Triumph Lyrics
| Song | Triumph |
| Artist | Wu-Tang Clan |
| Album | Disciples of the 36 Chambers: Chapter 1 [live] |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| (Ol Dirty Bastard) | |
| What y＇all thought y＇all wasn＇t gon＇ see me? | |
| I＇m the Osirus of this shit | |
| Wu-Tang is here forever - motherfuckers | |
| It＇s like this ninety-seven | |
| Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes | |
| Let＇s do it like this | |
| I＇ma rub your ass in the moonshine | |
| Let＇s take it back to seventy-nine | |
| (Inspectah Deck) | |
| I bomb atomically, Socrates＇ philosophies | |
| and hypotheses can＇t define how I be droppin these | |
| mockeries, lyrically 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 view through the future see millenium | |
| Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum | |
| Shckling the masses with drastic rap tactics | |
| Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths | |
| Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in | |
| Rumblein patrolmen tear gas 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 you hottest block | |
| (Method Man) | |
| As the world turn, I spread like germs | |
| Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn | |
| It＇s my testament to those burned | |
| 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, or Six Pack | |
| In a Streetcar named Desire, who got my back? | |
| In the line of fire holding back, what? | |
| My people if you with me where the fuck you at? | |
| Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer 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 pot, and blow spots | |
| You wanna think twice, I think not | |
| The Iron Lung ain＇t got ta tell you where it＇s comng from | |
| Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone | |
| Rip through your slums | |
| (Cappadonna) | |
| 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 notes reigns supreme | |
| Your fort is basic compared to mine | |
| Domino effect, arts and crafts | |
| Paragraphs contail cyanide | |
| Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion | |
| catalogues for all y＇all to all praise to the Gods | |
| (Ol Dirty Bastard) | |
| The saga continues | |
| Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang | |
| (U-God) | |
| Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet | |
| The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat | |
| We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow | |
| For, judgement day cometh, conquer, it＇s war | |
| Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb | |
| Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms | |
| Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound | |
| The fake false 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 | |
| (RZA) | |
| Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn＇t hold us | |
| A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga 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 from raw sex | |
| Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream | |
| or terminal, like Grand Central Station | |
| Program fat baselines, on Novation | |
| Getting drunk like a fuck I＇m duckin five-year probation | |
| (GZA) | |
| War of the masses, the outcome, disaterous | |
| Many of the victim family save they ashes | |
| A million names on walls engraved in plaques | |
| Those who went back, received penalties for their acts | |
| Another heart is torn, as close ones gone | |
| Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song | |
| (Masta Killa) | |
| 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-Ah-Rief 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 | |
| (Ghostface Killah) | |
| Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back | |
| Lampin like them gray and black Puma＇s on my man＇s rack | |
| 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 | |
| Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one | |
| Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention | |
| Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold tha | |
| fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck | |
| I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch | |
| it＇s me, Black Noble Drew Ali | |
| came in threes we like the Genovese | |
| Is that so? Caesar needs the greens | |
| It＇s Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first | |
| Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz | |
| (Raekwon) | |
| Aiyyo dat＇s amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off | |
| Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk | |
| Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser | |
| New York gank adviser world tranquilizer | |
| Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives | |
| While, my pen blow lines ferocious | |
| Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic | |
| sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God | |
| The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula | |
| Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substatiala | |
| Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it＇s sickening | |
| Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland. |
| Ol Dirty Bastard | |
| What y all thought y all wasn t gon see me? | |
| I m the Osirus of this shit | |
| WuTang is here forever motherfuckers | |
| It s like this ninetyseven | |
| Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes | |
| Let s do it like this | |
| I ma rub your ass in the moonshine | |
| Let s take it back to seventynine | |
| Inspectah Deck | |
| I bomb atomically, Socrates philosophies | |
| and hypotheses can t define how I be droppin these | |
| mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery | |
| Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me | |
| Battlescarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits | |
| tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics | |
| I inspect view through the future see millenium | |
| Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum | |
| Shckling the masses with drastic rap tactics | |
| Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths | |
| Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in | |
| Rumblein patrolmen tear gas 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 you hottest block | |
| Method Man | |
| As the world turn, I spread like germs | |
| Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hardheaded never learn | |
| It s my testament to those burned | |
| 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, or Six Pack | |
| In a Streetcar named Desire, who got my back? | |
| In the line of fire holding back, what? | |
| My people if you with me where the fuck you at? | |
| Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer 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 pot, and blow spots | |
| You wanna think twice, I think not | |
| The Iron Lung ain t got ta tell you where it s comng from | |
| Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone | |
| Rip through your slums | |
| Cappadonna | |
| 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 notes reigns supreme | |
| Your fort is basic compared to mine | |
| Domino effect, arts and crafts | |
| Paragraphs contail cyanide | |
| Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion | |
| catalogues for all y all to all praise to the Gods | |
| Ol Dirty Bastard | |
| The saga continues | |
| WuTang, WuTang | |
| UGod | |
| Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet | |
| The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat | |
| We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow | |
| For, judgement day cometh, conquer, it s war | |
| Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb | |
| Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms | |
| Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound | |
| The fake false 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 SingSing, sippin on ginseng | |
| Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king | |
| RZA | |
| Watch for the wooden soldiers, Ccypher punks couldn t hold us | |
| A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga 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 from raw sex | |
| Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream | |
| or terminal, like Grand Central Station | |
| Program fat baselines, on Novation | |
| Getting drunk like a fuck I m duckin fiveyear probation | |
| GZA | |
| War of the masses, the outcome, disaterous | |
| Many of the victim family save they ashes | |
| A million names on walls engraved in plaques | |
| Those who went back, received penalties for their acts | |
| Another heart is torn, as close ones gone | |
| Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song | |
| Masta Killa | |
| The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds | |
| and leaks sounds that s heard | |
| ninetythree million miles away from came one | |
| to represent the nation, this is a gathering | |
| of the masses that come to pay respects to the WuTang Clan | |
| As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage | |
| The High Chief JamelAhRief 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 | |
| Ghostface Killah | |
| Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back | |
| Lampin like them gray and black Puma s on my man s rack | |
| Codeine was forced in your drink | |
| You had a navy green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream | |
| You twofaces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb | |
| Blowing like Shalamar in eightyone | |
| Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention | |
| Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold tha | |
| fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck | |
| I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch | |
| it s me, Black Noble Drew Ali | |
| came in threes we like the Genovese | |
| Is that so? Caesar needs the greens | |
| It s Earth, ninetythree million miles from the first | |
| Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz | |
| Raekwon | |
| Aiyyo dat s amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off | |
| Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk | |
| Swift notarizer, WuTang, all up in the highriser | |
| New York gank adviser world tranquilizer | |
| Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives | |
| While, my pen blow lines ferocious | |
| Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic | |
| sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God | |
| The swift chancellor, flex, the whitegold tarantula | |
| Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substatiala | |
| Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it s sickening | |
| Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland. |
| Ol Dirty Bastard | |
| What y all thought y all wasn t gon see me? | |
| I m the Osirus of this shit | |
| WuTang is here forever motherfuckers | |
| It s like this ninetyseven | |
| Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes | |
| Let s do it like this | |
| I ma rub your ass in the moonshine | |
| Let s take it back to seventynine | |
| Inspectah Deck | |
| I bomb atomically, Socrates philosophies | |
| and hypotheses can t define how I be droppin these | |
| mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery | |
| Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me | |
| Battlescarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits | |
| tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics | |
| I inspect view through the future see millenium | |
| Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum | |
| Shckling the masses with drastic rap tactics | |
| Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths | |
| Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in | |
| Rumblein patrolmen tear gas 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 you hottest block | |
| Method Man | |
| As the world turn, I spread like germs | |
| Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hardheaded never learn | |
| It s my testament to those burned | |
| 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, or Six Pack | |
| In a Streetcar named Desire, who got my back? | |
| In the line of fire holding back, what? | |
| My people if you with me where the fuck you at? | |
| Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer 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 pot, and blow spots | |
| You wanna think twice, I think not | |
| The Iron Lung ain t got ta tell you where it s comng from | |
| Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone | |
| Rip through your slums | |
| Cappadonna | |
| 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 notes reigns supreme | |
| Your fort is basic compared to mine | |
| Domino effect, arts and crafts | |
| Paragraphs contail cyanide | |
| Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion | |
| catalogues for all y all to all praise to the Gods | |
| Ol Dirty Bastard | |
| The saga continues | |
| WuTang, WuTang | |
| UGod | |
| Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet | |
| The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat | |
| We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow | |
| For, judgement day cometh, conquer, it s war | |
| Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb | |
| Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms | |
| Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound | |
| The fake false 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 SingSing, sippin on ginseng | |
| Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king | |
| RZA | |
| Watch for the wooden soldiers, Ccypher punks couldn t hold us | |
| A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga 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 from raw sex | |
| Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream | |
| or terminal, like Grand Central Station | |
| Program fat baselines, on Novation | |
| Getting drunk like a fuck I m duckin fiveyear probation | |
| GZA | |
| War of the masses, the outcome, disaterous | |
| Many of the victim family save they ashes | |
| A million names on walls engraved in plaques | |
| Those who went back, received penalties for their acts | |
| Another heart is torn, as close ones gone | |
| Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song | |
| Masta Killa | |
| The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds | |
| and leaks sounds that s heard | |
| ninetythree million miles away from came one | |
| to represent the nation, this is a gathering | |
| of the masses that come to pay respects to the WuTang Clan | |
| As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage | |
| The High Chief JamelAhRief 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 | |
| Ghostface Killah | |
| Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back | |
| Lampin like them gray and black Puma s on my man s rack | |
| Codeine was forced in your drink | |
| You had a navy green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream | |
| You twofaces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb | |
| Blowing like Shalamar in eightyone | |
| Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention | |
| Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold tha | |
| fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck | |
| I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch | |
| it s me, Black Noble Drew Ali | |
| came in threes we like the Genovese | |
| Is that so? Caesar needs the greens | |
| It s Earth, ninetythree million miles from the first | |
| Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz | |
| Raekwon | |
| Aiyyo dat s amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off | |
| Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk | |
| Swift notarizer, WuTang, all up in the highriser | |
| New York gank adviser world tranquilizer | |
| Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives | |
| While, my pen blow lines ferocious | |
| Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic | |
| sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God | |
| The swift chancellor, flex, the whitegold tarantula | |
| Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substatiala | |
| Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it s sickening | |
| Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland. |
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