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    Wu-Tang Clan / Lyrics

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    "Hellz Wind Staff" Lyrics

    Wu-Tang Clan

    "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

    With a shot that go, 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 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, chocolate for all you rap Damian's
    Spraying cards ex-pionage, dodgeball square hard
    Strip bars, no bras, wet leotards
    and a mink in, next album blood on Seth Abram
    Keep a Gambino PlayStation in your playpen
    Discovery Channel, cats that book at 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 doses, 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 split all your weak shit
    Yes, the rhythm, the Rebel
    Alone in my level heat it 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, bit 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 none
    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 a million
    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
    Blunted non-assassin, time for action, Johnny Unidas
    Handle that like arthritis
    Still, hold a golden touch like King Midas

    {*swords clash*}

    [Verse Five: RZA]
    Drown in problems the Heineken's imported from Holland
    Gettin boosted off a killer bee pollen, stone columns
    get trapped by drum tracks mac loud as gun claps
    Pen'll grab the death of a thousand dumb tacks
    The Wu Sensai fold, it beez 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 Whoops
    Shots get popped on the block cause them blood to gush
    From digital to analog, the Wu-Wear camoflogue
    The entourage squad we stompin through Zanzibar
    like herds of cattle, RZA plays the wall like a shadow
    Connectin Brooklyn/Shaol like the Verrazanno-Narrows

    [Verse Six: Raekwon the Chef]
    Stash the cream though, Iceatollah ice style gleama
    Lex graffiti name reamer, 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 meal, got you back steel
    scold em and fold em like the thousand dollar bills
    sit back eyein y'all niggaz out
    Fakes that delegate we spittin fire out
    Verb burgular, design the Wally shoe store reserve
    a jet status, guidin these vert 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 chain
    Feelin mics like, wheelin a bike, slide like
    step 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

    {*sounds of fighting*}

    "May you rot in hell!"
    "Ahahahahah, ahahahahaha, ahahahahaha!"
    This song was submitted on February 8th, 2008 and last modified on October 18th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group.
    Written by Clifford Smith, Corey Woods, Dennis David Coles, Jason Hunter, Patrick Charles, Robert F. Diggs.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

    Song Details

    track 12 on disc 2
    Forever [1997]
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