Dashing (Reasons)

Wu-Tang ClanWu-Tang Clan 

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Wu-Tang Clan

The Wu-Tang Clan /ˈwuːtæŋ/ is an American rap group from Staten Island, New York that consists of RZA, GZA, Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck, U-God, Masta Killa, and the late Ol' Dirty Bastard. They are frequently joined by fellow childhood friend Cappadonna, a quasi-member of the group. They were formed in (and are associated with) the New York City borough of Staten Island (U-God, Method Man, RZA, Ghostface Killah and Raekwon) (referred to by members as "Shaolin"), though some of their members are from Brooklyn (Ol Dirty Bastard, GZA and Masta Killa). more »

Year:

2001

4:45

127 Views

Playlists:

#1

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The nigga had a pair of Air Olden Polynice's on
Oh shit, the nigga had a pair of Air Christen Slaters
Rebel I, slay the max, it's really Digital
Rockin' the latest in, every day comin' at niggas
Rockin' the latest in Ben Stillaways
F*ck that, the next big thing, lay this as Hollywood niggas
Now that's a money thing
Yo yo

I was Dashing through the hood
Eighteens with the whip, smoke gray
Leavin' skid marks on five-oh, smokin' all the way
With my all-star team, bitches see our shine
Yo son we gotta make that cream whether raps or Nixon times

They call me Rollie, watch me polly with the wide body Dinali
Packed the bad hottie, rocked enough ice to play hockey
I swarm like paparazzi, she popped a wheelie on the candy apple Kawasaki
Everything is sloppy, philosophical for those who copy
I'll probably splash her tonight, don't block
Sippin' on Lime Bacardi got me toxy
Plus the Cali 'dro holdin' me, I'm 'bout to 'scape like the Roxy
Ever property, Monopoly, big shotti
Snatch the cream, whether in the concert hall or in the lobby
Used to be a hobby, got me duckin' Rudy Giuliani
like I'm still coppin' big eights from papi
Follow me, whether Mardi Gras' or house party
It's wild like safari, ain't mean to catch the body
But had 'em wobbly off the first blow, tryin' to knock me
I'm known to pump ya blood like the theme song to Rocky
Kamikaze, might karate chop ya head like a natty dread
then call myself Collar Ratsi
Professionally trained, I am for your artery
I give the autographs but charge for photography
Not hardly kid, you awkward Godbody
You'se a carbon copy, just started to rock Wallys
Spark the broccoli, spas off this ghetto opery
Or catch the hot seat, you're bawty boy without ya posse
Seen

[Chorus: x4]
Come, come, come
One for the dough, son
Give me the reasons

They couldn't get me, watch me move swiftly
Broke the unmarked fifty with this cabby who was a gypsy
He stayed tipsy, said he loved his bills crispy
Drivin' the streets he kept heat on the night, shifty
Quickly, who ring bells like it's twelve on Sunday?
While the stage catch shells from forceful gun play
Mere fact that the track was a fierce counterattack
All those who couldn't multiply were sent back
No tanks, low rank, soldiers hittin' the heart
Tainted the heart of an empire, was torn apart
Brought to a halt from a front full assault
The chemist left the lab with undetermined results
They saw the swordsman sift electrical volts
The audience threw nuts with loose screws and bolts
The archives automatically changed ya stiff vibes
It was layin' in the sip drive from chest five

[Chorus: x4]

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