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Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber - Part II (feat. GZA, Raekwon, Method Man, Inspectah Deck, Ghostface Killah, RZA & Ol' Dirty Bastard) - Conclusion
Wu-Tang Clan/GZA/Raekwon/Method Man/Inspectah Deck/Ghostface Killah/RZA/Ol' Dirty Bastard
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Niggas on the left, rack shit to death
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
Punks in the back, come on in the track (to what?)
Clan in the front, let your feet stomp
Niggas on the left, rack shit to death
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
Punks in the back, come on in the track (to what?)
Good morning Vietnam!
Yeah, good morning to all you motherfuckin' notty-headed niggas
Word to the camouflage large niggas (fuckin' my body)
Bring that fuckin meth in here, man
Yo, now we gon' drink some good night rain
Champion gear that I rock, you get your boots knocked
Then attack you like a pit that 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
Killer bees attack, flippin' what, murder one, phat tracks
A'ight? I kick it like a night flight!
Word life, I get that ass while I'm full o' spite!
Check the method from bedrock, 'cause I rock your head to bed
Just like rockin' what? Twin Glocks!
Shake the ground while my beats just break you down
Raw sound, we going to war right now
So, yo, bombin'
We usually take all niggas garments
Save your breath before I bomb it
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 on the cow
I'm milkin' this ho', this is my show-tical
The fuck you wanna do? More than Spike Lee's do
I'm like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root
PLO style, Buddha monks with the owls
So who's the fucking man? Meth-tical (tical)
On the chess box
Yo, yeah, yo
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 mad man
It's the mic wrecker, inspector, bad man
From the badlands of the killer, rap fanatic
Representing with the skill that's iller
Dare to compare, get pierced just like an ear
The zoo-we-do-wop-bop 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 fuckin' charge when I explode
Slammin' a hype-ass verse 'til your head burst
I ramshack dead in the track, and that's that
Rap assassin, fastin', quick to blast and hard rock
I ran up in spots like Fort Knox!
I'm hot, top-notch, ghost thinks with logic
Flashback's 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
Approachin' me, you out of respect, chops your 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, jettin' like a runaway slave
Yo! You're gettin' stripped from your garments, boy, run your jewels
While 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 your neck
Ruler zig zag, zig-allah jam is fatal
Quick to stick my Wu-Tang sword right through your navel
Suspenseful, plus bein' bought through my utensil
The pencil, I break strong winds up against your
Abbot, that run up through your county like the maverick
Caps through the tablets, I gots to make the fabrics
Are you, uh, ah, uh
Are you a warrior? Killer? Slicin' shit like a samurai
The ol' dirty bastard from the bar
Ol' dirty clan of terrorists
Comin' at your ass like a sorceress, shootin' that piss!
Niggas be gettin' on my fuckin' nerves
Bars they be kickin' make me wanna kick they fuckin' ass to the curb
I got funky fresh, like the old specialist
A carrier, messenger, bury your
This experience is for the whole experience
Let it be applied, and then drop that science
My my my
My clan is thick like plaster
Bust your, slash your
Slit a nigga back like a Dutch master killer
Style jumped off and killer, hill-er
I was the thriller in the Ali-Frazier Manilla
I came down with phat tracks that combine and interlock
Like getting smashed by a cinder block
Blaow! Now it's all over
Niggas seeing pink hearts, yellow moons
Orange stars and green clovers
I mean, y'all, yo
True, true, protect your neck
Enough respect back, man
Respect due, Paul
A'ight, peace
Peace! Peace!
Word up! Wu-Tang in the house, ol' man, yeah
People who, black people into you
I guess, I guess they could, you know, feel
You know, the realness, the, you know
They could, they could, they could, they could
Feel a vibe, and I think hip-hop
That's what I be tellin' a lot of people
And lot of record promoters and a lot of
You know, a lot of, a lot of, a lot of artists
I mean, it's like, you know
It's something, it's music that you gotta touch and feel
You know what I'm saying
And I think, I think that comes across
Think that comes across well in the video
I think probably w-, I haven't seen y'all live yet
I'm waiting for the chance
But uh, I'm pretty sure that, that, that, that's probably
What it's like, you know, you probably really get into it
They can hear that, okay
I guess they hear it, hear it in your voices when you sayin' the rhymes
Um, I mean what, what, what, what y'all say your style is?
It's a secret, never teach the Wu Tang
You best protect your neck
You best protect your neck
You best protect your neck
You best protect your neck