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Wu-Tang Clan
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Clan In da Front
Up from the 36 Chambers...
Heheh. it's the Ghost.Face.Killah Hehheheh
Wu-Tang
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
The RZA, the GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, U-God
Ghostface Killah, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, the Masta Killa
Raw Desire, LeVon, Power Cipher
12 O'Clock, 60 Second Assassin, the 4th Disciple
The Brown Hornet
K.D. the Down Low Recka, Shyheim AKA The Rugged Child
Due-Due Lilz, Mista Hezekiah -- better known as the Yin and the Yang
The True Master, Isham, DJ Skane, The True Robocop comin thru
Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin man Wise the Civilized
The Shaolin Soldiers
Daddy-O and Poppa Ron comin down from the motherfuckin South end of things
Killa beez all over your fuckin planet
Thirty-six chambers of death
Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles
Choppin off your motherfuckin dome...
...piece, and every fuckin borough
Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Queens, Staten Island
The motherfuckin Bronx, Killa Beez...
The sword? C'mon, give him the sword
Clan in the front, let your feet stomp
Niggas on the left, rag shit to death
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
Punks in the back, come on in the track to what
The Wu is coming through, the outcome is critical
Fucking with my style is sort of like a miracle
On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald-
-ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow cause the ho didn't win
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But the sun will still come out tomorrow
And shine shine shine like gold mine
Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballantine
Pass the bone, kid pass the bone
Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones, the GZA
One who just represent the Wu-Tang clique
With the game and soul of an old school flick
Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids
Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids
So stop, the life you save may be your motherfucking own
I'll hang your ass with this microphone
Make way for the merge of traffic
Wu-Tang's coming through with full metal jackets
God squad that's mad hard to serve
Come fronting hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves
No response while I bomb that ass
You ain't shit, your wack ass town had you gassed
Egos is something the Wu-Tang crush
Souped up niggas on a stage get rushed
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid
Cause I don't know you therefore show me what you know
I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow
You become so Pat as my style increases
What's that in your pants ahh human feces
Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper
Next time come strapped with a fucking Pamper
How you sound B? You're better off a quitter
I'm on the mound, G, and it's a no-hitter
And my DJ the catcher, he's my man
In a way he's the one who devised the plan
He throws the signs I up the beats with clout
I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike em out
So it really doesn't matter on how you intrigue
You can't fuck with those in the major leagues
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