Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Living In The World Today, artist - GZA. Album song Liquid Swords, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 06.11.1995
Record label: A Geffen Records Release;
Song language: English
Living In The World Today |
You got the capital g |
G to the a-m-c |
Givin a mad shout out to the ranch crew from the old school |
And we gonna take y’all back, knowhati’msayin? |
Lyrical sorcerors right here, the fathers, the cream of the crop son |
(yo check it) |
Well if you livin in the world today |
You be hearin the slang that the wu-tang say |
Niggaz that front we don’t handle em |
So we blast em, alright, well ok |
Well if you like the way it sound then clap man |
And if the women love it too well then raise your hands |
But only raise your hands if you’re sure |
(meth) punk niggaz shatter like a glass jaw, break it |
My rhyme gross weight vehicle combination |
Was too heavy for the chevy’s is chased out the station |
Double-edged was the guillotine that beheaded it |
Gassed up, fuckin with some regular unleaded shit |
Heads roll on hillsides behind ropes that |
Bind-in, x marks the spot on the scope |
Heavily armed military is necessary, it’s a gamble |
Mc’s bet they best at every |
Powerful parable ditties might harm |
If tampered with, set off and strike like pipe bombs |
Flashbacks to the duel of the iron mic |
Look out for these fatal flying spikes, of massive |
Sleep-holds, put strangle on commercial angle |
Microphone cords tangled from being star spangled |
Now who could ever say they heard of this? |
My motherfuckin style is mad murderous |
Well what you know about mcin? |
Yo, I know a lot |
Well can you demonstrate somethin nigga? |
Huh, I’d rather not |
I’m talkin bout stacks cousin |
Nigga that’s what I got |
Cash rules the world |
Well cash rules the spot |
My preliminary attack keep cemetaries packed |
Of niggaz who think it ain’t like that |
Mc’s are gunned down like being run down with mad trucks |
Them God struck, religious niggaz call it bad luck |
Rap celeb, you got caught up in the web |
Now bees are stingin, yo that niggaz em-singin |
I’m just swingin swords strictly based on keyboards |
Unbalanced like elephants and ants on see-saws |
I throw raps that attack like the japs on pearl harbor |
Mc’s be out like bank robbers |
Fleeing the scene, to be a sole survivor |
Dj the getaway driver |
Tried to dip but he dive I socialize on vocal vibes |
On tracks stabbed up with razor sharp knives |
Criminal subliminal minded rappers find it |
Hard to define it, when narrow is the gate |
For fat tapes and then played out and out of date |
Then I construct my thoughts on site to renovate |
And from that point, the God made a statement |
Draftin tracements, replacements in basements |
Materials in sheet-rock, to sound proof the beat box |
And microscopic optics received through the boxes |
Obnoxious topic, major labels, flavor tropical |
Punchlines, that’s unstoppable |
Ring like shots from glocks that attract cops |
Around the clubs and try to shut down the hip-hop |
But we only increase if everything is peace |
Father u c king the police |