The W — текст песни (Wu-Tang Clan f Redman)

[Redman]
RZA came and got me, this what I came to do, come on
Ring the bell so it`s time to eat
Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats
Bomb isdide the palm
Doc rock a wifebeater with me beatin my wife ass ironed on
The front with my pump built like the Klumps
To carry it I take the spare out the trunk
I stay hungry, I ain`t worked for days
That`s why you see the pump when the curtains raise
Blast! Don`t panic
Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock the rapgame single-handed?
Hell nah! I won`t tell you son
If I find a wack ID I sell you one
Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah
My lecture`s like Hannibal Lector`s
Where`s the ketchup?
Don`t speak on it, shut ya trap
I see ya whole crew yellow like mustardpacks
Ah woo, Doc in my own zone
You say you got the rapgames sewn, but it`s sewn wrong
I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softee truck
Then pull a mac out a box of snow cones
Yeah, ya little fucks
Gimme ya fucking money!

*Shout-outs from Raekwon and Ghostface*

[Method Man]
Uhuh, check it
I`m hotter than a hundred degrees with my coat on
Playing with a dynamitestick, where did I go wrong?
Somebody pull the fire along when Jonny stomp
If ya lukewarm leavin ya clothes and boots torn
Pro`s and con`s, megabomb`s and so-on`s
By arid actions try MC`s to get their roll on
First issue got issues
What is hip-hop to Hot Nickles?
It`s like Funk Doc to snot tissues, word
Look at my hand and get the third
Finger out ya earhole like: Fuck what you hear
Now that`s what I call harcore, let`s act fool
Mr. Fix-It like Handyman I pack tool
I been shitty, I`m from the veils of the city
And just because my outfit match don`t make me pretty
Baggy Dun Gurees, dick need room to breathe
In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese
Ain`t no rules to the game, if it is we aint playin
In your business like EPMD, So What Cha Sayin`
You co-designin that bullshit yo man tryin
Chaka chaka cha-ta tatat!!
Slugs flyin

*Shout-outs from Raekwon, Ghostface and Inspectah Deck*

[Inspectah Deck]
Yo, ya
Check, the code echos from magazines to the big screen
Fo` wheel machines like ya wits scream
Kids fiend from the urban to sub-urban
Roll upon me thirstin like: Hey, hey, Mister Dream-Merchant
We roll longer than dice in a casino
Cee-lo in the 4, 5 or 6 with double 0
Behind the tinted windows I lay low
On some hydro tryin to slide from the 5-0
But now I get wild similar to Ol` Dirty
On third time fellon just hit with over 30
No worries, style have em so thirsty
First degree heats are quittin on me
Cold turkey, no mercy
I bring the pain of a hundred migraines
But a thousand shoutin my name that`s why I came
But first bring the cashburst, then the outburst
My surround sound pound ya ear like Jevon Kearse
I flex muscle outside I find a next hustle
Trouble with ya here and face the TEC-muscle
Even the best buckle win
I take it to the exteme
It gets ugly, but it`s what a nigga do to get cream
This life

*Shout-outs from Raekwon and Ghostface*



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