Hellz Wind Staff feat. Streetlife,Ghostface Killah,Inspectah Deck,Method Man,RZA,Raekwon

歌詞

(conversation continued from the end of "Duck Seazon") "The Wu-Tang Clan will rise again. There are many of us, working for the good of the Wu-Tang." "Die!" *sounds of fighting are heard* (Verse One: Street Life) So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news like Kaity Chung, how the bullet collapsed his lung His father watched the horror as he swallowed his tongue Another youth dead, before the age of twenty-one Left his son to grow, in the ghettoes of the slums With a shot that go, for twisted metal for cash flow React slow nigga and get, P.L.O. By the lone gunner, who took revenge for his brother who got slain last summer by a cocaine runner A new year is dawning, new crews is forming Rival gangs warring blood steadily pouring The streets are deep Son every day is like a rerun So I reach out and try to teach one But eighty-five percent uncivilized content No tolerance so a lifetime is spent behind a cage bent smoked out on a park bench Killer instinct slave rap niggaz get lynched {*sounds of fighting*} (Verse Two: Ghostface Killah) So yo break that nigga arm fast as a fuck Tell Ra, Goldie left my beige jacket in his truck To all you slow footed penguins, duckin from these hot rocks that's flamin, chocolate for all you rap Damian's Spraying cards ex-pionage, dodgeball square hard Strip bars, no bras, wet leotards and a mink in, next album blood on Chef's Apron Keep a Gambino PlayStation in your playpen Discovery Channel, cats that book at Daniel Coke blunts hot as a FUCK swatted bamboo high school dropouts, baseheads get knocked the fuck out on the regular for robbin a good nigga house Rough cut raw doses, the unexplainable Hot rock lava, gringo throw the flows iglasa {*sounds of fighting*} (Verse Three: Inspectah Deck) Ha ha ha ha, yo What you know about this, specialist armed dangerous Hit you close range with this madness Unique design shine like a deep dish The beat kick technique split all your weak shit Yes, the rhythm, the Rebel Alone in my level heat it up past the boiling point of metal Living legend, veteran known to set trend Lethal weapon, step through your section with the Force like Luke Skywalker Rhyme author, orchestrate mind torture Live performer, bit the mic sayanora Borderline to insane, I rain firewater Tape recorder, can't be saved by a court order I got my sword cross your throat you joke (Verse Four: Method Man) We on the run with the golden guns, get you none when it reach out and teach someone, blaze they buns Now I'm guilty by association Times of blackness eclipsin the sun, target practice commence when I throw these darts at these rappers Ricochet, hit the charts, bloody your matress Hold me down, Wu bloodkin, I'm goin in Shootin bullets at the top ten, rhyme concoction blend like a million All these niggaz want cheese, is we mice or men, word up We can go platinum but then, still can't get no satisfaction Once again, back on the block crumb snatchin Blowin backs in cold Blunted non-assassin, time for action, Johnny Unidas Handle that like arthritis Still, hold a golden touch like King Midas {*swords clash*} (Verse Five: RZA) Drown in problems the Heineken's imported from Holland Gettin boosted off a killer bee pollen, stone columns get trapped by drum tracks mac loud as gun claps Pen'll grab the death of a thousand dumb tacks The Wu Sensai fold, it beez the Wind Ninja scroll Soul edged blade controls your inner pole The thick loop, fruit from the forbidden tree root I stay secluded in the Chamber trainin new recruits with Fatal Guillotine, the black hooded team what it means when bullets scream from the hot glock like rock from a sling ("Sometimes...") Pushed through like George Bush Operation Whoops Shots get popped on the block cause them blood to gush From digital to analog, the Wu-Wear camoflogue The entourage squad we stompin through Zanzibar like herds of cattle, RZA plays the wall like a shadow Connectin Brooklyn/Shaol like the Verrazanno-Narrows (Verse Six: Raekwon the Chef) Stash the cream though, Iceatollah ice style gleama Lex graffiti name reamer, hold em we rollin askin me though, raps is hotter than, hot tamales in Toledo Pussy that shit she passin off to me though We wax Ajax niggaz with a axe, Maxamill You could crash a meal, got you back steel scold em and fold em like the thousand dollar bills sit back eyein y'all niggaz out Fakes that delegate we spittin fire out Verb burgular, design the Wally shoe store reserve a jet status, guidin these vert up on my matress Watch me mack this, Ralph Lauren goose inside a fashion Yo, these hands is flooded and they mad quick Strong approach like magnets, custom wood crane name Stylin rich, RZA made the waves in one chain Feelin mics like, wheelin a bike, slide like step on his Klondike, get your dart right We movin on it like, wind breaker niggaz get they face broke Jury get snatched, magazine right on the low, fuck y'all cats ("Sometimes...") {*sounds of fighting*} "May you rot in hell!" "Ahahahahah, ahahahahaha, ahahahahaha!"