I used to get feels on a b—h
Now I throw shields on the d–k
To stop me from that HIV s–t
And n—-z know they soft like a Twinkie filling
Playin the villian
Prepare for this rap killin
Biggie Smalls is the illest
Your style is played out, like Arnold wondered
“What you talkin bout Willis?” Continue reading →
See, sometimes…
You gotta flash em back
See n—az don’t know where this s–t started
Y’all know where it came from
I’m sayin we gonna take y’all back to the source
We bounce, yo
Chorus: RZA, GZA
When the MC’s came, to live our their name
And to perform (forrrrm)
Some had, to snort cocaine (caiiinnne) to act insane (sannne)
with before Pete Rock-ed it on, now gone
that the mental plane (plaaanne) to spark the brain (brainnn)
with the building to be born
Yo RZA flip the track with the what to gut
Check em check chicka icka etta UHH
Verse One:
Fake n—az get flipped
In mic fights I swing swords and cut clown
S–t is too swift to bite you record and write it down
I flow like the blood on a murder scene, like a syringe
on some wild out s–t, to insert a fiend
But it was yo out the shop stolen art
Catch a swollen heart from not rollin smart
I put mad pressure, on phony wack rhymes that get hurt
S–t’s played, like zodiac signs on sweatshirt
That’s minimum, and feminine like sandals
My minimum table stacks a verse on a gamble
Energy is felt once the cards are dealt
Hey mom, can I have some money?
The ice cream man is coming!
Chorus:
Watch these rap n—az get all up in your guts
French-vanilla, butter-pecan, chocolate-deluxe
Even caramel sundaes is gettin touched
And scooped in my ice cream truck, Wu tears it up
(The ice cream man is coming!)
Verse One: Ghostface Killer (Tony Starks)
Yo honey-dips, summertime, fine Jheri drippin
See you on Pickens with a bunch of chickens how you’re clickin
I catch shootin strong notes as we got close
She rocked rope, honey throat smellin like Impulse
Your whole shell baby’s wicked like Nimrod
Caught me like a fresh-water scrod, or may I not be God
Attitude is very rude Boo, crabby like seafood
It turns me on like Vassey and Lahrule
They call me Starky Love-hun, check the strategy
By any means, Shirley Temple cross was done by Billie Jean’s
Black Misses America, your name is Erica, right true
Lazy eyeball, small piece, six shoe
Caramel complexion, breath smellin like cinnamon
Excuse me hon, the Don mean no harm, turn around again
God damn, backyard’s bangin like a Benz-y
If I was jiggy, you’d be spotted like Spudz McKenzie
I’m high powered put Adina Howard to sleep
Yo pardon, that b—h been on my mind all week, but uhh
Back to you Maybelline Queen let’s make a team
You can have anything in this world except CREAM
So whatchu wanna do? Whatchu wanna do?
Let’s go ahead and walk these dogs and represent Wu Continue reading →
I remember first hearing this song on Georgia Tech’s campus, visiting for the holidays from Bridgeport, CT. We went to see “Don’t Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking your Juice in the Hood,” and listened to this gem from the soundtrack.
It’s on…
[Cappa]
Where your sparkle at kid? Rzarector…
[Break: Raekwon the Chef]
Yes the s–t is raw, comin at your door Start to scream out loud, Wu-Tang’s back for more Yes the hour’s four, I told you before Prepare for mic fights (and plus the cold war)
[Verse One: U-God]
This rhyme you digest through the RZA console
Ask why I slam nine diagram pole
Raekwon dropped the bomb, Hunchback, Notre Dame Golden Arms is bronze, buddah palm hit Qu’ran
It blows extreme, mean stream be the theme Supreme team, America’s Cream Team,
[Featuring Inspectah Deck, Prodigy]
“Wake you up and as I stare in your face you seem stunned…” –>
Rakim
(repeat 2X)
“Wake you up and as I stare in your…” (repeat 2X)
“I wake you up and as I stare in your face you seem stunned”
[Prodigy] Remember P, the one you got your whole style from?
“I wake you up and as I stare in your face you seem stunned”
[Prodigy] Remember me, the one you got your rhyme style from?
“I wake you up and as I stare in your face you seem stunned”
[Prodigy] Remember P, the one you got your rhyme style from?
“Yo it’s the P” *cut and scratched*
Verse One: Prodigy
Yo, disperse from off this, who the culprits
that claim to be the newest, rap n’ bulls–t
My rhymes, get Ruger endorsements, my song boost
and the tech sales through the ceiling, let’s talk with guns
Convo til the po-lice come
Give you a red shirt with the wet hat to match
First max like it’s Hamburger Hill for real
It’s Red Dawn when the Mobb get it on, my outfit
stuck on some wild out s–t, all about it
We move gambit, through the overcrowded
Forthwith, pull out long fifths, extended clips
Point the nozzle and shift your back disc
Me and the click-a, sit down and eat dinner
Wake up every mornin write a new banger
that strike harder than your best attempt to sound like P
or the H-A-V-O-C, n—a Continue reading →
Whoa, had a flashback as we rode back from Athens last week, and this took the place of the scheduled Hip-Hop Quotable for this week after an all out performance with Ike on 316. We weren’t listening to the “Fly Robin, Fly,” version.
Intro:
Takin it from the top?
Tippy? Tippy?
How High?….
The Ultimate High….
Verse One: Method Man
Scuse me as I kiss the sky
Sing a song of six pence, a pocket full a rye
Who the f–k wanna die for their culture
Stalk the dead body like a vulture
Tical get, HMMM
Blacker than your blackest stallion
Hit your house’n projects
I represent the Shaolin my n—a
Hell yes, Apocalypse now, the gun blow
It be goin down, diggy diggy down diggy down down Continue reading →
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