Wu-Tang Clan

Wu-Tang Clan - Bust A Slug Remix songtekst

Je score:

* skit for 30 seconds before beat drops *
 [Chorus: Trigga of M.M.O.]
 We famous decorators
 Outlaws with the force, with the Money Makers
 Wu-Tang, when we bang, we be regulators
 Player haters can't play us, cuz the thugs obey us
 Bust a slug to save us

 [Joe Mafia]
 Straight missle, pulse gristle, snapper crime
 Poppin tops off of Anaheims, tropic refined
 Extorton air time, imported from the Mason-Dixon Line
 Look at my frigid eyes, fake fucks describe
 Slap em paralyze, analyze the lies
 Kinetic, my word is all I have, slaughter trash
 Monster Mash, half ass on the war path
 Suffer land, give a fuck grand, crashin the Pan Am
 My squad Van Dammed, this shit was sun tanned, VA so tanned
 without the Beanie rap, who? Hoodini rap
 Musolini stack, Lamborghini crash, kiss the Genie lamp
 Henney big, excellency, no fake shit, wrong recipe
 War speciality, meet the headless heat

 [Superb of American Cream Team]
 Yo, we made an oath for this self, fuck every black bitch raw
 Make a nation of culture teens, we takin culture back
 Takin books and read it, quote the right words
 Take your language back, black man it's your's
 If you read the way she smoke crack, she be the most high
 She settle for the most drunk and most fly
 Spendin 300 on cristal or pistol
 Fuckin dummy, you could've took ya bitch out

 [Ghostface Killah]
 Bottles goin off in the church, we broke the wine
 Slapped the pastor, didn't know pops had asthma
 Pulled out his blue bible, chains fell out his coat
 3 condoms, 2 dice and 1 bag of dope
 Ooh, Rev. ain't right, his church ain't right
 Decon is a pimp, you could tell by his ice
 Mother Parks said, "Brother Starks, meet you at the number spot
 Heard you got red tops out, and I want a lot"
 Girlie fainted dead on the spot
 2 ushers slipped $80 right out the pot
 Oh shit...

 [Ill Knob of K.G.B.]
 The K, the G, the B, Ill Knob bring the ruckus
 cuz I don't got no time for these faggots
 They frontin, but I'm about to break them out the havoc with the fire
 I battle water, what you order?
 You would run far from the slaughter
 I'm gunnin out whoever's in the order
 The hitch out, no bitch out
 I'm good and plenty, nigga get ya rich out
 or nigga ditch out, for ya self and ya family
 cuz I don't want nobody layin handin me
 I'm livin life, profanity, insanity
 because of my fame, insane
 When I'm rockin on the block, I've got to push my cane
 Got to live in this life, baby times is trife
 Have to be on my side if you claim my wife
 No knife come between us, married to my Syndicate
 Niggaz see this, playa hate and try to be this
 It's hard to be this and you don't want to get dissed
 When you ballin up ya fist, you don't wanted to be missed
 Buck! Buck! Back! Fuck! What the fuck?

 [Myalansky]
 This is jail, 3 burners made Tina Turner dance
 Probably, you kidin me? Only my man bust side to me
 I was gotta be slicin the pot, if I divide it by 3
 Dicks for them niggaz that snitch, whoever shot at me
 All up in my shit, pussies plottin 3 days to about a week
 Wu-Synidcate most ampitated across the E-N-T
 Entire, niggaz collapse and raid the empire
 Where his stash at? Cryin, he broke, a dame liar
 Yolk for the smoke, back room, Medallion man croke
 Now yo, no joke, take it, no damn moat
 Joe lock the door, pussy stay down, lay down
 Yo, Napolean get the duct tape, cave him for cash flow
 Biography, million my peers get painted robbery
 A to Z encyclopedia, color photography
 Penitentiary rhymes, salt get they ass took
 Street turn, patiently speakin, you know the math
 Make bitch niggaz ballerina, pull up they too-too
 Smacked up in front of ya bra', what his man do?
 Eyes glued to my right hand, don't rush me
 What that bitch scream, runnin thru traffic like lightnin?
 Fell, loud boss screamin, yellin for wifie
 You see that shit, another hit, Wu-Syndicate
 Myalansky, Joe Mafia and Napolean
 Colie on, Marlon Brando rap, ya roly on
 '97 bar, tighten storm door, war is on
 '98, a twisted rate, kidnap and solemnly swore
 to my boy, give my last call, pass the shoe horn
 Don't shoe guys, come, we move on, told you must prove on
 3 on ya bally cleaner, who clapped? Sally seen her
 Black '97 beamer, bitch niggaz ballerina

 They just dance

 [Chorus x3]

 [Outro: Trigga of M.M.O.]
 We famous decorators, yea, yea
 Posion Clan... *echo
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Taal: Engels

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