Living In The World Today (Instrumental)

Yo (yeah), check it out, son, check it out, son Yo (Wu, can I get a soo?), live in the place to be You got the capital G, Z to the A, MC Givin' a mad shout out to the Ranch Crew, from the old school And we gonna take that one back, know what I'm sayin'? Lyrical sorcerers right here, the fathers, the cream of the crop, son (Yo, check it) Well, if you livin' in the world today You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say Niggas that front, we don't have them So we blast 'em, alright, well okay Well, if you like the way it sounds, then clap, man And if the women love it too, well then raise your hands But only raise your hands if you're sure Punk niggas shatter like a glass jaw, break it My rhyme gross weight vehicle combination Was too heavy for the Chevy's, is chased out the station Double-edged was the guillotine that beheaded it Gassed up, fuckin' with some regular unleaded shit Heads roll on hillsides behind ropes that Bind-in, X marks the spot on the scope Heavily armed, military is necessary, it's a gamble MC's bet they best at every Powerful parable ditties might harm If tampered with, set off and strike like pipe bombs Flashbacks to the "Duel of the Iron Mic" Look out for these fatal flying spikes Of massive sleep holds Put strangle on commercial angle Microphone cords tangled from being Star Spangled Now, who could ever say they heard of this? My motherfuckin' style is mad murderous Well, if you like the way it sounds, then clap man (clap man) And if the bitches love it too, well then raise your hands (c'mon, c'mon) But only raise your hands if you're sure Punk niggas shatter like a glass jaw, yeah Well, if you livin' in the world today You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say Niggas that front, we don't have them (have them) So we blast 'em (pow), alright, well okay Well, what you know about MC'in'? (Yo, I know a lot) Well, can you demonstrate somethin', nigga? (Huh, I'd rather not) I'm talkin 'bout stacks, cousin (nigga, that's what I got) Cash rules the world (well, cash rules the spot) My preliminary attack keep cemeteries packed Of niggas who think it ain't like that MC's are gunned down like being run down with mad trucks Then God struck, religious niggas call it "bad luck" Rap celeb, you got caught up in the web Now, bees are stingin', yo, that niggas em-singin' I'm just swingin' swords strictly based on keyboards Unbalanced like elephants and ants on see-saws I throw raps that attack like the Japs on Pearl Harbor MC's be out like bank robbers Fleeing the scene, to be a sole survivor DJ, the getaway driver Tried to dip, but he dive, I socialize on vocal vibes On tracks stabbed up with razor-sharp knives Criminal subliminal minded rappers Find it hard to define it When narrow is the gate for fat tapes And if played out and out of date Then I construct my thoughts on site to renovate And from that point, the God made a statement Draftin' tracements, replacements in basements Materials in sheet-rock to sound proof the beatbox And microscopic optics received through the boxes Obnoxious topic, major labels, flavor tropical Punchlines, that's unstoppable Ring like shots from Glocks that attract cops Around the clubs and try to shut down the hip-hop But we only increase if everything is peace Father You See King the police Well, if you livin' in the world today You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say Niggas that front, we don't have them (have them) So we blast 'em (pow), alright, well okay Well, if you like the way it sounds, then clap man (clap man) And if yo' women love it too, well then raise your hands (c'mon, c'mon) But only raise your hands if you're sure Punk niggas shatter like a glass jaw, break it If you livin' in the world today You be hearin' the slang that the Wu-Tang say Niggas that front, we don't have them (have them) So we blast 'em (pow), alright, well okay Yeah The Wu-Tang say We don't have them Alright, well okay The world today The Wu-Tang say Niggas that front, we don't have them Blast them, alright, well okay