
Date of issue: 21.06.1999
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Wu-Tang
Song language: English
One Life to Live |
Yo, for the one-nine-nine-nine shit’s goin' change |
Now it’s us in the Range, God’s giving us brains |
Play the game, put my heart into it, you stupid? |
I’m a gunner, whenever I got the rock I’ll shoot it |
The undisputed champion on the M-I-see |
Been Wu-Tang before it became a production company |
Stay fresh like Doug, I run with the thugs |
That’ll cut your throat and sell your blood |
Fifty/fifty love around the border |
Should be bidding five to fifteen |
On the Strength for the way I manslaughter |
Rock your girl’s boat like the Titanic |
Man, I got more numbers than the Ninex, plus the Bell Atlantic |
More hoes than forty-deuce |
More clothes than twenty cleptos could boost |
I’m not having it |
I bring it to your label, producer and your management |
Man, I’m like the Feds, I bring down your establishment |
Under the Rico, I purchased my 3rd quarterly from Bob Cito |
Got your block locked like the Dred, Mike Z and Chino |
You know (What? What?) |
Look me eye-to-eye and see what you find |
A crime nigga, nine spitter, mind digga, refined |
Power impact, cracking your spine, mankind |
Blow off the surface like landmines in my pastime |
I saw it all, had plenty broads |
Cut your wig short like Demi Moore |
Ghost, vanished, most motherfuckers don’t know I’m half spanish |
Hazardous lyrical tactics, pinned to the mattress like canvas |
Get your ass kicked for talking backwards |
Puffin Backwoods, walking through the back of the hood |
No protection, Stapleton section |
Corrupt life, T.M.F. |
arch style, we rush mic’s |
Disarmed for that gold-piece charm |
Red alert, we all alarmed, ready for combat |
No contact, counting backwards ten-to-one |
Now let me launch that, no way you can catch my format |
I’m like the Gingerbread Man, moving on land |
Catch me if you can, I move faster than the average man |
You only got one life to live |
So all of my children, it’s better to give than receive |
Life is short, Days of Our Lives seem to speed |
Still waiting for the day when Clinton legalize weed |
It’s like gun play when my darts spray |
Leave you scarred today, mental washed away |
I shoot like Hardaway, your body parts decay |
Slow-lay, too busy lusting the Rol-ay, platinum face |
I snatch you over-arms, I take you out of space |
Take you into my orbit, Terrorist gone corporate |
Chopping tracks into sawdust, son, so you could snort it |
In the conference room, Terrorist Hymn coming soon |
Album cover pitch-black like the sky, without the moon |
To illuminate, in my dome-piece there lies a metal plate |
Titanium, harder than a lock in your gate |
Burglarize your enterprise and have fun with your mate |
Cause I’m not nasty, when doing my dirt, won’t see ya masta me |
Silent Weapons is a classic like Freddy Bassey |
What a word pro, electro, grenade logo |
Forever show how I firmly handle the phono |
Bitches lust me, my plans of wetting the seeds in the mo-mo |
Terrorist relating to Shy, mi vida loco (I feel the same way) |
Yo, yo, yo, yo |
Eh yo, treasury, stacking this paper for Longevity |
The money first, put it in work, that be my pedigree |
Let’s take it to higher degree |
Sit back and visualize so our eyes could see |
Black God, we living hard |
Mugs get scarred, thugs get barred |
Treated like slaves in the yard |
Playing the field, most niggas tell and squeal |
That’s why I move for 'self, only me and my steel |
Cause shit is real and leary niggas will rat you out |
Get under pressure by the jakes when they smack 'em out |
Gat in they mouth, for talking, you sleep-walking |
Can’t play the street often, become a victim for extortion |
For your fortune, your bank rose |
Stank hoes, you think I ain’t cold? |
Run up in your crib, take everything, even the sink goes |
You sweat like a pink rose |
Can you smell it, when you soft like velvet? |
Catch one up in your helmet, get dealt wit |
On the quick-fast, take you on a great adventure like Six Flags |
Spent every day of my life just trying to get cash |
So when my shit blasts |
Duck behind buildings for shelter, or you’ll get hit fast |
Catch whiplash, fucking wit Trife, you must’ve skipped class |
Your bitch-ass didn’t take notes, infra-red scope beaming |
I’m tired of dreaming, I want to hit the big screen and |
But keep an open eye for them cats who stay scheming |
Name | Year |
---|---|
On and On | 2011 |
Move It over Here | 1994 |
One's 4 da Money | 1994 |
Dear God (featuring Pop "The Brown Hornet") ft. Pop Da Brown Hornet | 1995 |
5 Elements (featuring Rubbabandz, Pop "The Brown Hornet," Down Low Reka, Junelover) ft. Rubbabandz, Pop Da Brown Hornet, Down Low Reka | 1995 |
You the Man ft. Shyheim | 1994 |
Furious Anger ft. Shyheim | 1999 |
Here Come the Hits | 1994 |
Here I Am | 1994 |
The Rugged Onez ft. June Luva, Shyheim | 1994 |
In Trouble | 2001 |
4 the Headpiece ft. Due Lilz, Down Low Recka, Shyheim | 1994 |
Napsack | 1994 |
Co-Defendant ft. Hell Razah | 1998 |
Party's Goin' On | 1994 |
Dear God ft. Shyheim | 1996 |
Young Godz | 1999 |
Pass It Off ft. K-Tez, Down Low Recka, Shyheim | 1994 |
Little Rascals | 1994 |
Buckwylin | 1994 |