| What y’all thought y’all wasn’t gon’see me?
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| I’m the Osirus of this shit
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| Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfucker
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| It’s like this ninety-seven
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| Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes
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| Let’s do it like this
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| I’ma rub your ass in the moonshine
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| Let’s take it back to seventy-nine
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| I bomb atomically, Socrates’philosophies
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| and hypothesis can’t define how I be droppin these
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| mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery
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| Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits
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| tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics
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| I inspect you, through the future see millenium
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| Killa B’s sold fifty gold sixty platinum
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| Shacklin the masses with drastic rap tactics
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| Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths
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| Black Wu jackets queen B’s ease the guns in Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function
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| Heads by the score take flight incite a war
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| Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more
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| Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly
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| Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi
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| Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock
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| Wu got it locked, performin live on your hottest block
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| As the world turns, I spread like germs
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| Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn
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| It’s my testament to those burned
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| Play my position in the game of life, standin firm
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| on foreign land, jump the gun out the fryin pan, into the fire
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| Transform into the Ghostrider, a six-pack
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| and +A Streetcar Named Desire+, who got my back?
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| In the line of fire holdin back, what?
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| My peoples if you with me where the fuck you at?
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| Niggaz is strapped, and they tryin to twist my beer cap
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| It’s court adjourned, for the bad seed from bad sperm
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| Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood
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| clot, we smoke pot, and blow spots
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| You wanna think twice, I think not
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| The Iron Lung ain’t got ta tell you where it’s coming from
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| Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone
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| Rip through your slums
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| I twist darts from the heart, tried and true
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| Loop my voice on the LP, martini on the slang rocks
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| Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talkin
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| Tell your story walkin
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| Take cover kid, what? |
| Run for your brother, kid
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| Run for your team, and your six camp rhyme groupies
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| So I can squeeze with the advantage, and get wasted
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| My deadly notes reigns supreme
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| Your fort is basic compared to mine
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| Domino effect, arts and crafts
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| Paragraphs contain cyanide
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| Take a free ride on my dart, I got the fashion
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| catalogues for all y’all to all praise to the Gods
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| The saga continues
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| Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang
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| Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet
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| The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat
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| We crush slow, flamin deluxe slow
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| For, judgment day cometh, conquer, it’s war
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| Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb
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| Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms
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| Tune spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound
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| The fateful step make, the blood stain the ground
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| A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum
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| A death kiss, catwalk, squeeze another anthem
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| Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics
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| My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas
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| My music Sicily, rich California smell
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| An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well
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| I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin on ginseng
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| Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king
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| Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-Cypher-Punks couldn’t hold us A thousand men rushin in, not one nigga was sober
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| Perpendicular to the square, we stamp gold like Fleer
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| Escape from your Dragon’s Lair, in particular
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| My beats travel like a vortex, through your spine
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| to the top of your cerebrum cortex
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| Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex
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| Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream
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| now terminal, like Grand Central Station
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| Program fat baselines, on Novation
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| Getting drunk like a fuck, I’m duckin five-year probation
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| War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous
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| Many of the victim family save they ashes
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| A million names on walls engraved in plaques
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| Those who went back, received penalties for the axe
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| Another heart is torn as close ones mourn
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| Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song
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| The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds |
| and leaks sounds that’s heard
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| ninety-three million miles away from came one
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| to represent the Nation, this is a gathering
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| of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan
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| As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage
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| The high chief Jamel-I-Reef take the stage
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| Light is provided through sparks of energy
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| from the mind that travels in rhyme form
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| Givin sight to the blind
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| The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum
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| Death only one can save self from
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| This relentless attack of the track spares none
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| Yo! |
| Yo! |
| Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back
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| Lampin like them gray and black Puma’s on my man’s rack
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| Codeine was forced in your drink
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| You had a Navy Green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream
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| You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb
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| Blowin like Shalamar in eighty-one
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| Sound convincin, thousand dollar court by convention
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| Hands, like Sonny Liston, get fly permission
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| Hold the fuck up, I’ll unfasten your wig, bad luck
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| I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch
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| it’s me, black nobled you Ali
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| Came in threes we like the Genovese, is that so?
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| Caesar needs the greens, it’s Earth
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| Ninety-three million miles from the first
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| Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz
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| Aiyyo that’s amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk
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| Connect thoughts to make my manchild walk
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| Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser
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| New York Yank’visor world tranquilizer
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| Just a dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives
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| While, my pen blow lines ferocious
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| Mediterranean, see y’all, the number one draft pick
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| Tear down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God
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| The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula
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| Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala
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| Max mostly, undivided, then slide in, sickenin
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| Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland |