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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » W » Wu-Tang Clan
Wu-Tang_ 7th Chamber - Part 2 - текст песни



Wu-Tang_ 7th Chamber - Part 2


Intro: The Genius/GZA (from "Clan in Da Front")





Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death


Now hoods on the right, wild for the night


Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what


Clan in da front, let your feet stomp


Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death


Hoods on the right, wild for the night


Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what





---





This goes back to nineteen..


Ahem, check it, yo


GOOD MORNING VIETNAM!!


Yeah, good morning to all you motherfuckin notty-headed niggaz


Word to the camoflouge large niggaz


Bitch niggaz fuckin my body


Bring that fuckin meth in here


Yo yo yo yo


Now we gonna drink some good Nightrain





Verse One: Raekwon the Chef





Champion gear that I rock, you get your boots knocked


Then attack you like a pit that lock shit DOWN


As I come and freaks the sound, hardcore


but giving you more and more, like ding!


Nah shorty, get you open like six packs


Killer Bees attack, flippin what, murder one, phat tracks


A'ight? I kick it like a Night Flite!


Word life, I get that ass while I'm fulla spite!


Check the method from Bedrock, cause I rock ya head to bed


Just like rockin what? Twin glocks!


Shake the ground while my beats just break you down


Raw sound, we going to war right now


So, yo, bombin


We Usually Take All Niggaz Garments


Save ya breath before I bomb it





Verse Two: Method Man





I be that insane nigga from the psycho ward


I'm on the trigger, plus I got the Wu-Tang sword


So how you figure that you can even fuck with mine?


Hey, yo, RZA! Hit me with that shit one time!


And pull a foul, niggaz save the beef on the cow


I'm milkin this ho, this is MY show, tical


The FUCK you wanna do? More than Spike Lee's Do


I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root


PLO style, buddha monks with the owls


So who's the fucking man? Meth-Tical


On the chessbox





Verse Three: Inspector Deck





Yo, yeah, yo


I leave the mic in body bags, my rap style has


The force to leave you lost, like the tribe of Shabazz


Murderous material, made by a madman


It's the mic wrecker, Inspector, bad man


From the bad lands of the killer, rap fanatic


Representing with the skill that's iller


Dare to compare, get pierced just like an ear


The zoo-we-do-wop-bop strictly hardware


Armed and geared cause I just broke out the prison


Charged by the system - for murdering the rhythm!


Now, lo and behold, another deadly episode


Bound to catch another fuckin charge when I explode





Verse Four: Ghostface Killer





Slammin a hype-ass verse til ya head burst


I ramshack dead in the track, and that's that


Rap assassin, fastin, quick to blast and hardrock


I ran up in spots like Fort Knox!


I'm hot, top notch, Ghost thinks with logic


Flashback's how I attacked your whole project


I'm raw, I'm rugged and raw! I repeat, if I die


My seed'll be ill like me


Approachin me, you out of respect, chops ya neck


I get vexed, like crashing up a phat-ass Lex'


So clear the way, make way, yo! Open the cage


Peace, I'm out, jettin like a runaway slave





Verse Five: Prince Rakeem/RZA





Yo


Ya gettin stripped from ya garments, boy, run ya jewels


While the meth got me open like falopian tubes


I bring death to a snake when he least expect


Ain't a damn thing changed, boy, Protect Ya Neck


Ruler Zig Zag, Zig-Allah jam is fatal


Quick to stick my Wu-Tang sword right through ya navel


Suspenseful, plus bein bought through my utensil


The pencil, I break strong winds up against your


Abbot, that run up through your county like the Maverick


Caps through the tablets, I gots to make the fabrics





Verse Six: Ol Dirty Bastard





Are you, uh, ah, uh


Are you a warrior? Killer? Slicin shit like a samurah


The Ol' Dirty Bastard VUNDABAH


Ol' Dirty clan of terrorists


Comin atcha ass like a sorceress, shootin' that PISS!


Niggaz be gettin on my fuckin nerves


Rhymes they be kickin make me wanna kick they fuckin ass to the curb


I got funky fresh, like the old specialist


A carrier, messenger, bury ya


This experience is for the whole experience


Let it be applied, and THEN DROP THAT SCIENCE





Verse Seven: Genius/GZA





My my my


My Clan is thick like plaster


Bust ya, slash ya


Slit a nigga back like a Dutch Master Killer


Style jumped off and Killa, Hill-er


I was the thriller in the Ali-Frazier Manilla


I came down with phat tracks that combine and interlock


Like getting smashed by a cinder block


Blaow! Now it's all over


Niggaz seeing pink hearts, yellow moons


orange stars and green clovers



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