Your Old Droog – Chasing Ghosts lyrics

[Intro: Your Old Droog]
Yo, where is everybody?
It's fucking dead out here (Hello?)
It's like a ghost town (Anyone home?)
Feel like I'm in the twilight zone or somethin'
(Hello?) There's literally nobody, I don't see nobody
Where y'all at?

[Verse 1: Your Old Droog]
Get on the mic like first time, long time
Body rappers with my worst rhymes, strong rhyme
The Phan' speedin' off, I'm chasin' a ghost
Of cats who held New York down like Mason in the post (God bless)
Damn right, I got a story to tell
From hell to euphoria, a glorious tale
In order to succeed, I really had to fail
Tryna kick in that door to no avail (Fuck 'em)
Dead out of luck
Felt like I was stuck in a neverending game of Pacman
Couldn't get it back, rhyme loosies for the Pakistan (Too short)
Layin' in bed with fat bitches I wouldn't be caught dead with (Cows)
Now my broads in the gym everyday, eatin' smart, cutting out carbs
Y'all ain't seein' my bitch like she a Muslim God
When she bow, it's not to make a salat
Said, "Honey, money, I'ma make us a lot" (Word)
On the grind like peppercorn
Up in the land of the crooks, I ran and jux on a leprechaun
Took the whole pot to skate it off
Your Old Droog cut from a different type of cloth (Feel the texture)
Never see me with that struggle rapper swagger, nah
Ate off the shit like Agallah (Hahaha)
Benefits and a pension, why?
'Cause I got a penchant, to pen shit that's fly
With a observant eye (What else?) and with that stride
Take 'em on a trip, never thought that you could get that high
Recognition they would kill for
And I don't even go out, shit feel like the ill chore
Catch me in the corner lookin' real raw
Playin' the wall like David Gilmour at the Fillmore (He said what?)
Try to skrt the circus, work is your reward
Don't get hype when you catch one, there's still more


[Interlude]
(Hello?)
(Anybody out there?)
Shit
Yo, uh

[Verse 2: Roc Marciano]
That white gold's 'bout a quarter milli
I'm lookin' really saucy when I sport my jewelry
Pour some Remy, Lord forgive me if I'm talkin' silly
Spilled the Lorcin and then go toss the semi sorta like a frisbee
Off the bridge my nig, the water nippy
Unfortunately, this ain't how it should be but once I climbed out the pussy
Prol' look like I was havin' Puschkin
Fly with my pint of whiskey
Some barbershop liners to keep 'em crispy
My wrist, shit is drippy, I'm lookin' pimpy, ring on the pinky
Balmain, Givenchy, Riccardo Tisci
Stefano Ricci, my palm's greasy, be easy
This geek's only seen palm trees on TV
G-string bikinis, martinis
The double R with the stars on the ceiling
My scars needed healin'
Let's keep it real kid, we all Jesus' children
But I had to sling in the field pimp, it was freezin' in my building
It's cold as shit


[Verse 3: Your Old Droog]
Yo, we ain't done
It's like the wild west, come out with blazin' guns
My competition is dead in more ways than one
I be spirit bound, I feel it if they conscious
Told them I don't play concerts, I hold seances
Cash money like B.G. pilin'
Days off, you don't see me whylin'
I'm eatin' chicken wings with scallions
With Meg Thee Stallion freestylin'
Writin' rhymes ouija, sippin' Fiji by the gallon (Nighttime)
Watchin' rappers pass the musical guest on Jimmy Fallen
With more shitty performances than GG Allin (Who?)
Whatever happened to lines that used to make you rewind?
Like old video stores and Blockbuster
Been a jam so I can't get flustered
Didn't have honey mustard, so I mixed honey and mustard
Callin' shots like a pool hustler in this eye whirlwind
Hear the voice of YOD sermon