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wu-tang, wu-tang, onyx, onyx (x3) [Raekwon] eh, yo staircases to stage now, major waves tanktop nautica, flippin your daughter 30 ways yeah, who want mine, bent outta shape one time play em all starin at your beautiful sunshine watch my shit shit, niggaz in the back, wigs lit you know the stats god, niggaz in the back, backs lit war drug raps, thug hats and mobb hats spit on that cat, this yellow love, nigga fuckin with a rich cat my shit now 5 feet 6, with a crisp hat plus this throwin now on 30 bricks, niggaz is with that yo, fedrados rock my man, yo 300 thousand dollars in a bottle, bitch mad as hollow my techinique, roller in the road, gold league you know the code read, suitcase money, stole heat rock madby's stole 100 dollar bags, though that nigga grabbed me, gamin himself like milton bradley [Fredro Starr, (X-1)] yo, this semi-automatic, glock this and lock this heat spots can knock it, it's so hot chicks is topless rims are spotless, chrome rims spin obnoxtious you knock this, bust a shot don't miss, you better knock this (x-1 while out and watch this til your eyes turn red with blotches eatin scraps out the garbage unload a cartridge and bust a cap x could never trust a cat, onyx is as hot as it gets bitches fuckin for free, is outta the quest blow blood outta your flesh, your body outta your vest) i cross the heat from across the street fly you up off your feet, you die leaving short but sweet street crime, time is money, nigga don't waist mine dispose my 9, throwin your shine, your froze in time lookin to death, holdin your breath, laided out on the dance floor, blood and moet, i'm blowin your set trick 20 g's, don't sweat, your goin to death i'm goin for broke, i'm blowin out smoke, your catchin strokes (wu-tang and bald head, swis foreheads, leavin you all red x million, fully be on illest, your realest form, bringin the storm for seein you gone, nothin keepin my calm, but heat in my palm sleepin i'm gone, you see what i'm on keepin outta the dark, scatter your parts from here to battery parts) |
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Chorus x2 [Method Man, (Sticky Fingaz)] (holy shit, who the fuck is that) it's john, john (sticky fingaz, kid, you got my back) i got your back cousin (i got the mac cousin) and when them niggaz start dumping, bust back cousin (because it's the new year, time for some new shit nowadays rappers dyin over music) dead on arrival, we raised in the ghetto singin songs for survival, duckin homicidal, you rival (yeah, onyx, wu-tang on tracks we gang bang, chiti bang bang) chiti chiti bang bang, hot nicks spit flame lava pump through my veins, caught in the zone home on the range (eh, yo you ready for the ferocious, atrocious we go that supercalfragilisticexbealli...) dose shit (8-ball in the corner pocket) we snatch wallets off the white collar the big apple forever rotted now when it comes to hard target hot nicks (so what the bullet clot) pop shit, we due to knowledge, to sharp niggas, once bitten major swingers, heavy hittin, poly your kitten, throw up your mitten stop bitchin, no slippin, no pot to piss in them meltin pots boilin hot now in hell's kitchen (yo, sticky fingaz, one of the illest mother fuckers my moms don't raise no suckers, i slap rappers turn em in to singers, touch something of mine and you'll have 9 fingers) enough said, let's make whole fuckin town red (and rip their whole crew to a shread i got cold blood)pull your plug (i hold blood) show no love (so bug) shoot your whole club (and shoot up the whole club) we throw slugs (you ain't no thug i earn every god damn penny that i got son, i roll with a shotgun in the convertible i wish a nigga would would, would try to fuckin jack me, i'll murder you) |
