Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber - Part II , by - Wu-Tang Clan. Release date: 08.11.1993
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber - Part II |
| Take that motherfucker |
| GOOD MORNING VIETNAM! |
| Yeah, good morning to all you motherfuckin notty-headed niggaz |
| Word to the camoflouge large niggaz |
| Bitch niggaz fuckin my body |
| Bring that fuckin meth in here |
| Yo yo yo yo Now we gonna drink some good Nightrain |
| and yo, set it off |
| Verse One: Raekwon the Chef |
| Champion gear that I rock, you get your boots knocked |
| Then attack you like a pit that lock shit DOWN |
| As I come and freaks the sound, hardcore |
| but giving you more and more, like ding! |
| Nah shorty, get you open like six packs |
| Killer Bees attack, flippin what, murder one, phat tracks |
| A’ight? |
| I kick it like a Night Flite! |
| Word life, I get that ass while I’m fulla spite! |
| Check the method from Bedrock, cause I rock ya head to bed |
| Just like rockin what? |
| Twin glocks! |
| Shake the ground while my beats just break you down |
| Raw sound, we going to war right now |
| So, yo, bombin |
| We Usually Take All Niggaz Garments |
| Save ya breath before I bomb it Verse Two: Method Man |
| I be that insane nigga from the psycho ward |
| I’m on the trigger, plus I got the Wu-Tang sword |
| So how you figure that you can even fuck with mine? |
| Hey, yo, RZA! |
| Hit me with that shit one time! |
| And pull a foul, niggaz save the beef on the cow |
| I’m milkin this ho, this is MY show, tical |
| The FUCK you wanna do? |
| More than Spike Lee’s Do |
| I’m like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root |
| PLO style, buddha monks with the owls |
| So who’s the fucking man? |
| Meth-Tical |
| On the chessbox |
| Verse Three: Inspector Deck |
| Yo, yeah, yo I leave the mic in body bags, my rap style has |
| The force to leave you lost, like the tribe of Shabazz |
| Murderous material, made by a madman |
| It’s the mic wrecker, Inspector, bad man |
| From the bad lands of the killer, rap fanatic |
| Representing with the skill that’s iller |
| Dare to compare, get pierced just like an ear |
| The zoo-we-do-wop-bop strictly hardware |
| Armed and geared cause I just broke out the prison |
| Charged by the system — for murdering the rhythm! |
| Now, lo and behold, another deadly episode |
| Bound to catch another fuckin charge when I explode |
| Verse Four: Ghostface Killer |
| Slammin a hype-ass verse til ya head burst |
| I ramshack dead in the track, and that’s that |
| Rap assassin, fastin, quick to blast and hardrock |
| I ran up in spots like Fort Knox! |
| I’m hot, top notch, Ghost thinks with logic |
| Flashback’s how I attacked your whole project |
| I’m raw, I’m rugged and raw! |
| I repeat, if I die |
| My seed’ll be ill like me Approachin me, you out of respect, chops ya neck |
| I get vexed, like crashing up a phat-ass Lex' |
| So clear the way, make way, yo! |
| Open the cage |
| Peace, I’m out, jettin like a runaway slave |
| Verse Five: Prince Rakeem/RZA |
| Yo Ya gettin stripped from ya garments, boy, run ya jewels |
| While the meth got me open like falopian tubes |
| I bring death to a snake when he least expect |
| Ain’t a damn thing changed, boy, Protect Ya Neck |
| Ruler Zig Zag, Zig-Allah jam is fatal |
| Quick to stick my Wu-Tang sword right through ya navel |
| Suspenseful, plus bein bought through my utensil |
| The pencil, I break strong winds up against your |
| Abbot, that run up through your county like the Maverick |
| Caps through the tablets, I gots to make the fabrics |
| Verse Six: Ol Dirty Bastard |
| Are you, uh, ah, uh Are you a warrior? |
| Killer? |
| Slicin shit like a samurah |
| The Ol’Dirty Bastard VUNDABAH |
| Ol’Dirty clan of terrorists |
| Comin atcha ass like a sorceress, shootin’that PISS! |
| Niggaz be gettin on my fuckin nerves |
| Rhymes they be kickin make me wanna kick they fuckin ass to the curb |
| I got funky fresh, like the old specialist |
| A carrier, messenger, bury ya This experience is for the whole experience |
| Let it be applied, and THEN DROP THAT SCIENCE |
| Verse Seven: Genius/GZA |
| My my my |
| My Clan is thick like plaster |
| Bust ya, slash ya Slit a nigga back like a Dutch Master Killer |
| Style jumped off and Killa, Hill-er |
| I was the thriller in the Ali-Frazier Manilla |
| I came down with phat tracks that combine and interlock |
| Like getting smashed by a cinder block |
| Blaow! |
| Now it’s all over |
| Niggaz seeing pink hearts, yellow moons |
| orange stars and green clovers |