Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Respect Mine, artist - Wu-Tang Clan.
Date of issue: 11.05.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Respect Mine |
Crunchy chump motherfuckas, ya’ll niggas is all pussy |
That’s my word, ya’ll know how the realest niggas is |
Don’t let me tell ya’ll again, bitch, straight up |
I put all this right there, on niggas in H.T.M.'s son |
Aiyo, aiyo, aiyo |
All magazines lit, fly life we live |
The lingo is to let, ya’ll niggas know, how niggas rep |
I’m set, lightin' the purple in a new jet |
Triflin' work, let’s murder everything that move on the set |
Goin' back to basics, shit you catch case with |
Style laced with, arsonic, before you taste it |
Rap matrix, gemini’s is two faced it, I heard Rob Based it |
«Bad boys» retire out the game just like Mase did |
Dish it out and take it |
To where I’m bout to go and everybody ain’t gon' make it |
Blow shipments out the rap shit, clap shit |
Most of us attack shit, mean Benz, ballin' wit the bad chick |
Take over, quick fast, violate, slap shit |
And every borough, state, town, prison, map shit |
Makeover hoes that blow, they attract dick |
Shine on my jims, glow, on the low, slap dick |
To every mean queen clean, keep it black chick |
My motto, CREAM, green bottle of the phat shit |
«Brothers respect mine!» |
— Raekwon |
(Uh, uh, what, for real nigga, step the fuck off?) |
Aiyo, Ice Cream, real niggas in whips |
Fur coats, Gucci boots and shit, fly honey dip |
Streets and clips is what we live for, rub on the floor |
Ox in the jaw, rockin' the four, rugged and raw |
Righteous and more, we the gliders, the outsiders |
Killa Bee hivers, the big boy drivers |
The conivers, the four fivers, survivors |
We the livest and carry the heaters, coke is in the meters |
Six to eight seaters, circle the mind readers |
Pumas, Nikes, and Adidas, hip hop achievers |
Love hood rats and love divas, love money, love sex |
Love vets, love weed and love wrecks |
All in together now, follow me the Method |
Raw individual, the enemy you slept with |
No love here, no tender, love and care |
But M.C.'s, I’m starvin', niggas best prepare |
For consumption, for wack assumption |
You can catch a bad one or somethin' |
From shotgun, you know I’m pza-pza-pumpin' |
Jumpin', thumpin', get crunk and |
Drunk inside the function |
+Uncontrolled+ with the +Substance+ |
+Beneath the Surface+ there’s +Redemption+ |
For Bobby Digital +Supreme Clientele+ convention, +Nigga Please+ |
+Immobilarity+ they can’t breath til they +Blackout!+ |
I used to write and smoke L’s in the crackhouse |
Pull your wig like a potato then I mash out |
Check your ego at the door |
Better wipe your feet before you step me, or it’s yourz! |