Wu-Tang Clan

Wu-Tang Clan - Older Gods lyrics

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Aiyyo I roll like a bat out of hell
 Evil acapell's fly spittin out of my grill
 Before I hit the sky with springtime colors
 Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads double dutch this
 They carve it in they wrist, pales berry blazes
 Straighten the crumbs left on the stove, clothes in my lady hair
 Plus yours the look gold God, the old tainted bald technique
 Got these vestibules designer niggaz in they whips
 jumpin out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part II
 We like Dorothy Hamill on ice
 We in your hood we might circle, hats down low in the Range
 Switch lanes, change my tire, peel out
 Real loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your hood kid
 I shitted on your hood, got to your burner too late
 I'm lookin real good, draped out
 Shinin like a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend, c'mere
 Oh shit, you my man's niece, the gourmet pocket twenty
 bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take place
 We fucked in forty-eight shades might walk up in your studio
 time slap your engineer, it's lighter fluid to that style
 Hand me the matches now

 Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef

 Aiyyo rainbow Roley on the wrist, now what's this
 Niggaz bless this, eight and a half, Bally banana twist
 E shakes, puffin on lye, feedin the seed's plate
 Pullin out, old dirty eights to rob gates
 Major wake up, the kid telltales, make a nigga head wake up
 Beats break, the nigga would take off his time
 Honolulu status, gladdest
 the rich rock cabbage and dollar vans grands
 That nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of Justice
 Niggaz came clumped out
 Just came home, now they bunked out
 Money be longer than triple life
 til the sun burn out, that's my word
 Move it with the burner out
 Fidel way of thinkin, roll with the Mac bent Ac-10
 Most of my team, Five Percent check what the live said
 Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians yo
 holdin my nuts, fuckin thousand dollar lesbians

 [Ghost] Yo, the Older God put me on and had to rock this
 [both] Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live prosperous
 [Ghost] It only takes a lesson a day, just to analyze life
 [both] one time in the respectable mind
 (repeat 2X)

 Verse Three: The Genius/GZA

 Let the shot spark, soon as his pit bull barks
 Tire scars from skid marks leaves from jams in school parks
 Witness, forget his, original statement
 Even in protection programs there's no escapement
 Gunned down, we in town, hit king from seven crowns
 Spent rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge
 Wounded, back in the eighty-three summer heat
 Up in three-oh-nine park, rhymin off the drummer's beat
 I stalk the city streets demonstratin mic wrecks
 All lookin stank, I ain't playin wit a full deck
 And as they nervously stare, I know they scared
 They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in Times Square
 Household name, assassin, killa bee
 Mill to the grain, that posess the Wu, trilogy
 Quick to spot those that bite camoflouge and blend
 Those that got styles, they got identical twins
 Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are finnicky
 without skills, they master the art of mimicry
 But I go line for line on the whole page
 Your unspotted life on the mic is old age

 *rocket fired, whistles off and explodes, breaking glass
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Copyrights:

Author: Selwyn Bogard

Composer: ?

Publisher: BMG Entertainment

Details:

Released in: 1997

Language: English

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