A Better Tomorrow

A Better Tomorrow

Track by Wu-Tang Clan

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LYRICS

作詞:S. Bougard/Wu-Tang Clan

作曲:S. Bougard/Wu-Tang Clan

(Raekwon) Call it the Hollow Bone syndrome line Select sweet nine, face this, watch his whole face lift Bracelets, murder niggas, luxurious, banks I was draped Caked out, half a million dollars in coats Flows is genetic, the Corleone connection in all Selection, stock brokers with coats on Make coke suggestion, all twin glizzies Fireman, Gucci boots on, sideways action, murder niggas fear me yo Cash that he did Clinton, rentin his mother crib out We send organize the Bill of Rights get lid Drugs that Hendrix was on, conversatin like the Dutch Richie Conaway, Goodfellas who honor Rae Flows that blow thru your roll and Holland Everybody now, trip up niggas, in clicks we posin rhyme black Half the year, half my niggas sittin upstairs Takin pictures of ya niggas wack gear (Chorus: Ghostface Killah (U-God)) Listen to the (Clap) Real niggas (Clap) Rich niggas (Clap) My bitches (Clap) If you love pussy then y'all niggas (Clap) If you love to get ate, then ya ladies (Clap) If you real fucked up, then ya'll niggas (Clap) If you bare witness to Allah y'all (Clap) Aiyo you see me on the big screen y'all niggas Clap (Jeans with a gangster lean, y'all Clap) Good hats, sloppy automatics that Clap (Big shit, thunder) Get around that (Ghostface Killah) Porcelain floors with a dog named Ginger Bottle cap niggas that rhyme, we the winners Then slide thru your hood in hoods Me, Cliff, Patrick, Gary Grice and my man C. Woods Holdin up gorilla, two niggas got a hold that shit One shot and ya mans on it The little kids watch from down the block Jury box, murder hop, six stash botch, fit hit the ran spots Spit at the statue with cash and throw dough at it Fuck bitches raw, why? cuz I'm a pro at it Big birds danglin, cameras snatch, flash and pop from every angle and 2000 Mark Damon'in (Hook: Method Man) Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap, Clap ya hands now People Clap ya hands (Method Man) I drink till I'm drunk, smoke skunk with my stinkin ass, smell the funk Eekin out the pours, cum stain, shitty drawers Pissin down ya elevators shaft, no class, writin graf' on ya walls It be us, fuck ya law, niggas my cause is "because" No yin to my yang, it's a black thing Used to be in chains, now we snatch chains Took the crack game applied it to the rap game, y'all Pop quiz, now, what artist hits the hardest? Ya down with the syndrome: retarded I think it was them swordsmen, place them chess pieces on the boards and Take it to square, this ain't no Yakool affair Or a New World Disorder, got us, fuckin the coal miner's daughter That y'all, but not us (Chorus) (Outro: kung fu sample) During this time, I intend to teach you the Shaolin poem The rules and commandments, that void, deceit Cruelty and unkindness, always help the weak Never despise the poor, always respect yourself

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