Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wu Tang Forever, artist - Logic. Album song YSIV, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 27.09.2018
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: DEF JAM, Universal Music
Song language: English
Wu Tang Forever |
En garde, I’ll let you try my Wu-Tang style |
I’d like to try your Wu-Tang style, let’s begin, then |
Shaolin shadowboxing and the Wu-Tang sword style |
If what you say is true, the Shaolin and the Wu-Tang could be dangerous |
Do you think your Wu-Tang sword can defeat me? |
Wu-Tang! |
Wu-Tang! |
Wu-Tang! |
Wu-Tang! |
Ayo, ayo, Wu-Tang forever, who rhyme better? |
We too clever, the boom bap’s back, harder than ever |
R.I.P. |
O.D.B, comin' through like Killa Bee |
Ever since I heard Enter the 36 in '93 |
You cannot defeat my Wu-Tang style, I leave 'em all dismembered |
Fuck a mumble rap, that shit won’t never be remembered |
Not even a contender, no, pretender, best surrender |
My agenda is killin' shit, they feelin' this (Sinatra) |
Yeah, we live and thorough |
Assassinatin' every single muthafuckin' borough |
From Staten to Brooklyn to Queens, the Bronx and Harlem |
All the way to Maryland, yeah, we comin' for all 'em |
Bobby Tarantino to the Digital |
My shit is pivotal, smokin' chronic, no medicinal |
Who you know assemble the Clan like Voltron? |
The one and only Logic, the God, the don, I’m gone |
Ay-yo, Logic, what up? |
We gon' let these muthafuckas try this Wu-Tang style |
Yo, yo, yo, yo, kaboom! |
Guess who stepped in the room |
It’s Ghostface, gold plates, old truths, more cake |
Intelligent brothers with nine hoods, movin' snowflakes |
Guillotine your head, last scene in the showcase |
Push weight, this Colgate, tre-eights and old gates |
Exfoliate those we most hate, we don’t associate |
We wear robes that you can’t even pronunciate |
We eat foods where you can’t even pronounce you ate |
Cribs where the floor just rises up and rotates |
Locations low-key, can’t even locate |
Twin nina sisters with the beam, we all soulmates |
Team makin' us so much cream, we bought gold plates |
Yo, mountains of haze in the crib of my blades |
It gets messy underneath the dresser, the gauge |
57 MB, yo, metallic green, seats is piped off |
Seize 'em old tracks, unite through 'em |
The kitchen is my palace, get your dance on |
While we just levitate with trees, get your branch on |
I’m known to wil' out, put the cams on |
Jewels down, the sets dip, my gems got grams on |
A specialist when I’m bakin' |
Rhymes be comin' out, we makin' |
We challengin' these chumps for lumps |
Here’s the statement—stop hatin' |
The crew is all about gettin' this cake in |
You know about me, you relatin' |
The enigma, the stigmas that the RZA and the GZA |
Both lyrical prolific, fixtures of rap scriptures |
Mixtures of hipsters, weed smokers, and beer drinkers |
Prince and the Pauper, spiritual clear-thinkers |
Cake in the oven, Superbad like McLovin |
Huggin' all four boroughs, puffin' herb with my cousin |
Academically speaking, rap vocabulary’s weakenin' |
I felt it comin' like The Weeknd when these starboys start tweakin' |
Sporadic pill-poppin' of OxyContin |
III-gotten sexual intercourse make shorty wop feel rotten |
The travesty-tapestry of microphone mastery has been refuted |
Diluted, broken down to a catastrophe |
But cats still get the trophy, hit y’all with that «Okie-dokie» |
Burt Reynolds, Bandit, goddamnit |
Where the fuck is Smokey Bear when you need one? |
I got a light-beam gun |
I’ll blast a hole in your chest that you can’t bleed from |
But you’ll die through iniquity, plus stupidity of that trickery |
My verse got it hot up in here, not the humidity |
You can never get rid of me, step back and consider me |
Wu Killa Bee, but I’m not big on bigotry |
Old school on this track, I feel invincible |
This new school ain’t really got rules and lack the principles |
Got more clowns than the Motown, they puttin' critical |
The gun, Smokey Robinson, you need a Miracle |
Go back, homie, back when rappers used to be lyrical |
When nine out of ten of his friends used to be criminals |
The stats, homie, all these killas usin' subliminals |
Y’all don’t even smile in your pictures, you dudes is miserable |
Witty unpredictable torture over your physical |
Struggle bar, used to pour water over the cereal |
Another bar, reppin' my squad, not individual |
But one Nation under God, that’s indivisible |
My time critical, hands off I’m digital |
Me and my Ladybug, back when the planet was Digable |
I’m cool like that, my cash rule like that |
I’m classic, Patti LaBelle, Voulez Vous like that, come on |
It’s only Logic, we got 'em mobbin' in the mosh pit |
Fifth Brother, INS hotter than the tropics |
The hot shit I drop quick |
Major player, watch my stock lift |
Razor-blade sharpness regardless to whom or what |
Sound boy, turn that music up |
Naysayer, you ain’t even got a clue what’s up |
Deadly melody, the sickness, the remedy |
Everything circulate back around eventually |
Witty unpredictable, talent all-natural |
Gain, Wu-Tang pumpin' through your veins |
Twenty-five years, still more of the same |
The flow like water with the boilin' flame |
INS, your highness, they callin' my name |
Boy, I wet the scene similar to fallin' rain |
In our own lane, y’all soundin' all the same |
Tell 'em Wu-Tang is on your brain |
Survival of the fittest be cold days with no money |
They don’t want me with stacks, they better take it from me |
You know the currency gone soon as you break a twenty |
So I ain’t down if you ain’t talkin' that band language |
Dear Lord, I’m tryna buy me a train with it |
An airplane, see me flyin' to Spain with it |
But money don’t make me, and I ain’t gonna change with it |
I’m in the hood, lookin' good, the way I came with it |
Do it for the Cs, they understood the game with it |
We gave birth when we understood the pain with it |
When we create wars, everybody is a gangbanger |
We killin' each other, but we all got the same anger |
Never go against the grain, homie, that’s hateful |
Another day in the life for us to be grateful |
Spread love, homie, yeah, get a plateful |
It’s better to stay full, so let’s make moves |
I know your momma told you that I was a great dude |
These dirty-ass cops, they kill and rape you |
On some Jason shit, might Crystal in the Lake you |
What? |
What, what? |
They might Crystal in the Lake you |
Boom bap blast’ll blow your sleeves off |
Our Flashback Jacks are somethin' to feed off |
Smoke and roast ya, the No. 9 Potion |
Pull that shit, son, we open the ocean |
Who gives a fuck who’s snortin' and drinkin' and smokin'? |
You get killed for jokin', everybody’s hopin' |
That’s another level of emotion |
Food stamps niggas doin' grocery |
Police wanna grope me |
Perp walk, then nigga street-talk |
We bury niggas in sea salt |
I carry the torch where I leave off |
I’m givin' bitches somethin' to breathe on |
I rip off a shoulder to lean on |
It’s fair game, it’s two in a lane, she took two trains |
And none of my rhymes are two and the same |
Nigga get cooked on a open flame |
I’m a hillbilly, Park Hill-trained |
My rhyme starts riots in the mountains |
Thirty-six million and countin' |
The harder they come, the harder I go |
Loosen up my arms, can I get comfortable? |
Stay on my tip-toes, old-school Wu beat |
This is a flip-phone, dude, your slips showin' |
Where I come from it stays snowin' |
The grammar is raw, I’m slammin' the door |
Beez bang bong in your jaw |
I hit 'em in the head with the hammer of Thor |
Stars and bars, makes me a general |
Anything less, makes me a criminal |
Gotta dig deep for these Wu-Tang minerals |
G.O.D., shadowbox with the L.O.G.I.C |
On the count of three, Wu-Tang |
First, master your breathin' |
I’m mental ass-whoopin', I’m teachin' when I’m speakin' |
I’m a champion from Brooklyn |
I’m movin' super-ninjas and Shaolin executioners |
Avenger, a righteous defender |
Grandmaster from the 36th Chamber |
Toad style is mentally strong, so strengthen your arms |
To hold my microphone you need iron palms |
Remain calm, Jamel Irief |
Wise chief, Wu-Tang poison clansman from the east, yeah |
Enter a world of a universal mind of one kind |
A thick swarm of words that’s expressed in one rhyme |
Food for thought, impossible sliders with the seasoning Regardless, |
I speak logic—clear reasoning |
The uncivilized, get the mineral lines, quartz |
Self-directed, calculated, controlled thoughts |
A point-of-view of the thinkers |
Monumental architecture, amazing as the Incas |
(Sinatra) (Wu-Tang) |
W.T.C., ah-ha |
The faculty |
Ain’t nothin' goin' on, don’t nothin' move |
Nobody slide, nobody get hurt |
En garde, I’ll let you try my Wu tang style |
I’d like to try your Wu tang style, let’s begin, then |
Shaolin shadowboxing and the Wu tang sword style |
If what you say is true, the Shaolin and the Wu Tang could be dangerous |
Do you think your Wu Tang sword can defeat me? |