| Disc 1 | ||||||
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1. |
| 4:24 | 
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Oh, fuck, you can't even sing.
Hey, baby, I like it rawww... Yeah baby, I like it RAWWW!!! Ooh, baby, I like it raww... Yeah baby, I like it RAWWW!!! Sh... Shimmy shimmy ya, shimmy yam, shimmy yay, Gimme the mic so I can take it away. Off on a natural charge, bon voyage Yeah, from the home of the Dodgers, Brooklyn squad Wu-Tang Killerrr Bees on a swarm! Rain on ya dollar's ass, disco dorm! For you to even touch my skill, You gotta have the one Killer Bee and he ain't gonna kill. Now My producer slam, my flow is like bam! Chop that down, pass it all around! Lyrics get hard, quick cement to the ground! For any MC in any 52 states, I gets psycho killerrrr Norman Bates! My producer slam, sharp like bam! Jump on stage, and then I dun-daaaah! I like the way you come Hey, baby, I like it rawww... Yeah baby, I like it RAWWW!!! Ooh, baby, I like it raww... Yeah baby, I like it RAWWW!!! |
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| 2. |
| 3:39 |
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I'm the one-man army Ason,
I've never been tooken out, I keep M.C.'s lookin' out, I drop science like girls be droppin' babies, Enough to make a nigga go cra-a-azy, Energy building, Takin' all types of medicine, Your ass thought you were better than, Ason, I keep planets in orbit, While I be comin' with deeper and more shit, Enough to make and bake and shake your ass and clock and take, Rhymes good as a tasty cake, mix, this style, I'm masterin', Niggas catchin' headaches, what, what?You need Aspirin, This type of pain, you couldn't even kill with Midol, Fuck around get sprayed with Lysol, In your face like a can of mace, baby, Is it burnin? Well, fuck, now you're learnin', How, I don't even like your motherfuckin' profile, Give me my fuckin' shit, (Ch-ch...plow!) Not seen and heard, no one knows, you forget, Niggas be quiet as kept, Now you know nuthin', before you knew a whole fuckin' lot, Your ass don't wanna get shot, Alot of M.C.'s came through my showdown, To watch me put your fuckin' ass lo-o-ow down, As you can go, below zero, without a doubt I've never been tooken out, By a nigga, who couldn't figure, yo by a nigga, who couldn't figure, Yo by a nigga, who couldn't figure, how to pull a fuckin' gun triger, Get the fuck outta here! Nigga wanna get too close, to the upmost, But I got stacks that'll attack any wack host, "Introducin', yo fuck that nigga's name," My hip-hop drops on your head like ra-a-ain, And when it rains it pours, cause my rhymes hardcore, That's why I give you more of the raw, Talent that I got will riz-ock the spot, M.C.'s I be bur-r-rnin', bur-r-rnin' hot, Woah ho ho! Hit me like slow-mo with the flow, If I move too quick, oh, you just won't know, I'm homicidal when you enter the target, Nigga get up, act like a pig tryin to hog shit, So I take yo ass out quick, the mics I had my nigga, You can suck my dick, If you wanna step to my motherfuckin' wreck, (Ch-ch plow! plow! plow!) blown to death, You got shot cause you knock knock knock, "Who's there?" Another motherfuckin' hardrock, Slackin' on your back cause raw's what you lack, You wanna react? Bring it on back... Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! What?My nigga... Shame on You... Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! Shame on You, when you step through to, the Ol' Dirty Bastard, Brooklyn Zoo! What?My nigga... |
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| 3. |
| 3:32 |
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You can't imitate me on this fuckin tape
You ain't ringing the bell I'm ready when you are (You ain't ringing the bell You ain't busting the grape You ain't imitating me on this fuckin tape) [x10] I'm tellin you bitch ass niggas If y'all don't fuckin If |
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| 4. |
| 3:17 |
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Ah-yo what's up nigga?
Roll up that shit. Yo where you comin' from nigga? The fuck you talkin' 'bout? I'm comin' from Franklin. Nigga Brooklyn Zu. Yo I got a badge. You got a badge? Nigga just give me $5. Alright. You know I'm sayin' do'? Word up. Now which one of you niggaz really got dough? None o' us. Yo yo, yo. [Chorus: x3] We some GQ, get fresh, lamp a lot niggaz Lettin' all the world know, we be gettin' high What's up, nigga? Look how you strong, workin' 'em off Got that hoe-ass bitch tellin' you you ain't worth it no more She fuckin' while you on tour, the nigga next dor Y'all even played basketball, should've punched ya in ya jaw Now nigga need to stay on tour, 10 g's is worth more She's a chickenhead whore, tryin' to score I knew a bitch like that before, named Mo' What a mink in the snow, a rink on the toe 12 O'Clock know, a bitch never want a bitch Bitch! Yo 12, this bitch Sky livin' in Bed-stuy Used to be a hon' until she started gettin' high The high school prom queen, now she prom fiend Her man was 85, so he sold her a dream Told her he was rich, so she sucked his dick Swallowed all his cum and she didn't even spit Suckin' him off in the whip, he loved that bitch He loved that bitch.. he loved that bitch [Chorus: x3] I know this nigga on the Hill who got mad mils Some masses, got credit cards, I mean this nigga got big bills Well, anyway, I'ma sick him 'Cause his girl Dawn put me on to the whole ? She say he don't be home to caress her So I undressed her and made her feel better He got the safe in the basement under the cemented floor So what more, could you ask for? Producer. Representer. RZA. 12 O'Clock. Rayson. Zu Keeper. Shorty Shit Stain. Yo... yeah. One time. |
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| 5. |
| 4:24 |
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See let a nigga come through with that bullshitAnytime you pop that shit niggaI'ma tell you you can suck a dick, you can suck a pussyI know, it'll come to what? Say what?Now I'ma let all you motherfuckers know(See them knows that this is something you can't fuck, always)Whether you from Brooklyn, whether you from ManhattanYou from Queens nigga, I don't give a fuck, where you be motherfucker?Where you reside motherfucker?How you live? How you see?Sort the stack outs, this one's the blackoutThree-fifty-seven to your mouthDunn can you hear me? Raw is how I'ma inflicting thisIt's that G type slang that makes this real sickeningIgnite my styles I got my hand upon the triggerStarts from the smallest and hits the bigger niggaYo, straight actin' live about them hell firesA known mental killer, or thriller, assassin of terrorThe hot bloody fatal mixture of carbonate waterHomicidal manslaughter, death is the order start the missionTravel like the speed of wind, through the valley of sinI step to ville and murdered many manServing justice in my vicinityThis is, Brooklyn, ZuI get down I get down I crack your fuckin crownLay around and watch some real niggaz break groundI can't shop 'cause every bro blowin' up the spotHit rocks and niggaz knowYo, niggaz grab the mic like the bites of a scorpionNervous, that's why the zoo brought me inNow bring 'em forth, like the tortures at the courtsBefore the case begin, first break me in his brainAnd make sure he can't maintain the calmnessYa harmless, watch how I bomb thisStage like mail, pre hands that be the moveNow your Posse is your fuckin' PlatoonStale cells, just flows through the airI'm like a ninja, once I send ya down stairsThen I get furious, imperious, the lyricistWith the cleverest rhyme erupt to deduct your fuckin' mindFuck, shit up on the hurry upKnown for burying ducks through more styles than a muckWarning you chump, brain is out for lunchGiven the power punch, soon to be paid like Donald TrumpNever fall victim to no bitchJerked my dick, but still got more hoes than a pimpAnd score more points than Shawn KempKeepin' powerfully strong like the center on the KnicksHut one, hut two, hut three, hutOl' Dirty Bastard live and uncutShame on a nigga who tried to run game on aGot more props than the PresidentMy hardcore represent, blowin' niggaz back who never had this'Cause I'm gifted, so you can get wrappedThe shit I'm kickin', send it to your moms for ChristmasAnd tell her, Shorty Shit Stain sent itSoon to have more green than the Jolly Green Giant'cause niggaz rap styles just down is aspiredYou shoulda stayed home instead of picking up a microphoneBut if you wanna run on up, like you toughI call your bluff, and blow you down with my hardcoreStuff, I shine like twenty-four caratRoll and stroll with the party sceneNigga wanna know me as Mr. CleanWza-wza-wza-wza-Wu-Tang, flip the script andTest my skill niggaz, you're trippin'Drugged up from sniffin', you're the one who's riffin'I'm not Opie, save that old shit for Andy GriffithStart to flip, slip, 'cause you're slippin'While you sleep I be the God on pointWith Scottie Pip pen as I, jump on stage, flip rip a showStrip and rip a hoe, way like BoJackson while I'm still taxin', maxin'Relaxin', sittin' back sellin' good tracksAnd again and again when I rock the jamWanna see 'em up in the air? Throw up your handIntroducin', one-man band in townIt's wild, with the style couldn't stand niggaWhen the jump, stepped, to the centerOf the rhyme inventor, MC's come at theYou get dap slapped, across the MC mapYour ass that's your ass, on a whore shotCome on through I black and blue your whole crewThen I get Rudy with the Hong Kong FooOl' Dirty Bastard, MC killer, money maker, Brooklyn, challengerThat I lay down like towel, then I get higherHere comes the ill, type rufferStyle be untouched I'm leavin' broken down grammars on the penWho who what? What brings it? Tighter than your anusChambers this name is for the deepest trainersKeep it stainless, steel, on time it is the windmillDeadly venom kills, at the last of the Sam's Mill60 Second, nucleus, attack on your setHit you with the blast(Yo, close the door)
------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By JONES, RUSSELL / DIGGS, ROBERT F. <i>Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.</i> |
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