| Song | Muzzle Toe |
| Artist | Wu-Syndicate |
| Album | Wu-Syndicate |
| Intro： | |
| Keep your plans on the low | |
| Just another chamber, the swarm | |
| Roll dark and deep, bobby digital | |
| Wu-syndicate, wu-syndicate | |
| Be born, daddy-o, what up math? | |
| Mickey mirrors, true blessings | |
| For what, x era | |
| Takin it to the clear this year | |
| {myalansky} | |
| Faggots nervous but it's time to dance with night strangers | |
| Top rap don, cuz daddy-o got me the dice game | |
| It's reg or not, pockets love trump donald | |
| Pack your work, move your plans to va | |
| Heat on the lock collar | |
| Bite your fingerprints, make the cops nog you | |
| 98, wait, service applead, rated top dollar | |
| Escape jake fakin plot alot hotter | |
| Fake snakes smilin right in your face | |
| Play this a lot smarter | |
| {joe mafia} | |
| Low avalanche, wobblely stance, ask for rain dance | |
| We the same cats blazing your lab | |
| Wu-capone with a love jones, watch me son | |
| Global with the local cats that's known trifted in the hell zone | |
| Politic, modern gotti click, | |
| Just a matter of time before till wu-syndicate lock shit | |
| How you stoppin, mega popular, modern mobster | |
| Joe mafia, jay got me in bicolulars | |
| {myalansky} | |
| Yo snatch run, shoot out, chicken nights how's nice | |
| Rule out, silk low valley, mafia crew house | |
| Drink vine, moon shine wine, sip it, fool out | |
| Rollin wit a burner no doubt, shorty school out | |
| First of all, for the record, scarface jail cats | |
| Cultured by stretch it but name it, rather socialize | |
| Eyes never lies, these guys tell me throwing forty cali's stainless | |
| Cuz these empty slugs spit pain, killer | |
| {joe mafia} | |
| Wylin on parole, so been on his rock | |
| And donny race spot it's way hot | |
| Son of a spray lock | |
| Them mistress said it grazed his neck | |
| Collapsing over bar rooms, holding his wounds | |
| Yo what the fuck can it take? | |
| Brokin glass fallin all on my head | |
| Head ringin like cyrus from bitches screamin | |
| Blood on my leg | |
| {myalansky} | |
| Let me catch my breath glock appraise me | |
| Feds chase me, toared my jabogs as i hopped the fence | |
| Blood on my tongue taste it, son i was big off remi | |
| Even run to me, shorty run up in my spot, don't let | |
| The clown kill me | |
| High beam helicopter light flash through the blind | |
| Cousin what a cat gon do, drippin a man's eye | |
| Call down ya kids, smack the screamin bitch | |
| Yo relax myalansky, word it's that teeny snitch | |
| {joe mafia} | |
| What's the purpose, allerkin this search, street merchandist | |
| Supeen service, here's dirt to cause the turbulence | |
| With lip service, scape jay, down rob handcuff plant to his hand | |
| The purchase of the yae yo, take a make though, it's blood money | |
| Keep my hands muddy, rakin a lake ice with low money | |
| Without a clue of what i wen't through | |
| Plus been through, stressing the issue | |
| Shell shocked, hidin the pistol | |
| {myalansky} | |
| The next chapter from the brooklyn criminology | |
| Should of bought my life in the business, catchin ?? | |
| We felony, keep tellin these cats get bills like bellamy | |
| Empires get hit for their chips, you just follow me | |
| Gravity, myalansky, nigga fancy, | |
| How real this could get when you're broke | |
| Platinum down please, my fam scheme, fuck the po-po | |
| Sayin 'do, daddy-o, joe mafia, t-bone, | |
| Make corleone rush like phat farm | |
| Strong armin withmax chrome | |
| Cats know runnin the spot, claimin they clap though | |
| Kidnap though, thrown to the hostage, i know this cat knew | |
| Snap though, leavin them duct taped, glory was cancelled | |
| It's pinzo, eleven o channel cut off his leg slow | |
| He begged though, continued to throw it without info | |
| Waterd down niggas be frontin, obviously bitch missed since 6 grade | |
| Plottin on niggas, shinin their rich ways | |
| Get switch bladed, bodies found decomposed, throwed in the ditch grave | |
| Moms can't identify shit, was there for six weeks | |
| With blood money, frontin out stick's peed | |
| Quick way, fuck all the talkin this what my click say | |
| Them bitch ate, sweeter than sugar pussy your dick faced | |
| {joe mafia} | |
| I answer this, many late nights, puffin on cancer sticks | |
| On hell with this shit, sometimes i feel but i'm trapped in it | |
| The x to the, amongst the projects with bang shooters | |
| Hard rocks, skippin school to get their brains buddha'd | |
| Lame chicks, filthy ass fiends to want the same vicks | |
| Stick up cats, robbin for name kicks | |
| Game flicks with low fooda | |
| I'm forced to blast on these street soldiers with cold shoulders | |
| It's hard god metafogics | |
| Rumbled in the concrete jungle to stay humble | |
| Make my brain tumble, rainin cocaine and rain bubbles | |
| Fucking jiggy, we doin it low | |
| Stay pissy, sippin g, straight henny gettin bussy with wu-synny | |
| In the small city, either walk straight, chop weight | |
| Heads talkin to much, sending my niggas upstate | |
| Ill fate, s u double f o to get shot alive what the f o | |
| F o, f o, nigga |
| Intro: | |
| Keep your plans on the low | |
| Just another chamber, the swarm | |
| Roll dark and deep, bobby digital | |
| Wusyndicate, wusyndicate | |
| Be born, daddyo, what up math? | |
| Mickey mirrors, true blessings | |
| For what, x era | |
| Takin it to the clear this year | |
| myalansky | |
| Faggots nervous but it' s time to dance with night strangers | |
| Top rap don, cuz daddyo got me the dice game | |
| It' s reg or not, pockets love trump donald | |
| Pack your work, move your plans to va | |
| Heat on the lock collar | |
| Bite your fingerprints, make the cops nog you | |
| 98, wait, service applead, rated top dollar | |
| Escape jake fakin plot alot hotter | |
| Fake snakes smilin right in your face | |
| Play this a lot smarter | |
| joe mafia | |
| Low avalanche, wobblely stance, ask for rain dance | |
| We the same cats blazing your lab | |
| Wucapone with a love jones, watch me son | |
| Global with the local cats that' s known trifted in the hell zone | |
| Politic, modern gotti click, | |
| Just a matter of time before till wusyndicate lock shit | |
| How you stoppin, mega popular, modern mobster | |
| Joe mafia, jay got me in bicolulars | |
| myalansky | |
| Yo snatch run, shoot out, chicken nights how' s nice | |
| Rule out, silk low valley, mafia crew house | |
| Drink vine, moon shine wine, sip it, fool out | |
| Rollin wit a burner no doubt, shorty school out | |
| First of all, for the record, scarface jail cats | |
| Cultured by stretch it but name it, rather socialize | |
| Eyes never lies, these guys tell me throwing forty cali' s stainless | |
| Cuz these empty slugs spit pain, killer | |
| joe mafia | |
| Wylin on parole, so been on his rock | |
| And donny race spot it' s way hot | |
| Son of a spray lock | |
| Them mistress said it grazed his neck | |
| Collapsing over bar rooms, holding his wounds | |
| Yo what the fuck can it take? | |
| Brokin glass fallin all on my head | |
| Head ringin like cyrus from bitches screamin | |
| Blood on my leg | |
| myalansky | |
| Let me catch my breath glock appraise me | |
| Feds chase me, toared my jabogs as i hopped the fence | |
| Blood on my tongue taste it, son i was big off remi | |
| Even run to me, shorty run up in my spot, don' t let | |
| The clown kill me | |
| High beam helicopter light flash through the blind | |
| Cousin what a cat gon do, drippin a man' s eye | |
| Call down ya kids, smack the screamin bitch | |
| Yo relax myalansky, word it' s that teeny snitch | |
| joe mafia | |
| What' s the purpose, allerkin this search, street merchandist | |
| Supeen service, here' s dirt to cause the turbulence | |
| With lip service, scape jay, down rob handcuff plant to his hand | |
| The purchase of the yae yo, take a make though, it' s blood money | |
| Keep my hands muddy, rakin a lake ice with low money | |
| Without a clue of what i wen' t through | |
| Plus been through, stressing the issue | |
| Shell shocked, hidin the pistol | |
| myalansky | |
| The next chapter from the brooklyn criminology | |
| Should of bought my life in the business, catchin ?? | |
| We felony, keep tellin these cats get bills like bellamy | |
| Empires get hit for their chips, you just follow me | |
| Gravity, myalansky, nigga fancy, | |
| How real this could get when you' re broke | |
| Platinum down please, my fam scheme, fuck the popo | |
| Sayin ' do, daddyo, joe mafia, tbone, | |
| Make corleone rush like phat farm | |
| Strong armin withmax chrome | |
| Cats know runnin the spot, claimin they clap though | |
| Kidnap though, thrown to the hostage, i know this cat knew | |
| Snap though, leavin them duct taped, glory was cancelled | |
| It' s pinzo, eleven o channel cut off his leg slow | |
| He begged though, continued to throw it without info | |
| Waterd down niggas be frontin, obviously bitch missed since 6 grade | |
| Plottin on niggas, shinin their rich ways | |
| Get switch bladed, bodies found decomposed, throwed in the ditch grave | |
| Moms can' t identify shit, was there for six weeks | |
| With blood money, frontin out stick' s peed | |
| Quick way, fuck all the talkin this what my click say | |
| Them bitch ate, sweeter than sugar pussy your dick faced | |
| joe mafia | |
| I answer this, many late nights, puffin on cancer sticks | |
| On hell with this shit, sometimes i feel but i' m trapped in it | |
| The x to the, amongst the projects with bang shooters | |
| Hard rocks, skippin school to get their brains buddha' d | |
| Lame chicks, filthy ass fiends to want the same vicks | |
| Stick up cats, robbin for name kicks | |
| Game flicks with low fooda | |
| I' m forced to blast on these street soldiers with cold shoulders | |
| It' s hard god metafogics | |
| Rumbled in the concrete jungle to stay humble | |
| Make my brain tumble, rainin cocaine and rain bubbles | |
| Fucking jiggy, we doin it low | |
| Stay pissy, sippin g, straight henny gettin bussy with wusynny | |
| In the small city, either walk straight, chop weight | |
| Heads talkin to much, sending my niggas upstate | |
| Ill fate, s u double f o to get shot alive what the f o | |
| F o, f o, nigga |