| You’re not dead!
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| I’m a killer, that’s why, killers don’t die so easy!
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| Even though your so-called loyal clans all got together
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| And tried to kill me! |
| Hahahaha!
|
| Ah! |
| Ghost Face Killer!
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| Yo, we got killer Glocks, loaded up with killer shots
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| To killer cops, playin' the block with killer rocks
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| High-voltage guns that let off kilowatts
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| Big Cee-Lo games that only got killer knots
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| Nothin' but killers in here that’ll straight kill your career
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| The bullshit is killin' my ears
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| Kill a red carpet, geared to kill a premiere
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| This is Ghostface Killah, no killer would dare
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| Killer fashion, watch how I kill 'em with rolls
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| With the classic Wallabees with the colorful soles
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| My killer actions leave fake killers exposed
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| There’s no relaxin' when you see my killers on patrol
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| We got killers on parole that’s real ill since Bill Bill
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| That’ll fuck around and kill Bill
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| Born in the killer Stapletown thriller
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| Ghostface Killah, yo, it only get realer
|
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang!
|
| Once upon a time, we was labeled the murder capital
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| Ear wide velour, FILA suit with the cable
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| Do or die, kill or be killed, streets are murder
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| Ninja mask, killers on bikes, get your man lift
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| Sock on the toe of the Bally for the gearshift
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| Adrenaline pump the pulse, killer instinct
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| Trigger finger start to itch, my bad eye twitch
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| Cut from the fabric of the raw lyric
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| These are the rules, got a fam of killers that don’t snitch
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| Quiet killers like carbon monoxide when doves cry
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| Masta Killa mic assassin, you all die
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| Slow, I move in silence, you won’t hear a peep
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| Killers that’ll kill you for real in one heartbeat
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| Slid to get y’all weak, we kill concrete
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| Spin it back and catch the beat, I squeeze mic heat
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| Hah, I squeeze my heat
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| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang!
|
| R.A. |
| The-The-The Rugged Man!
|
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang!
|
| Why me? |
| Wanna fight me? |
| Try me
|
| Every record label sucks dick
|
| Eyes Wide Shut masquerade, got wild dancin'
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| I’m in the moshpit at the Rothschild mansion
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| I’m Corman, Orson, Thorburn, John Boorman
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| The living baptism in the river of Jordan
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| Rock bells when I kick the gospel, gods fell
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| Abort rappers like Kermit Gosnell, I’m not well
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| Black gestapos, white broncos, drop those
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| When the Glock blows, turn your face into potholes
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| Always had the hot flows since a booger snotnose
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| Mama couldn’t afford us, she shoulda kept her twat closed
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| Fill a stadium, baby Damien
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| I’ll sell a weapon to an Iranian, then I’ll sell a Russian uranium
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| Beretta sever the head of the negative, never let 'em live
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| I’ll put you to bed like Mr. Huxtable with a sedative
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| I am the filthy dirty degenerate representative, a Juice Crew
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| Terror to the era terrorist
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| No they won’t protect ya, the throne of The Bone Collector
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| Bullet to the dome, welcome to the home of Phil Spector
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| I toss 'em and flip 'em, ragdoll status
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| The murder, the madness of Mad Dog Mattis
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| Sing
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| You are wit' R.A. |
| de Don Gorgon
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| 'Longside Xx3eme de yardman
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| Rifle spit fire like dragon
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| Quickly send dem to de Lord and
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| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!)
|
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!)
|
| Food haffi eat, dawgs never miss (Nah!)
|
| We send dem a mile, they gon' reminisce
|
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang!
|
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness
|
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness
|
| G Rap’s known 'cause I’m bad to the bone
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| I kill 'em executioner style!
|
| I’m Kool G Rap
|
| I’m Kool G Rap, poison
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| G ran with the thieves and the bandits
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| Toast click, don’t make me leave you in transit
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| Don’t even think about seizin' no chances
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| This shit make birds flee from they branches
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| If it ain’t cheese where your hands is
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| We gon' leave you like Christopher Reeves in some Pampers
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| Don’t sneeze, and you panic or breathe
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| When we stand at reach and you gon' bleed on your dandruff
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| Close steel, better hold still
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| They gon' find you with left with no grill like you’re roadkill
|
| Flashin' lights in the night, not from camera shots
|
| Those the type from the ice in the random shops
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| Where the mothers come and candle blocks
|
| Bodies rot in abandoned lots
|
| Helicopters and the vans is SWAT, cannibalism, scams and plots
|
| Vandalism, grams and rocks
|
| Stay in the kitchen, handle pots, handle riches, hammer’s cocked
|
| Man in prison, man forgot
|
| Tattoo teardrop and the can pop
|
| Don’t stop, won’t stop, hip hop can’t stop
|
| You are wit' R.A. |
| de Don Gorgon
|
| 'Longside Xx3eme de yardman
|
| Rifle spit fire like dragon
|
| Quickly send dem to de Lord and
|
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!)
|
| Who dem ah dis? |
| Who dem ah dis? |
| (Yah!)
|
| Food haffi eat, dawgs never miss (Nah!)
|
| We send dem a mile, they gon' reminisce
|
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang! |
| Wu-Tang!
|
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness
|
| Juice Crew All-Stars, oh my goodness |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Dragon Fire , by - R.A. The Rugged Man. Song from the album All My Heroes Are Dead, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп