| You’ve practiced 20 years? |
| You must be extremely good then
|
| Perhaps, you’ll try with me
|
| Come and taste my seasonin', Chef, the cooking that is marvelous
|
| Back over a stove, makin' your mouth water, you starve for this
|
| Exclusive sneakers with hard denim, heavyweight
|
| A neighbor illustrated Alex Haley with paper (paper)
|
| Waves spinnin' like the Titanic, come take a float on
|
| Silky like King Henry VIII’s robe in late spring
|
| Restaurants with skeleton keys, it’s big business
|
| Well groomed and elegant posture is real dapper
|
| Status is gigantic, coats is alpaca
|
| Meetings in the Vatican, drinkin' scotch with the Muscle Milk
|
| Praises go to Ason, the dynasty Mr. Russell built
|
| Feed me royal shottas with Glocks, clean 'em with GT Oil
|
| China dolls from Bangkok, we bang 'em, train 'em and make 'em loyal
|
| Trees stank, she come kiss the top of my Yves Saint
|
| Wise-Universal Tang when I bang
|
| Grizzly with the big bank, it’s 5 stars, y’all, when I call rank
|
| Egos are somethin' that the Wu-Tang crush
|
| These stupid jealous niggas, y’all 'bout to get rust
|
| This ashes to ashes to dust to dust
|
| These derelict MC’s cannot fuck with us, Lord
|
| Egos are somethin' that the Wu-Tang crush
|
| These stupid jealous niggas, y’all 'bout to get rust
|
| This ashes to ashes to dust to dust
|
| These derelict MC’s cannot fuck with us, Lord
|
| Rifles out, bear like the Russian
|
| Octagon tuggin' silk drawers frontin', while her head stuntin'
|
| Mulsannes flood the garage
|
| Man the goats launchin' charge cards from Africa
|
| Catch me in the hookah lodge
|
| Brains linked, twisted Cohibas, say the seeds bang
|
| Coffee pots with graveyard rings, flippin' Gs
|
| Yankee hoodlum on the top of the charts
|
| Dart throwers, they’re sharks
|
| Everybody run
|
| When my gun barks
|
| Non-athletic anti-semetic synthetic rappers get no credit
|
| Pathetic septic lines, incompetent styles not embedded
|
| Wu-Tang slang bangs in your brain, this is not genetic, prophetic
|
| Unadulterated talent while y’all talk that bullshit rhetoric
|
| Egos are somethin' that the Wu-Tang crush
|
| These stupid jealous niggas, y’all 'bout to get rust
|
| This ashes to ashes to dust to dust
|
| These derelict MC’s cannot fuck with us, Lord
|
| Where is the money? |
| Ha ha… |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Crushed Egos, artist - Wu-Tang Clan. Album song A Better Tomorrow, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп