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Wu-Tang Clan

The Wu-Tang Clan /ˈwuːtæŋ/ is an American rap group from Staten Island, New York that consists of RZA, GZA, Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Inspectah Deck, U-God, Masta Killa, and the late Ol' Dirty Bastard. They are frequently joined by fellow childhood friend Cappadonna, a quasi-member of the group. They were formed in (and are associated with) the New York City borough of Staten Island (U-God, Method Man, RZA, Ghostface Killah and Raekwon) (referred to by members as "Shaolin"), though some of their members are from Brooklyn (Ol Dirty Bastard, GZA and Masta Killa). more »

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Call it the Hollow Bone syndrome line
Select sweet nine, face this
Watch his whole face lift
Bracelets, murder niggas, luxurious
Banks I was draped
Caked out, half a million dollars in coats
Flows is genetic
The Corleone connection in all
Selection, stock brokers with coats on
Make coke suggestions, all twin glizzies
Fireman, Gucci boots on, sideways action
Murder niggas fear me yo
Cash that he did Clinton
Rentin' his mother crib out
We send organize the Bill of Rights get lid
Drugs that Hendrix was on
Conversatin' like the Dutch
Richie Conaway, Goodfellas who honor Rae
Flows that blow thru your roll and Holland
Everybody now, trip up niggas
In clicks we posin' rhyme black
Half the year
Half my niggas sittin' upstairs
Takin' pictures of ya niggas wack gear

Listen to the (Clap) real niggas (Clap)
Rich niggas (Clap) my bitches (Clap)
If you love pussy then y'all niggas (Clap)
If you love to get ate, then ya ladies (Clap)
If you real fucked up, then ya'll niggas
(Clap)
If you bare witness to Allah y'all (Clap)
Aiyo you see me on the
Big screen y'all niggas Clap
(Jeans with a gangster lean, y'all Clap)
Good hats, sloppy automatics that Clap
(Big shit, thunder) Get around that

Porcelain floors with a dog named Ginger
Bottle cap niggas that rhyme, we the winners
Then slide thru your hood in hoods
Me, Cliff, Patrick
Gary Grice and my man C woods
Holdin' up gorilla
Two niggas got a hold that shit
One shot and ya mans on it
The little kids watch from down the block
Jury box, murder hop, six stash botch
Fit hit the ran spots
Spit at the statue with cash
And throw dough at it
F*ck bitches raw, why? Cuz I'm a pro at it
Big birds danglin', cameras snatch
Flash and pop from every angle and
2000 Mark Damon'in

Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap
Ya hands now, Clap, clap
Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap
Clap ya hands now people Clap ya hands

I drink till I'm drunk
Smoke skunk, with my stinkin' ass
Smell the funk
Eekin' out the pores, cum stain
Shitty drawers
Pissin' down ya elevators shaft, no class
Writin' graf' on ya walls
It be us, f*ck ya law
Niggas my cause is "because"
No yin to my yang, it's a black thing
Used to be in chains, now we snatch chains
Took the crack game applied it
To the rap game, y'all
Pop quiz, now, what artist hit's the hardest?
Get down with the syndrome: retarded
I think it was them swordsmen
Place them chess pieces on the boards and
Take it to the square
This ain't no Yakool affair
Or a New World Disorder, got us
Fuckin' the coal miner's daughter
That y'all, but not us

Listen to the (Clap) real niggas (Clap)
Rich niggas (Clap) my bitches (Clap)
If you love pussy then y'all niggas (Clap)
If you love to get ate, then ya ladies (Clap)
If you real fucked up, then ya'll niggas
(Clap)
If you bare witness to Allah y'all (Clap)
Aiyo you see me on the
Big screen y'all niggas Clap
(Jeans with a gangster lean, y'all Clap)
Good hats, sloppy automatics that Clap
(Big shit, thunder) Get around that

During this time
I intend to teach you the Shaolin poem
The rules and commandments, that void, deceit
Cruelty and unkindness, always help the weak
Never despise the poor
Always respect yourself

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