Da Mystery of Chessboxin'

Wu-Tang Clan

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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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The game of chess, is like a sword fight 
You must think first, before you move 
Wu style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon 
When it's properly used, it's almost invincible 

Raw I'ma give it to ya, with no trivia 
Raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia 
My hip hop will rock and shock the nation 
Like the Emancipation Proclamation 
Weak MC's approach with slang that's dead 
You might as well run into the wall and bang your head 
I'm pushin' force, my force your doubtin' 
I'm makin' devils cower to the Caucus Mountains 

Well I'm a sire, I set the microphone on fire 
Rap styles vary, and carry like Mariah 
I come from the shaolin slum, and the isle I'm from 
Is comin' through with nuff niggas, and nuff guns 
So if you want to come sweatin', stressin' contesting 
You'll catch a sharp sword to the midsection 
Don't talk the talk, if you can't walk the walk 
Phony niggas are outlined in chalk 
A man vexed, is what the projects made me 
Rebel to the grain there's no way to barricade me 
Steam-rollin' niggas with the eighteen wheeler 
With the drunk driver drivin', there's no survivin'

Ruff like Timberland wear, yeah 
Me and the Clan, and yo the Landcruisers out there 
Peace to all the crooks, all the niggas with bad looks 
Bald heads, braids, blow this hook 
We got chrome tecs, nickel plated macs 
Black axe, drug dealin' styles in phat stacks 
I only been a good nigga for a minute though 
'Cause I got to get my props, and win it yo 
I got beef wit commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth 
Lampin' in a Lexus eatin' beef 
Straight up and down don't even bother 
I got forty niggas up in here now, who kill niggas fathers 

My peoples are you with me where you at? 
In the front, in the back killa-bees on attack 
My peoples are you with me where you at? 
Smokin meth hittin caps on the block with the gats 

Here I go, deep type flow 
Jacque Cousteau could never get this low, I'm 
Cherry bombin' shits boom!
Just warmin' up a little bit, vroom vroom 
Rappinin is what's happenin'
Keep the pockets stacked and then, hands clappin' and 
At the party when I move my body 
Gotta get up, and be somebody 
Grab the microphone put strength to the bone 
Duh, duh, duh enter the Wu-Tang zone 
Sure enough when I rock that stuff 
Huff puff I'm gonna catch your bluff tuff 
Rough, kickin' rhymes like Jim Kelly 
Or Alex Haley I'm a Mi Beetle Bailey rhymes 
Comin' raw style, hardcore 
Niggas be comin' to the hip-hop store 
Comin' to buy grocery from me 
Tryin' to be a hip-hop MC
The law, in order to enter the Wu-Tang 
You must bring the Ol Dirty Bastard type slang 
Represent the Gza, Abbot, RZA, Shaquan, Inspecta Deck 
Dirty hoe gettin' low wit his flow 
Introducin' the Ghostface Killer 
No one could get illa 


Speakin' of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right 
Mega trife, and yo I killed you in a past life 
On the mic while you was kickin' that fast shit 
You reneged tried again, and got blasted 
Half mastered ass style mad ruff task 
When I struck I had on Tims and a black mask 
Remember that shit? I know you don't remember jack 
That night yo I was hittin' like a spiked bat 
And then you thought I was bugged out, and crazy 
Strapped for nonsense, after me became lazy 
Yo, nobody budge while I shot slugs 
Never shot thugs, I'm runnin' with thugs that flood mugs 
So grab your eight plus one, start flippin' and trippin'
Niggas is jettin' I'm lickin' off son 

Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang!

Homicide's illegal and death is the penalty 
What justifies the homicide, when he dies? 
In his own iniquity it's the 
Master of the Mantis Rapture comin at cha 
We have an APB on an MC Killer 
Look like the work of a Master 
Evidence indicates that's it's stature 
Merciless like a terrorist hard to capture 
The flow changes like a chameleon 
Plays like a friend, and stabs you like a dagger 
This technique attacks the immune system 
Disguised like a lie paralyzin' the victim 
You scream, as it enters your bloodstream 
Erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain 
Movin' on a nigga with the speed of a centipede 
And injure any motherfuckin' contender


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Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Downtown Music Publishing

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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