Books Of War

RZARZA 

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RZA

Robert Fitzgerald Diggs (born July 5, 1969), better known by his stage name Rza ( /ˈrɪzə/ RIZ-ə; usually styled RZA), is an American Grammy-winning music producer, multi-instrumentalist, author, emcee, and occasional actor, director, and screenwriter. A prominent figure in hip hop, Rza is the de facto leader of the Wu-Tang Clan. He has produced almost all of Wu-Tang Clan's albums as well as many Wu-Tang solo and affiliate projects. He has also released solo albums under the alter-ego Bobby Digital, along with executive producing credits for side projects. In addition to the Wu-Tang Clan and his solo releases, Rza was also a founding member of the horrorcore Hip Hop group Gravediggaz where he used the name The Rzarector. Furthermore, he has acted in several mo… more »

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Hip hop music

It ain't nothing like a fistful a cash
Or a bliss fulla the hash
That twist like a mustache, from end to end
Spread it like a rash
From talking through your walkman or
At your disco bash
Gimme the Timbs Rumplestiltskin brown
A metal face mask with a built in frown
A mic to tilt down, a hundred thousand pounds
And see how kilt sound like spilt milk clown
Cocoa butter on very ashy day fam
With Ray-Bans out on the islands of Cayman
Or I'll break it down for the layman
Bain de Soleil, for that St tropez tan
A can a ol' gold too cold to hold
Slow ya roll
Keep on moving like Soul I I Soul
Hold the dough
Like a fool who stole pity y'all
From tryna go up against city hall titty bar
The black mic is like a red violin
Ok, everybody back to the lab, try again
Bloody rap game like leviathan
Leave a bad taste
Killin' my high like niacin
Stop kiddin' middlemen need Ritalin
Hit me with the full tin of
Gin and I'm a kid again
Keep the bong lightin' straight
Through the song writin'
The super-villain AKA the thong bitin'
Thats inviting all
To the recitin' thats dope and raw
Hoping all y'all come in peace
And it's open bar
Tear the roof off this bumba raasclaat
By the end of the night spaz like shazbot
Spilt a shot made the pen lines runny
An ill plot that's ten times Ben Stein money
Funny
How he rip the scripts with a straight face
With more rhymes than is lines in ya database
Placing rappers in endangerment
Who's reckless with this food for thought
Sorta' like breakfast
You could mark it off as wreck on a checklist
Wear gold fronts, can't afford no necklace
Shit, that there
Could go to help buildin' daycares
Somebody say yeahh (yeahhh) pay ya fares
Give the Herbalizers their shares
And y'all could pay DOOM in beers cheers!

I came to the shores of
America disguised as a peddler
The alpha and omega and the
Home of the beggars, the black settlers
Who been beaten, raped, lynched
Robbed and stoned
And called to roam the earth in service
Cause they couldn't maintain at home
This dates back to 1555
When they captured the first tribe of men
And piled them in a pen fifty feet high
And took em all on a 9000 mile ride
And landed on the shore of a
Place they never seen before
But read about this inside the
Ancient books of war
Bonded in stainless steel
Stripped of their language
Still survived the anguish of slavery
But still remained nameless
Separated to portions and tricked
By John Haughty Hawkins
And sold on the auction
Taught birth control and abortion
Rulers of the first part became
Slaves of the worst part
The devils cursed God and reversed God
And turned God into dog and
Made people search hard
No relief came til' the prophet of WD fard
To a trauma
Dropped our mommas off in Bahamas
And Barbados, Tobago's
Separated us from slave boats
Made our own brothers hate us
From Virgin Isle to Jamaica
Trinidad, Honduras, Haiti, Grenada
Bermuda to Cayman, mental enslavement

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