Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bust A Slug , by - Wu-Syndicate. Release date: 19.04.1999
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Bust A Slug , by - Wu-Syndicate. 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* |
| Name | Year |
|---|---|
| Latunza Hit | 1999 |
| Thug War | 1999 |
| Young Brothas | 1999 |
| Crime Syndicate | 1999 |
| Muzzle Toe | 1999 |
| Metropolis | 1999 |
| Ghetto Syringe | 1999 |
| Ice Age | 1999 |
| Wings of Life | 1999 |
| The Hit | 1999 |
| Lutunza | 1999 |
| Golden Sands | 1999 |
| Global Politics | 1999 |
| VA Cats | 1999 |
| Weary Eyes | 1999 |
| Pointin' Fingers | 1999 |
| Ask Son | 1999 |