Rules - Clean Lyrics
| Song | Rules - Clean |
| Artist | Wu-Tang Clan |
| Album | Playlist: The Very Best Of Wu-Tang Clan |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Bean, Charles, Coles, Hunter ... | |
| All you hoes, be cryin for these bitches | |
| All you niggaz, be cryin for these hoes | |
| [scratched samples] | |
| "both hands clusty" - ghost, "pullin out gats" - raekwon | |
| "double barreled" - meth, "blew off the burner kinda dusty" - ghost | |
| "we back, don't test" - raekwon, "bring it to em proper, potnah" - meth | |
| "comin from the thirty-six chamber" - meth | |
| "math, let the plate spin" - gza, "many brothers y'all be sparkin" | |
| "stray shots, all on the block that stays hot" - inspectah deck | |
| "if ya fuck with wu, we gots ta fuck witchu" - method man | |
| [ghostface killah] | |
| Who the fuck knocked our buildings down? | |
| Who the man behind the world trade massacres, step up now | |
| Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch? | |
| Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits! | |
| No disrespect, that's where i rest my head | |
| I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead | |
| America, together we stand, divided we fall | |
| Mr. bush sit down, i'm in charge of the war! | |
| [inspectah deck] | |
| Yes yes y'all, the i-n-s bless y'all | |
| Stop hearts like cholesterol, let's brawl | |
| Never fall, tear it down like a wreckin ball | |
| Role call where my niggaz that's one for all | |
| And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse | |
| Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk | |
| Then smoke a ounce as we count mills | |
| Providin you pure ecstasy without pills | |
| [chorus: method man] | |
| Y'all know the rules, we don't fuck with fools man | |
| How the fuck did we get so cool man? | |
| Never ever disrespect my crew | |
| If ya fuck with wu we gots ta fuck witchu | |
| [masta killa] | |
| Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real | |
| We live from (?), it's the god i-reelz | |
| Yo wonderful, spark the blillz | |
| Let me build with the people for the mills | |
| I'm rollin with the rebel i-ill from killa hill, peace to brownsville | |
| Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous | |
| Twenty-five to lifers, true and livin snipers | |
| You wait like "sixth sense" 'til hard to kill | |
| [streetlife] | |
| How you livin streetlife? i'm surrounded by criminals | |
| Serial killers tote guns without the serial | |
| High-tech, street intellect, all digital | |
| Project original, sheisty individual | |
| New york's bravest, always supply you with the latest | |
| We hall of famers, and still hit you with the greatest | |
| Took a year hiatus, now you wanna hate us | |
| Thanks to all you haters for all the cream you made us | |
| [chorus] | |
| [raekwon the chef] | |
| Sendin letters to (?), my cousin in wendy's on viacom | |
| At home, it's worth money, i adorns | |
| Order drinks, all real niggaz order your minks yo | |
| We got the fitteds on, lookin all fink | |
| Daddy everybody get money from now on | |
| Payday flash visas livin like, easter e'ryday | |
| Don't fuck benz, rather a 430 | |
| That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo | |
| [method man] | |
| We can eat right, or we can clap these toys | |
| I'm with streetlife, ain't never been a backstreet boy | |
| Who y'all kiddin? tryin to act like my shoe fittin | |
| Confused with ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin? | |
| It's hot nixon, same team same position | |
| Battin average three-five-seven and still hittin | |
| Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken | |
| I'm still here, one leg missin and still kickin | |
| Cause i'm haaaaaaaaaaaard! hard like a criminal | |
| Love like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you | |
| It's the method man, for short mr. meth | |
| I can tell this motherfucker ain't wu, look at his neck | |
| "comin from the thirty-six chamber" - meth | |
| "bring it to em proper, potnah" - meth - "wu, tang, wu, tang" | |
| [method man] | |
| It's wu-tang, rushin yo' gang, crushin the game | |
| Pretty thugs, clutchin they chain, hand cuppin they thang | |
| Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames | |
| Let a nigga take off his shades, see what i'm sayin is.. | |
| [chorus] |
| zuo ci : Bean, Charles, Coles, Hunter ... | |
| All you hoes, be cryin for these bitches | |
| All you niggaz, be cryin for these hoes | |
| scratched samples | |
| " both hands clusty" ghost, " pullin out gats" raekwon | |
| " double barreled" meth, " blew off the burner kinda dusty" ghost | |
| " we back, don' t test" raekwon, " bring it to em proper, potnah" meth | |
| " comin from the thirtysix chamber" meth | |
| " math, let the plate spin" gza, " many brothers y' all be sparkin" | |
| " stray shots, all on the block that stays hot" inspectah deck | |
| " if ya fuck with wu, we gots ta fuck witchu" method man | |
| ghostface killah | |
| Who the fuck knocked our buildings down? | |
| Who the man behind the world trade massacres, step up now | |
| Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch? | |
| Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits! | |
| No disrespect, that' s where i rest my head | |
| I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people' s dead | |
| America, together we stand, divided we fall | |
| Mr. bush sit down, i' m in charge of the war! | |
| inspectah deck | |
| Yes yes y' all, the ins bless y' all | |
| Stop hearts like cholesterol, let' s brawl | |
| Never fall, tear it down like a wreckin ball | |
| Role call where my niggaz that' s one for all | |
| And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse | |
| Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk | |
| Then smoke a ounce as we count mills | |
| Providin you pure ecstasy without pills | |
| chorus: method man | |
| Y' all know the rules, we don' t fuck with fools man | |
| How the fuck did we get so cool man? | |
| Never ever disrespect my crew | |
| If ya fuck with wu we gots ta fuck witchu | |
| masta killa | |
| Y' all dogs better guard ya grills, it' s all real | |
| We live from ?, it' s the god ireelz | |
| Yo wonderful, spark the blillz | |
| Let me build with the people for the mills | |
| I' m rollin with the rebel iill from killa hill, peace to brownsville | |
| Brothers that' ll kill for the will of the righteous | |
| Twentyfive to lifers, true and livin snipers | |
| You wait like " sixth sense" ' til hard to kill | |
| streetlife | |
| How you livin streetlife? i' m surrounded by criminals | |
| Serial killers tote guns without the serial | |
| Hightech, street intellect, all digital | |
| Project original, sheisty individual | |
| New york' s bravest, always supply you with the latest | |
| We hall of famers, and still hit you with the greatest | |
| Took a year hiatus, now you wanna hate us | |
| Thanks to all you haters for all the cream you made us | |
| chorus | |
| raekwon the chef | |
| Sendin letters to ?, my cousin in wendy' s on viacom | |
| At home, it' s worth money, i adorns | |
| Order drinks, all real niggaz order your minks yo | |
| We got the fitteds on, lookin all fink | |
| Daddy everybody get money from now on | |
| Payday flash visas livin like, easter e' ryday | |
| Don' t fuck benz, rather a 430 | |
| That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo | |
| method man | |
| We can eat right, or we can clap these toys | |
| I' m with streetlife, ain' t never been a backstreet boy | |
| Who y' all kiddin? tryin to act like my shoe fittin | |
| Confused with ya head up yo' ass like who' s shittin? | |
| It' s hot nixon, same team same position | |
| Battin average threefiveseven and still hittin | |
| Y' all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken | |
| I' m still here, one leg missin and still kickin | |
| Cause i' m haaaaaaaaaaaard! hard like a criminal | |
| Love like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you | |
| It' s the method man, for short mr. meth | |
| I can tell this motherfucker ain' t wu, look at his neck | |
| " comin from the thirtysix chamber" meth | |
| " bring it to em proper, potnah" meth " wu, tang, wu, tang" | |
| method man | |
| It' s wutang, rushin yo' gang, crushin the game | |
| Pretty thugs, clutchin they chain, hand cuppin they thang | |
| Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames | |
| Let a nigga take off his shades, see what i' m sayin is.. | |
| chorus |
| zuò cí : Bean, Charles, Coles, Hunter ... | |
| All you hoes, be cryin for these bitches | |
| All you niggaz, be cryin for these hoes | |
| scratched samples | |
| " both hands clusty" ghost, " pullin out gats" raekwon | |
| " double barreled" meth, " blew off the burner kinda dusty" ghost | |
| " we back, don' t test" raekwon, " bring it to em proper, potnah" meth | |
| " comin from the thirtysix chamber" meth | |
| " math, let the plate spin" gza, " many brothers y' all be sparkin" | |
| " stray shots, all on the block that stays hot" inspectah deck | |
| " if ya fuck with wu, we gots ta fuck witchu" method man | |
| ghostface killah | |
| Who the fuck knocked our buildings down? | |
| Who the man behind the world trade massacres, step up now | |
| Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch? | |
| Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits! | |
| No disrespect, that' s where i rest my head | |
| I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people' s dead | |
| America, together we stand, divided we fall | |
| Mr. bush sit down, i' m in charge of the war! | |
| inspectah deck | |
| Yes yes y' all, the ins bless y' all | |
| Stop hearts like cholesterol, let' s brawl | |
| Never fall, tear it down like a wreckin ball | |
| Role call where my niggaz that' s one for all | |
| And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse | |
| Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk | |
| Then smoke a ounce as we count mills | |
| Providin you pure ecstasy without pills | |
| chorus: method man | |
| Y' all know the rules, we don' t fuck with fools man | |
| How the fuck did we get so cool man? | |
| Never ever disrespect my crew | |
| If ya fuck with wu we gots ta fuck witchu | |
| masta killa | |
| Y' all dogs better guard ya grills, it' s all real | |
| We live from ?, it' s the god ireelz | |
| Yo wonderful, spark the blillz | |
| Let me build with the people for the mills | |
| I' m rollin with the rebel iill from killa hill, peace to brownsville | |
| Brothers that' ll kill for the will of the righteous | |
| Twentyfive to lifers, true and livin snipers | |
| You wait like " sixth sense" ' til hard to kill | |
| streetlife | |
| How you livin streetlife? i' m surrounded by criminals | |
| Serial killers tote guns without the serial | |
| Hightech, street intellect, all digital | |
| Project original, sheisty individual | |
| New york' s bravest, always supply you with the latest | |
| We hall of famers, and still hit you with the greatest | |
| Took a year hiatus, now you wanna hate us | |
| Thanks to all you haters for all the cream you made us | |
| chorus | |
| raekwon the chef | |
| Sendin letters to ?, my cousin in wendy' s on viacom | |
| At home, it' s worth money, i adorns | |
| Order drinks, all real niggaz order your minks yo | |
| We got the fitteds on, lookin all fink | |
| Daddy everybody get money from now on | |
| Payday flash visas livin like, easter e' ryday | |
| Don' t fuck benz, rather a 430 | |
| That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo | |
| method man | |
| We can eat right, or we can clap these toys | |
| I' m with streetlife, ain' t never been a backstreet boy | |
| Who y' all kiddin? tryin to act like my shoe fittin | |
| Confused with ya head up yo' ass like who' s shittin? | |
| It' s hot nixon, same team same position | |
| Battin average threefiveseven and still hittin | |
| Y' all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken | |
| I' m still here, one leg missin and still kickin | |
| Cause i' m haaaaaaaaaaaard! hard like a criminal | |
| Love like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you | |
| It' s the method man, for short mr. meth | |
| I can tell this motherfucker ain' t wu, look at his neck | |
| " comin from the thirtysix chamber" meth | |
| " bring it to em proper, potnah" meth " wu, tang, wu, tang" | |
| method man | |
| It' s wutang, rushin yo' gang, crushin the game | |
| Pretty thugs, clutchin they chain, hand cuppin they thang | |
| Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames | |
| Let a nigga take off his shades, see what i' m sayin is.. | |
| chorus |
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