| Eh, eh, eh, eh, eh
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| Wu-Tang, nigga, that’s what’s up (one)
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| Wu-Tang, nigga, that’s what’s up
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| (That's what’s up)
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| Eh, eh, eh,
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| Wu-Tang, nigga, that’s what’s up
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| Wu-Tang, nigga, that’s what’s up
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| Wu-Tang, nigga, Crash Ya Crew, laugh at you
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| You bastard, you, pass through, slap an ass or two
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| Hear me ROAR, Timbaland tree, weed galore
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| MC’s with gusto y’all ain’t neva seen befo'
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| El-Producto, pass that, ya puff too slow
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| That’s what’s up, yo, the kid with the buck-toothed flow
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| Oh, that’s Meth Man, south paw, I throw my left hand
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| To that hardcore shit that even make the Tec jam
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| Oh my goodness! |
| Trust me, ain’t nuttin like some hood shit
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| Gotta love my dogs but ain’t nuttin like a good bitch
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| Strictly, if I’m goin down, she comin wit me
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| Whole time screamin, «Oh my God!», ain’t no mystery
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| Y’all Been Warned, about them Killa Bees on the swarm
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| Y’all Been Warned, You either step or get stepped upon
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| Correct me if I’m wrong but fake thugs never last long
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| Can’t wait until ya fake ass gone
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| Y’all Been Warned, about them Killa Bees on the swarm
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| Y’all Been Warned, You either step or get stepped upon
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| Nigga, uh-oh! |
| I think they’re playin our song
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| Lit blunts, Clan in Da Front, sayin «It's on!»
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| Try to Wu hate, duck, you could suck my
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| Watch the block get clear when I buck my
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| Boomerang darts, you can’t duck my
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| No tellin which Clan man you got struck by
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| Chains get tucked when he walk by, hawk eye
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| Arrows bein fired from crossbow, I talk fly
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| You can’t Etcha-sketch all my rhyme threat
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| Try to bite my flow, you catch ya throat strep
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| Soaked in cess, dope, you eat the cold Tec’s
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| Bold flex, W crown, the ice O-X
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| Up in the oolie, yo, who you know?
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| John Bizzi, Ghost Deini, Rollie Finger and them toolies yo
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| Stainless Bobby, boy, you have an English folly
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| To try to detain the slang that we can to polly
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| Plus you didn’t peep Arief, kid, you sleep
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| I seen this heap of shit, you in steep
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| Y’all Been Warned, about them Killa Bees on the swarm
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| Y’all Been Warned, You either step or get stepped upon
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| Correct me if I’m wrong but fake thugs never last long
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| Can’t wait until ya fake ass gone
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| Yo, Amist the gravel, play the words of the Big Apple
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| Broadcastin live from the pits of the battle
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| Wigs split and rattled, get shook out ya saddle
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| You ever hear me losin, one of y’all fix the panel
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| Ask who? |
| Wu, that’s true, known piranhas
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| Who knows drama, fathers of your whole persona
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| The mad doctor, stay locked in the O-R
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| In too deep, beyond reach of the sonar
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| Still a vet, say my name next to hall of fame
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| Hurtin third string players, first day in the game
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| It’s on, son, the Killa Bee swarm come
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| Make the world shake with one continuous drum
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| Y’all Been Warned, about them Killa Bees on the swarm
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| Y’all Been Warned, You either step or get stepped upon
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| Correct me if I’m wrong but fake thugs never last long
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| Can’t wait until ya fake ass gone
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| Wave ya gun, Killa (I got you)
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| Shoot this nigga in his face fast, mumblin (I heard y’all forgot Wu)
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| Wear ya crown, black down (Watch the block too)
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| Blow at y’all niggas (Blowin at the cops too)
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| Eh-yo, my Wallets stay Bulletproofs racin in Coups, yea we the realest
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| Ultraviolet leathers on, pealin this, love lookin the illest
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| Gorilla things, monster background with a history
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| You’re pumpin crack, yap clowns, we all real in here
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| Strap a bomb on a family member, let y’all niggas know we here
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| Blasted, it’s like cheeba when I splashed it
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| Real reefer heads’ll know the meanin of hittin glass
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| I told y’alls, against y’all, Ginsengs, avenge Gods
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| Picture me stabbin you in the yard for R’s
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| Kid saw Staten, nine Bin Ladens
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| Valors on, colorful draws, lookin all relaxed in
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| Y’all Been Warned, about them Killa Bees on the swarm
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| Y’all Been Warned, You either step or get stepped upon
|
| Correct me if I’m wrong but fake thugs never last long
|
| Can’t wait until ya fake ass gone
|
| Y’all Been Warned, about them Killa Bees on the swarm
|
| Y’all Been Warned, You either step or get stepped upon
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| Nigga, uh-oh! |
| I think they’re playin our song
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| Lit blunts, Clan in Da Front, sayin «It's on!» |