Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wu-Tang, artist - Method Man. Album song Dopium, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 04.08.2014
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Wu-Tang |
You ain’t heard us in a minute, you heard us in a minute, man |
(Wu-Tang!) |
I keep banging on you niggas, finger on my trigger, man |
(Wu-Tang!) |
I love bankrolls, stank hoes, camera shots, Kangols, bangles |
Pink records, check it, yeah, I make those |
More paper than Kinko’s, check my lingo, bingo |
On my face, honey, not a wrinkle, trinkle |
My twinkle twinkle, make your toenails crinkle |
Twist up a dinkle, and honey, let’s mingle, jingle |
When the nightfall, I’m tight with my white walls |
The greedy pain, draining on my life force |
Behold the pale white horse, the hype loss with tight jaws |
Fight law off, cuz I don’t like ya’ll |
Huh, I’m from the tar pits, the hard target to squash the market |
You’re brain washed, watch the starships |
I make cars flip, Deck bomb atomic, Islamic arms |
Kiss the comet, this time, he’s gone |
I grip the don, rip arms out the socket, cock it |
Fly logic, now watch me sky rocket, watch it |
Hot as the tropic get, bulletproof asaphogus |
Steel cage confidence, burn it on a floppy disc |
Swerve the metropolis, my whole team in back of me |
You just a half of ki, I’m a coke factory |
You ain’t heard us in a minute |
You heard us in a minute, man (Wu-Tang!) |
I keep banging on you niggas |
Finger on my trigger, man (Wu-Tang!) |
Yo, thank god it’s Friday, like it’s just me and my chick |
Cruising the highway, she twisting my piff |
You see I’m living proof that crime pay, the type that go at a bitch |
The type to shoot the gift, and blow every clip |
I know this money like the back of my hand, you get the back of my hand |
Just like a fiend who took a package and ran |
Po-po be hopping out of passenger vans, harassing niggas in Park Hill |
For marked bills, ratchets and grams |
So I move like I’m ducking a charge, I’m trying to set up shop |
Get this gwop, get the fuck out of dodge |
Most my niggas like to puff in the car, most these hoes emotionally scared |
And keep the works stuffed in they bras |
This is ghetto rap, where the pot be calling the kettle black |
My bullets trynna see where they head is at, I’m heading back |
To the slums, back to the block, I got the Clan on my back |
And you know we heading back to the top, nigga |
You ain’t heard us in a minute |
You heard us in a minute, man (Wu-Tang!) |
I keep banging on you niggas |
Finger on my trigger, man (Wu-Tang!) |