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Lyrics
Up from the 36 Chambers Heheh, it's the Ghost Face Killah Wu-Tang Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm The RZA, the GZA, Ol Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, you-God Ghost Face Killer, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, the Master Killer Raw Desire, LeVon, Power Cipher Twelve O'Clock, Sixty Second Assassin, the 4th Disciple The Brand White K.D. the Down Low Wrecka, Shyheim AKA The Rugged Child Doo-Doo Wales, Mista Hezakiah, better known as the Yin and the Yang The Tru Masta, Asan, DJ Skane, The Tru Robocop comin' through Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the Civilized The Shaolin Soldiers, Daddy-O and Popa Ron Comin' down from the motherfuckin' South end of things Killa beez all over your fuckin' planet Thirty-six chambers of death Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles Choppin' off your motherfuckin' dome Peace, and every fuckin' borough Crooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island The motherfuckin' Bronx, killa beez The sword? come on, give him the sword Clan in da front, let your feet stomp Niggas on the left, brag shit to death Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, come on and attract to The Wu is comin' through, the outcome is critical Fuckin' wit my style, is sort of like a Miracle On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald- Ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow 'cause the hoe didn't win but the sun will still come out tomorrow And shine shine shine like gold mine Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballentine Pass the bone, kid pass the bone Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones, the GZA One who just represent the Wu-Tang click With the game and soul, of an old school flick Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids So stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin' own I'll hang your ass with this microphone Make way for the merge of traffic Wu-Tang's comin' through with Full Metal Jackets God squad that's mad hard to serve Come frontin' hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves Clan in da front, let your feet stomp Niggas on the left, brag shit to death Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, come on and attract to The response while I bomb that ass, "You ain't shit!" Your wack ass town had you gassed Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang crush Souped up niggas on a stage get rushed I don't give a god damn, on the shows you did How many rhymes you got, or who knows you kid? 'cause I don't know ya therefore show me what you know I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow You become so Pat as my style increases What's that in your pants ah human feces! Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper Next time come strapped with a fuckin' Pamper How ya sound be ? You're better off a quitter I'm on the mound G, and it's a no-hitter And my DJ the catcher, he's my man Anyway he's the one who devised the plan He throws the signs I hook up the beats with clout I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike em out So it really doesn't matter on how you intrigue You can't fuck with those in the major leagues Clan in da front, let your feet stomp Niggas on the left, brag shit to death Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, come on and attract to Clan in da front, let your feet stomp Niggas on the left, brag shit to death Now hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, come on and attract to Hoods on the right Punks in the back, to what Niggas on the left Hoods on the right Punks in the back, come on, to what Let your feet stomp Brag shit to death Wild for the night Niggas on the left, brag shit to death Hoods on the right, wild for the night Punks in the back, come on and attract to Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
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Song Info
Release Year
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Genres
Hip-Hop
Rap
Moods
-
Vocals
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