Listen to Protect Ya Neck (feat. RZA, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Raekwon, U-God, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Ghostface Killah & GZA) by Wu-Tang Clan

Protect Ya Neck (feat. RZA, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Raekwon, U-God, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Ghostface Killah & GZA)

Wu-Tang Clan

Hip-Hop/Rap

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Wu-Tang Clan
Wu-Tang Clan
Performer
RZA
RZA
Programming
Method Man
Method Man
Vocals
Inspectah Deck
Inspectah Deck
Vocals
Raekwon
Raekwon
Vocals
U-God
U-God
Vocals
Ol' Dirty Bastard
Ol' Dirty Bastard
Vocals
Ghostface Killah
Ghostface Killah
Vocals
GZA
GZA
Vocals
4th Disciple
4th Disciple
Scratches
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Clifford Smith
Clifford Smith
Songwriter
Corey Woods
Corey Woods
Songwriter
Dennis Coles
Dennis Coles
Songwriter
Gary Grice
Gary Grice
Songwriter
Jason Hunter
Jason Hunter
Songwriter
Lamont Jody Hawkins
Lamont Jody Hawkins
Songwriter
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Songwriter
Russell Jones
Russell Jones
Songwriter
RZA
RZA
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
RZA
RZA
Producer
Ethan Ryman
Ethan Ryman
Engineer
Chris Gehringer
Chris Gehringer
Mastering Engineer
Mitchell Diggs
Mitchell Diggs
Executive Producer
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Executive Producer
Oli Grant
Oli Grant
Executive Producer

Lyrics

So whassup, man? Coolin', man Chillin' chilin'? Yo, you know I had to call, you know why right? Why? Because, yo, I never ever call and ask you to play somethin', right? Yeah You know what I wanna hear, right? Whatchu wanna hear? I wanna hear that Wu-Tang joint Wu-Tang again? Ah, yeah, again and again Wu-Tang Clan comin' at ya Watch your step kid Watch your step kid (protect ya neck kid) Watch your step kid (so set it off) Watch your step kid Watch your step kid Watch your step kid (de Inspector Deck) I smoke on the mic like "Smokin' Joe" Frazier The hell raiser, raisin' hell with the flavor Terrorize the jam like troops in Pakistan Swingin' through your town like your neighborhood Spiderman So uhh, tick-tock and keep tickin' While I get ya flippin' off the shit I'm kickin' The Lone Ranger, code red, danger Deep in the dark with the art to rip charts apart The vandal, too hot to handle Ya battle, you're sayin' "Goodbye" like Tevin Campbell Roughneck, Inspector Deck's on the set The Rebel, I make more noise than heavy metal The way I make the crowd go wild, sit back, relax, won't smile Rae got it goin on pal, call me the rap assassinator Rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger And I'ma get mad deep like a threat Blow up your project, then take all your assets 'Cause I came to shake the frame in half With the thoughts that bomb, shit like math So if you wanna try to flip, go flip on the next man 'Cause I grab the clip and hit you with 16 shots and more I got Goin' to war with the meltin' pot, akh It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth Movin' on your left, aah And set it off, get it off, let it off like a gat I wanna break full, cock me back Small change, they puttin' shame in the game I take aim and blow that nigga out the frame And like Fame, my style'll live forever Niggaz crossin' over, but they don't know no better But I do, true, can I get a "sue" 'Nough respect due to the one-six-ooh I mean ohh, yo check out the flow Like the Hudson or PCP when I'm dustin' Niggaz off because I'm hot like sauce The smoke from the lyrical blunt makes me, hu Ooh, what, grab my nut, get screwed Oww, here comes my Shaolin style True B-A-ba-B-Y-U To my crew with the "suuue" Watch your step kid (Yeah, yeah, yeah) Watch your step kid (C'mon, baby baby, c'mon, baby baby) Watch your step kid (C'mon, baby baby, c'mon) Watch your step kid (Yo, you best protect ya neck) First things first man you're fuckin' with the worst I'll be stickin' pins in your head like a fuckin' nurse I'll attack any nigga who's slack in his mack Come fully packed with a fat rugged stack Shame on you when you stepped through to The Ol' Dirty Bastard straight from the Brooklyn Zoo And I'll be damned if I let any man Come to my center, you enter, the winter Straight up and down that shit packed jam You can't slam, don't let me get fool on him man The Ol' Dirty Bastard is dirty and stinkin' Ason Unique rollin' with the night of the creeps Niggaz be rollin' with a stash, ain't sayin' cash Bite my style I'll bite your motherfuckin' ass For cryin' out loud my style is wild so book me Not long is how long that this rhyme took me Ejectin' styles from my lethal weapon My pen that rocks from here to Oregon Here's more again, catch it like a psycho flashback I love gats, if rap was a gun, you wouldn't bust back I come with shit that's all types of shapes and sounds And where I lounge is my stompin' grounds I give an order to my peeps across the water To go and snatch up props all around the border And get far like a shootin' star 'Cause who I are is livin' the life of Pablo Escobar Point-blank as I kick the square biz There it is, you're fuckin' with pros, and there it goes Yo, chill with the feedback, black we don't need that It's ten o'clock, hoe, where the fuck's your seed at? Feelin' mad hostile, ran the apostle Flowin' like Christ when I speaks the gospel Stroll with the holy roll, then attack the globe with the buckus style The ruckus, ten times ten men committin' mad sin Turn the other cheek and I'll break your fuckin' chin Slayin' boom-bangs like African drums (we'll be) Comin' around the mountain when I come Crazy flamboyant for the rap enjoyment My clan increase like black unemployment Yeah, another one dare, G-Gka-Genius Take us the fuck outta here The Wu is too slammin' for these Cold Killin' labels Some ain't had hits since I seen Aunt Mabel Be doin' artists in like Cain did Abel Now they money's gettin' stuck to the gum under the table That's what ya get when ya misuse what I invent Your empire falls and you lose every cent For tryin' to blow up a scrub Now that thought was just as bright as a 20-watt light bulb Should've pumped it when I rocked it Niggaz so stingy they got short arms and deep pockets This goes on in some companies With majors, they're scared to death to pump these First of all, who's your A&R? A mountain climber who plays an electric guitar? But he don't know the meanin' of dope When he's lookin for a suit-and-tie-rap That's cleaner than a bar of soap And I'm the dirtiest thing in sight Matter of fact, bring out the girls, and let's have a mud fight You best protect ya neck You best protect ya neck You best protect ya neck You best protect ya neck
Writer(s): Gary E. Grice, Dennis David Coles, Russell T. Jones, Clifford Smith, Jason S. Hunter, Lamont Hawkins, Corey Woods, Robert F. Diggs Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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