Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Wyld In Da Club, artist - Raekwon. Album song The Lex Diamond Story, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Universal Music
Song language: English
Wyld In Da Club |
Don’t take it per-son-al. |
it’s only mu-sic |
Holla at me. |
yo! |
Yo! |
Ice Water! |
Yo. |
yo |
Try me, P.C.'ll put a clip in a nigga |
Fuck a hole, my bullets’ll dig a ditch in a nigga |
Listen, I’ve been reppin', only pack big weapons |
One shot to the stomach, you missin' ya midsection |
I’m off the wall, dog, I could off ya balls |
Stick his ass to the rooftop, toss 'em off |
Hit the Ave with the rooftop off the porch |
I get money cuz it costs to floss, nigga you feelin' me? |
And if not then fuck what you gotta deal with me |
I’ve only been here for a minute but haters wanna get rid of me |
P.C. |
creep with at least three heats |
And a shotgun stashed underneath the backseats |
Niggas actin' like you don’t feel a draft |
You seen ya man? |
Tell him I’ma kill his ass |
And I don’t, wanna talk I want a mill in cash |
I come through 'tards shittin', lookin' ill in the past |
Cuz it’s the, Ice Water, don’t get it confused |
And one false move’ll cause me to spit at you dudes |
It’s Stumic, motherfucker and I’m pickin' ya food |
And ain’t no one out you know that my niggas’ll do you |
Let’s spit on 'em, rush these niggas |
And crush several fuckin', will leave a dent out ya liver |
Only kid in the hood with a mustard ninja |
Heard you broke down good, well I fucked ya sister |
Eh yo we Wyld in Da Club, style in the club |
This is for my niggas gettin' down in the club |
At the bar throwin' down rounds in the club |
Talk slick and get the four pound in ya mug |
Yo I keep my gun on me, what the fuck y’all want from me? |
Y’all touch my property somebody gon' die, uh-huh |
This ain’t no joke, it’s for real |
My niggas they totin' they steel |
All it takes a phone call and they ready to ride |
Get ready to die |
Eh yo the cards are dealt, the words are spoken |
Nigga, welcome to the Hell, the gates is open (uh-huh) |
Gatekeeper, first degree murder through the speaker |
Who deep enough to flow with the reaper? |
Stuck in the middle, I spit a little riddle |
Leavin' niggas crippled, my niggas ball 'em like Kerry Kittles |
You niggas makin' it hard, it’s really kinda simple |
If a nigga gotta pull it out I’m puttin' it in ya temple |
Official I do this, rude maneuver |
I use the Rugers to keep the bullets movin' through ya |
Weak anatomy, fuck the small talk and flattery |
Ya power is weak, to beef you need much more batteries |
Keep it genetic, or dead it, Ice Water Inc. we said it |
Whoever so-called did it or said it, promote it and spread it |
Fake it or front it, get ambushed and confronted |
With slugs in ya head, back, chest and stomach |
Niggas don’t want it or ask for it, so we give it to 'em |
Dead in the club and let them things spit and rip through 'em dead in the club |
Is you gon' fuck around and be the nigga dead in the club? |
(Yeah? Uh-huh.) |
Egyptian look, gazelles on, L’s lit, this how it’s goin' down |
Ski mask, Chanel shit, move like a terrorist click |
Nineteen eighties babies, worldwide, ya girl on our dick |
All you know is Rae look good, he hood |
Envision the flips, I make money like them niggas who take money |
Fresh out the can, Duran look, Astro van |
The ill Castro, rap Son of Sam |
More Rugers, more bow and arrows |
Still no losers, forty five dollars ahead |
Go at niggas shootin' lyrical leads |
Stop absorbin, break shit, knock that gay shit out ya head |