RZA, Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Masta Killa

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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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And in our line of work, we need all the help we can get
Tony Wing's the name, he works for a drug ring in Central America
Who wants to kill him?
No information, say yes or no
One point five million
Alright, you get what you want, money's no object
They're all clean, no serial numbers, untraceable
And they're explosive head bullets, your favorite

Come here, son
Come here, for a minute
Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up
Yo, send Bobby to the store for some more baking soda
Yo, yo, yo, get your fuckin', yo this made of glass, man
Get your big Avias off my mom's table man
The f*ck is wrong with you, man?
Nah, nah, see, yo, chill, man, yo, pass the Cristal man
F*ck is wrong with you, man?
Niggas is greedy man, damn
Big ass shits
Yo man, you ain't smoking no more weed in here, man
Chill man

Bobby Steels
Somebody go to the store, man, f*ck that shit
Sup kid?
Get baking soda
Let's cut the pie five ways
We came off with two mil, kid
Rollie Fingers, no doubt, coming through
La Cosa Nostra
Johnny Blaze
Lou Diamonds
Represent for my peoples
Word up, kid
Tony Starks
Universal frontier
Original bloodclaat bad boys

Who come to get you, none, they want guns
I be the first to set off shit, last to run
Wu roll together as one
I call my brother son 'cause he shine like one, check it

Scriptures hit the body like sawed-off shotty
Like my hair knotty and my nosepiece snotty
F*ck a nigga hottie, that whole pussy probably
Burn like the deserts of Mogabi, for real
Ain't nothing fraudulent here, we pioneer
Commandeer a new frontier, this be the Wu, yeah
36 Chambers of fear, huh, you lost it
Information leaking out your faucets, hmm
Time to forfeit your crown and leave the grounds
There's a new sheriff in town holding it down
It's the two holster, six-shot smoker
Wanted dead or alive, bounty on the poster
Wild in the West, a student of my culture
And life is the test, hold up
Let a nigga catch his breath
I'm still paying dues and the last one is death
Back to the essence with that shit you stressing, this rap profession
Now peep Tical, the son of the Shaolin
Isle, bless my style, criminology pays
The last times and days, Johnny fucking Blaze

This goes for niggas who know
Wu will glow like yayo, lay low
Plus cooling in Barbados
Ricans be giving me much shit to touch shit
Stay cool papa, see you with enough shit
Back at the lab-a, crack's bagged up
Yo niggas act up, what? Blow up their workers if they have to
Señoritas, fucking up a storm buying Gods margaritas
Sucking his dick, up in the whip long
Designed for rhyme crime, nigga, jail time jiggas
Them niggas up in hype Vigors lighting niggas
Silks Wally wear Figaro chain, yeah
Jakes beware of black rap millionaires
Rock Airs, leather goose, bears blowing this year
1-800-GAMBINO niggas, yeah

Wu roll together as one
I call my brother son cause he shine like one

Solid gold crown is shining, we're blinding like some diamonds
I'm reclining in the sky on a cloud with silver lining
Double breasted, bullet proof vested, well protected
The heart, the rib cage, the chest and solar plexus
Casting stones, cracking two-hundred and six bones
And watch your ass get blown to a sea of fire and brimstone
How dare you approach it with them poems
The overfiend, light nova beam green, show 'em what soldier mean
The grand exquisite imperial wizard or is it
The RZArector come to pay your ass a visit
Local bio-chemical, universal giant, the black general
Licking shots at Davy Crockett on the bicentennial
Happy Millennium two thousand microchips two shots of penicillin
Goes up your adrenalin, son, it's time for bouting
It's a model you're resembling the niggas who like following
Trapped inside your projects like a genie inside the bottle and

God stepping forth upon holy down of the track
It's the sound that surrounds and hurts me like I'm under attack
So I decided to bite down on the mic
So the pain of the track won't deny the fact that I'm the master
For what lurks, is an expert that hurts
The individual who tries to visualize under
'Cause I strike, like thunder
Niggas couldn't stand my heat, it's unbearable
My wisdom fucks up your respitorial
Systems are fractured by the killer tactics
Style is ragged and thoughts are mad jagged
Enter the entity, my vicinity
Is three hundred and sixty degrees of humidity
Represent the school of hard knocks and Glocks my
Clan is hostile and got mad moss for blocks so
Feel the force of impact from the iron side of
The gat as I attack the track
From the blind side of the pack, Starks pass the chrome
Watch a nigga get blown out his motherfucking dome-piece
Deceased, laid to rest

Who come to get you, none, they want guns
I be the first to set off shit, last to run
Wu roll together as one
I call my brother son 'cause he shine like one

Yo, ayo, I got to serve them my way, move give me room
Holding up your saloon, clean sweep, like a broom
Full moons make me howl like a wolf out of breath
Soley on Wu cords you heard Genius on Gef
So step back to the lab at high velocity
My team make hand-to-hand sales, we're like a pharmacy
F*ck Geraldo, Pablo's plan bro is Bravo
Goodfellas we know, best sellers become novels
The man rocking head bands, silk scarves and jams
Early 80's British Walkers, playboys, mocks and shams
The laser beam vocalist does well at symphonies
Bad days, watch me snatch ice right outta Tiffany's
Remember them kids that came off with eight million
Robbed the Brinks and I labelled in royal pavilions
Them flower heads must have been stupid
Tell me how the f*ck black niggas get caught with all that loot, kid
There's jet money, underground money
Submarines and rings, too bad you fucked up, dummies

Cosa, Cosa
Come on

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Written by: Corey Woods, Robert F. Diggs

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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    "Wu-Gambinos Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 24 Oct. 2021. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/1240224/RZA>.

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