Текст песни WU - TANG CLAN
WU - TANG CLAN слова песни
Текст песни WU-TANG CLAN - Cobra Clutch
Yo, yeah bitchAiyyo, motherfuckerAiyyo, swallow itAiyyo we ?dash log? this bloody version of 'Glaciers'Slang shot threw a gem in his mouth, swallowed his razor (wsssht)Say no more, my fat beat parked against the wall( )Trooper square holding, 'Face don't give a fuck about the lawTake off the bracelets, don't get blinded by the ice BooIt's not cool, Veronica slept, plus the decimalLook at my temple logo look familiar? It's power (Where is he?)Yo every fine snitch knocks an inch off Eddie BauerGucci sneaker rockin just another form of 'Chessboxin'No cock-blockin, supreme clientele, till I'm droppinKangol slanted, Ghost'll ran with it, hippie hung-outClub bandit never empty-handed when I brand itMark callin Austin, Mark callin Austin down in BostonBoth of them dead, cop in the loft andbig chain swingin nigga, Matchbox car drivinStreet whylin, Role' with the four-finger glidinWatch him, scorchin with spells and top toxinAmoxins til the stock skyrocket, Bobby MocassinSwitched from Pert Plus, escrow on the side throw in sun trustGhost'll keep shinin til the sun bustyo word up, born-to-be right behind the curtain with her nose outSixty center get the Rover outFeatherhead heathens, teethin on mic dicksWhen thy said, ";Let the kids die for your bread nigga!";Yo, promoters don't want us in clubs because we spaz out'Who is these righteous motherfuckers with they flags out?'Stapleton Projects, recognize you're lookin atAllah's best, puttin on the hits is no contestNOW, who the hypest in New York City?WU-TANG! Radio stop shittin on me! ";I got fifty men out in the street Now if they all get bitch troubles I starve Is that it? Is that what you're tryin to tell me?"; --> SuperflyAiyyo, the moccasin money, one man behind the plateHold it down honey-shallah rock the half man GumbyTwisted, the mime of the floods, niggaz spell dramaone oh five point six llamaCosmetic classical, slum is shield, Milagro BeanfieldWatch me inhale half of you, new attributesTeletronics, DBX, one sixty XCompression with the A and sharp pressExtract bass in which the gooey dew drips, vanilla sucklewith jasmine bits, five hundred rap battin averageOne taste the bowl and blow up magic, Houdini escapesfrom the fermenting hell halls of tragicSpeaking to the First of April's, deep in the rap game