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Wu-Tang Clan

Duck Season

  hip-hop  rap  hip hop  wu-tang  new york
982 3 часа назад

Текст песни Wu-Tang Clan - Duck Season

Wu-Tang Clan - Duck Season слова песни

[Raekwon the Chef]Scrape y`all motherfuckersThis is my word, when you see usWhen you see us flashing and shiningAnd building and adding onY`all niggaz just watch it, hear meOnly ones that who we got respect forIs them niggaz that we say peace toHear me, pay attention, put your shoes onYo, my team be bellyaching hungry niggaz on the swarm againPirahna niggaz bite dick, yo Son, it`s on againWhat up, he made a move, try to assist itListen kid yo, you was born to be a pawn but I`m a bishopBack to the novel, you Son, it`s logicalHow you figure God, what, flow on the track, flip the obstacleNow my proposal, it`s the globalFrom California to courts, it`s over God, so taste the tofuRemember baggy jeans, the Timberlands in NovemberShorty called me Santa in DecemberBut guess what, my Wally`s got messed upAutograph presser what, blast enough to blow your rest upWe scrape that, Land O` Lake thatMy dolo rapper get you sent backRepresent the gentlemens who bent thatFlash medallions like ItaliansLa costra nostra, we moving through your hood like a posterFlex this, Lex and Diamonds hold the settlementSo keep the bust the gun BooLike that bad ass bitch in Dead PresidentsAdd on, the billboard sloanCheck it now, you get the gold dick awardIt`s like jail and it`s the sixth floorTest me, floating in the S.E., now let`s seeHalf of y`all niggaz built your rhyme from my sess treeFaggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than a doboStay militant kid, push it like boloYou fucking idiot, playing with my Clan but you be fearing itFace one, I`m guaranteed to make you take onePlease, y`all niggaz money getting lowBut did you come back, set up shop, and get the phat doughTired of y`all, mostly inspired by y`allSo what the deal now, blinking with us or put your shield downFaggot, fuck fuck around punk, battle for cream nigga[RZA]You want to pound crab, nah let his hand swingI ought to punch a hole in his palm with these pointy ass ringsNo more said, knew your chump ass was deadWhen I saw the four four reflecting off your shiny foreheadIt`s Wu-Tang nigga, ain`t nothing changed niggaStill shame on a nigga, who tried to run gameGet virgin and perversions, fucking bitches with PersianBugs watching niggaz like the turgeon, it`s the surgeon slugsstill pounds when Bobby Steels 12 gauge gonna pay deadly chroniclesWe, held up in Gotham take heed and protect your seedsWe fall like all the leaves, who lack tranquilityIn your rap utility to fuck with the abilitiesRaised like a sperm cell to the ovaryMicrophone post tone like a rotary phoneAge of poems and poetry, old sloansExplosive head bullets, black hoodedInvalid footed ninjas, who full metal jacket clipsAnd know how to put it in youSurrender your goods and your merchandiseFor no purchase price, I`m certainly a heistFor your ice and curtains and viceCome quietly, Wu-Tang Clan rules societyBecause of variety, so maintain your high anxietyAnd lead them to defy me, diary...I need 18 points for my next jointThis high and mointed king, to make a dealI be the one to appoint, Steve Ripken must have been sniffingTo catch something so dope, it left minor c-lits pussy drippingI fuck hundreds of bitches, and split millions of dollarsAnd built with thousands of scholarsMy life saga from the hildred of hororLegal kid brown in NicaraguaGave birth to MC`s, seeds and bank robbersWe drove with pistol whips into world-wide tripsAnd my dick`s been sucked by the finest lipsStand to tell the contestants, in the world`s best repressmentBut none of the above compare to the one-twenty lessonsOr my queen and my seeds, in the home that I rest inEnter my dome get blown to 99 sections[Method Man]This rhyme has no limitations, this time there`s no hesitationCollecting minds at the door, you want it niggaz it`s yoursThe flavors raw, what the fuck you think I`m flowing forIt`s rhyme and reason, bite the bulletNiggaz is foul in this duck seasonWe add odds till we even motherfuckerBad asses, high times, lower classesTaste mine, straight shots in dirty glassesBring it to him, room service, under pressureAnd mad nervous, waving guns at the clergyTicallion, we ain`t worriedKeep them sick niggaz seven-thirtyPicture this, watch the birdyThis bastards is rolling dirtyWith sharp pins that be stabbing youPins and needles, needles and pinsNuff said, dick in your mouthLike pimp was bled, as I race track with thoroughbredsDucking the feds[Raekwon the Chef]Yo, my ice slow fly up on the keyboard sonNiggaz ran up on me law, praising what we do by the lordsThat`s right, exile the fake, hit them niggaz like weightFeed a fool, let the fake evaporateReconstruction, that`s the whole science of mineProduction, ya`ll niggas guess who stuck sonLeft his meth son, switch, finger itchStaring at you like a bitch, maybe y`all niggaz snitchYouse a loner, Adidas shell top with lyesipping Corona, read the rev report then bone herBuy you some jewels, here`s some foodNot neccessarily mean to be rude boo, check out the analooWe in the mushrooms, chased the high neck in the customBaggy jeans, thick ropes god, sliding through customsChill, y`all niggaz know what time it isJames Bond Beamers behind me, on Bacardi Lime andcheck out the pitch like Nolan RyanHe cought a slug for lyingYeah you was lying, where`s the cash, cryingMilitia, rolling in positionCasa Blanca Cuban Link ChristianLex the tally back whistling, fake fucks

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