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    Wu-Tang Clan / Lyrics

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    "Triumph" Lyrics

    Wu-Tang Clan feat. CappaDonna

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    (Ol Dirty Bastard)

    What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see me?
    I'm the Osiris of this shit
    Wu-Tang is here forever - motherfuckers
    It's like this ninety-seven
    Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes
    Let's do it like this
    I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine
    Let's take it back to seventy-nine

    (Inspectah Deck)

    I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies
    and hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these
    mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery
    Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me
    Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits
    tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics
    I inspect view through the future see millenium
    Killa Beez sold *fifty Fucken gold sixty platinum
    Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics*
    Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths
    Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in
    Rumblein patrolmen tear gas laced the function
    Heads by the score take flight incite a war
    Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more
    Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly
    Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi
    Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock
    Wu got it locked, Performin live on you hottest block

    (Method Man)

    As the world turn, I spread like germs
    Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn
    It's my testament to those burned
    Play my position in the game of life standing firm
    on foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire
    Transform into the Ghostrider, or Six Pack
    In a Streetcar named Desire, who got my back?
    In the line of fire holding back, what?
    My people if you with me where the fuck you at?
    Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer cap
    It's court adjourned, for the bad seed from bad sperm
    Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood
    clot, we smoke pot, and blow spots
    You wanna think twice, I think not
    The Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's comng from
    Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone
    Rip through your slums


    I twist darts from the heart, tried and true
    Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks
    Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking
    Tell your story walking
    Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid
    Run for your team, and your six camp rhyme groupies
    So I can squeeze with the advantage, and get wasted
    My deadly notes reigns supreme
    Your fort is basic compared to mine
    Domino effect, arts and crafts
    Paragraphs contail cyanide
    Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion
    catalogues for all y'all to all praise to the Gods

    (Ol Dirty Bastard)

    The saga continues
    Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang


    Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet
    The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat
    We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow
    For, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war
    Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb
    Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms
    Tune spit the shitty Mortal Kombat sound
    The fake false step make, the blood stain the ground
    A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum
    A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem
    Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics
    My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas
    My music Sicily, rich California smell
    An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well
    I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin on ginseng
    Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king


    Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us
    A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober
    Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare
    Escape from your dragon's lair, in particular
    My beats travel like a vortex, through your spine
    to the top of your cerebral cortex
    Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex
    Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream
    or terminal, like Grand Central Station
    Program fat baselines, on Novation
    Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation


    War of the masses, the outcome, disaterous
    Many of the victim family save they ashes
    A million names on walls engraved in plaques
    Those who went back, received penalties for their acts
    Another heart is torn, as close ones gone
    Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song

    (Masta Killa)

    The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds
    and leaks sounds that's heard
    ninety-three million miles away from came one
    to represent the nation, this is a gathering
    of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan
    As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage
    The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief take the stage
    Light is provided through sparks of energy
    from the mind that travels in rhyme form
    Giving sight to the blind
    The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum
    Death only one can save shell from
    This relentless attack of the track spares none

    (Ghostface Killah)

    Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back
    Lampin like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack
    Codeine was forced in your drink
    You had a navy green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream
    You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb
    Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one
    Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention
    Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold tha
    fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck
    I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch
    it's me, Black Noble Drew Ali
    came in threes we like the Genovese
    Is that so? Caesar needs the greens
    It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first
    Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz


    Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off
    Connect thoughts to make my man's child walk
    Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser
    New York gank adviser world tranquilizer
    Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives
    While, my pen blow lines ferocious
    Mediterranean, see ya, the number one draft pick
    sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God
    The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula
    Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substatiala
    Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening
    Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland.
    This song was last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Thanks to rob-ricaby@hotmail.com for the contribution to this song.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Robert F. Diggs, Dennis David Coles, Gary E. Grice, Lamont Hawkins, Jason Hunter, Russell T. Jones, Clifford Smith, Corey Woods, Darryl Robert Hill, Elgin Evander Turner.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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