Songteksten

[Intro: Ol' Dirty Bastard] Go head. [Raekwon] Give me all Gucci colors, my niggaz get real for brothers We idolize big lines and nines Jumping out of big joints live, projects Lot of objects, front if you want, you gon' die Lex with a sawed off, Killa gonna tax him in the Waldorff All bloodhounds, pop, show it off Actin' like that money ain't live Built it from the getty-up, New York City gonna fry Aiyo, son, I take mines, rape lines Yeah, I'm realer than Riker's who orchestrate great crimes Jump out the Lex', lookin' zesty, real Nestle What, picture nigga, except bless me God, I'm high-powered, gun of the hour, crafted Flowers Give it the blend, double it, and blow like the Towers All ya'll need to take showers, can't take what's ours, pa. Been sellin' crack, been sellin' crack Been sellin' crack, livin' the black Revealin' how we flip that, strip cats We write rich raps Help out the body, me, similar to the Gotti Story, I'm kinda young, son, a fly forty The Reverend cold shittin' on shorty, did it to shorty pop And gave him like ten in his jaw piece Remember this sayin': "Staten Island Gun Slayers" It's mayors, all gauges, minimum wage the raises. [Chorus: Ol' Dirty Bastard (*RZA reverses and flips voice samples*)] ...up the Rock. [Method Man] Niggaz be killin' me, actin' like they ain't feelin' me Knowin' they bustin' them guns with my artillery Usin' my words as if it's his and hers That's that shit that make me not wanna pass the herb The fake artist, I'm coming Razor Sharp regardless I bump lah, sowed of liquor, light and spark Make it crunk live, the dirty dirty try and serve me Like black folks in scary movies: you die early Tony Toca, Meth Tical, vida loca Esta loca, if she think I eat the chocha Ma, toss the, smoke ya, win free (Winfrey) like Oprah And un-hoast that roast, your meat, for the butcher Licky lost ya, don't even come a step closer When I approach a track, I slam like my culture [RZA] Chill with the feedback, black, we don't need that [Method Man] GZA told you it's a "Cold World", where ya heat at?. [Chorus: Ol' Dirty Bastard (*RZA reverses and flips voice samples*)] ...up the Rock. [U-God] Hots on the shit, just so we can lock horns Throw a package in the streets, get the block warm Something happens when we meet, hit the block strong Get it poppin' in your face, taste the popcorn Now that we back on track, can't lose My back gets huge, bitches Moulin Rouge The way I move, the Cadillac, so smooth Battle rap improve shit, light the fuse Bruised off the booze liquor, doozy kicker The dynamite style, shinin' lights still flicker Wu-Tang stickers is a nuclear reaction Tony Touch scratch the table, RZA on the back end Pure, the talent, yes, yours truly The brand combination of jazz, class and beauty Here to do my duty, up another notch The gospel according to rap is mega watts Agenda never stop, dead center, mega hot Go mop it up, go cop it when it drops. [Chorus: Ol' Dirty Bastard (*RZA reverses and flips voice samples*)] ...up the Rock. [Outro: Ol' Dirty Bastard] Haha, they coming over here.
Writer(s): Clifford Smith, Joseph Hernandez, Clarence Henry Reid, Corey Todd Woods, Lamont Jody Hawkins Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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