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Interpret:
Wu Tang Clan
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| Duck Seazon
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Intro: Raekwon the Chef
Scrape yall motherfuckers, this is my word
When you see us -- when you see us flashing and shining
and building, and adding on, yall niggaz just watch
Hear me? Only ones who we got respect foris them niggaz that we say peace to
Hear me? Pay attention, put your shoes on
Verse one: Raekwon
Yo, my team be bellyaching hungry niggaz on the swarm again
Pirahna nigga bite dick, yo Son, its on again
What up, he made a move, try to assist it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be a pawn but Im a bishop
Back to the novel, yo Son, its logical
How you figure God, what, float on the track, flip the obstacle
Now my proposal rips the global
From California to courts, its over God, so taste this tofu
Remember, baggy jeans Timber-lands in November
Shorty called me Santa in December
But guess what, my Wallys got messed up
Autograph pressed up what, blast enough to blow your rest up
We scrape that, Land O Lake that, Mazola rapper get you sent back
Represent the gentlemens who bent that
Flash medallions like Italians, la costra nostra
We moving through your hood like we supposed ta, flexin
Lexy Diamonds close the settlement, so keep the bust-ya-gun Boo
Like that bad ass bitch in Dead Presidents
Add on, the Billboard snored, check it now
You get the gold dick award, its like jail and its the sixth floor
Test me, boating in the S.E., now lets see
Half of yall niggaz built your rhyme from my stress tree
Faggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than a dobo
Stay militant kid, push it like bolo
You fucking idiot, playing with my Clan but you be fearing it
Fake one, Im guaranteed to make you take one
Please, yall niggaz moneys getting low
But could you come back doe, set up shop, and get the phat glow
Tired of yall, mostly inspired by yall
So what the deal now, blinkin with us or put your shield down, faggot
Raekwon :%09%09%09
RZA :You fuck around punk%09%09Bitch, fuckin punk niggaz
We battle for cream nigga%09
Seven-Fifteen, yo
Verse two : RZA
You want a pound crab, nah let his hand swing
I ought to punch a hole in his palm with these pointy ass rings
No more said, knew your chump ass was dead
When I saw the four-four reflecting off your shiny forehead
Its Wu-Tang nigga, aint nuttin changed nigga
Still shame on a nigga, who tried to run game
Youre version of perversion, fucking bitches on Persian rugs
Washin niggaz like detergent, its the surgeon
Slugs propels from Bobby Steels twelve gauge front page Early Chronicle reads
Hell Up in Gotham, take heed and protect your seeds
We fall like autumn leaves, you lack tranquility
in your rap utilities, to fuck with the abilities
Raised like a sperm cell to the ovary
Microphone post tone like a rotary phone, ancient poems of poetry
Old tomes, explosive head bullets, black hooded
Timberland footed ninjas, with full metal jacket clips
And know how to put it in you
Surrender your goods and your merchandise
For no purchase price, Im certainly a heistfor your ices curtains and vice
Come quietly, Wu-Tang Clan rules society
Because of variety, so maintain your high anxiety
And lead them to the fiery diary, irie... we irie
I need eighteen points for my next joint, this high annointed king
To make a deal, I be the one to appoint
Steve Ripken must have been sniffin, to catch somethin so dope
That left minor c-lits pussy drippin
I fuck hundreds of bitches, and split millions of dollars
and built with thousands of scholars, my life saga
From the hill to horror, legal came brown like Nicaragua
Gave birth to MCs, thieves and bank robbers
We drove expensive whips and took world-wide trips
And my dicks been sucked by the finest lips
Fancy delicatessans, and the worlds best refreshment
But none of the above compare to the one-twenty lessons
Or my queen and my seed, in the home that I rest in
Into my zone get blown in ninety-nine sections
Verse three : Method Man
This rhyme has no limitations, this time theres no hesitation
Collectin mines at the door
You want it niggaz its yours, the flavors raw
What the fuck you think Im flowin for, its rhyme and reason
Bite the bullet, niggaz is fowl and its Duck Seazon
We at odds til we even motherfucker
Bad asses, high time, lower classes
Taste mine, straight shots in dirty glasses
Bring it to him, room service, under pressure
and mad nervous, waving guns at the clergy
Ticallion, we aint worried, keep them sick niggaz seven-thirty
Picture this, watch the birdy
These Bastards is Ol and Dirty, with sharp hems
that be stabbin you, pins and needles, needles and pins
Nuff said, dick in your mouth, like Tempest Bled
As I race track with thoroughbreds, duckin the feds
Verse four: Raekwon
Yo, my ice look fly up on the keyboard Son
Niggaz ran up on me Lord, praisin what we do, by the laws
Thats right, exile the fake, hit them niggaz like weight
Feed a fool, let the fake evaporate
Reconstruction, thats the whole science on my
production, yall niggaz guess who stuck Son, left his nuts sunk
Switch, finger itch, starin at you like a bitch
Maybe yall niggaz snitched
Youse a loner, Adidas shell-top with lye
sip of Corona, read the rev report then bone her
Buy you some jewels, heres some food
Not neccessarily, mean to be rude Boo, check out the analoo
We in the mushrooms, taste of Heineken accustomed
Baggy jeans, thick ropes God, sliding through customs
Chill, yall niggaz know what time it is
James Bond Beamers behind me, on Bacardi Limon
Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan, he cought a slug for lyin
Yeah you was lyin, wheres the cash, crying
Militia, rolling in position, Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian
Lex retally back, whistlin, fake fucks...
*sounds of swords clashing, and fighting*
How dare you rebuild the Wu-Tang Clan against me?%09
For that youre gonna DIE!
I may not be the one to stop you, but somebody will very soon
Also, the Wu-Tang Clan, will rise again
There are many of us, all working for the good of the Wu-Tang%09
DIE! |
Eingetragen |
01.May.2001 00:05:38 |
Letzer Aufruf |
31.Dec.2004 04:12:25 |
Besucher |
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