| Up from the 36 Chambers
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| Heheh, it’s the Ghost Face Killah
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| Heheheh, Wu-Tang!
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| Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
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| Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
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| Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
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| Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
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| The RZA, the GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, U-God
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| Ghostface Killah, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, the Masta Killa, Raw Desire,
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| LeVon, Power Cipher
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| 12 O’Clock, 60 Second Assassin
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| The 4th Disciple, the Brown Hornet
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| K.D. |
| the Down Low Recka
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| Shyheim a.k.a. The Rugged Child
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| Du-Du-Lilz, Mr. Hezekiah
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| Better known as the Yin and the Yang, the True Master
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| Isham, DJ Skane, the True Robocop comin' through
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| Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the Civilized
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| The Shaolin Soldiers, Daddy-O and Popa Ron
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| Comin' down from the motherfuckin' South end of things
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| Killa Beez all over your fuckin' planet
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| Thirty-six chambers of death
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| Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles
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| Choppin' off your motherfuckin' dome
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| -piece, and every fuckin' borough
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| Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Queens, Staten Island
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| The motherfuckin' Bronx, Killa Beez
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| The sword? |
| C’mon, give him the sword!
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| Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
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| Niggas on the left, brag shit to death (Wu, wu, wu, wu)
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| Hoods on the right, wild for the night (Wu, wu, wu, wu)
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| Punks in the back, c’mon and attract to what? |
| (Wu, wu, wu, wu)
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| The Wu is comin' through, the outcome is critical
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| Fuckin' with my style is sort of like a miracle
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| On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald
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| I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald-
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| -ine Ferraro, who’s full of sorrow
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| 'Cause the ho didn’t win, but the sun will still come out tomorrow
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| And shine shine shine like gold mine
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| Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballantine
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| Pass the bone, kid, pass the bone!
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| Let’s get on this mission like Indiana Jones
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| The GZA, one who just represent the Wu-Tang clique
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| With the game and soul of an old school flick
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| Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids
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| Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids
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| So stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin' own
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| I’ll hang your ass with this microphone
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| Make way for the merge of traffic
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| Wu-Tang's comin' through with full metal jackets
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| God squad that’s mad hard to serve
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| Come frontin' hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves
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| Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
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| Niggas on the left, brag shit to death (Wu, wu, wu, wu)
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| Hoods on the right, wild for the night (Wu, wu, wu, wu)
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| Punks in the back, c’mon and attract to what (Wu, wu, wu, wu)
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| No response while I bomb that ass
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| You ain’t shit, your wack-ass town had you gassed
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| Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang crush
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| Souped-up niggas on a stage get rushed
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| I don’t give a goddamn on the shows you did
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| How many rhymes you got or who knows you, kid
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| 'Cause I don’t know you, therefore show me what you know
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| I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow
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| You become so Pat as my style increases
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| What’s that in your pants? |
| Ahh, human feces!
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| Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper
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| Next time, come strapped with a fuckin' Pamper
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| How you sound, B? |
| You’re better off a quitter
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| I’m on the mound, G, and it’s a no-hitter
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| And my DJ, the catcher, he’s my man
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| In a way he’s the one who devised the plan
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| He throws the signs, I hook up the beats with clout
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| I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike 'em out
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| So it really doesn’t matter on how you intrigue
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| You can’t fuck with those in the major leagues
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| Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
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| Niggas on the left, brag shit to death
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| Hoods on the right, wild for the night
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| Punks in the back, c’mon and attract to what
|
| Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
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| Niggas on the left, brag shit to death
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| Hoods on the right, wild for the night
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| Punks in the back, c’mon and attract to what
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| Hoods on the right
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| Punks in the back… to what
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| Niggas on the left
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| Hoods on the right
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| Punks in the back, c’mon… to what
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| Let your feet stomp
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| Brag shit to death
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| Wild for the night
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| (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
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| (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
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| (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
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| Niggas on the left, brag shit to death
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| Hoods on the right, wild for the night
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| Punks in the back, c’mon and attract
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| Clan in da front, let your feet stomp |