Listen to Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber (feat. Raekwon, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, RZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard & GZA) by Wu-Tang Clan

Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber (feat. Raekwon, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, RZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard & GZA)

Wu-Tang Clan

Hip-Hop/Rap

Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
4th Disciple
4th Disciple
Scratches
Prince Rakeem
Prince Rakeem
Programming
GZA
GZA
Vocals
Ghostface Killah
Ghostface Killah
Vocals
Inspectah Deck
Inspectah Deck
Vocals
Method Man
Method Man
Vocals
Ol' Dirty Bastard
Ol' Dirty Bastard
Vocals
RZA
RZA
Vocals
Raekwon
Raekwon
Vocals
U-God
U-God
Vocals
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
Prince Rakeem
Prince Rakeem
Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Ethan Ryman
Ethan Ryman
Engineer
RZA
RZA
Producer
Chris Gehringer
Chris Gehringer
Mastering Engineer

Lyrics

Yo Meth, hold up, hold up Yo Meth, where my Killer tape at, God? First of all, where my... where the fuck is my tape at? Yo son, I ain't got that piece, son How you ain't got my shit when I let you hold it, man? Yo, niggas came over to have 40s and blunts, kid The shit just came up missing, son Come on, man, that don't got nothing to do with my shit, man Come on, man, go head with that shit, man Come on, man, I'll buy you four more fucking Killer tapes, man Aiyo! Aiyo! Open the door man, what the fuck, man? Yo, what? What's up? Yo, yo God, word is bond, yo Shameek just got bust in his head two times, God! Word to mother! Word life, God. You know Shameek from fucking 212, God? The nigga just got bucked Niggas in a black Land, God, word is bond Came through, God, from out of nowhere, God Word is bond I'm coming to get my Culture Cipher, God And they just... word is bond, crazy shots just went the fuck off, God Niggas let off crazy shots, kid The nigga laying there like a fucking newborn fucking baby, God Word up! Is he dead? Is he fucking dead? What the fuck you mean is he fucking dead, God? What the fuck kind of question is that, B? Fuck you think? The nigga laying there with his fucking... All types of fucking blood coming out of his fucking... (Sarcastically) Is he is he is he dead? Yo God, what's up God? It's the God, God, word is bond Yo what's up I'm ready to fucking lay... I'm ready to get busy, God, what's up? Yo let's go do what we got... What's up, yo? Yo let's go do what we gotta do, man, fuck it Yo, we out or what, man? It's the God, God, fuck that, man You saying we out? They probably took the tape What the fuck? Nigga still sweating the tape, man What the fuck is you talking about? Get the fuck outta here Fucking corn Good Morning Vietnam! Yeah, good morning to all you motherfucking knotty-headed niggas Yo to the camouflage large niggas Bitch, where the fuck is my bottle? Bring that fucking meth in here Yo yo yo yo Now we gonna drink some good Night train Champion gear that I rock, you get your boots knocked Then attack you like a pit then 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 Killa Beez attack, flipping what, murder one Fat tracks aight, I kick it like a Nike Flight Word life, I get that ass robbed on spite Check the method from Bedrock cause I rock your head to bed Just like rocking what? Twin Glocks Shake the ground while my beats just break you down Raw sound, going to war right now So, yo, bombing, We Usually Take All Niggas Garments Save your breath before I vomit 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, niggas save the beef for the cow I'm milking this ho, this is my show, Tical The fuck you wanna do for this mic piece, duke? I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root PLO Style, buddha monks with the owls Now who's the fucking man? Meth-Tical On the chessbox "Wu-Tang style" 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, Inspectah, 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 your ear The Shooby Doo-Wop pop 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 fucking charge when I explode Slamming a hype-ass verse till your head burst I ramshack dead in the track and that's that Rap assassin, fast and quick to blast and hardrock I ran up in spots like Fort Knox I'm hot, top notch, Ghost thinks with logic Flashbacks 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 Approaching me, yo out of respect, chops to 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, jetting like a runaway slave You're getting stripped from your garments boy, run your jewels All the meth got me open like fallopian 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 your navel Suspenseful force being brought through my utensil The pencil, I bring strong winds up against you Havoc, then run up through your county like the Maverick Caps through the tablets, I gots to make the fabrics A-a-a-ah-ah are you a warrior killer slicing shit like a samurai? The Ol' Dirty Bastard from the bar Ol' Dirty clan of terrorists Coming at your ass like a sorceress, shooting that piss Niggas be getting on my fucking nerves Rhymes they be kicking make me wanna kick their fucking ass to the curb Boy got funky fresh like the Old Specialist A carrier, messenger, bury ya This experience is for the whole experience Let it be applied, Unique drop that science M-M-My clan is thick like plaster, bust ya, slash ya Slit a nigga back like a Dutch Master killer Style jumped off in Killa Hilla I was the thriller in the Ali-Frazier Manila I came down with phat tracks that combine and interlock Like getting smashed by a cinder block Pow! Now it's all over Niggas seeing pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers
Writer(s): Robert F. Diggs, Corey Woods, Dennis David Coles, Lamont Hawkins, Jason S. Hunter, Clifford Smith, Russell T. Jones, Gary E. Grice Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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