Protect Ya Neck (The Jump Off)

Wu-Tang Clan

3 fans

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 »


Year:
2004
3:56
132 
#2

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer

Ladies and gentlemen, we'd like to welcome to you
All the way from the slums of Shaolin
Special uninvited guests
Came in through the back door
Ladies and gentlemen, it's them!

Dance with the mantis, note the slim chances
Chant this, anthem swing like Pete Sampras
Taking it straight to Big Man On Campus
Brandish your weapon or get dropped to the canvas
Scandalous, made the metro panic
Cause static, with or without the automatic
And while I'm at it, yo, you got cash, pass it
It's drastic, gotta send half to Dirty Bastard

Hey yo, hey yo
Waves is spinning, blades is spinning
Slay em in the eighth inning
Stay truck, god stay playing linen
Kill rap, observe the uptowns, ho, feel that
Mink jeans on, seen where the real at
2000 zitos, moving with a ill ego
For real, for real, ill lines, ill people
Yo, bring it back, 9 more civilians
Pollyin deals, monopoly and bills
Why y'all niggas lying
Caught 300, lab look royal wit a mean stomach
Go broke, all seen, done it
Words from the heavy set
If I don't eat, then we already met
Fly ass bro, liver than coke

Now what Clan you know wit lines this ill?
Bust shots at Big Ben like we got time to kill
Niggas can't gel or I'm just too high to tell
Put on my gasoline boots and walk through hell
Wit 9 generals, 9 ninjas in your video
9 milli blow, semi auto wit no serial
Man metaphysical, I speak for criminals
Who don't pay they bills on time and f*ck wit digital
Never seen, smoke a bag of evergreen
My sword got a jones, more heads for the severing
Johnny in the dungeon, taking all bets, throw ya ones in
Scared money don't make money, throw ya guns in

That's word to Jah Mo, San Juan, Puerto Rico
Blowing hydro on a beach wit Tamiko
My gun bullet hollow for you to swallow
Blowing the nozzle, hear it whistle
One in the head, this is code red, man for dead
X amount of lead spray from the barrel
Heat clear the street like Connor O'Carroll
Fully equipped, rifles, banana clip shit
To make my niggas from East New York flip

Yo, you may catch me in a pair of Polo Skipperys, matching cap
Razor blades in my gum's (Bobby!)
You may catch me in yellow Havana Joe's goose jumper
And my phaser off stun (Bobby!)
Why y'all might just catch me in the park playing chess, studying math
Signin 7 and a sun (Bobby!)
But you won't catch me without the ratchet, in the joint
Smoked out, dead broke or off point (Bobby!)

Wallo's comfortable, chocolate frosting
Your socks hanging out, yours is talking
Rock so steadily, son, I'm still crazy
Sport my old Force MD furs in the 80's
Nat Turners wit burners, Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Taught why y'all niggas how to rap, reimburse me
Rothsdale's, ruby red sales, Bloomingdale's, blocks
Ox tails chopped up in Caribbean spots
I'm nice, maxed out, creeping wit the ax out
Murder these bikini bitches, switching with they backs out

Niggas want to pop shit, I pop clips
Bitch, I'll put my dick on ya lips
Alabama split, hammer slay quick
That David Banner gamma ray shit
Shells in the mouth, jailhouse snitch
My powder voice, Snow White stiff
Verbal killas, gorilla grip
God body shit, puff Marley spliffs

You might see me in a 6, that's not my style
You might see me wit a bitch, that's not my child
I be in the benzo, keep a low profile
Dead serious, take flicks and don't smile
Trying to get money, why y'all cats is wild
I pose for the clothes, make a song like wild
I'm a chip off the board game, got sword game
Live life to the fullest, still want more fame
Darts on layaway, beats on standby
Outfits pressed up, ready for airtime

Run on the track like Jesse Owens
Broke the record flowing, without any knowing
That my wordplay run the 400 meter relay
It's on once I grab the baton from the DJ
A athlete wit his iron cleat in the ground
Wildest nigga who sprint off the gun sound
The best time yet still 7.0
Swift flow made the cameramen clothes blow

 Watch: New Singing Lesson Videos Can Make Anyone A Great Singer

Written by: Clifford Smith, Corey Woods, Dennis David Coles, Gary E. Grice, Jason Hunter, Lamont Hawkins, Robert F. Diggs, Russell T. Jones

Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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