Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bust A Slug, artist - Wu-Syndicate.
Date of issue: 19.04.1999
Song language: English
Bust A Slug |
We famous decorators |
Outlaws with the force with the Money Makers |
Wu-Tang when we bang we be regulators |
Player haters can’t play us cuz the thugs obey us |
Bust a slug to save us |
Straight missle, spit false gristle, snapper time |
Pop the tops off of Anaheims, tropic refined |
Extortin air time, imported from the Mason-Dixon Line |
Look at my frigid eyes, fake fucks describe |
Slap 'em paralyzed, analyze the lies |
Kinetic, my word is all I have, slaughter trash |
Monster mash, half ass on the war path |
Suffer land, give a fuck, grand crashin the Pan Am |
My squad Van Damme, the shit was suntan |
VA so tanned, without the beenie rap, who? |
Hoodini rap, Mussolini stack, Lambourghini crash |
Kiss the genie lamp, henny big, excellency |
No fake shit, wrong recipe, war speciality |
Meet the headless heat |
Recognize, direct from them cats that fantasize |
It’s that nigga Trigga, Medallion Isle drug dealer |
I slaughter pace on the reels, no more dough waste |
This paper chase got me in the eyes of snakes |
Brutalize projects, caught up with the fake |
True villain, when I vacate I’m Cold Chillin |
Niggas spillin, picture the man, ice grillin |
Gats with the muffle, groove on with my hustle |
For 25 years of tears and no fears |
Money Makers, Wu-Syndicate takin it, yeah |
Let it be clear, Medallion Isle, we foul |
Klik Ga Bow move man, woman and child |
It’s the swarm, Russ Prez smokin a storm |
Far from norm, life legacy live long |
Represent, I reside in eternal torment |
Often survivors of abortion, lampin in coffins |
Forcin, yea, wrap your tear in extortions |
Yea, big before I return hit the porcellain |
The K, the G, the B, Ill Knob bring the ruckus |
Cuz I don’t got time for these faggots, they frontin |
But I’m about to break em out the havoc with the fire |
I battle water, what you order? |
You would run far from the slaughter |
I’m gunnin out whoevers in the order |
The hitch out, no bitch out |
I’m cold bloody, nigga, get your rich out |
A nigga ditch out for yourself and your family |
Cuz I don’t want nobody layin, handin me |
I’m livin life, profanity, insanity |
Because I’m not sane, insane |
When I rockin on the block I gots to push my cane |
Got to live in this life, baby, times is trife |
Have to be on my side if you playin my wife |
No knife come between us, married to my Syndicate |
Niggas see this, playa hate and try to be this |
It’s hard to beat us and you don’t wanna be this |
When you warmin up ya fist, you don’t wanna be missed |
Buck! |
Buck! |
Bust a slug back, what the fuck? |
This is yea, three burners, made Tina Turner dance |
Probably you kidin me, only my man bust outta me |
I was gotta slicin the pot by about a three |
Dicks for them niggas that snitch, whoever shot at me? |
All up on my shit, pussies plottin three days to 'bout a week |
Wu-Syndicate, most hypnitated 'cross the E-N-T |
Entire, niggas collapse and raid the empire |
Where the stash at? |
Cryin, he broke, a damn liar |
Yolk for the smoke, back room, medallion man croke |
Now kneal, no jokes, get back, take it, no damn moat |
Joke, lock the dough, pussy, stay down, lay down |
Slow Napoleon, get the duct tape, cave it for cash flow |
Biography, million of my fans get painted robbery |
A to Z enyclopedia, color photography |
Penitentuary rhyme, soft get they ass took |
Street turn, patiently speakin, you know the math |
Make bitch niggas ballerina, pull up they tu-tu |
Smacked up in front of your bra, what his man do? |
Eyes gluded to my right hand |
Don’t rush me, what that bitch nigga scream? |
Runnin through traffic like lightnin |
My loud boss screamin, yellin for wifin |
You see that shit, another hit, Wu-Syndicate |
Myalansky, Joe Mafia, Napoleon, collie on |
Marlon Brando rap, your rolie on |
'97 bar, tighten storm door, war was on |
'98, a twisted rate, kidnap and solemnly swore |
To my pa', give my last call, pass the shoe horn |
Don’t shoot guys, calmly move on, totally we groove on |
We above your valley cleaner, who clapped, Sally seen her |
Black '97 beamer, bitch niggas ballerina |
Niggas dance |
Famous decorators, yea, yea |
Poison Clan… *echo* |