick shots at you
You disgust me, screwin me down, grab my gun
Go 'head bust me, heard you hate Jake that's what it must be
Hands behind your back, spread your legs
Just found a roach in your tray
It's not mine fucker, what I said
You met the 13th nigga
A multimillion dollar operation is based upon it yo
Where's the hell's the RZA?
He's sellin mics, wildest joints
Special made to go up in your hand and which went out on point
Switched to the next scene, I'm at the crib buggin out
on how po' live, hatin plus harassin the kid
Park the truck in the double face garage
Dial 1-900-Raekwon, tell the God shit's mega-real
Flashin me on BET, Planet Groove, Rap City News
NAACP committee's

*the following is only on the Canadian version*
We interrupt this special bulletin to bring you
One of the illest verses of all time

[Tekitha]
Impossible, you can never defeat the Gods!!
Impossible, for you to defeat, the Gods!!!

[Ghostface Killah]
Call an ambulance, Jammie been shot, word to Kemit
Don't go Son, nigga you my motherfuckin heart
Stay still Son, don't move, just think about Keeba
She'll be three in January, your young God needs you
The ambulance is taking too long
Everybody get the fuck back, excuse me bitch, gimme your jack
One, seven one eight, nine one one, low battery, damn
Blood comin out his mouth, he bleedin badly
Nahhh Jammie, don't start that shit
Keep your head up, if you escape hell we gettin fucked up
When we was eight, we went to Bat Day to see the Yanks
In Sixty-Nine, his father and mines, they robbed banks
He pointed to the charm on his neck
With his last bit of energy left, told me rock it with respect
I opened it, seen the God holdin his kids
Photogenic, tears just burst out my wig
Plus he dropped one, oh shit, here come his Old Earth
With no shoes on, screamin holdin her breasts with a gown on
She fell and then lightly touched his jaw, kissed him
Rubbed his hair, turned around the ambulance was there
Plus the blue coats, Officer Lough, took it as a joke
Weeks ago he strip-searched the God and gave him back his coke
Bitches yellin, Beenie Man swung on Helen
In the back of a cop car, dirty tarts are tellin
But suddenly a chill came through it was weird
Felt like my man, was cast out my heaven now we share
Laid on the stretcher, blood on his Wally's like ketchup
Deep like the full assassination with a sketch of it
It can't be, from Yohoo to Lee's
Second grade humped the teachers, about to leave
Finally this closed chapter, comes to an end
He was announced, pronounced dead, y'all, at twelve ten

*Iron's Theme-Intermission follows in Canadian version*