K-POP Lyrics Song

Wu-Tang ClanOlder Gods

I roll like a bat out of hell Evil
acapell's fly spittin out of my grill
Before I hit the sky with springtime
colors Juicy as a Sunkist, certain
broads double dutch this They
carve it in they wrist, pales berry
blazes Straighten the crumbs
left on the stove, clothes in my
lady hair Plus yours the look
gold God, the old tainted bald technique
Got these vestibules designer
niggaz in they whips jumpin out
they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part
II We like Dorothy Hamill on
ice We in your hood we might
circle, hats down low in the Range
Switch lanes, change my tire,
peel out Real loud on the stage
yo, I shitted on your hood kid I
shitted on your hood, got to your
burner too late I'm lookin real
good, draped out Shinin like
a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend,
c'mere Oh shit, you my man's
niece, the gourmet pocket twenty
bombs made of clay, Sexcapades
take place We fucked in forty-eight
shades might walk up in your studio
time slap your engineer, it's
lighter fluid to that style Hand
me the matches now Verse
Two: Raekwon the Chef Aiyyo rainbow
Roley on the wrist, now what's this
Niggaz bless this, eight and
a half, Bally banana twist E
shakes, puffin on lye, feedin the
seed's plate Pullin out, old
dirty eights to rob gates Major
wake up, the kid telltales, make
a nigga head wake up Beats break,
the nigga would take off his time
Honolulu status, gladdest the
rich rock cabbage and dollar vans
grands That nigga mad savage,
stationary Hall of Justice Niggaz
came clumped out Just came home,
now they bunked out Money be
longer than triple life til the
sun burn out, that's my word Move
it with the burner out Fidel
way of thinkin, roll with the Mac
bent Ac-10 Most of my team, Five
Percent check what the live said
Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians
yo holdin my nuts, fuckin thousand
dollar lesbians [Ghost] Yo,
the Older God put me on and had to
rock this [both] Maintain Three-Sixty
Lord live prosperous [Ghost]
It only takes a lesson a day, just
to analyze life [both] one time
in the respectable mind
repeat
Let the shot spark, soon as his
pit bull barks Tire scars from
skid marks leaves from jams in school
parks Witness, forget his, original
statement Even in protection
programs there's no escapement Gunned
down, we in town, hit king from seven
crowns Spent rounds catch him
while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge
Wounded, back in the eighty-three
summer heat Up in three-oh-nine
park, rhymin off the drummer's beat
I stalk the city streets demonstratin
mic wrecks All lookin stank,
I ain't playin wit a full deck And
as they nervously stare, I know they
scared They saw the coming of
Wu, the neon in Times Square Household
name, assassin, killa bee Mill
to the grain, that posess the Wu,
trilogy Quick to spot those that
bite camoflouge and blend Those
that got styles, they got identical
twins Don't stretch the small
thing, copycats are finnicky without
skills, they master the art of mimicry
But I go line for line on the
whole page Your unspotted life
on the mic is old age rocket


I roll like a bat out of hell Evil
acapell's fly spittin out of my grill
Before I hit the sky with springtime
colors Juicy as a Sunkist, certain
broads double dutch this They
carve it in they wrist, pales berry
blazes Straighten the crumbs
left on the stove, clothes in my
lady hair Plus yours the look
gold God, the old tainted bald technique
Got these vestibules designer
niggaz in they whips jumpin out
they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part
II We like Dorothy Hamill on
ice We in your hood we might
circle, hats down low in the Range
Switch lanes, change my tire,
peel out Real loud on the stage
yo, I shitted on your hood kid I
shitted on your hood, got to your
burner too late I'm lookin real
good, draped out Shinin like
a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend,
c'mere Oh shit, you my man's
niece, the gourmet pocket twenty
bombs made of clay, Sexcapades
take place We fucked in forty-eight
shades might walk up in your studio
time slap your engineer, it's
lighter fluid to that style Hand
me the matches now Verse
Two: Raekwon the Chef Aiyyo rainbow
Roley on the wrist, now what's this
Niggaz bless this, eight and
a half, Bally banana twist E
shakes, puffin on lye, feedin the
seed's plate Pullin out, old
dirty eights to rob gates Major
wake up, the kid telltales, make
a nigga head wake up Beats break,
the nigga would take off his time
Honolulu status, gladdest the
rich rock cabbage and dollar vans
grands That nigga mad savage,
stationary Hall of Justice Niggaz
came clumped out Just came home,
now they bunked out Money be
longer than triple life til the
sun burn out, that's my word Move
it with the burner out Fidel
way of thinkin, roll with the Mac
bent Ac-10 Most of my team, Five
Percent check what the live said
Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians
yo holdin my nuts, fuckin thousand
dollar lesbians [Ghost] Yo,
the Older God put me on and had to
rock this [both] Maintain Three-Sixty
Lord live prosperous [Ghost]
It only takes a lesson a day, just
to analyze life [both] one time
in the respectable mind
repeat
Let the shot spark, soon as his
pit bull barks Tire scars from
skid marks leaves from jams in school
parks Witness, forget his, original
statement Even in protection
programs there's no escapement Gunned
down, we in town, hit king from seven
crowns Spent rounds catch him
while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge
Wounded, back in the eighty-three
summer heat Up in three-oh-nine
park, rhymin off the drummer's beat
I stalk the city streets demonstratin
mic wrecks All lookin stank,
I ain't playin wit a full deck And
as they nervously stare, I know they
scared They saw the coming of
Wu, the neon in Times Square Household
name, assassin, killa bee Mill
to the grain, that posess the Wu,
trilogy Quick to spot those that
bite camoflouge and blend Those
that got styles, they got identical
twins Don't stretch the small
thing, copycats are finnicky without
skills, they master the art of mimicry
But I go line for line on the
whole page Your unspotted life
on the mic is old age rocket


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