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| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
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| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
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| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
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| from Snoop Dogg - Snoop Dogg Presents Algorithm (Global Edition) (2021) | |||||
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| from M-Dot - Ego and the Enemy (2017) | |||||
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| from Pete Rock - Soul Survivor (2016) | |||||
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| from A$AP Mob - Trillmatic / Dirty Ver. [digital single] (2013) | |||||
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| from Cypress Hill - Stoned Raiders/Til Death Do Us Part [box] (2011) | |||||
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| from Soprano - La colombe et le corbeau (2011) | |||||
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4:11 |
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| from Digital Master (2011) | |||||
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| from Math Hoffa - A.C.M.D. 3 (2011) | |||||
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2:47 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Only The Rugged Survive (Feat. RZA) [single] (2011) | |||||
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3:41 | 
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from Ghostface Killah - Apollo Kids (2010)
Raekwon
We in the cabin playing backgammon Gorilla monster slam this ? messiah try us you will die son Green medicine blow veterans Run an Adidas store six more velours draws feather skin Hair cutted up hollering Seven through 3 sixes know we hate a devil where your ? my dick Can't stand the others side niggas know we rich we color guys New suck your mother true lullabies Gangsta Evereadys take off my shirt no batteries nigga Just one mean magnum killa Snowmobiles jetting out the timber Feel their altitude yo I can't breathe check the splendor Brazilian honey dip I'm on my writing game nigga Times is roughing Timberland cuffing Won me a G up off to Rio Hope we can pull it back my throat my only weapon blow the beat up Ghostface Killah Stuff pillow bags in the rat holes Reduce that faggot ass nigga who wanna jump like frog to a tadpole Gag it up sliding through the E.R. Batted up a tube in your dick you can't piss when standing up Hands is shaking doctors is taking to operating Now you might not live so they start debating You in bad shape And your neck of New York your slithering ways labeled you a bad snake Smash bait eight stab holes in your shoulder blade You wildin on the stretcher and shit, they tryin to hold your legs Nah don't hold his legs Tell that bitch ass nigga to chill put something in his meat like bolognese Got gophers that sleep in the woods Carhartt down Padlock your bowlegged spot where your rocks now You ain't moving no crack use your move that's wrap After you lay up in that morgue I'm a fuck your back Yeah nigga die slow with your smirk on Night night lights dimming down get your murk on Later i'll see you in hell get your burn on Filled with the embalming fluid get your sherm on Redman My sherm on in the hood when I ride by My eyes looking like I learn how to sky dive The world is yours theres rules you abide by Ride with the fly guy on I 9 5 They said a nigga returned but I never left I told Big L through me he could resurrect I'm that nigga like Puff and L.O.X. I took one L and life is still double X Brick City where I breathe all the trees at The E's in Eminem's I need a Relapse And bitches grab my mic give me feedback Reggie you a asshole baby I'll be back I get cocky when the beat pumping You know you doing it when your tire lip rubbing I keep a freak and I call her chicken meat Cause this Superbad nigga, she McLovin Method Man Fiends get killed in my hallways we parle My feet been killing me all day Your boy down for life like them killers in Rahway It's all work and no play Cause this block is nothing like Broadway Revenge is sweeter that sorbet You all become believers when this heaters in your face Just a part of my function Y'all don't want no part of the gun spray I would hate to pull it in one stray That's where the innocence bystand We're trapped inside these tenements like damn Why mama try'na feed us this spiced ham Connects try'na cheat us with light grams Co-defendents try to lighten they sentence snitching to white man Turn states evidence fam we ain't gelling Felons ain't felons no more they straight telling Ain't nothing worst than a rat you can't smellin And ain't nothing worst than a trap you can't sell in (Uh-Huh) |
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| from Boris - Believe In The Music (2010) | |||||
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2:55 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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2:32 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:32 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:02 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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2:54 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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4:49 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:05 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:05 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:00 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:09 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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3:12 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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2:33 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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4:32 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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2:53 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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2:46 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu Music Group Presents Pollen - The Swarm, Pt.3 (2010) | |||||
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2:00 |
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from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010)
[Interlude: Ghostface Killah]
Aiyo, Rae, aiyo, Rae, check it out, yo Let me go in there one more time and air these niggas out For old times sake, you know how we do, my nig' Old times sake, just for me, man, one more time, I'm begging you Let me just go in, and just fly on these niggas heads, man It's what I'm talking about [Ghostface Killah:] It's like a body in a project hallway, who did it? Who's the next nigga that sucked the snit-ich That's my word, it could never be me You see the deer head on the living room wall, like his neck fell off That can be all sculptured and glazed with gloss Call the shots that Bill Belichick would call Snake niggas slither all in the glass house, racial slurs When it's time to go to war, they cash out Throw 'em in the rear-naked choke, they tap out Niggas try to surround the kid, I backed out And threw two rocks at 'em, watching the ho drop I'm from a place where we locking the low glocks Yellowtape, the bodies, jiggy and road blocks Got the towels up in the air, it's so hot Talking bout Staten Island, profiling Switchblade city, the goons is wilding Escape from my slums, nigga, you got talent And we don't want the fifth of 'yac, we want the gallon ['Scarface' sample:] What you think I'm a fucking worm like you? I told you, man - [Method Man:] Vacate black, bust gats, wherever we at You all that, hit 'em in the chest, we fall back I got mines, nigga, where yours at? We call that, raw rap, got fiends in front of my door mat That Witty Unpredictable fly shit, drive-by shit These the niggas I ride with And we gon' get cake, ya'll, as soon as this pie split Smacking up the dry snitch, nigga, you my bitch Somebody put Tical on, matter fact, put Tical on One suuu, Staten Isle on 'em I bank roll, I break codes, and I ain't trynna catch another case, case closed Give me my crown, cause I deserve it, real dudes giving me pounds But not too close though, the semis'll round Bitches, running they mouth, goons, running your gate My team running the block, cops running my plates Well fuck that, Criminology rap Niggas hate, I hate back, floating in the flyest Maybach, nigga |
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3:55 |
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from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010)
>
[Featuring Street Life] [Method Man] Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yea yo Yo yo yo yo yo yo yo All them real live motherfuckin niggaz step up front right now Its goin down One love to Long Island Hempstead in my heart baby Shaolin what? Come on come on HA! Dangerous ground Tre pound seven spin around for my bredren the clouds come down War and peace I take it to the street Land sharp on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief And curse his first born, is this thing on? Send em to the children of the corn we the people See, niggaz through the eye of the demon My lethal injection, destroyin evil Hot Nikkel, private eye one pistol Aimin at your brain tissue, do or die Said the spider to the fly Could this one be tasty Like momma apple pie goodness, Johnny Blaze me On the job like Dick Tracy Hit the cure for that ill shit like Ben Casey, M.D. Symbolic thrill like god he shocked it Like a finger in a light socket, too good to be forgotten In the rotten apple I kick dirt on the sand castle Check the flavor all natural (Beat your feet) Hot Niks son (E-mizer) Before you get the main course (Taste a appetizer) Submerged in the word Heavy headed verbal Smack you, mentally disturb you attack you Thirty-six chamb once again comin at you Young gun got the body snatch you observe Yo eyes work you can only see through the third Eyeball baby Im the norm on the bird To shine on mental nourishment, you can dine on Track yellin at me get yo arrow god Victory is hard Regardless to whom or what They all get retard its a law Runnin through a house and your block party, we wreck-tion And Hot rock the body body, St. Bernards Couldnt save your enterrage plat lobotamy Leave ya mentally scarred, numb and possibly Dumb deaf and blind is it I keep your spine out the battery pack spark it with mine keep it movin Now everybody just throw your hands in the......(phone rings) What the fuck? Peace - who this? [Streetlife] Mind detect mind A P.L.O. da startin line Deep Space Nine Designed for knuckleheads who bust guns and throw signs Lets converse snatch the tap from your purse Body-surf on the verse head first Peeped your feet bitch straight beat you know wit the heat And you spazzed out spittin out teeth aint nothin please Big boys dont destroy blunt is so pop stare on 50 men convoy, spends to wear the big toy Rumble through the wasteland my hands on the silencer 40 caliber city slicker Staten Islander Synchronize minds combine thoughts that motivate Dont perpetrate pass the blunt let it circulate Street politicians on a suicide mission Crime vision finger itchin from a scope-view position Dangerous ground Tre pound seven spin around for my bredren the cloud comes down [Method Man] Yo Keep ya eyes open Love potion number nine poetry in motion Knowledge me the seventh sign Scold it canivin Infiltrate is most of mine Play em nonchalantly, calmly expose the nine Push and get shoved what the fuck gods thinkin of Comin in the club wit that screw face, actin up Is we men or mice, bad moon risin We wild for the night Kill a skitzofrenic nigga twice cuz-a Thats what happened when frontin on this Shaol brotha Island of Staten we in here no fear Assault wit intent To kill your whole regiment its real Startin wit yo president, duckin my dart gun Tear apart something you dont want it then dont start none Blaze one with Jonathon, part man part fly Handle my B-I camouflauge like G.I. Fat like Joe, a day in the life Your money or your life thats the life Everybody cant afford ice in the struggle Tryin to eat right another day another hustle hustle hustle (Uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh uh huh) Dangerous ground Tre pound seven spin around for my bredren the clouds come down War and peace, I take it to the street Land sharp on my lawn chop the thumbs off a thief Motherfuck |
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2:59 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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0:38 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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3:12 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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2:04 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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3:01 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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3:25 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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2:32 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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2:57 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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0:36 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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2:42 |
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| from Method Man, Ghostface Killah - Wu-Massacre (2010) | |||||
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| from 리포 맨 (Repo Man) OST by Rosemary Clooney, Perez Prado and His Orchestra [single, ost] (2010) | |||||
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2:52 |
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| from Method Man Presents Street Life - Street Education (2010) | |||||
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2:57 |
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| from Method Man Presents Street Life - Street Education (2010) | |||||
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| from DMX - The Best Of DMX (2010) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Meth]
Come on 1 2 1 2 uh uh 1 2 1 2 Mr. Meth, Funk Doc 1 2 1 2 Uh uh 1 2 1 2 DJ Scratch on the track 1 2 1 2 Wa wa 1 2 1 2 Break your motha fuckin back 1 2 1 2 Ah yo yo My, lyric is 8 ball Batter up play ball Fuck yawl and the law Niggas we be digital, subliminal, come in From the 5 star general Attack you from the blind side, invisible To the naked eye Where them criminals Better have your 8 essential vitamins and minerals The wu is coming through you know the outcome Critical Condition in your physical for injurin The officer and gentleman who stack by the benjamen [Redman] Off a beat like this I keep a night stick In case any stick up care where heat might miss I chicken fry rice bitch In a white trench Bustin off two macks I'm like "I'm hit"!!! I'm just playin, I clear the croud out Like a peppa can sprayin I throw lightin out the arms raiden Go guard your pray Next year I do nothin more than Y2K {Hook} We say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 We say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 we say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 We say Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 And if you say fuck me [Meth] I'm a say fuck you [Redman] Wa wa wa wa 1 2 1 2 [Meth] From deputant down to stripper I'm too nonchalaunt A drink mixed with four kinds of liquors Catch me at the bar "Fu Bar" Ladies know who we are and Dream of fuckin a star Who da scrub Shotgun in this man car Burnin up Forever gettin thrown out the club It be us Paul Shot out and bugged I smoke bud, sniff a bee's ass to get a buzz I'm everything you think you don't know [Redman] I throw a 5 in the power Poppa wheely with the front end hittin speed bumps, 40 miles per hour I'm out at Howard, next to Baltimore Takin change out the fountains at shoppin malls Rats can only afford Chuck E Cheese The blood in my jeans is tough like Buddy Lee Semi-dart auto off ya, blood coughin Meth pull the last spark plug with a heart pump {Hook} [Redman] Call me will, enemy I state When 4 Doc run the scam New jacks studderin, that the man from the upperhand Punch, atomic bomb I hit many >From Bricks to South Park you dyin with Kenny While you bailin I'm trailin Rockin hard hat helmets clip the satellite servallence When I walk by you better not be kickin Or i put two more in that terriyaki chicken [Meth] You've just been fitted for them seeman shoes This is bottom of the lake raps Stab you in the back Kung Fu 52 cops can't withstand the 52 blocks Unless they bust like 52 shots I'm the has been that have not Battle kids at Maxwell's house Know when I'm good to the last drop Whats my name Meth he's name Doc Just like urban See me in the gran transportation splurgin Drivin with a turban who push a black suburban (come on) We rollin windows half down through the urban Network law lay it down like a persian M to the E to the F, spell curtain [Redman] Get out your car sucker This ain't yours Robbed you with a gun that filled with paint balls And brauds got the nerve to act funny You a champaine ho, with kool aide money Frown bitch, Doc up in that town quick You back down a point on NFL blitz I'm lyin buddah break fool and take two And put your hole in the earth to escape through {Hook} {Talked} DJ Scratch Not ready for prime time playas Mr. Meth, Funk Doc Def Jam 2000 mutha fuckasssssss!!! (echos out) Calm me down baby Nod your head to this Come on Ey yo this is WKYA radio We kickin your motha fuckin ass Yo Flex Thats right it's goin down Redman, Method Man blackin the funk out Now listen |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]:
Bitch Brick City, yo Yo, yo Funk Doc straight lunatic since young I ate paint chips, the rare moon That pair mics, my maintenance I battle you and then me and Meth exchange shifts For money, to your house arrest anklet I take it all, if not, here's a thousand Bricks, be shooting fair ones with bail bonds men I'm constant, on that paper chase Blow zip codes from Bricks to 8-1-8 Doc serve to you liquor in the plate Battle royal, in the ring smoking like ought to owe ya Fire thrown to the roof of you apartment Hit 95, then hide with the Waltons Down South, the forty four feela I'm a Dolo nigga, you a Polo nigga I'm an Uptown shopper, you a Soho nigga Westside highway running, homo nigga [LL Cool J]: I'm the sultan of the ghetto The homicidal aficionado I empty niggas out like Crystal bottles, uh When I battle, I'm breakin' Bentleys down to gravel I got the heat right here, we ain't got to travel I'm bigger than producers, I figured out you losers I knew my longevity confuse ya Big paper game, come on run into these flames Recognize the power of the royal King James Phantom Menace, that's why niggas make faces Like they drinkin' Guinness when they realize I'm not finished I've been paid, I've been platinum, been spittin' Been eatin', been ballin' and you know I'm shittin' Platinum links, chicky eyed blonde hair, Honeys sippin' rainbow colored drinks Black thugs with white minks, ready to jack the brink Bend your little wifey over, help her stretch out the kinks That's why ya nigga freeze when I step up in the building The Godfather's here giving blessings to his children |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]:
Do you want to get high man? [Method Man]: I see em. Does Pinochio have wooden balls man? [Redman]: Well yo, I got a joint I've been saving here for a special occasion. [Method Man]: Ahh, niggas, bitches, welcome. A full tank of gas, a pound of weed, a bird called Pinky. To the East, driver to the East. Funk Doctor and the Phino. By the way, this is protected by the red, the track, and Tical. With the key. [Redman]: Oh shit where the keys at? |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Def Squad, Wu Tang [laugh] (check it, check it out) [Verse 1: Method Man, (Redman in brackets)] (Yo yo Method Man, yo yo Iron Lungs) (Call us gorillas in the myst) (Raunchy vocalist) Your code name (Doc) (Whats yo' name) Hot Nix Who them slick kids puffin that shit holdin they dicks (Yo them same two drivin yo whip fuckin yo bitch) Hold me down son (Yo, I hold you down with the pound) You got a lot of buiscits (Ayo but where they at now?) Diggy down yo we resevior dogs, you puppy chow-chow Got my mittens on the kitten, lickin it now-now (Yo we bring the beef to you, infest it with the mad cow) Disease (We set to load) Cock and squeeze (Booya!) We too hard to hold off (One arm slam ya like Nicoli Volkov) When i dip dip dappa (dappa) The anti-socializa (liza) Everything be ice cream from _?_ (We rock ya, knock ya fuckin whole team off the roster) (Starting lineup, Iron Lung) The funk docta [Verse 2: Method Man] Johnny blaze the ghost rider (uh) Ghost stories by the campfire (uh) The night breed (vampire!) Duckin from the head rushin (uh) Wu Tang production Precussions bringin reprecussions I hold my mike sideways bustin (bustin) Another one bites the dust and Cardiac arrest Clutchin your chest suckin your last breath In awe, period meth Nigga, dyin from papercuts, Bleedin to death Down these mean streets johnny quest (uh) From ASCAP to NASDAQ Get that money sack (uh) These habitats aint no place to raise family at (family at) These alley cats be at war with these dirty rats So watch you back when you come to the slum There aint nowhere to run from the iron lizard lung Blazes on stunts I be dippin in the sun My plates bear no one My uzi weighs a ton (Word up) [Verse 3: Redman] Pon Cocked The don juan doc Send crews back to the shoe shine box Connect the dots My description Black mel Yellow da mellow I make it hard for mc's to run neck and elbow With d-o Penal code We both to duck when he hear the bike Wit the squeaky clutch Swallow this hard act to follow You could parachute off my slang and use my rhymes to toggle I'm tense, so smooth i cant be fingerprinted I stomp harder in slow motion Yo fuck your appluad Bitches still rush me like they rushed the store Before the soul train award Incorporate a law Whoever aint raw get they hand chopped By jamal with the wu sword (whoo-ee!) My crew specializin Snakin yo bitch Robbin you while you on the floor Shakin your shit I'm doin me now i'll do you (Yo who you?) Doc I bomb shit through the conflicts crucial I be da black el nino I mean yo I'm supreme like the team show With the pay to cream fo (To see you sit down?) Yo, na we get the fuck up (And leave the one you wit) Then take off of usher Thats right, six double oh with chrome pipes U.S. marshals out to pen us up like Snipes (Throw it in drive) Fuck takin me and meth alive! (Yo, you look that-a-way) You look out the other side! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
It's Funk Doc Where da weed at, bitch?! I speed back wist, down to one-way from cops See thas' shit?! Believe thas' shit! Slaughter straight to camcorder, I'm too hot for t.v. Backdraw water, my windpipes attached to Project-ballers You yell: "Turn the heat down!" My voice, divi-di-round-sound, some heard round town And chances are ya'll leavin', round now Wait later, will make Funk page paper Date Raper with juveline 8th Graders Hit the High School at 187 Caesar When I bust ya'll need to back 4 acres Doc ya'll and that's my man JabberJaw The shitlist ready, who next to scratch off? I'm from the underground, my soundlib Platform shoes to bitches, 400 pounds! [Chorus:] [Meth & Red] GET UP, STAND UP, BACK UP, PUSH UP JUMP UP, ACT UP TO MAKE YOU FEEL IT! Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM Yo' BLACKOUT, SHOOT OUT, SMOKED OUT MOVE OUT, EVEN KNOCK YA TOOTH OUT, TO MAKE YA'LL FEEL IT! Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM Brrrrr...STICK 'EM, HA-HAHA STICK 'EM [Meth] Now I'm the streettalkin', dogwalkin' Approach me with extreme caution, OH NOW YOU FORCIN'? My hand that rock yo' cradle often I'm hot-scorchin', but stone cold like Steve Austin If you smell what Tical cookin', ain't tryin' to see central bookin' So til ya gon' stop lookin', know what you did last summer? So I started hookin', you past shookin' Offer open can of ass-whoopin'? Ain't no tomorrow's in the Method's Little Shop Of Horrors Go ask your father who the father from the (Park)Hill to (Mariners)Harbor You know tha saga, marijuana blunts and Goldschlager With deadly medley, ya'll ain't ready for Shakwon and Reggie Don't even bother, to radio for back-up Alright then, ya man got slapped up extorted for his icin' Streetlife is triflin' *Body over here...! Nigga pull a Tyson and bite a nigga' ear Precisin', slicin' juggerless the cut-crew Ruggeder, Predator, Viking, excetera People's champ, niggaz be takin' off competetors Reachin' for the microphone, relax and light a bone Straight from the Catacombs The Children Of The Corn, that don't got a clue Prepare for desert storm! [Chorus] I scored 1.1 on my SAT And still push a whip with a right and left AC Gorilla, Big Dog, if my name get called I'm behind the brickwall with arsenic Jars Spit poison, got a gun permit draw Gundown at Sundown you keep score! This training-course and ya'll ain't fit On my crew-tombstone put 'We All Ain't Shit' [Meth] Yo', all you gonna be, wanna be When will you learn? Wanna be Doc and Meth? Gotta wait ya turn I spit a .41 Revolver on New Year's Eve With the mic in my hand I mutilate m.c.'s The most slept on since Rip Van Wink My shit stink with every element from A to Zinc So what you think? I'm a blackout on just one drink? You must be crazy! A little off the wall maybe Go get a shrink... [Chorus] |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Yeah, yeah..
Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill (I'm going to kill [echoes]) [Verse One: Method Man] Slowly I turn, step by step Through the backwindow, I crept Silent as a mouse on a set While everybody in the house slept, I disconnect the phones and the rest Find a butcherknife Cut the power lines to the lights Now a nigga wild for the night I come like the living death, straight from the dirt Back to avenge his own death on this earth Ever heard of Jason, then you know my work Down to the basement, the dog get it first I can't help myself, my thoughts ain't my own The voices in my head just won't leave me alone Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Pissing on the car seats, flattenin' the wheels So there's no escape from the fate that awaits No one to witness the horror taking place Yeah, now I'm on my way up the stairs To the bedroom on my prey unaware Heads will be hung from the chimney with care With hopes that the police soon will be here I'm a killer! [Verse Two: Redman] Yo, yo Fuck knocking, kick the door, evict the four Yell out: "It's a stickup, hit the floor!" You fish cake niggas, stay Lipton off Did your mama name you, or Mrs. Paul's Battle in session, what's up with it? I talk like I walk with a fucked up pivot Niggas scream out: "It's just us bitches!" Don't shoot, out the phonebooth I aim at your party, hit the wrong group "Happy birth..." ow, ow, ow, ow Niggas done snap, runnin' hunch back Ducking, brick walls, get thumbtacked So run laps, for I body you Bust out the size, like karate shoes, Doc Turn velcro, when night falls Central park joggers, wear bright clothes Tae bo, five flo's Lizard, Centipede, Snake I'm a killer! Cereal, cereal killer (This is the sound of a cow: Howl) Cereal, cereal killer [Verse Three: Redman] Yo, yo I walk on backs like Mr. Bentley, After p-p-p strips you empty Gather around, for rapid sound Fourth of July was three months ago, shoulda pad 'em down No one will fold both thumbs and eight fingers to square with Joe Young Tongue below one, spit dumb, moron For white boys to snowboard on So whatchu, whatchu, whatchu want? Chew spearmint gum two double pump Two cannons, piece by piece Your school get dazed like G by G Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Take nuts and screws out ferris wheels If you ain't Missy, payin' no bills Body, you and supermarket, no thrills Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill Murda, murda, murda, kill, kill, kill (Cereal, cereal killer) [Verse Four: Method Man] Doc hold my coat, I'm 'bout to go low Titanic MC rock the boat meth Tone deaf rhyme, microphone sex line Next time don't forget the TEC-9 Step, Five digital, context is critical Bomb threat these individiuals thats on deck So you the illest nigga in Nebraska? Hell naw It's the master, number sixteen, party crasher, Flex I think too much, I drink too much My crew don't really give two fucks, about you ducks We over here Shaolin What, spontaneous combust when I smoke a bag of dust Ahh what a rush, cigar be the dutch Method Man and Redman, Starsky and Hutch I crush MC's Can't trust niggas, niggas can't trust me I'm a killer! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Bricki-di-roaw! Steppin' out the crowd throwin' bolo's Flicki-di-flame, owh! when chrome .44's Loadin' it up, packin' it back, ready to splash for real Spit flows out the gail, God tried to bail It's hectic, 45-6 gimme ya grips That's more dollars in them tongues in them go-go chicks Bitch I'm drunk, pumpin' slugs out of canon Shot ya after-party down with Meth and Red in Check it, Bricks and Shaolin, NO JOKE! And when I hit the pussy call me Daddy Long Strope Or Ana, I'm hittin' pigeons out in Atlanta Banana--Split, HOT TWO..SPIT! OOH SHIT! Spickin' ya rippin' ya four or ya funds I wet ya like a 141 watergunz Cocky like Rocky, got ya scared to death! So hold on ya bitches, cuz here come RED-METH! [Chorus:] Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Fuck with me and Meth and we break ya fuckin' neck-a Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! Rememba these?! Microphone-check, mirco-microphone checka! [Meth] Okay the 'hey hey' baby, me and Doc about to blow My Saturday night's so special and they pointin' at yo nose Aiyyo, save the speculations and the rumours Comin' sooner then you think I knock a phat bitch outta blumors Givin' tumors, hardcore, givin' it to 'em raw Landshark, Southpaw, so kids say I jap-a-jaw One-two, no ending or beginning to my cypher I'm winning, tell the news like Peter Jennings Depending on any givin' day I'm representin' The struggle, my great grand who lived thru the linchin' Oh yes ya'll, if you got the weed, who got the blunts? Take a guess ya'll, Kool-Aid bustin' thru the wall Mr.Meth ya'll, HAH-CHU! Comment allez-vous I used to hawk chickens, now I'm maxin' with Badu I represent Wu, my uzi weighs a ton I'm swingin' a track from Staten, cuz that is where I'm from [Chorus til the end] |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Oh my god...Oh my god !!!! ah ah ah aowww!!!
[Verse One: Method Man] Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone. [Verse Two: Redman] I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa |
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| from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009) | |||||
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Method Man]
C'mon C'mon, state your business C'mon, let's make it hot C'mon (word) let's make it hot C'mon, let's make it hot C'mon, let's make it hot (Hardcore, to make them brothers act fools) C'mon! C'mon! With all due respect to the game, I'm the P-H-enom Not ready for prime time, be-yond, extinction Change your way of thinkin, or be-gone fast the fuck out, somethin stinkin Could it be the skunk, or could it be that body in the trunk of my Lincoln, Continental style pop the pussy like a pimple I'm fed up, I put it in your ear and fuck ya head up Turnin up the temperature, hold them kids that entered the 36th, master mix shit Biohazardous, pretentious Do it for the chemically imbalanced State your business, pay me at the door Iron Man, hear me roar on twelve inches Shell shocked soldier in the trenches Fire in the hole {*rocket fire*} game commences Third string rappers play the benches Reload, there'll be no repentance for souls Just life sentence, with no chance for parole and that's real Chorus: Method Man and Redman {*rocket fire*} Fire in the hole (Yo, fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole.. (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole! {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole [Redman] Yes, yes, yes.. yo yo, yo Gundowned at sundown Run now from the bucks sound, touchdown Your crew wanna punt now? Punk BLAOW Swimmin trunks torn up from the huntdown Brakes lock em up now, a rich bitch knock em up now A plucked out eyebrow gal Naw dawg, a broad got to be a huzzy A hoodrat that ride like the "Bride of Chucky" Walk through my hood, your jewels they scream "Tug me" Mind revolve' to reload like a SCSI Doc, Da Bigfoot out for da SQUOOSH Shell shocked like I'm six months in the bush Fire in the hole! {*rocket fire*} Hikin in the snow with forty motherfuckers expirin the globe Footprints of Timbs and Wallabee soles We case the place like Barnaby Jones, homes Lay it down like plats in ya hair Ride off withcha money, then clap in the air! Chorus: Method Man and Redman {*rocket fire*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Yo, fire in the hole! {*rocket fires thrice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Yo, fire in the hole! {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole.. (Yo, fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Yo, yo, yo.. [Method Man] This is for dem niggaz on Da Bricks, holdin down they block For my nigga Carlton Fisk a kid who stay up in the box Ain't no christmas -- ever since Santa scratched my name off the giftlist, shit ain't been the same since "The Pain" No forgiveness, dead man talkin bout he lifted I'm livid, hands around the throat of a critic Yo Doctor, prescribe me a drug that can knock a mule on his ass, take the blast out Binaca For real doe, Arsenic Production that kill slow Your eardrums, like a happy hooker with a dildo I spas, on anyone who show his ass I got the mob with me plus a full tank of gas [Redman] Yo yo when Me and Meth swarm, you need a net to cover you Turn the rap game into W-C-W Off the rope I hangglide to the throat Straight beef without french fries and a Coke "Doc's Da Name", da burglar, I serve ya The "Lethal 5" from Riggs and Murtoch Then SKRRRT out my whip with ran down tires with a chicken I met who hand out fliers Look, I'm an Aries, I don't have it My crew large enough to walk and cause traffic Bounce like boxsprings on your Kraftmatic Before you be suin Doc for malpractice You couldn't bang from start Your girl see you beat up and shit, get a change of heart Flaming darts is spittin, name the mark My impact tore JFK plane apart {*BOOM*} Chorus: Method Man and Redman {*rocket fire*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole.. (Fire in the hole!) {*machine guns*} Fire in the hole! {*rocket fires twice*} Fire in the hole (Fire in the hole!) Fire in the hole!! Fire in the hole! [Method] Yo, yo, yo .. (fire in the hole) Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo Mr. Meth, ha ha Funk Doctor, ha ha Mathematics, on the track, ha, hah.. For my niggaz in Da Bricks, ha For my niggaz on Shaolin, ha Worldwide.. [Redman] To my whole crew, P-P-C!!!! Hahahahahhhhh |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Intro:
Takin it from the top? Tippy? Tippy? How High?.... The Ultimate High.... Verse One: Method Man Scuse me as I kiss the sky Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye Who the fuck wanna die for their culture Stalk the dead body like a vulture Tical get, HMMM Blacker than your blackest stallion Hit your house'n projects I represent the Shaolin my nigga Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down Verse Two: Redman While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse When I raise my trigga finga all yall niggaz hit the decks! Cause aint no need for that, hustlers and hardcores Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch Plus, the Bombazee got me wild (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide Verse Three: Method Man 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1 lyric at your door Tical bring it to that ass raw Breakin all the rules like glass jaws Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours Fucka, we dont need no rap tour I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture More than you bargained for Tical, that stays open like an all nite store For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill And end your existance, M-E-T Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D Verse Four: Redman I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts I shift like a clutch with the Ruck Examine my nuts, I dont stop till I get enough Your shit broke down, light your flare Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares 6 million ways to die, so I chose Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass And yo my man (Tical) hit me now Bitches use to play me now they cant forget me now Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock Empty off a lickin off a hip hop Fuck the billboard, Im a bullet on my block How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot? Chorus: Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane It's the funk doctor spock smokin buddha on a train HOW HIGH? So high that I can kiss the sky HOW SICK? So sick that you can suck my dick Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed HOW HIGH? So High that I can kiss the sky HOW SICK? So Sick that you can suck my dick Verse Five: Method Man Til my man Raider Ruckus come home It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone we don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin O Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic Movin on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece Plus I got no love for the beast Hailin from the big East Coast Where niggaz pack toast Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped As I run around with a racist My style was born in the 50 stair cases Dig it, eff a rap critic He talk about it while I live it If Red got the blunt, Im the second one to hit it Verse Six: Redman Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic Rollin blunts an all day habit I get it on like Smif'n'Wes Punks take a sip and test Who split your vest The funk phenomenon I'm bombin you like Lebanon Blow canals of Panama Just off stamina Styles not to be fucked with, or played with Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches Hittin switches, Twistin wigs with Fat radical mathematical type scriptures I dig up in your planets like Diga, Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens Fuck the marines, I got machines To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine I fly more heads than Continental Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks I breaks em up proppa Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya' Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg Look, I got the tools like Rickle To make your mind tickle For the nine nickle Yo Red, yo Red! Punk ass pussy ass You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it Word up Tical, We Out IT'S OVER |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Yo yo yo yo We "Push Weight" with Ice Cube's in a cup (AmeriKKKa's) Most Wanted Police pin it up (Alaza an a) Thug passion brotha what Bloatin gettin a girl preganant Off a finger aaaaahhhhh Doc da code name Murgin proclaims off the lot (We can die) Yeah i'm takin full blame I'm hard headed cat fitted for rythmes I touch up your shapper when Doc spit on the ?? What it is my brotha (Gonna live my brotha) How you live my brotha (Real civilized brotha) I'm not fryed Jaul when i walk the streets I rock wit da 4 cds [not a force ehcos....] [Method Man] Chin checks in effect Catch red (Put him in a yokes snap his neck) Mr. M.E.F (The bigheads is at it again) Bone shattering, beat battering me Scattering like roaches Blessin with the over dosage of black black (Say goodbye you got no class) Ship sinkin fast (Bon Voyage) Cya at the bottom when i spot um Grab him by the throat and say aaahuuumm i got um Wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup my sis? Aiyyo wassup now sis? I got whacha need And you got what i need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house Yo wassup my brotha? Wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup now sis? What up now sis? You got what i need I got what you need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house [Redman] Yo Yo doggs its my Fort Doc Shot wit vaults until death news can talk Cripple kids can walk My style will show guns what it is to spark Hit a clear the park 20 miles apart Doc is like bad weather reports but i'll walk If your not from the tri-boro, story settled I pack gordy metal for those who act fool Big fish in da water and we hard to harpoon I'm like open wounds pourin iodine Messin wit us is like saving "Private Ryan" You acting out a line now you lying, dying Wash my evil hands in the fire hydrant Yeah Girl! My kahuna's hooked up in da harnass Flying through hard knock life is still torn My ropes poped in Chicago i hit the floor then Got up and woke up wit a burn in the morning [Method Man] Aiyyo we mo phat then down south trash And you know dat With fomat blow the welcome of our door mat. Toes tapped Now the helified sound Why your town off the road map Baby mess around I propose that, you go and get your crew and get the bozac too Def squad Wu Or just slave to the rivrim Clinton is the prez i still voted for cherly chism Poison is venom my philosophy is busyism The most beautiful is ?? Minutes as usawal, play your corner Swingin the ghetto pharmasuiticals the Methadonna Or the old Flinstone chewables and mary mary mary So dont ever say i didnt warn ya And i dont wanna be the one to stick the doggs on ya Ruuugh I'm still ghetto, i rhyme ghetto, my peoples ghetto Pants and saggy teeth yellow Now thats what i call grimy A million crazy kids behind me Killa hills 10304 is where you'll find me If your lookin baby i'm right here! Cmon down! Wassup my brotha? Wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup now sis? Wassup now sis? Aiyyo you got what i need I got whatcha need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house Aiyyo wassup my brotha? Aiyyo wassup my brotha? Wassup now sis? Aiyyo wassup now sis? I got whacha need Aiyyo you got what i need Got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house Yo Crew up in da house Yo Yo Crew up in da house We got Crew up in da house We got da mad Maaad Crew up in da house WKYA Where all my peoples at that love hip hop?? Make some noise! I'll cya'll I'll cya'll Throw your ones up in the air like this so everybody can see um And when i say hip hop......ya'll say one love! Hip hop! One love! Hip hop One love! Hip hop! One love! |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Redman]
Whatcu crazy??!!? Since a buck tooth baby, Doc is like straight fuck you, pay me like Jay-Z Lazy Niggas complain Doc load up the cartridge and start kickin' game like Acclaim Those who you call dogs'll rat your name Those who say they love you, attack your change That's why I fold down 4 fingers Say fuck the world and jimmy da earth out with coat hangers Rap game n street game don't sleep Its a cold world betta pack yer own heat Niggas ain't happy to the cash on "E" Then the hash and the cat and a bag's on me Yeah Right!! My bear hugz air tight New Yorkerz know no turnin' on a redlight Me against 40 of you? A fair fight Microphones get took you shook? Wear white! [Chorus] You don't got no ins in Mi Casa And it's your stopper, Meth Tical Man and Funk Docta You don't got no ins in Mi Casa Bomb Droppa blow you out ya mind, who shot ya? You don't got no ins in Mi Casa Hit it Hip Hoppers turn it up a notch make it it hotta You don't got no ins in Mi Casa I'm warnin' you partna Meth Tical Man and Funk Docta [Method Man] Every time I turn around somebody in my business Time for you to testify, can I get a witness? Actin' like bitch's Dirty Dick niggas look suspicous Ain't physically fit for the fitness Welcome to the game of death Polly wanna biscut? First prize a one way ticket to my shit list And I spread it like a rumor or a sickness Stand-by let a chicken head lay a chicklet Can I slap a fat ass with da quickness? Stupid ass niggas goin' raw and get da sickness Comin' through son, mutha fuck you and your district Misrepresentin', misinterpretin' and they misfit Playboy, you ain't got no balls plus your dickless And I'm like a plumber layin' pipe up in yo misses No man can hold me, nor can control me Next time you see me, holla like you know me! [Chorus] |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Street Life]
Yo yo, enta, enta, enta, enta yo It's the synical, lyrical rap individual On my death bed I spit sick flows that's critical I'm not a fan of this, I'm a mic vandalist Thug therapist, my clan's too original My slang bang to wax, words that's visual Too digital for y'all common street criminals Who wanna come test, lick the sweat from my genitals We can get off the mic and get a little physical I was born to rock since they cut my umbilical Cord, I swing swords, behold the prolifical Rhyme writer, hip-hop provider, prize fighter Live wire, quick to set the mic on fire I speak legalized dope, hitman for hire I quote murderous notes, dope rhyme supplier Hang glide on the mic like a stunt driver And I won't stop rockin till I retire [Redman] Yo yo yo When it comes to the darts, I throw em Flamethrower, blow your section-eight home to your payphone up Grass smoker, in the cut for the lawnmower I water, I ride the wale that ate Jonah Over, your faced wit the black cape over You woke up four gorillas wit a makeover Packin a punch, asthma pump takeover My crew boards, and the whole plane lays over (YO YO!) You can't talk wit the tape over Pass the pussy, get out, date's over Back to your gray Nova that's way slower Redline to five on the highway shoulder Enemies say "Doc the one to play closer" This baboon loose off the chain choker Hardcore, ?jacore? I hate poker But y'all spread when my bullet's daytona [Chorus 8x] Comin through, comin through duck Run for cover (BASS!) [Method Man] Yo yo this ain't ya granddaddy music, it's hip hop Comin through your woofer like a mute kit Hundred-thousand watts on some bullshit I blackout eclipse wit the semi bust a full clip (CLAP OUT!) Touch one if any, that's my complexing conquest Now tell that shit to the court, I plead no contest From none of y'all, please I potty train pissy-ass rugrat for free Keep the cake for the family and off Sarah Lee That's how we do, powerful, movin on ya left! Mista who, Meth, black gorilla, beatin on his chest I suggest, you pay yo' debt or Protect Ya Neck I suggest, you wear a vest makin all them threats Here's a chin check that cash and splash niggas in half Smash rappers like hash (smoke em down to ashes) At last it's the crew that party crashes the masses Madness wildin out like special ed classes [Ghostface Killah] Straight out the gate, meet Tony Don of all dons, behind New York King Tut wit one arm Been at nutcrunch last cinnamon toast wit power rose Whips dirty, dustin my bitch, FUCK PAROLE! Peace shout he's Wallee Timb's, wild out (wild out) We in the spot, guns go off though Came out his mask it was Ollie North Oh shit, what up what up Ghost Congratulations on your new flick Burn it dead who max the most Word up you got the most Clarks Bravehearts spin this For under come down in the pale he need minutes Told y'all before I kick doors off the hinges Ain't no cooler and there ain't no Guiness Money like Barry Blue, Keanu Reeves wit bench slippers Play the PGA Tour wit Jack Nicklaus Statues of Mary, gas that bust mercury Sit through the biggest storm and hand out turkey [Redman] Yeah, yeah, yeah, WHUUUA!!! That's the way I like it [Method Man] PISSY ASS RUSTY ASS NIGGAS!! (0-7-1-0-3) 1-0-3-0-4 |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Intro:]
[Redman] Yo man glorious This is protected (?) [Method Man] And Tical [Redman] Slap it down [Method Man] Way out of bound [Redman] Roll in a towel [Method Man] Fo' we gun down [Verse 1:] [Redman] Yo, flipmode, toiletbowls explode When Doc come drop a shitload Grip fo's Mushrooms, dick those Deep pistol Whip hoes I bitch O's Money, Roll, I stick a zipcode Tiptoed, before Doc escape row Thirsty, snippin' out a pig nose My Benz too, with wings and 6-0's My flows is North Pole cold My hands got area's that fits snow Doc, fixin' hoes in disco's My dogs let 'em walk with ripped clothes Shows, Niggas pack 6 rolls We're losin' 'em His hart won't get pulse Pack you bags off a 10 percent doze (?), I could hum and shit cold [Chorus:] [Redman] Yo, yo tear the roof off Yo, yo tear the roof off Back off, don't make me shoot y'all You don't want to fuck with us You don't [Verse 2:] [Method Man] I get scanned, rip sand With this stick style Pistol, lick ground Get off my dick now Kick crowd, hot style You-get-shot-style Timid, scared to get in it These dogs is rock rowd Unchained, untained, you know my name Act strange, pack flame It's not a game The ill flows, that kills shows You can feel yo Kickin' in you do', like a steel Go for real dough Y'all gon learn I spit germs When you come shot on Big Worm You gets burned Punks don't get turned, they get done And get sun, come get some The last victim lye in a ditch Now who wanna fuck with Hot Nick Niggas chew gum with they ass and pop shit Me and Funk Doc get, toxid Up all the rightness I'm chopstick Go make your Wu just imposters [Chorus:] [Verse 3:] [Redman] You try to O.K Corel With Doc and Meth Tical Barsaloon fight without weapons out Strechmarks like Belly on Kevin ?Lous? On yard to score, only second down Hoes play wifey, wanna settle down Try to lock cash, bitch better bounce Boyfriend jumpin', Meth shut 'em down Pound to echo loud, bout 7 miles Doc, dirty Jersey, hunt 'em down Uncut rhymes, won't even fit your foul Baddest man out the bunch, pick 'em out Drunk with a gun, miss you hit the crowd Snitches, someone kiss to stitch you mouth Wilder then rhinos or liquor trous Mrs. how Mary-Ann, dick 'em out Ginger watch with the gun and skip a mouth Love the ruckas and love to dish it out 3 watched MC's, start wristin' out Get your whole camp put on the missile foul Pushin' 12 out, bumpin' digital [Chorus] [Verse 4:] [Method Man] We just ice Men of mice, ain't nothing nice [Redman] Fuck you like [Method Man] Your thight is to light to fight We move right, on fright night When Niggas write We bust pipe, condo's that suck thight We all right, you all hype and war's right In the Source, with half mic, you half liked And half dead, blasted on glass bed (?), eyes red, the hashhead Burn somethin', earn somethin' and learn somethin' Take my turn frontin' Def Jam ain't heard nothin', yet Suspect, ruffnecks Buck 'em down or you get busted Never leave home without my musket Thrust this, out for justice, clown And caught on Judgement Day, caught y'all proud Take MC's to town if they start blawn Ashes to ashes, they all fall ground Master be basket with hazardous tactics Send my automatic full rap metal jacket Blasted in plastic your brain on the mattrress All you kids ask backwards and visa versa [Chorus:] [Outro:] [Redman] Come on, yo tear the roof off Nigga, yo tear the roof off Back off, don't make me shoot y'all You don't want to fuck with us You don't Huh Yo, You don't want to fuck with us You don't Yo, You don't want to fuck with us You don't |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Method Man]
Hydro... indo... (buddha!) Hah... cocoa... yo, ya-ya-yo! I need some brown weed (lady) all day I need some brown weed (jenny) I need some cut (lady, lady) Now these doors don't open, til after dark And it ain't til 12 til the party really starts (Yo, me and my crew had to be in by ten Right before the fun was about to begin) Yo yo, one bitten, jabberjaws, tryin to taste the paper written, kids be bullshittin, I see they flaws Too many rebels, not enough cause for me to pause Them broads love my shitty drawers, the finest criminal minded put my life behind it, you niggaz find it hard to swallow poison in the bottle, she too sexy So I gotta watch you fast bitches, too many tricks that can give a dick a bad sickness *coughing* [Redman] Yo, yo! Yo son excuse me? (Yo) I'm tryin to earn a million buck or two The ill MC step in -- (and who the fuck are you?) Doc start walkin bumpin M.O.P. To catch a nigga gettin gassed, puttin ten on three (Da Ruckus!) With the mic I blast men on sight So off the hook Atlantic Bell had to go on strike Doc did it, metaphors come AMG kitted 20/20 vision, comes tinted! From being so high.. (So high..) so high.. so high.. [Method Man] Air it out Iron Lung I be the street soldier, ante up Pull them panties up, party's over, in the cut slappin grudges offa niggaz shoulder, bringin ruck like them Wild-cats at Villanova, hot as fuck! Duke or sober, suave bowler, soul controller of the universe, stole-a, colder than cola Caps grab your hoodie hat, Island of Stat' keep them cats runnin for they gat, in stormy weather [Redman] Gats, right hook, uppercut swollen how I left your eye Stage dived, made a mistake, kicked F.O.I. Aiyyo hoe! Doc be keepin a dope show like Marilyn Manson the handgun be stashed in the panelling Jersey drop son, watch me whip it like midget Diggin in that whole plate and, piss on your picnic (Don't nobody move) Don't nobody start flinchin Limo driver, roll up the fuckin partition! [M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite? Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah [R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl? (Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo [R] Is Funk Doc up in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Hot Nix up in the house? (well all rite cha) [R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Mad dick up in your mouth (hah, all nite cha) [Redman] Yo Tical's and Doc, did it before, I'll do it again Snatch spark to the ignition, I'm screwin it in (Aiyyo we out!) Six drop in ten seconds, what? I'll be the first one on the floor at your, wedding reception B-Boys gather around and act p-noid Bring the Trouble T-Roy, to earlobes, keyloid (Terminator 2) Doc after Sarah Conn' for the barrel bonds (Am I on?) Tical, you're on Uhh-uhh-on, uhh-uhh-on Uh uh-uh uh-uh, uh-uh-on [Method Man] Got these slim pickins on my Charles Dickens, I pack a mac to make your back stiffen, flip the script I act different The eyeball, keep your distance, warning y'all you don't listen Bitchin over shit you ain't gettin So finally, puttin in work, the big hurt MC, with a social disease, and get it first Enemies, feel my energies, four centuries of anger Remember me? (The field nigga!) Too Ghetto Fabulous, RZA.. Sharp, and hazardous Figure, with bad habit, can't hold his liquor Speed like a millipede (Hot Nix-on) Contemplate the non-fiction on loose leaves Paragraphs, hundred degrees, my pen bleed (ha!) Showin you the pain I feel from holdin these black thoughts, deep rooted, nowadays they come with batteries included, in wicked ways [M] Who them niggaz that be rollin them thai, high as a kite? Gettin pussy all nite (well all rite cha) yeah yeah [R] Well who them cats you can call on, when you wanna brawl? (Get drunk as hell) and so on (well all rite cha) yo yo [R] Is Funk Diggy in the house? (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Meth Diggy no doubt! (well all rite cha) [R] Bricks to Stat' hold it down (well all rite cha) yo yo [M] Mad dick up in your mouth (all nite cha) cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha, cha... * fades in and out before end * |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
Hi.
My name's Mark. And I'm white. I live in a predominantly white neighborhood. I went to a predominantly white college. And I have predominantly all white friends. But at night, while all my white friends are asleep, I bump this. [Redman]: Yo let me ask ya'll a motherfuckin question. Where in the fuck are we at? [Method Man]: Where we at? At? [Redman]: The bri- the bricks... [Method Man]: Shalon... [Redman]: Yo [Method Man]: Yo. Baby Mamas, baby Daddies. Lend us your motherfuckin ears. What we have here are two boys that are possessed. Possessed by dough, hos, and hydro. Where we at? [Redman]: The bri- the bricks... [Method Man]: Shalon... Yo [Redman]: Yo. We welcome ya'll motherfuckers back. To the Blackout tape nigga. Side two. And where we at? The bri- the bricks... [Method Man]: Shalon... Yo [Redman]: Yo. Terror in your motherfuckin area. [Method Man]: 1-0-3-0-4 Detroit. Rock rock on. |
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from Method Man, Redman - Blackout! / Blackout! 2 (2009)
[Method man]
Traces of lipstick on my collar Baby you got to do some more to get this last dollar Hotter than lava when you come believe that I'ma follow Lady Madonna like to drink but she don't like to swallow Rockin' that Prada, honey stay up in the beauty-polla' Girl it would be my honour, make you my babymomma Holler she hella proper, fuck with tha dumbin' cousin Sucka for lovin'-buggin', shockin' them duckin' buckin' Suckin' then finga-fuckin', then let me say you somethin' I'm knock the stuffin' of that English muffin Can't tell me nuthin', uhn uhn Pushin yo panic button when I'm stuckin All of a sudden, baby gun-duckin', BBC! Oh girl you nasty [Redman] Yo' I get it on poppin' Doc, unlockin' yo' doors, clockin' my drawers Suckin' your mouth with a torn stockin' Rapped around ? , I'm creepin' when you parkin' Shoot out the lights, darkening the area, then hop in Pick up my bigga nigga who helped me figured the plottin' Droppin' the tops, splittin' the dough Shoppin' in rotten--New York, birds flockin' Because I'm heavy like Bo stockin' coat Watch ya coat from Fo sparkin', they leave the parking Niggaz unforgetable can be forgotten Doc and Meth's album enterin the top ten! Choppin' it raw, lockin' 'n blockin', Only raw choppin' his metaphores, so cops can stop watchin' I put 'em in and cock 'em, ready to rock 'em stock 'em Renevate your appartment, when these two things barkin' My Mackamichi knockin', bougie holes be spottin' on they tampons I get 'em drippie like leaky faucets [Chorus: Redman, (Method Man)] Now who a bitch nigga?! (Now who a snitch nigga?!) Now who the shit nigga?! (Now who the sick nigga?!) Now who you with nigga?! (With who you with nigga?!) Who rock shit nigga?! (Who pop shit nigga?!0 (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! (Come on!) Come on! [Redman] I figured it out: ya'll niggaz ain't as big as yo' mouth My street-value well it ain't won't even fit in yo' couch When I bust titties come out No matter what city hardcore committee's dumb to fuck out Son's ya duck out! Nuthin' to lose, poppin' a two up in ya goose Buckle yo shoes, scuffle my boots, fuckin' with you Blow my Anaconda like Nirvana Marijuana got bitches on they knees and they gon' bind us Gettin' 'em dirty dirty with the hersey and the bombin' Holla the drama, fire two in ya armor Ya pigeon betta call ma, the ice is a honour To in help me lift an arm up, lebaba(?) with ya momma Even dirty her donna, my dick is heronomic Pull out a young Geroni-mo, BBC! Oh girl you nasty [Method mand] Itchin' to start the mission, flippin' so keep yo' distance Ain't go no pot to piss in? Ain't got no competition Listen, I slip the clippin', trippin' you get me lippin' Come mis and catch a whippin', now kids is actin' different Ditchin' them double-dippin', chickens that keep forgettin' I ain't the one for trickin', or anybody-kickin' Rippin' these compesitions, scrippin' them paper-written Hold 'em and hit 'n stickin', ballin' like Scottie Pippen It's hot in Hell's Kitchen, but still I'm frost bittin' Shittin' like 'No he didn't', wipin' my ass and splittin' Chattin' like Joe gettin' All in the zone settin' it off like Big Daddy It ain't no half-steppin'...I keep rappin' Staten you keep sweatin', frontin' and ass-bettin' Duckin' my Smith & Wesson , trashin' the Meth and catchin' Hell, we leave you restin' in PEACE, BBC! Oh girl you nasty! |
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3:48 |
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| from Method Man, Redman - A-Yo [single] (2009) | |||||
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5:08 |
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| from Def Jam 25: Volume 3 - It Takes Two PT 1 (2009) | |||||
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2:19 |
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from Def Jam 25: Volume 3 - It Takes Two PT 1 (2009)
Oh my god...Oh my god !!!! ah ah ah aowww!!! [Verse One: Method Man] Microphone checka, swingin sword lecture closin down the sectar supreme neck protector Bet I won em kid Mr. Metha warmin pot about to blow his lid from the pressure, too hot for TV but cheesy, Too many wanna be hard be easy, is all in together going all not together it don't take much to please me Still homes are never satisfy like the stones we don't condome bitin in the sellin crossbones protectin what am writin don't clash with the Titan who blast with a liscence to kill rap presitence C'mon, in the zone with ya nigga from the Group Home TICAL!!(Fuck your lifestyle!!) (Blew wind)...put your lights out got the shit the crackin got you fienin with your pipes out time for some action, surfin the avenue mad at you, where I used to battle crews back when Antoinette had that attitude Cover me I'm going in, walls closin in got us bustin off these pistols my niggas got issues...again, same song armed with the mega bomb Blow you out the frame and I'm gone. [Verse Two: Redman] I was going to Buck-we-romes, cellular phones Doc-Meth back in the flesh, blood and bone don't condone Spent bank loans and homegrown suckers break like Turbo in no zone, when I, grab the broom moon-walk platoon hawk my goons spark leave you in a blue lagoon lost (true) three nines and a glove with masu di die in the car right behind on the boss Haters don't touch, weigh us both up now my neighbor doped up got the cable hooked up. All channels lift my shirt all Mammal you ship off keys and we ship Grand Pianos. sawed off shotgun hand on the pump, sippin on a forty smokin on a blunt bust my gun and Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaa yeah c'mon, Red and Meth gettin jumped La la la la, la la la laaaaaa |
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3:59 |
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from Def Jam 25: Volume 3 - It Takes Two PT 1 (2009)
Taking it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy? How High? The Ultimate High [Method Man] Scuse me as I kiss the sky Sing a song of six pence, a pocet full a rye Who the fuck want to die for their culture Stalk the dead body like a vulture Tical get, hmm Blacker than your blackest stallion Hit your house'n projects I represent the Shaolin my nigga Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down [Redman] While the planets and the stars and the moons collapse When I raise my trigga finga all why'all niggaz hit the decks! Cause ain't no need for that, hustlers and hardcores Raw to the floor raw like Reservoir Dogs The Green-Eyed Bandit can't stand it With more Fruitier Loops then that Toucan Sam Bitch Plus, the Bombazee got me wild (Fuckin with us) is a straight suicide [Method Man] 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 Murder 1 lyric at your door Tical bring it to that ass raw Breakin all the rules like glass jaws Nigga, you got to get mine to get yours Fucka, we don't need no rap tour I'd rather kick the facts and catch you with the rap-ture More than you bargained for Tical, that stays open like an all night store For real, I keeps it ill like a piece of blue steel Pointed at your temple with the intent to kill And end your existence, M-E-T Ain't no use for resistance, H-O-D [Redman] I bees the ultimate rush to any nigga on dust The Egyptian Musk use to have me pull mad sluts I shift like a clutch with the Ruck Examine my nuts, I don't stop till I get enough Your shit broke down, light your flare Since the darkside tears you into hollywood squares 6 million ways to die, so I chose Made it 6 million and 1 with your eyes closed The blindfold, cold, so you can feel the rap And shatter the glass and second half on your monkey ass And yo my man (Tical) hit me now Bitches use to play me now they can't forget me now Forget me not, I rock the spot, check glock Empty off a licking off a hip hop Fuck the billboard, I'm a bullet on my block How you dope when you payed for your billboard spot? [Chorus] Look up in the sky, it's a bird, it's a plane It's the funk doctor spock smoking Buddha on a train How high? So high that I can kiss the sky How sick? So sick that you can suck my dick Look up in the sky it's a bird it's a plane Recognize, Johnny Blaze, ain't a damn thing changed How high? So High that I can kiss the sky How sick? So Sick that you can suck my dick [Method Man] Til my man Raider Ruckus come home It ain't really on till the Ruckus get, home Puff a meth bone, now I'm off to the red zone We don't need your dirt weed we got a fuckin O Check it, I brings havoc with my hectic Bring the Pain lyrics screamin for the antiseptic Movin on your left kid, and I'm methted, out my fuckin dome piece Plus I got no love for the beast Hailin from the big East Coast Where niggaz pack toast Home of the drug kingpins and cut throats [Hey boy, you's the rude boy on the block You try and stop the bum rush you will get popped] As I run around with a racist My style was born in the 50 stair cases Dig it, eff a rap critic He talk about it while I live it If Red got the blunt, I'm the second one to hit it [Redman] Look up in the, I got the verbs, nouns and glocks in ya Enter the centa, lyrics bang like rico-chet Rabbit, I brings havoc with an A-K matic Rollin blunts an all day habit I get it on like Smif'n'Wes Punks take a sip and test Who split your vest The funk phenomenon I'm bombin you like Lebanon Blow canals of Panama Just off stamina Styles not to be fucked with, or played with Fuck the pretty hoes, I love those Section A Bit-ches Hitting switches, Twisting wigs with Fat radical mathematical type scriptures I dig up in your planets like Diga, Boo, scared you, blew you to smithe-reens Fuck the marines, I got machines To light the spliff, and read Mad magazine I fly more heads than Continental Wreck ya 5 times like US AIR off an instrumental Look I'm not a half way crook with bad looks But I may murder your case like your name was Cal Brooks I breaks em up proppa Ask Biggie Smalls 'Who Shot Ya' Funk doctor, with the 12 Gauge Mossberg Look, I got the tools like Rickle To make your mind tickle For the nine nickle (Yo Red, yo Red!) Punk ass pussy ass [You ain't gotta say no more man, that's it] Word up Tical, We Out (It's over) |
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| from Darkroom Familia - Blood and Tears Soundtrack Vol 1 (2009) | |||||
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3:09 |
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from Def Jam 25: Volume 1 (DJ Bring That Back) (2008-1997) (2009)
Basically, can't fuck with me
<i>[Verse One:]</i> I came to bring the pain hardcore from the brain Let's go inside my astral plane Find out my mental's based on instrumental records hey, so I can write monumental Methods, I'm not the King But niggaz is decaf I stick em for the CREAM check it, just how deep can shit get Deep as the abyss and brothers is mad fish accept it In your Cross Colour, clothes you've crossed over Then got Totally Krossed Out and Kris Kross Who da boss? Niggaz get tossed to the side And I'm the dark side of the Force Of course it's the Method, Man from the Wu-Tang Clan I be hectic, and comin for the head piece protect it Fuck it, two tears in a bucket, niggaz want the ruckus Bustin at me bruh, now bust it Styles, I gets buckwild Method Man on some shit, pullin niggaz files I'm sick, insane, crazy, Drivin Miss Daisy Out her fuckin mind now I got mine I'm Swayze <i>[Chorus:]</i> Is it real son, is it really real son Let me know it's real son, if it's really real Something I could feel son, load it up and kill one Want it raw deal son, if it's really real <i>[Interlude: Booster]</i> And when I was a lil stereo (stereo) I listened to some champion (champion) I always wondered (wondered) Will now I be the numba one? (Tical! hahaha) Now you listen to de gargon (Gargon!) And de gargon summary And any man dat come test me (test me) Me gwanna lick out dem brains (it's like that) <i>[Verse Two:]</i> Brothers want to hang with the Meth bring the rope the only way you hang is by the neck nigga poke off the set comin to your projects Take it as a threat, better yet it's a promise Comin from a vet on some old Vietnam shit Nigga you can bet your bottom dollar hey I bomb shit And it's gonna get even worse word to God It's the Wu comin through sickin niggaz for they garments Movin on your left, southpaw em it's the Meth Came to represent and carve my name in your chest You can come test realize you're no contest Son I'm the gun that won that old Wild West Quick on the draw with my hands on the four nine three eleven with the rugged rhymes galore Check it cause I think not when this hip-hops like proper Rhymes be the proof while I'm drinkin 90 proof Huh vodka, no OJ, no straw When you give it to me aiy, give it to me raw I've learned when you drink Absolut straight it burns Enough to give my chest hairs a perm I don't need a chemical blow to pull a hoe All I need is Chemical Bank to pay da mo' What, basically that, Meth-Tical, ninety-four style Word up we be hazardous *car crashing* *horn passing me* Northern spicy brown mustard hoes We have to stick you <i>[horn sound of car racing by]</i> <i>[Chorus]</i> <i>[Outro:]</i> I'll fuckin, I'll fuckin cut your kneecaps off and make you kneel in some staircase piss I'll fuckin, cut your eyelids off and feed you nuthin but sleepin pills You motherfuckers (So??) So fuck the hoe Fuck the hoe (Look at this nigga, this motherfuckin...) |
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4:22 |
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| from N.A.S.A - The Spirit Of Apollo (2009) | |||||
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4:12 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
I grew up on the crime side
the New York Times side Staying alive was no jive At second hands moms bounced on old men So then we moved to Shaolin land A young youth yo rockin the gold tooth 'Lo goose Only way I begin to gee off was drug loot And let's start it like this son rollin with this one And that one pullin out gats for fun But it was just a dream for the teen who was a fiend Started smokin woolies at sixteen And running up in gates and doing hits for high stakes Making my way on fire escapes No question I would speed for cracks and weed The combination made my eyes bleed No question I would flow off and try to get the dough all Sticking up white boys in ball courts My life got no better same damn 'Lo sweater Times is ruff and tuff like leather Figured out I went the wrong route So I got with a sick ass click and went all out Catchin keys from across seas Rollin in MPV's every week we made forty G's Yo nigga respect mine or anger the tech nine Ch chick POW Move from the gate now Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all It's been twenty two long hard years of still strugglin Survival got me buggin but I'm alive on arrival l peep at the shape of the streets And stay awake to the ways of the world cause shit is deep A man with a dream with plans to make CREAM Which failed I went to jail at the age of 15 A young buck sellin drugs and such who never had much Trying to get a clutch at what I could not The court played me short now I face incarceration Pacin going up state's my destination Handcuffed in back of a bus forty of us Life as a shorty shouldn't be so ruff But as the world turns I learned life is hell Living in the world no different from a cell Everyday I escape from Jakes givin chase sellin base Smokin bones in the staircase Though I don't know why chose to smoke sess I guess that's the time when I'm not depressed But I'm still depressed and I ask what's it worth Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth Who explained working hard may help you maintain to learn to overcome the heartaches and pain We got stick up kids corrupt cops and crack rock sand stray shots all on the block that stays hot Leave it up to me while I be living proof To kick the truth to the young black youth But shorty's running wild smokin sess drinkin beer And ain't trying to hear what I'm kickin in his ear Neglected but now but yo it gots to be accepted That what That life is hectic Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all Cash Rules Everything Around Me CREAM Get the money Dollar dollar bill y'all |
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4:41 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008) | |||||
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4:17 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
Wu-Tang Clan
Gravel Pit [RZA] 1,2, 1,2, yo check this out, it's the jump off right now I want everybody, to put your work down, put your guns down And report to the pit, the gravel pit Leave your problems at home, leave your children at home We gon' take it back underground, I be Bobby Boulders Wu-Tang Clan on yo' mind one time It's the jump off, so just jump off my nigga... HOOK: Paulissa Morgan Check out my gravel pit A mystery unraveling Wu-Tang is the CD that I travel with Don't go against the grain if you can't handle it [Meth] Ha, holla cross from the land of the lost Behold the pale horse, off course (off course) Follow me, Wu-Tang gotta be The best thing since stocks in Clark Wallabees [ZZZH] African killers bees black watch (black watch) On your radio, blowin out yo' watts [ZZZH] From Park Hill, the house on haunted hill Every time you walk by your back get a chill [BLBLBH!] Let's peel, who want to talk rap skills I spit like a semi-automatic to the grill [BOOM!] Elbow grease, and elbow room Baby play me, baby fall down, go boom [BOOM!] Party people gather round, count down to apocalypse [3, 2, 1...] [U-God] I'm the kid with the golden arms [Meth] And I'm the motherfuckin hott nikks [AAAAH!] pass the blunt My nigga don't front You had it for a minute but it seem like a month [COUGH] Now I'm chokin, smokin, hopin I don't croakin, from overdosin... Hey kid, [walk straight as a I...] Wu and Meth got you open (open), let's ride Can't stand niggas that floss too much Can't stand Bentleys they cost too much Kid wanna get up then kid get touched Kid wanna stick up then kid get stuck I'm the one that called your bluff When your boy tried to act tough... Remember what Old Dirty said, I'll fuck yo' ass up! Now listen [Meth over hook] Back, back and forth and forth Back, back and forth and forth Back, back and forth and forth As we go... Back, back and forth and forth Back, back and forth and forth Back, back and forth and forth As we go... [Ghostface] E with the English, extinguish styles extremist Bald head beamers run wild It's the kid with the gold cup Stepped out like what What's poppin, and y'all niggas dobo Blastin shae shae, chocolate shortae Rich color mocks, rock those all day 1960 shit I'm Goldie That's right motherfucker don't hold me The world's greatest, Las Vegas, paid as rock Skin painted on my face look ageless Perfect combos, Ghost bang out condos Jeff from Hamo, ex three bangos Bancos, stank hoes in plain clothes Change those, bang those, same old, same old [Raekwon] Yeah y'all, straight up this the jump off right here The gravel pit, word up represent, rock the boulders All my rich gangsta style, killers, y'all know what time it is Shorty do your thing, get up on that shit right now boo, do you That's what I'm talkin 'bout [U-God] Yo, step to my groove, move like this When we shoot the gift of course it's ruthless Grab the mic with no excuses In a sec, grab the techs and loot this Executin, shakin all sets, and I'm breakin all hecks I'm takin all bets, move all best, who want the dram' next You all stank, we got the bigger bank Bigger shank to fill your tank Still the same kill you for real, while you crank Slide, do or die, fry to bake Admire the greats, on fire wit a heart of hate Bitter shark, every part I take, heavy darts that quake It's okay, all fakes, get caught by the dropkicks You know the thrill, yes it's Park Hill Yo we hit 'em with the hot grits... On the go, check the flow, sayin Wu don't rock shit... Stop quick, hold the gossip, stop sweatin my pockets I hear the hot shit [Meth over hook to end] |
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4:43 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
Intro: (LP Version)
He looks determined without being ruthless Something heroic in this man, there's a courage about him Doesn't look like a killer Comes across so calm, acts like he has a dream Full of passion You don't trust me huh? Well you know why I do, we're not supposed to trust anyone in our profession anyway Intro Two: Raekwon the Chef Knock niggaz out the box all the time Bitches on my motherfuckin records Pah Big ones, yeah, big fuckers Straight up, fuck your whole team Yeah bust it Yo, yo, fly G.I. niggaz Chorus: Raekwon the Chef Now yo yo, whattup yo, time is runnin out It's for real though, let's connect politic - ditto! We could trade places, get lifted in the staircases Word up, peace incarcerated scarfaces Verse One: Raekwon the Chef Thug related style attract millions Fans, they understand my plan Who's the kid up in the green Land? Me and the RZA connect, blow a fuse, you lose Half-ass crews get demolished and bruised Fake be frontin, hourglass heads niggaz be wantin Shuttin down your slot; time for pumpin Poisonous sting which thumps up and act chumps Raise a heavy generator But yo, guess who's the black Trump? Dough be flowin by the hour's Wu, we got the collars, scholars Word life, peace to power and my whole unit Word up! Quick to set it, don't wet it Real niggas lick shots, peace kinetic Chorus Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef Chef'll shine like marble, rhyme remarkable Real niggaz raise up, spend your money, argue But this time is for the uninvited Go head and rhyme to it, big nigga mics is gettin fired Morphine chicks be burnin like chlorine Niggaz recognize from here to Baltimore to Fort Greene But hold up, Moet be tastin like throw-up My mob roll up, dripped to death whips rolled up Ya never had no wins, slidin in these dens wit Timbs Wit Mac-10's and broke friends Ya got guns, got guns too, what up son, do you wanna battle for cash and see who Sun too? I probably wax, tax, smack rap niggaz who fax niggaz lyrics is wack nigga Can't stand unofficial, wet tissue, blank bustin Scud missles You rollin like Trump, you get your meat lumped For real, it's just slang rap democracy Here's the policy, slide off the ring, plus the Wallabees Check the status, soon to see me at Caesar's Palace eatin salads We beatin mics and the keys to Dallas I move rhymes like retail, make sure shit sell From where we at to my man's cell From staircase to stage, minimun wage But soon to get a article in RapPage But all I need is my house, my gat, my Ac Bank account fat - it's goin' down like that And pardon the French but let me speak Italian Black Stallion, dwellin on Shaolin That means the island of Staten And niggaz carry gats and mad police from Manhattan Chorus Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef I do this for barber shop niggaz in the Plaza Catchin asthma, Rae is stickin gun-flashers Well-dressed, skatin through the projects wit big ones Broke elevators, turn the lights out, stick one upstairs, swithc like a chameleon Hip Brazilians, pass the cash or leave your children Leave the buildin Niggas, yo they be foldin' like envelopes under pressure Like Lou Farigno on coke Yo, Africans denyin niggaz up in yellow cabs Musty like funk, wavin they arms, the Arabs Sit back, coolin like Kahlua's on rocks On the crack spots, rubberband wrapped on my knots You bitches who fuck dreds on Sudafeds Pussy's hurtin, they did it for a yard for the Feds Word up cousin, nigga, I seen it Like a 27-inch Zenith - believe it! Chorus ...politic ditto ...get lifted in the staircases |
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4:19 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
Machine gun rap for all my niggaz in the back
Stadium packed, linebacker nigga flashback See through yellow lines Rock a fly jersey in the summertime God Magic marker rap, bleed Benatton Relaxed, wrote this, comin at cha crab ass cope and snatch ya ice off, chillin in the back, throw the lights off Waves, water blend, rhyme flow in slow motion Thick snare, I'm feelin like a snail in the ocean What's your wish? Wanna Kringle like Kris? Melodic single, dark snap a nigga just like fish You fucked up, some rich niggaz you done test yo Select the wrong apartment, and niggaz pulled up your dress Style molest that, canal chain nigga where ya vest at Flex'll make me wanna bless that, yo Saddam Hu-sane niggaz light the torch, we flamin niggaz Autograph that, flatten all the main niggaz It's Yourz! The world in the palm of your hand It's Yourz! Twenty-three million of useful land It's Yourz! The seed and the black wo-man It's Yourz! Double LP from Wu-Tang Clan It's Yourz! Yo, super freak physique. like Raphael Saadiq Baby love the ganja leaf, everday of the week Super friends wake up, deluxe gourmet beats The night is right, I might find me a suite It's a quarter full moon, now I ride with my swoon Well groomed, dance hall packed, full room Lady move, peep my glide, peep my zoom Keep in stride, smoke the lah smoke the boom Feel the fumes, consume toxic tunes Hell bound, species forty ounce typhoon The ultra-violet scream machine move your body touch The totem pole wobble Ark builders God rush Beams of light, stop ya breathin -- it's huntin season Honey eye-ballin down for no reason Grab her close, play post, wind and wax floors Never mind the laws, cause tonight It's Yourz Stop the fader of the RAM, pass my watts through my pre-amp Them can't stress the beat vamp the shit'll get blam at full throttle, hot lead propels throughout my nozzle Crack your soul like bottles, leave you stiff as models You fag, you couldn't pull one drag -- off my blunt You couldn't punch your way out of a wet paper bag with scissors in your hands -- bitch, the RZA I stand close to walls, like number four the lizard Enchant a few solar panels, blast off like Roman Candles Rap vandals, stomp your ass like Randall McDaniel You cocker spaniel dogs, can't fuck with our catalog Put your lights out and leave your brain inside a fog It's only natural, actual facts are thrown at you The impact'll blow trees back and crack statues Million dollar rap crews fold, check the sick shit explicit, I crystalize the rhyme so you can sniff it We live this, fitted hats low conceal the Crooked I No surprise, verbal stick up -- put em high Rebel I, outlaw, split second on the draw Blow the door off this shit, like bricks of C-4 It's Yourz! The world in the palm of your hand It's Yourz! Twenty-three million of useful land It's Yourz! The seed and the black wo-man It's Yourz! Double LP from Wu-Tang Clan It's Yourz! Check out my beaver, baby blue glock in the safe Seems Darthy and the God and get ski roll weight We hold a belt Son, that's my word Spot a rapper run him down, throw him out in the third, yo check it I think like the man behind a register Evergreen smokin estates, rhyme and power made me treasurer With third down, six to go flash his strobe lights I'm open RZA hit me off lovely and I love him With root beer thoughts, here's a tennis court for your birthday, the babyface of rap politic with Sade Avenging eagle crooks rock the "W" and "Spiegel" books Annheiser Busch kings came through, and stopped your whole jooks Spitfire Kangols, watch Tony train a gang of hoes Painful like hearin the news, like when your man go Ends blow, windy at times watch the room sheisty girl Love to sit out this song, now watch your water break It's Yourz! The world in the palm of your hand It's Yourz! Twenty-three million of useful land It's Yourz! The seed and the black wo-man It's Yourz! Double LP from Wu-Tang Clan It's Yourz! |
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5:00 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
[Method Man]
Yeah, torture motherfucker what? What? I'll fuckin I'll fuckin tie you to a fuckin bedpost With your ass cheeks spread out and shit Right? Put a hanger on a fuckin stove and let that shit sit there For like a half hour Take it off and stick it in your ass slow like Yeah, I'll fuckin Yeah I'll fuckin lay your nuts on a fuckin dresser Just your nuts layin on a fuckin dresser And bang them shits with a spiked fuckin bat Ooooohhhh Whassup? BLAOWWW!! I'll fuckin I'll fuckin pull your fuckin tongue out your fuckin mouth And stab the shit with a rusty screwdriver, BLAOWW!! I'll fuckin I'll fuckin I'll fuckin hang you by your fuckin dick Off a fuckin twelve sto-story building out this motherfucker I'll fuckin I'll fuckin Sew your asshole closed, and keep feedin you And feedin you, and feedin you, and feedin you [Genius] Yo, roll the dice, yo roll the dice Yo, so it's going down like that, huh? Yeah? Niggaz is wailin, check it out kid From the slums of Shaolin, Wu-Tang Clan strikes again The RZA, the GZA, Ol Dirty Bastard, Inspecktah Deck, Raekwon the Chef You-God, Ghost Face Killer and the Method Man M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN Hey, you, get off my cloud You don't know me and you don't know my style Who be gettin flam when they come to a jam? Here I am here I am, the Method Man Patty cake patty cake hey the method man Don't eat Skippy, Jif or Peter Pan Peanut butter, 'cause I'm not butter In fact I snap back like a rubber Band, I be Sam Sam I am And I don't eat green eggs and ham Style will hit ya, wham!, then goddamn You be like oh shit that's the jam Turn it up now hear me get buck wu-wu-wild I'm about to blow light me up Upside downside inside and outside Hittin you from every angle there's no doubt I am, the one and only Method Man The master of the plan wrappin shit like Saran Wrap, with some of this and some of that Hold up (what?) I tawt I tat I putty tat Over there, but I think he best to beware Of the diggy dog shit right here Yippy yippy yay yippy yah yippy yo Like Deck said this ain't your average flow Comin like rah ooh ah achie kah Tell me how ya like it so far baby paw The poetry's in motion coast to coast and Rub it on your skin like lotion What's the commotion, oh my lord Another corn chopped by the Wu-Tang sword Hey hey hey like Fat Albert It's the Method Man ain't no if ands about it It's the Method All right, y'all get ya White Owls, get ya meth, get ya skins Don't forget your forty And we gonna do it like this I got, fat bags of skunk I got, White Owl blunts And I'm about to go get lifted Yes I'm about to go get lifted I got, myself a forty I got, myself a shorty And I'm about to go and stick it Yes I'm about to go and stick it Uhh H-U-F-F huff and I puff Blow like snow when the cold wind's blowin Zoom, I hit the mic like boom Wrote a song about it like to hear it here it goes Question what exactly is a pantie raider Ill behavior savior or major flavor All of the above oh yeah plus I do so Also flam I'm the man call me super Not an average Joe with an average flow Doing average things with average hoes Yo I'm super I'll make a bitch squirm For my, Su-per Sperm (check it) Check it I give it to ya raw butt naked I smell sex pass the Method Let's get lifted as I kick ballistics Missiles and shoot game like a pistol Clip is loaded when I click bang dang A Wu-Tang slug hits your brain J-U-M-P jump and I thump Make girls rumps like pump and Humpty Hump Wow, the Shaolin style is all in me Child, the whole damn isle is callin me P-A-N-T-Y R-A-I-D-E-R mad raw I don't cry Meaning no one can burn or toss and turn me Ooh I be the super sperm Chim chimmeny chim chim cherie Freak a flow and flow fancy free Now how many licks does it take For me to hit the Tootsie Roll center of a break Peep and don't sleep the crews mad deep Wu-Tang Fading motherfuckers like bleach So to each and every crew You're clear like glass I can see right through You're whole damn posse be catchin' 'em all cause you vic'd And ya didn't have friends to begin with I'm M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN M-E-T, H-O-D, MAN Here I am, here I am, the Method Man [RZA] Straight from the slums of Shaolin Wu-Tang Killa Bee's on a swarm (Your soul have just been taken through the 36 chambers of death, kid) (Word to mother, Method Man signing off, peace) |
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4:48 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
The game of chess, is like a swordfight
You must think first, before you move Toad style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon When it's properly used, it's almost invincible Raw I'ma give it to ya, with no trivia Raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia My hip-hop will rock and shock the nation like the Emancipation Proclamation Weak MC's approach with slang that's dead you might as well run into the wall and bang your head I'm pushin' force, my force your doubtin' I'm makin' devils cower to the Caucus Mountains Well I'm a sire, I set the microphone on fire Rap styles vary, and carry like Mariah I come from the Shaolin slum, and the isle I'm from is comin through with nuff niggaz, and nuff guns so if you wanna come sweatin, stressin contestin you'll catch a sharp sword to the midsection Don't talk the talk, if you can't walk the walk Phony niggaz are outlined in chalk A man vexed, is what the projects made me Rebel to the grain there's no way to barricade me Steamrollin niggaz like a eighteen wheeler with the drunk driver drivin, there's no survivin Ruff like Timberland wear, yeah Me and the Clan, and yo the Landcruisers out there Peace to all the crooks, all the niggaz with bad looks Bald heads, braids, blow this hook We got chrome tecs, nickel plated macs Black axe, drug dealin styles in phat stacks I only been a good nigga for a minute though cuz I got to get my props, and win it yo I got beef wit commercial-ass niggaz with gold teeth lampin in a Lexus eatin beef Straight up and down don't even bother I got fourty niggaz up in here now, who kill niggaz fathers My peoples are you with me where you at? In the front, in the back killa-bees on attack my peoples are you with me where you at? Smokin meth hittin caps on the block with the gat Here I go, deep type flow Jacque Cousteau could never get this low..I'm cherry bombin shits... BOOM Just warmin up a little bit, vroom vroom Rappinin is what's happenin Keep the pockets stacked and then, hands clappin and At the party when I move my body Gotta get up, and be-eeeee somebody! Grab the microphone put strength to the bone DUH-DUH-DUH...enter the Wu-Tang zone Sure enough when I rock that stuff Guff puff?? I'm gonna catch your bluff tuff rough, kickin rhymes like Jim Kelly or Alex Haley im a Mi-..Beetle Bailey rhymes comin raw style, hardcore Niggaz be comin to the hip-hop store Comin to buy gro-cery from me Tryin to be a hip-hop MC The law, in order to enter the Wu-Tang You must bring the Ol' Dirty Bastard type slang Represent the GZA, Abbott, RZA, Shaquan, Inspectah Deck Dirty Hoe gettin low wit his flow Introducin, the Ghost..face.. Killah!! No one could get illa Speakin of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right Mega trife, and yo I killed you in a past life On the mic while you was kickin that fast shit You reneged tried again, and got blasted Half mastered ass style mad ruff task When I struck I had on Timbs and a black mask Remember that shit? I know you don't remember jack That night yo I wuz hittin like a spiked bat and then you thought I was bugged out, and crazy strapped for nonsense, after me became lazy Yo, nobody budge while I shot slugs Never shot thugs, I'm runnin with thugs that flood mugs So grab your eight plus one, start flippin and trippin Niggaz is jettin I'm lickin off son [Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang!!!!] Homicide's illegal and death is the penalty What justifies the homicide, when he dies? In his own iniquity it's the Master of the Mantis Rapture comin at cha We have an APB on an MC Killer Looks like the work of a Master Evidence indicates that's it's stature Merciless like a terrorist hard to capture The flow, changes like a chameleon Plays like a friend, and stabs you like a dagger This technique attacks the immune system Disguised like a lie paralyzin the victim You scream, as it enters your bloodstream Erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain Novin on a nigga with the speed of a centipede and injure - ANY MOTHERFUCKIN CONTENDER |
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3:06 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
I roll like a bat out of hell Evil
acapell's fly spittin out of my grill Before I hit the sky with springtime colors Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads double dutch this They carve it in they wrist, pales berry blazes Straighten the crumbs left on the stove, clothes in my lady hair Plus yours the look gold God, the old tainted bald technique Got these vestibules designer niggaz in they whips jumpin out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part II We like Dorothy Hamill on ice We in your hood we might circle, hats down low in the Range Switch lanes, change my tire, peel out Real loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your hood kid I shitted on your hood, got to your burner too late I'm lookin real good, draped out Shinin like a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend, c'mere Oh shit, you my man's niece, the gourmet pocket twenty bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take place We fucked in forty-eight shades might walk up in your studio time slap your engineer, it's lighter fluid to that style Hand me the matches now Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef Aiyyo rainbow Roley on the wrist, now what's this Niggaz bless this, eight and a half, Bally banana twist E shakes, puffin on lye, feedin the seed's plate Pullin out, old dirty eights to rob gates Major wake up, the kid telltales, make a nigga head wake up Beats break, the nigga would take off his time Honolulu status, gladdest the rich rock cabbage and dollar vans grands That nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of Justice Niggaz came clumped out Just came home, now they bunked out Money be longer than triple life til the sun burn out, that's my word Move it with the burner out Fidel way of thinkin, roll with the Mac bent Ac-10 Most of my team, Five Percent check what the live said Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians yo holdin my nuts, fuckin thousand dollar lesbians [Ghost] Yo, the Older God put me on and had to rock this [both] Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live prosperous [Ghost] It only takes a lesson a day, just to analyze life [both] one time in the respectable mind repeat Let the shot spark, soon as his pit bull barks Tire scars from skid marks leaves from jams in school parks Witness, forget his, original statement Even in protection programs there's no escapement Gunned down, we in town, hit king from seven crowns Spent rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge Wounded, back in the eighty-three summer heat Up in three-oh-nine park, rhymin off the drummer's beat I stalk the city streets demonstratin mic wrecks All lookin stank, I ain't playin wit a full deck And as they nervously stare, I know they scared They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in Times Square Household name, assassin, killa bee Mill to the grain, that posess the Wu, trilogy Quick to spot those that bite camoflouge and blend Those that got styles, they got identical twins Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are finnicky without skills, they master the art of mimicry But I go line for line on the whole page Your unspotted life on the mic is old age rocket |
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4:52 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
watch ya step kid
watch ya step kid watch ya step kid watch ya step kid watch ya step kid watch ya step kid I smoke on the mic like smokin Joe Frazier The hell raiser raisin hell with the flavor Terrorize the jam like troops in Pakistan Swingin through your town like your neighborhood Spiderman So uhh tic toc and keep tickin While I get ya flippin off the shit I'm kickin The Lone Ranger code red danger Deep in the dark with the art to rip charts apart The vandal too hot to handle Ya battle you're sayin Goodbye like Tevin Campbell Roughneck Inspector Deck's on the set The rebel I make more noise than heavy metal The way I make the crowd go wild sit back relax won't smile Rae got it goin on pal call me the rap assassinator Rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger And I'ma get mad deep like a threat blow up your project Then take all your assets Cause I came to shake the frame in half With the thoughts that bomb shit like math So if ya wanna try to flip go flip on the next man Cause I grab the clip and Hit ya with sixteen shots and more I got Goin to war with the meltin pot hot It's the Method Man for short Mr Meth Movin on your left And set it off get it off let it off like a gat I wanna break full cock me back Small change they puttin shame in the game I take aim and blow that nigga out the frame And like Fame my style'll live forever Niggaz crossin over but they don't know no better But I do true can I get a sue Nuff respect due to the one six I mean ohh yo check out the flow like the Hudson or PCP when I'm dustin Niggaz off because I'm hot like sauce The smoke from the lyrical Ooh what grab my nut get screwed Oww here comes my Shaolin style True B A B Y U to my crew with the suuue Yo ya best protect ya neck First things first man you're fuckin with the worst I'll be stickin pins in your head like a fuckin nurse I'll attack any nigga who's slack in his mack Come fully packed with a fat rugged stack Shame on you when you stepped through to The Ol Dirty Bastard straight from the Brooklyn Zoo And I'll be damned if I let any man Come to my center you enter the winter Straight up and down that shit packed jam You can't slam don't let me get fool on him man The Ol Dirty Bastard is dirty and stinkin Ason Unique rollin with the night of the creeps Niggaz be rollin with a stash ain't sayin cash bite my style I'll bite your motherfuckin ass For cryin out loud my style is wild so book me Not long is how long that this rhyme took me Ejectin styles from my lethal weapon My pen that rocks from here to Oregon Here's Mordigan catch it like a psycho flashback I love gats if rap was a gun you wouldn't bust back I come with shit that's all types of shapes and sounds And where I lounge is my stompin grounds I give a order to my peeps across the water To go and snatch up props all around the border And get far like a shootin star Cause who I are is dim in the light of Pablo Escobar Point blank as I kick the square biz There it is you're fuckin with pros and there it goes Yo chill with the feedback black we don't need that It's ten o'clock hoe where the fuck's your seed at Feelin mad hostile ran the apostle Flowin like Christ when I speaks the gospel Stroll with the holy roll then attack the globe with the buckus style the ruckus ten times ten men committin mad sin Turn the other cheek and I'll break your fuckin chin Slayin boom bangs like African drums Comin around the mountain when I come Crazy flamboyant for the rap enjoyment My clan increase like black unemployment Yeah another one dare G Gka Genius Take us the fuck outta here The Wu is too slammin for these Cold Killin labels Some ain't had hits since I seen Aunt Mabel Be doin artists in like Cain did Abel Now they money's gettin stuck to the gum under the table That's what ya get when ya misuse what I invent Your empire falls and ya lose every cent For tryin to blow up a scrub Now that thought was just as bright as a 20 watt light bulb Should of pumped it when I rocked it Niggaz so stingy they got short arms and deep pockets This goes on in some companies With majors they're scared to death to pump these First of all who's your A&R A mountain climber who plays an electric guitar But he don't know the meaning of dope When he's lookin for a suit and tie rap that's cleaner than a bar of soap And I'm the dirtiest thing in sight Matter of fact bring out the girls and let's have a mud fight You best protect ya neck You best protect ya neck You best protect ya neck |
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5:22 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
Reunited cuz it feels so good (Yo, yo, niggaz ain't shit) Reunited cuz we're understood (Your bitch ain't shit) There's one perfect thing and (Your momma ain't shit) children this one is it (Your daddy ain't shit) We both we're so excited cuz (You ain't shit) we're reunited, hey! hey! (Niggaz ain't shit Your momma ain't shit Your daddy ain't shit You ain't shit, you ain't shit Yo, yo) Reunited, double LP, world excited Struck a mass to the underground, industry ignited from metaphorical parables to fertilize the Earth Wicked niggaz come, try to burglarize the turf Scattin off soft-ass beats, them niggaz rap happily Tragically, that style, de-ter-iate, rapidly Uncompleted missions, throwin your best known compositions You couldn't add it up, if you mastered addition Where I come from, gettin visual is habitual De-mon-strate walkin on hot coal, in rituals I splash the paint on the wall, it formed the mural He took a look, saw the manifestation of it, was plural Rhymin while impaired, dart hit your garment Pierced your internals, streamlined compartments Just consider the unparallel advantage of a natural disaster that's impossible to manage I'm known on the microphone as the rap professor Casual dresser, you may dress fresher The way that I speak this shit is energetic My physique of meat is quick atheletic Remove all MC's who disapprove that my funky fresh particle always have the groove You're jealous over me because you're not a competitor You're just a donor, I'm the rap editor Tryin to rock the mic when you get an appetite All negative on the mic, I dislike Try to rock the mic but only will reduce Try to get loose, you juice as a youth Not knowin to yourself that you shall be frozen I'm the MC warrior, who has been chosen to rock and shock beats, polite when I recite Sulfur MC's, you are down right, out right Try to be talkative, there's no alternative Hide until I forgive, this motive I am unique with the perfected physique The objective of my rhyme is my own technique I maintain the paradise on this Earth with the shut the fuck up style for what this shit is worth Watch a nigga catch a purse Super-hero niggaz die Do my dirt, get away and multiply You bitches, ya nice guys Always want bitch, because ya need mine I pleased on how I get up on the stage and fuck up the show Cuz nobody can't fuck with me! You bootleggin buyin motherfuckers, don't do that with me with all these child-support cases I got, I needs my money! Earl for ages, a 100 and down, sacrifice ya baby to the underground The best kept secret, how does it feel to be boxin in like a skeleton, growin back ya skin? When I was young, I was taught how to produce the science of babies gettin loose I turned white boys to Springsteen spruce Black to spooks, gave the Chinese Bruce I can't help it if my style is foggy, monster boogie Get ya high on my patio, all come to see me movie Bicthes, you're walkin on my dirt We ain't sayin nuthin I whisper in ya ear, make ya blink cold Pert Love potion, plenty bones I put up What!? What!? What!? What!? You know what time it is, mothefuckers! Reunited and it feels so good (It's Wu mothefuckers) Reunited cuz we're understood (ah, Wu-Tang motherfuckers) There's one perfect thing and children this one is it We both we're so excited cuz we're reunited, hey! hey! (It's Wu motherfuckers ah, Wu-Tang motherfuckers It's Wu motherfuckers ah, Wu-Tang motherfuckers It's Wu motherfuckers ah, Wu-Tang motherfuckers) I want to give a big shout out to the Wu-Tang Clan. We holdin it down. YouknowI'msayin? I also want to show mad love to Puffy cuz you holdin it down. Master P, you holdin it down. KnowI'msayin? Dr.Dre, you holdin it down. Give Snoop my love, E-40. MC Eiht, West Coast, word is bond. This is family, I don't give a fuck! Striaght up. It's Dirt Dog, nigga! Y'all niggaz know how the fuck I get down! knowI'msayin? I'm here to represent this shit! KnowImean? I love y'all niggaz! Motherfucker, my stomach hurts! Bitch, I got to go! (ah, Wu-Tang motherfuckers...) |
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4:00 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008) | |||||
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2:57 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
[martial arts movie sample] Yeah, yo, aight Pass the meth! (nizzuh nzza punk nigguh, yeah!) Yeah, aight kick the raw style, yeah Fly that fuckin sack Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga Wu buck wild with the trigger! Shame on a nigga who tr |
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2:42 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
[Oh, fuck, you can't even sing]
Hey, baby, I like it rawww... Yeah baby, I like it raawww!!! 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 fifty two 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!!! (Repeat) |
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5:38 |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
What y'all think you wasn't gonna see me? I'm the Osiris of this shit Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfucker It's like this ninety-seven Aight my niggaz and niggarettes Let's do it like this I'ma rub your ass in moonshine Let's take it back to seventy-nine I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies and high prophecies can't define how I be droppin these mockeries, ally perform armed robbery Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics I inspect you, through the future see millenium Killa B's sold fifty gold sixty platinum Shackling the matches with drastic rap tactics Graphic displays melting the steel like blacksmiths Black Wu jackets queen B's ease the guns an' Rumblein patrolmen teargas laced the function Heads by the score take flight incite a war Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock Wu got it locked, performin live on your hottest block As the world turns, I spread like germs Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn It's my testament that does burn Play my position in the game of life, standing firm on foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack and A Streetcar Named Desire, who got my back? In the line of fire holding back, what? My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at? Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to push my big cap It's court adjourned, for the bad seed from bad sperm Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood clot, we smoke blunts and blow spots You wanna think twice, I think not The Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's coming from Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone Rip through your slums I twist darts from the heart, tried and true Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking Tell your story walking Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid Run for your team, and your six camp rhyme groupies So I can squeeze with the advantage, and get wasted My deadly nose reigns supreme Your fort is basic compared to mine Domino effect, arts and crafts Paragraphs contain cyanide Take a free ride on my dart, I got the fashion catalogues for all y'all to all praise to the Gods The saga continues Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow For, judgment day cometh, conquer, it's war Allow us to escape, hell blows spinning bomb Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms Tune strictly shitty Mortal Kombat sound The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas My music Sicily, rich California smell An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin on ginseng Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga who was sober Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like Flare Escape from your Dragon's Lair, in particular My beats travel like a vortex, through your spine to the top of your cerebral cortex Make you feel like you bust a nut for raw sex Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream now terminal, like Grand Central Station Program fat baselines, eye-no-vation Getting drunk like a fucking skunk on five-year probation War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous Many of the victim family save they ashes A million names on walls engraved in plaques Those who went back, received penalties for the axe Another hard nigga torn, close ones gone Those who stray and fuck-up get slayed by the song The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds and leaks sounds that's heard ninety-three million miles away from came one to represent the Nation, this is a gathering of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage The high chief Jamel-I-Reef take the stage Light is provided through sparks of energy from the mind that travels in rhyme form Giving sight to the blind The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum Death only one can save shell from This relentless attack of the track spares none Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back Lampin like the million black womens on my man's rag Codeine was forced in your drink You had a Navy Green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb Blowin |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008)
Winter Warz
Wu-Tang Clan Winter Warz It's on.. (Cappa) Where your sparkle at kid? Ryzarector.. (Break: Raekwon the Chef) Yes the shit is raw, comin at your door Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang's back for more Yes the hour's four, I told you before Prepare for mic fights (and plus the cold war) (Verse One: U-God) This rhyme you digest through the RZA console Ask why I slam nine diagram pole Raekwon dropped the bomb, Hunchback, Norte Dame Golden Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu'ran It blows extreme, mean stream be the theme Supreme team, America's Cream Team, redeemed Vidal Sassoon, chrome tones hear the moans of Al Capone Gun POW to the dome And split the bone, wig blown off the ledge By the alledged, full-fledged, sledge RZA edge One dose of my feroc(ious) handheld trigga cuts Acapella spittin shell paralyzed when you get touched And critical mic cords, hangin like umbilical Cords, dope swords, five star general Raw be the quote rap style sore throat Through the fully operational, hand held tote mm-hmm (Break: (first two lines) (Verse Two: Ghostface Killah) More than a thousand times one, snatch up my styles get done I hold a title, enhanced how my belt was won, check it Slick majestic, broke mics are left infected Germs start to spread through your crew, drew like an epic You asked for it, shot up the jams like syringes My technique alone blows doors straight off the hinges Masked Avenger, I appear to blow your ear like wind With a freestyle, sharper than the Indian spear So sit back and let the king explore Describe me, the kid's nice and he holds swords And his name, black attack's the nerve like migraines With more games than beggars on trains, livid sharp pains Poisonous Rebel like Deck, you can't destroy this You get ambushed, skate, try to avoid this Side effects of, hot raps and hot tracks A duffle bag full of guns son, dipped in black My culture, glides and attacks just like a vulture Ghostface in Madison Square is on your poster (Break) (Verse Three: Masta Killa) Be on the lookout for this mass murderous suspect That fills more body bags than apartments in projects And as far as the coroners know The autopsy show, it was a Shaolin blow Put on by my family brought to the academy of the Wu and learned how to fuck up yo' anatomy, steadily, calm and deadly Spatter-head lyrics I lick through your transmit MC's submit to the will as I kill your juvenile freestyle, civilize the men-tal Devils worship this like an icon Bear-huggin mics with the grips of a python (Break) (Verse Four: Cappadonna) You heard of the rasp before but kept waitin for the sun of song, I keep dancehalls strong Beats never worthy of my cause, I prolong Extravangza, time sits still No propoganda, be wary of the skill As I bring forth the music, make love to your eardrum Dedicated to rap nigga beware of the fearsome Lebanon Don, Malcolm X beat threat CD massacre, murder to cassette I blow the shop up, you ain't seen nuttin yet One man ran, tryin to get away from it Put your bifocal on, watch me a-cometh into your chamber like Freddy enter dream Discombumberate your technique and your scheme Four course applause, like a black dat to dat You're stuck on stupid like I'm stuck on the map Nowhere to go except next show bro Entertainin motherfuckers can't stop O in battlin, you don't want me to start tattlin All upon the stage cause y'all snakes keep rattlin Bitch, you ain't got nothin on the rich Every other day my whole dress code switch So just in case you want to clock me like Sherry All y'all crab bitches ain't got to worry Can't get a nigga like Don dime a dozen Even if I'm smoked out I can't be scoped out I'm too ill, I represent Park Hill See my face on the twenty dollar bill Cash it in, and get ten dollars back The fat LP with Cappachino on the wax Pass it in your think, put valve up to twelve Put all the other LP's back on the shelf And smoke a blunt, and dial 9-1-7 1-6-0-4-9-3-11 And you could get long dick hip-hop affection I damage any MC who step in my direction I'm Staten Island's best son fuck what you heard Niggaz still talkin that shit is absurd My repotoire, is U.S.S.R. P.L.O. style got thrown out the car and ran over, by the Method Man jeep Divine can't define my style is so deep like pussy, my low cut fade stay bushy like a porcupine, I part backs like a spine Cut you like a blunt and reconstruct your design I know you want to diss me, but I can read your mind Cuz you weak in the knees, like SWV Tryin to get a title like Wu Killa Bee Kid change your habit, you know I'm friends with the Abbott Me and RZA ridin name printed in the tablet under vets, we paid our debts for mad years Hibernate the sound, and now we out like beers and blunt power, born physically power speakin The truth in the song be the pro-black teachin |
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3:36 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - Wu: The Story Of The Wu-Tang Clan (2008) | |||||
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| from Speedy - Flight Risk\ (2008) | |||||
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from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
[Intro: kung fu sample from
"8 Diagram Pole Fighter"] Today I'll talk about kindness Justice, faith and kindness I want you to listen carefully Kindness and faith, are the foundation Without them, we can't become good people And with justice, we know we can lead a good life And how can I be a good man then, eh? Well, first of all, you have to practice honesty Uhmm... Keep your temper, never lose control of yourself Keep control... Be patient, if you learn to do these things, you can master anything [Chorus: The Persuasions "Gypsy Woman" sample] Out of nowhere, there came a caravan This was around a campfire light A lovely woman in motion Her hair was as dark as the night [Method Man] Cruising on the interstate, just follow while I innovate Too many try and imitate, medallion like a dinner plate Front and get ya dinner ate, chinchilla for the winter, wait I'm trying to bring the "Sexy Back" like Timbaland and Timberlake Spitting like a calico, kush from a Cali hoe Tell that joker "tally ho", put shots in that Denali, yo RZA you know how we go, on them 20's, that's how we roll And I don't eat berries but eat a Berry like Halle though The game criminal, my, my chain figaro My, my dames pigeon-toed, I'm still the same nigga though Uh, kid rock a fitted low, still got a wicked flow And I'm like Barry Bonds on anything that RZA throw [Ghostface Killah] On anything that RZA throw, Ironman's invisible I left my chick for cheating on me, now that bitch is miserable Popping bottles, painting hella Wallo's on my physical We gon' have a ball, might as well pick a testicle Purple haze festivals, smoke a nigga like a bowl F**k a coma, now the state you laying is a vegetable You wanna see me? Like you ain't checkable You like a CD, I burn you and I wrecked a few... [Chorus] [Interlude: kung fu sample (RZA)] Only God, has lept into avenged mind And can, distinguish good, from evil Hahaha (Aiyo Cappa) [Cappadonna] We gotta get more cake together, so we could branch out Preserve land, get a boat and a ranch house Call me a dreamer, but I hustle for real You thought that I fell off but now I'm attacking the field All in Chicago, grinding, putting it down Crush blocks of MC's, I ain't playing around Yo, you heard me on The Bassment, giving it to 'em Fake dudes hiding theyself, but I could see through 'em Diggler, what? I'm trying to live and raise kids While you throwing up ya sign, I'm laying 'em down, kid Plus, I'm back home now, doing my thing Thirty dollars to Medina just to cop me a ring [Chorus 2X] [Outro: kung fu sample] A good friend, holds his drink Bad company makes bad wine! Drinking among friends Red wine means a good life A few drinks bring comfort Two drinks are enough Money can't buy courage Riches mean nothing to us Brilliant, a display of genius |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
[Intro: Method Man]
If you got it, light it up [8X] [Method Man] Ain't no shook in 'em, Pyrex pots is hot, fiends is cooking 'em Little niggaz hugging the block, cops is booking 'em Women hugging they purse when they spot the crook in 'em Back when little J got shot, pops was whooping 'em Little noses dripping with snot, ock, now look at 'em The ghetto got a hook in 'em now, drugs, stay pushing 'em Used to throwing dirt in these blunts, now, it's kush in 'em Used to tell these chicks to shut up, now, he's shooshing 'em Get cash, get that ass, or put a foot in 'em Iron Flag, flag that cab, Bedford and Put-e-nam There ain't no puss in 'em, dick, dildo, or gush in 'em Niggaz still got that juks in 'em [Chorus 2X: Ghostface Killah (Raekwon)] If he front then we stomp 'em out (Get 'em out ya way pa) If he drunk and he run his mouth (Get 'em out ya way pa) If he front then we stomp 'em out (Get 'em out ya way pa) (Get 'em out ya way pa, move, move, move) [U-God] I'm seduced by the chrome, it's a ruthless poem It took a little time to get his juices going Producers know him, as the kid with the Iron Palm Righteous hammer, examine the firearm Approach or get fired on, permanent chest scar Empire Strikes Back, check out the Death Star Bless y'all, wet y'all, do the impossible Where I'm from, we use dum-dums in the arsenal Highly sparkable, get stretched off the knuckle check Known to scuffle, I take it to the upper deck Universal conquest, kung fu, buckle vets In a dufflebag, max yo, a couple techs Give 'em ear hustle, Wu brand, we programmed Next time we dance, it won't be a slow jam I fear no man, son, you get lynched up Nigga bitch, get Frankenstein stitched up [Chorus] [Masta Killa] Yeah, voice skipping off percussion Give it to 'em how they love it, slow flow, deadly, beloved All praise, the daunting, calm yet So alarming, without a word being spoken A thought with no voice, just a nod and a look The contract was took, straight cash, off the books A major pawn took a Don, look, he's armed With a few black rooks from the heart of the Crook Shook ones look while they hung him on Hercules hooks They found his body near a shallow brook, escaped on foot Switched the look up, out of state, he got the hook up The flipped cake, thought lighter than the feather Yet heavier than weight, when my mindstate starts to break, take cover Over RZA instrumental, I'm damn near invincible, it's simple [Chorus 2X] [Outro: kung fu sample] Tell me, what are they like? They got holes in the top, five round holes While I was watching, this stranger, hit them But his fingers went right through the bone So then, they've... mastered it It's some style of kung fu, you know it? The Skeleton Claw |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
We got butter
We got butter Gonna go Gonna go One thing for sure keep you a vault Keep a nice crib fly away Keep to the point Keep niggas outta your face who snakes Keep bitches in their place keep the mac in a special place Keep movin for papes Keep cool Keep doin what you doin Keep it fly keep me in the crates Cause I will erase shit on a real note yous a waste Its right here for you I will lace you Rip you embrace you Put a nice w up on your face Word to mother you can get chase It s nothing to taste Blood on a thug If he gotta go All I know is We be giving grapes This is a place from where we make tapes We make them everywhere stealing all We be making base You’ll be making pace These little niggas they be making shapes Our shit is art yours is trace This is the way that we roll in the street You know when we roll we be packing the heat Gonna go Gonna go Gonna go Gonna go Gonna go Gonna go This is poverty island man these animals don’t run Slums where the ambulance don’t come Who got the best base fiends waiting to smoke some Approach son Ask him where he getting that coke from My dudes hug blocks like samurai shogun Cause no v and no ones Equalin no fun Who wanna treat they know huh Body to go numb A woman need funds plus her hair and her toes done It is what it is though You F**k with the kid flow You make it harder to dough the harder the get go Harder to pimp flow harder when it snow The pinky and the wrist glow Cause here we live fo Get guap and get low But first off you gotta get the work off To get from the curse boss Yeah See im the shit Them dirt on the fifth know Hustling from the get go The motto is get mo This is the way that we roll in the street You know when we roll we be packing the heat Gonna go gonna go gonna go gonna go gonna go We was quiet flashy brothers Strapped all along with the dirty 38 long 12 hour shift gate took case in state you think he wont hold his weight put the money on the plate and watch it get scraped We get ape up in that club Off that juice and hen And its an no win situation F**king with them You mean like Ewen at the front of the rim Finger roll a dutch Million dollar stage is touched Techs gauges bust Trust no one The lone shogun Rugged tim boots stompa Damaging lyrical mass distruction laucher Nothing can calm the quakage When I break kid Peace to my brothers up north Doing state bids This is the way we be rollin in the street You know when we roll that we be packing the heat Gonna go gonna go gonna go gonna go gonna go This is the way we be rollin in the club You know when we roll that we be packing 32 slugs Gonna go gonna go gonna go gonna go gonna go |
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4:15 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007) | |||||
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5:37 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007) | |||||
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from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
Peace to the God peace dog
Pull out a little liquor Shame on a nigga I heard the reapa' done came to get'cha So I done copped this fifth a vodka and in ya honor I grown this fetish for loose ladies and baby mommas Some say it's bad Karma what you do Man it come back on ya Music gotta support them crack corners Now Imma swallow this whole bottle for Ol' Dirty Damn it hurts me I hate it when brothers go early I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending Word to my son he gone remember you Rubbin' on a statue in his lab that resemble you and what it meant to Wu Us formin' like a family you just blew You was the chess piece on the board that made us look true Watchin' ya pen swish you loved fryin' kingfish You da pearl in the ocean I'm up on the land pissed Now you movin' more prestigious Me Hittin' the streets I know it's real guess I slept with the black Jesus I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I became weak when I heard that his body expired It was hard for me to believe that my brother retired Suddenly the clock stopped and the room started spinnin' How can he walk off the field durin' the first innin' I cried like a baby on the way to his pace of death Hate not bein' there the minutes before he left Now I'm in the booth 10 feet from where he lay dead I think about him on this song and what he might have said I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending When I first heard the word I needed air to clear my head I know you didn't say what I thought you said my brother's dead you crazy Another dirty prank to get the family cranked up niggas shouldn't play like that I know how you feel god but it's real and I still can't believe and my heart still grieves the loss Ason Unique loved wine and fine women we singin' on tour ooo baby we like it raw I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I popped a bottle on your dog tried hard not to cry I still can't hide the scars And I still ask why to God Alalyzin' ya form as I stood ther beside ya moms And I share the blame cuz you was callin' for help kid Shoulda coulda woulda had the time I was selfish I carry on your struggle each day it really hurts me I really miss you Russel hope you forgive me Dirty I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending On the crash and put my fist through Shout out to Dirty that the whole world missed yo Reach out and kissed you in your coffin my heart races I drop tears and watch my nigga fall form greatness It's all wasted flushed down the drain and Soon as the news hit me I bust out with pain and Rivers I cried my brother just dies Imma see you my nigga on the other side I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending Ah man how do I say goodbye It's always the good ones that have to die It's hard to live without you God I said no doubt you when you said that the passion of Christ was all about you From the God mobile to to Brownsville Florida to Ohio to Portlan to Park Hill You interrupt the Grammy's said Wu for the kids Took four five shots when they rushed in your crib Crack ya ribs cops shot ya whip You been chased by the pigs on a four year bid Crashed cars still came out without a scar They try to keep your free spirit trapped in a jar So you'll keep your mouth shut And won't tell the world who's who and what's what and prolly go nuts How we treat them hoes How we treat them hoes I'll go through life pretending that time will change the ending Mistakes behind me cast shadows to remind me |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
Aiyo we came through thumping
like elephants The new Range is super charged I remains intelligent Back to the formula lord hard grammar This is God school make sure the lobby ain't jammed up Excalibur swords T Rexes bibles of rhymes We in the lunchroom weed and veggies for breakfast Polo campus sicker lances the crisp Hundred dollar kick niggas that be showing you hand steps Back to the dormatory where niggas Broke my forearm and index finger now you write glory True holding my flag it's all engraved in my blade So when I wave it you gon' say Rae mad Now 28 Days Later now Wu's up do something you can't It's blood in my eye I might get amped To rip something down the billboard holders is back So when you see me you gon' say he gets down From darkness to DNA I move with my brother And we resonate energy that shifts in colors Bringing MC's punishment then I'm done with it The meter leave way on the fast break I run with it It was not a hobby but a childhood passion That had started in the lobby and was quicky fashioned Every line to line bar for bar is clockwork Hazardous and powerful enough to have your block hurt Check the total amount of MC's inflicted With torture from moving with work that's restricted We criticize producers til they joints are right Then acupuncture the track with pinpoints of light Hitting them from well conced firing positions With explosiveness that'll make the deaf listen Drastic pyroclastic connected with the same old Down the dangerous slopes of an active volcano Bill like the Green Bay Packers sack like the linebackers Hang with niggas like redneck crackers Strangle cold bottles of Beck's like a vexed German Duck low behind the car my tech burning Neck burning from eight karats of sunlight Absorbed in the grill Big Pun like Lord of the Wu Tang sword know what that means Like J R Tolkien it's the Lord of the Rings This is my man Chef auto like Grand Theft Auto The 18th letter followed by the mark of Zorro Plus A not for apple but I pack an apple Shorty try to buck back and knock me off the saddle Caramel pecan sundae Pregline Plump breasts was filled with saline Her big booty cousin nasty Nadine Get you on the floor whore tried to double team Is he still that nucca Is he in the hood like that Is he really strapped Will he really split yo' shit I thought you said he rap Pull up in the yard ten sets He ain't flexing microphone ripping heat holding Who testing Rope a dope his black lotus Can't quote this chat with the sword tongue Duck when the axe is swinging wild Apache drum Crazy Horse kicking his thoughts he won't quit Can't tell em nothing he grown give the man room Space was demanded beat banging through the speaker Voice heat seek missle guided at the listener Swing to the gospel catch up and wet at the brothel Unstoppable direction of my flow optional To the ear depending on the current of air the crowd's in |
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from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007)
She's my number one gangsta chick
She's my number one drafted pick I only wanna see it Anything she say you know I'm gonna do You'se a starter like Candice Parker Take flight like Skywalker might wolf it on ya father Still the athlete play of the week G P A 4 0 and the game's complete Skintone buttercream all defensive team Dreamgirl like Jennifer Hudson you're my Queen To be I'm ya King keep ya under the wing Together we can capture the ring You the human highlight body type just right Hairdo stay tight go hard ball all night Allstar shine so bright Hall of famer about to take the game to new heights You're my number one draft pick Madonna classic No look dunks to the basket yeah that's mine that's mine She's my number one gangsta chick She's my number one drafted pick I only wanna see it Anything she say you know I'm gonna do Blunt smoke fifth hundred stroke I'm going nuts full clip shoot up her fat lips And round butt catch Heat when I'm In Too Deep The answer beeps she take dives on the busiest streets Whatever situation or the circumstances Outdoor indoor she's taking the chances Hotel motel or Holiday Inn Overlooking that bible she continued to sin Spread wide on the desk paperwork all in a mess While the ceiling fan blowing her dress Ten minutes of jerking along with the slurping Her skirt hid her talent until I raised the curtains Showtime at the Apollo she'll follow my lead Then get on her knees then swallow her pride Strapped and ready to ride She's my number one gangsta chick She's my number one drafted pick I only wanna see it Anything she say you know I'm gonna do Yeah that's my down bitch That's my down bitch anything she do for her man If it's lying on the stand fish frying in the pan She a Queen like Liz the third wicked curves On her word stay still rocking linens and furs While she do it in the sack jazz music in the back Flat blew a nigga back act two I'm into that Damn right she the star of my team When we stepped on the strip baby girl we the heart of the scene Whether Brooklyn Bronx Manhattan or Queens Staten Island she styling if not she's not seen Playboy status every man's lust She acting all shy but she likes handcuffs I'm the first on the court first to hit the dance floor The floss in this rap sport what more can ya ask for Let ya glass pour Wu Tang is here now All my Independent Women time to let ya hair down Bottles popping everything is fair ground Fresh legs window shopping can't help to stare it down You'se a starter cuz I chose ya first Baby you'se a starter where you throw that skirt Lady you'se a starter where ya hold it down Yeah I'm Cold Blooded then ya love my style This is rush hour traffic first one to merk off It's like clockwork first to get ya work off I'm the workhorse Killa Bee performer Pro darter starter not a bench warmer what She's my number one gangsta chick She's my number one drafted pick I only wanna see it Anything she say you know I'm gonna do |
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4:13 |
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| from Wu-Tang Clan - 8 Diagrams (2007) | |||||
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