调：D# minor•
Verse 1
Verse 2
Wu-Tang
Ebm
Ebm
Db
Wu-Tang Killa Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Verse 3
Ab
Ebm
Db
RZA, the GZA, Ol Dirty Bastard,
Ghostface Killah, the Method Man,
Db
Ab
Ebm
Raekwon the Chef, the Master Killer
Ebm
Db
Twelve O'Clock, Sixty Second Assassin,
Ab
Ebm
Ab
Ebm
K.D. the Down Low Wrecka, Shy
Db
Ebm
Abm
kiah, better known as the Yin and the Yang
Ebm
Db
Ebm
The Tru Masta, Asan, DJ Skane,
Ab
Ebm
Ebm
fuckin' man Wise the Civilized
Verse 4
Killa beez all over your
of death
of perfected styles
The motherfuckin' Bronx,
killa beez
Verse 6
Niggas on the left, brag shit to death
Now hoods on the right,
wild for the night
Punks in the back,
come on and attract to
Verse 7
outcome is critical
Fuckin' wit my style,
is sort of like a Miracle
On 34th Street,
in the Square of Herald
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught
a Fitz like Gerald-
Ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow
'cause the hoe didn't win but the
sun will still come out tomorrow
And shine shine shine like gold mine
Pass the bone, kid pass the bone
Let's get on this mission like
Indiana Jones, the GZA
One who just represent the Wu-Tang click
click
With the game and soul,
of an old school flick
Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both
did bids
Claudine went to Cooley High
and had mad kids
So stop, the life you save may
be your motherfuckin' own
I'll hang your ass with this microphone
Make way for the merge of traffic
Wu-Tang's comin' through
with Full Metal Jackets
God squad that's mad
hard to serve
Come frontin' hard,
Cb
Ebm
then Bernhard Goet z what he deserves
Verse 8
Niggas on the left,
brag shit to death
Now hoods on the right,
wild for the night
Verse 9
"You ain't shit!"
Your wack ass town had you gassed
Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang crush
crush
Souped up niggas on
a stage get rushed
How many rhymes you got,
or who knows you kid?
'cause I don't know ya therefore
show me what you know
and I cut you slow
You become so Pat as my style
increases
What's that in your pants
ah human feces
Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper
Next time come strapped
with a fuckin' Pamper
How ya sound be? You're better
off a quitter
I'm on the mound G, and it's a no-hitter
And And my DJ the catcher,
he's my man
Anyway he's the one
who devised the plan
He throws the signs I hook
up the beats with clout
So it really doesn't matter
on how you intrigue
You can't fuck with those
in the major leagues
Verse 10
Niggas on the left,
brag shit to death
Now hoods on the right,
wild for the night
Punks in the back, come on and attract to
Verse 11
Niggas on the left,
brag shit to death
Now hoods on the right,
wild for the night
Punks in the back,
Verse 12
come on and attract to
Ebm
Hoods on the right
Niggas on the left
Hoods on the right
Cb
Ebm
Punks in the back, come on, to what
Let your feet stomp
Brag shit to death
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