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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:

2004

1:39

550 Views

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#4

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Crack backs heavy on the cash all night
At the drug site we hung tight
Three o'clock in the night ounces of coke dirty kicks
Money gets low in the street yo
Tough times nickles that's bigger than dimes
You know the flavor
Roughneck city ain't nothin' sweet kid ain't nothin' pretty
New York be poppin' the cork on crime look at the nine
Summertime in the court house ? shit whats mine
Two to four three to nine benatoned it what
We all ran coke grams, you outta luck
Young bucks carrying gats, stay fat for what
We all slipped through the po-nig nobody bust
Freeze, we in the breeze with the blunts
Nobody drop the trees or they fronts
Meet on the roof look off the front play low
Watch out for po-po that's how it go
Three in the whip, we not legit though, run for the gusto
Peep Marcel and Brown comin' around dippin' the logo
Run! if you ever got somethin' on you son
You best a run, be off the set, bounce on the projects
Cease another Vick, weed in your piss and parole gots to have it
Slide like a rabbit move quick this is it
Hang jump from the fire escape, I made it
Drop the clip fingerprints all on it, ah f*ck the bullets
I'm losin' my pants, I advance in my speed, succeed in my travel
Dance on em, in a fucked up whip, make my heart skip
Caught up in the drug traffic I astounded by the outfit
One twentieth tried to knock my whole click
Run! these black boys that take none
Don't cop out shit, take the three six and add that shit
Run! if you ever pack a nice size gun
Run! if you sell drugs to your dun
Run! be the f*ck out word god run hard

Between two cars we park, pepper got sparked
In the dark heads scramble at the six ooh
Spy's lookin' at you one two lookin' too
How you roll what you stole let me see you
Nah f*ck you, if you wasn't a cop I might bust you, I don't trust you
Coppers lust over my crew, forget a curfew
We gather in the plaza to jerk through
Three sixty with the crime waves modern day slave
First one to peel, it's not real
Plant that as a matter of fact we crack em down
Us against brown,run fast like you ran track
Never look back push the A-C-C on the sidewalk
Crash, toss the heat and tear ass
Zig zag till you reach your stash
Run! if you sell drugs to your dun
Run! be the f*ck out word to god run hard
Me and the god back to back one eighty five
And the four five survive that shit
Niggas came even though I seen you rollin' there bowlin' in green kid
This cream'll get you rocked, knocked if you don't run
Don't grab my jacket dun get the f*ck off, break north
Or go to jail, word life is trife, on the block it's too hot
You got my man shot, nigga run
We wylin' on Staten Island it's one thing bein' in the bing
And not smilin' on the gate it's too late
Fate held you over, jakes runnin' for snakes
The white rover, with the plates burn down Gee street
Comin' from outta state, see me in the drivers seat
Coolin' without the I.D., it's not me
Babylon to the god, D-I-V-I-N-E
Run! if you sell drugs to the dun
Run! be the f*ck out, word to god run hard

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