| Yeah, yeah…
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| Yeah, yeah…
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| Let’s go…
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| Yeah, listen…
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| The sound of the horns says it’s on
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| We storm through like C. Thomas, Red Dawn
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| Step like a don through the city, Deck bonds
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| I get my hands dirty, Nikes scuffed, sweat pouring
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| Still I stay fresh with the fly white linen
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| Duece times 5, that’s my type women
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| Sonny, I live it, O-10, S5 tinted
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| Brother Deck, what I rep, S.I., dig it?
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| Fifty cal' flow, get low
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| Intro to outro, bout it tho, whoa
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| Steady, heavy like the 5−2 Chevy
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| Niggas ain’t ready, I turn out your lights like Teddy
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| Roll like dice in the casino
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| Known to spit lava, Heat like DeNiro and Pacino
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| Manny Festo, Wu-Tang Gambino
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| Lay it down, then I fly off like the hero
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| «Wu-Tang!»
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| «Wu-Tang!»
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| The Wild Cowboy number one
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| G-O-D, how you gonna block out the son?
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| Read my jacket, my achievements stretch like a warning track catch
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| The in-crazable voice box, I throw you boys rocks
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| Diamonds and jewels, a holiday, pros that fuck in schools
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| I’m a tank, I stop panthers, take down stanzas
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| Sixteen bars, keep the car running
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| Broads stunting, feed ya self, kill ya self, take the pill
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| Punks jump up to get beat down
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| New York the sweet town I sorta, who’s on tour?
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| Who the vile, truth can say, you ain’t a slouch
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| Now Rule local, now I’m B.K. |
| vocal
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| Right out the X, you can work out your pecs and your back
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| Can beat the death with bats, need to tune up, NJ’ll turn the tune up
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| I’mma tell you who’s soon enough to got
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| And I ain’t down with getting crossed, and I never been the boss
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| «Wu-Tang!»
|
| Yo, you’re hog-tied, I’m roping them, bitches, I’m gropping them
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| Open up your veins, cop three bags of Dopium
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| Super soak these niggas, stroke with the magnum force
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| Leak it in the streets quick, peep my secret sauce
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| I keep it gloss, I’m suited up for my franchise
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| Your coins is tossed, man-handle bad guys
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| Scramble for my damn prize, crack cans of cold Guinness
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| I’m like Seabiscuit, I’mma win by a photo finish
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| Nigga, this ain’t tennis, yeah, I ain’t bluffing shit
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| I be the street menace on my David Ruffin shit
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| Police ain’t cuffing shit, claiming I’m a crook
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| Throw up my middle finger, I’m a hall of famer in my book
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| Right hook, death jooks, great with my footwork
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| Bubble through, got the W on my hood shirt
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| Sneak through the wood works like poisonous high fumes
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| I’m that superhero with the brand new costume
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| «Wu-Tang!»
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| «Wu-Tang!»
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| «Wu-Tang!»
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| «Wu-Tang!» |