Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Protect Ya Neck II the Zoo, artist - Zu KeeperDate of issue: 14.03.2018
Song language: English
Protect Ya Neck II the Zoo |
| See let a nigga come through with that bullshit |
| Any time you pop that shit nigga |
| I’ma tell you you can suck a dick, you can suck a pussy |
| I know, it’ll come to what? |
| Say what? |
| Now I’ma let all you motherfuckers know |
| See them knows that this is something you can’t fuck |
| Whether you from Brooklyn, whether you from Manhattan |
| You from Queens nigga |
| I don’t give a fuck, where you be motherfucker! |
| Where you reside… motherfucker! |
| How you live? |
| How you seeeeeeee |
| Sort the stack outs, this one’s the blackout |
| Three-fifty-seven to your mouth, blaow! |
| Dirty, can you hear me? |
| Rawness I’m inflicting |
| It’s that G type slang that makes this real sickening |
| Ignite the styles, I got my hand upon the trigger |
| Starts from the smallest and hits the bigger nigga |
| Yo, straight out the lava by them hell fires |
| A known mental killer, born thriller, assassin of terror |
| A hot bloody fatal mixture of carbon and water |
| Homicidal manslaughter, death is the order |
| Start the mission, travel like the speed of wind |
| Through the valley of sin, I step to ville and murdered many men |
| Serving justice in my vicinity |
| (This is, Brooklyn, Zu!!) |
| Za-za-za, za-za-za |
| Zuh-za-zah, z-zz-zz-z-z-zz-zz-z-dah-duh-dnn-duh |
| I get down, I get down, I crack your fucking crown |
| Lay around and watch some real niggas break ground |
| I can’t shop cause every bro blowing up the spot |
| Hit rocks and niggas know |
| Yo! |
| Niggas grab the mic like the bites of a scorpion |
| Nervous, that’s why the Zu brought me in |
| Now bring em forth, like the tortures at the courts |
| Before the case begin, first break me in |
| His brain! |
| And make sure he can’t maintain the calmness |
| Ya harmless, watch how I bomb this |
| Stage light now appears to be the Moon |
| Now your Posse is your fucking Platoon |
| Stale sound just flows through the air |
| I’m like a ninja, once I send ya cold stares |
| Then I get furious, imperious, the lyricist with the clearest rhyme |
| Erupt to deduct your fucking mind |
| Fuck shit up on the hurry-up |
| Known for burying ducks through more styles than a monk |
| Warning you chump, brain is out for lunch |
| Given the power punch, soon to be paid like Donald Trump |
| Never fall victim to no bitch |
| Jerked my dick, but still got more hoes than a pimp |
| And score more points than Shawn Kemp |
| Keeping powerfully strong like the center on the Knicks |
| Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut! |
| Ol Dirty Bastard live and uncut |
| (Shame on a nigga who tried to run game on a…) |
| Got more props than the President |
| My hardcore represent |
| Blowing niggas back who never had this |
| Cause I’m gifted, so you can gift wrap the shit |
| I’m kicking and send it to your moms for Christmas |
| And tell her Shorty Shit Stain sent it |
| Soon to have more green than the Jolly Green Giant |
| Cause niggas rap styles just down, it’s expired |
| You should’ve stayed home instead of picking up a microphone |
| But if you wanna run on up, like you tough |
| I call your bluff and blow you down with my hardcore stuff |
| I shine like twenty-four carat, niggas know… |
| Roll and stroll with the party scene |
| Nigga wanna know me as Mr. Clean |
| Wza-wza-wza-wza-Wu-Tang, flip the script and |
| Test my skill niggas, you’re tripping |
| Drugged up from sniffing, you’re the one who’s riffing |
| I’m not Opie, save that old shit for Andy Griffith |
| Start to flip, slip cause you’re slipping |
| While you sleep I be the God on point, with Scottie Pippen |
| As I jump on stage, flip rip a show |
| Strip and rip a ho, wayyy like Bo |
| Jackson while I’m still taxing maxing |
| Relaxing sitting back, silly attraction |
| Again and again when I rock the jam |
| Wanna see em up in the air, throw up your hand |
| Introducing one-man band in town |
| It’s wild, more the style couldn’t stand nigga |
| When the jump stepped to the center |
| Of the rhyme inventor, MCs' tormentor |
| You get dap slapped, across the MC map |
| Your ass that’s your ass on a whore shot |
| Come on through I black and blue your whole crew |
| Then I get Rudy with the Hong Kong Phoo' |
| Ol Dirty Bastard, MC killer |
| Money maker, Brooklyn, Shaolin style |
| That I lay down like tile, then I get higher |
| Here comes the illlll, type ruffer |
| Style be untouched I’m leavin broken down grammars on the pen |
| Who who what? |
| What brings it? |
| Tighter than your anus |
| Chambers this name is for the deepest trainers |
| Keep it stainless, steel, on time it is the windmill |
| Deadly venom kills, at the last of the Sam’s Mill |
| 60 Second, nucleus, attack on your set |
| Hit you with the blast (yo close the door) |
| Shabazz! |