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Wu-Tang Clan - Hellz Wind Staff (Visual Playlist)
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Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Street Life
Street Life
Chant
Ghostface Killah
Ghostface Killah
Chant
Inspectah Deck
Inspectah Deck
Chant
Method Man
Method Man
Chant
RZA
RZA
Chant
Raekwon
Raekwon
Chant
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Clifford Smith
Clifford Smith
Paroles/Composition
Corey Woods
Corey Woods
Paroles/Composition
Dennis Coles
Dennis Coles
Paroles/Composition
Jason S. Hunter
Jason S. Hunter
Paroles/Composition
Patrick Charles
Patrick Charles
Paroles/Composition
Robert Diggs
Robert Diggs
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
RZA
RZA
Production
Carlos Bess
Carlos Bess
Ingénierie de mixage
Scott Harding
Scott Harding
Ingénierie de mixage
Troy Staton
Troy Staton
Ingénierie de mixage

Paroles

["The Wu-Tang Clan will rise again There are many of us, working for the good of the Wu] Tang" "Die!" *sounds of fighting are heard* Verse One: Street Life So get your egg crashed, by my Hellz Wind Staff While the feature broadcast is splashed to tell the news Like Kaity Chung, how the bullet collapsed his lung His father watched the horror as he swallowed his tongue Another youth dead, before the age of twenty-one Left his son to grow, in the ghettoes of the slums Where the shots echo, for twisted metal for cash flow React slow nigga and get, P.L.O. By the lone gunner, who took revenge for his brother Who got slain last summer by a cocaine runner A new year is dawning, new crews is forming Rival gangs is warring blood steadily pouring The streets are deep Son every day is like a rerun So I reach out and try to teach one But eighty-five percent uncivilized content No tolerance so a lifetime is spent Behind a cage bent smoked out on a park bench Killer instinct slave rap niggaz get lynched *Sounds of fighting* Verse Two: Ghostface Killah So yo break that nigga arm fast as a fuck Tell Ra, Goldie left my beige jacket in his truck To all you slow footed penguins, duckin from these Hot rocks that's flamin, charcoal broiled rap Damian's Spraying cards ex-pionage, dodgeball sweat hard Strip bars, no bras, wet leotards In the making, next album Blood On Chef's Apron Keep a Gambino PlayStation in your playpen Discovery Channel, catch the book of Daniel Coke blunts hot as a FUCK swatted bamboo High school dropouts, baseheads get knocked the fuck out On the regular for robbin a good nigga house Rough cut raw doseage, the unexplainable Hot rock lava, gringo throw the flows iglasa *Sounds of fighting* Verse Three: Inspectah Deck Ha ha ha ha, yo What you know about this, specialist armed dangerous Hit you close range with this madness Unique design shine like a deep dish The beat kick technique spit on your weak shit Yes, the rhythm, the Rebel Alone in my level heated up past the boiling point of metal Living legend, veteran known to set trend Lethal weapon, step through your section With the Force like Luke Skywalker Rhyme author, orchestrate mind torture Live performer, bid the mic sayanora Borderline to insane, I rain firewater Tape recorder, can't be saved by a court order I got my sword cross your throat you joke Verse Four: Method Man We on the run with the golden guns, get you numb When it reach out and teach someone, blaze they buns Now I'm guilty by association Times of blackness eclipsin the sun, target practice Commence when I throw these darts at these rappers Ricochet, hit the charts, bloody your matress Hold me down, Wu bloodkin, I'm goin in Shootin bullets at the top ten, rhyme concoction Blend like chameleon All these niggaz want cheese, is we mice or men, word up We can go platinum but then, still can't get no satisfaction Once again, back on the block crumb snatchin Blowin backs in Cold-Blooded nine assassins, time for action, Johnny Unidas Handle that like arthritis Still, hold a golden touch like King Midas *Swords clash* Verse Five: RZA Drowning problems in Heineken's imported from Holland Gettin boosted off a killer bee pollen, stone columns Get cracked by drum tracks smack loud as gun claps Pin a crab to death with a thousand thumbtacks The Wu centerfold, it be's the Wind Ninja scroll Soul edged blade controls your inner pole The thick loop, fruit from the forbidden tree root I stay secluded in the Chamber trainin new recruits With Fatal Guillotine, the black hooded team what it means When bullets scream from the hot glock like rock from a sling ("Sometimes...") Pushed through like George Bush Operation PUSH Shots get popped on the block causing blood to gush From digital to analog, the Wu-Wear camoflogue My entourage squad we stompin through Zanzibar Like herds of cattle, RZA plays the wall like a shadow Connect from Brook To Shao like the Verrazano Narrows Verse Six: Raekwon the Chef Stashin cream though, Iceatollah ice style gleamo Lex graffiti name Remo, hold em we rollin Askin me though, raps is hotter than, hot tamales in Toledo Pussy that shit she passin off to me though We wax Ajax niggaz with a axe, Maxamill You could crash a mil, got you back still Scold em and fold em like they thousand dollar bills Sit back iron y'all niggaz out Fakes that delegate we spittin fire out Verb burgular, designer Wally shoe store reserver Jet status, Guyanese bird up on my matress Watch me mack this, Ralph Lauren goose inside a fashion Yo, these hands is flooded and they mad quick Strong approach like magnets, custom wood crane name Stylin rich, RZA made the waves in one cham' Feelin mics like, wheelin a bike, slide like Up on his Klondike, get your dart right We movin on it like, wind breaker niggaz get they face broke Jury get snatched, magazine right on the low, fuck y'all cats ("Sometimes...") *Sounds of fighting* "May you rot in hell!" "Ahahahahah, ahahahahaha, ahahahahaha!"
Writer(s): Robert F. Diggs, Gary E. Grice Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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