歌曲 | Rushing Elephants |
歌手 | Wu-Tang Clan |
专辑 | 8 Diagrams |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Diggs, Grice, Hunter, Turner ... | |
Yo, yo, yo, what up kid? | |
Yo, these niggaz is back, son (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah) | |
I'm telling you, spit that, done it nigga | |
Yeah... yeah... yeah, yeah, | |
I seen it like a | |
Zenith, man | |
You hear me man? | |
Word up, man, ya'll know what it is | |
It's on again, man, for real, | |
Top Gun, what what [Raekwon] | |
Aiyo, we came through thumping like elephants | |
The new Range is super-charged, | |
I remains intelligent | |
Back to the formula, lord, hard grammar | |
This is God school, make sure the lobby ain't jammed up | |
Excalibur swords, | |
T-Rexes, bibles of rhymes | |
We in the lunchroom, weed and veggies for breakfast | |
Polo campus, sicker lances, the crisp | |
Hundred dollar kick niggas, that be showing you hand steps | |
Back to the dormatory, where niggas | |
Broke my forearm and index finger, now you write glory | |
True holding my flag, it's all engraved in my blade | |
So when I wave it, you gon' say | |
Rae mad Now it's 28 | |
Days Later, now | |
Wu's up, do something, you can't | |
It's blood in my eye, | |
I might get amped | |
To rip something down, the billboard holders is back | |
So when you see me, you gon' say he gets down [GZA] | |
From darkness to | |
DNA, I move with my brother | |
And we resonate, energy that shifts in colors | |
Bringing M | |
C's punishment, then | |
I'm done with it | |
The meter leave way on the fast break, | |
I run with it | |
It was not a hobby, but a childhood passion | |
That had started in the lobby and was quicky fashioned | |
Every line to line, bar for bar is clockwork | |
Hazardous and powerful enough to have your block hurt | |
Check the total amount of | |
MC's inflicted | |
With torture, from moving with work that's restricted | |
We criticize producers til they joints are right | |
Then acupuncture the track with pinpoints of light | |
Hitting them from well conceiled firing positions | |
With explosiveness that'll make the deaf listen | |
Drastic, pyroclastic, connected with the same old | |
Down the dangerous slopes of an active volcano [RZA] | |
Blitz like the | |
Green Bay | |
Packers, sack like the linebackers | |
Hang with niggas, like redneck crackers | |
Strangle cold bottles of | |
Beck's, like a vexed | |
German Duck low behind the car, my tech burning | |
Neck burning, from eight karats of sunlight | |
Absorbed, in the grill, | |
Big Pun like | |
Lord of the | |
Wu-Tang sword, know what that means? | |
Like J.R. | |
Tolkien, it's the | |
Lord of the | |
Rings This is my man, | |
Chef, auto, like | |
Grand Theft | |
Auto The 18th letter, followed by the mark of | |
Zorro Plus | |
A, not for apple, but | |
I pack an apple | |
Shorty try to buck back, and knock me off the saddle | |
Caramel, pecan, sundae, | |
Pregline Plump breasts, was filled with saline | |
Her big booty cousin, nasty | |
Nadine Get you on the floor, whore tried to double team [Masta Killa] | |
Is he still that nucca? | |
Is he in the hood like that? | |
Is he really strapped? | |
Will he really split yo' shit? | |
I thought you said he rap? | |
Pull up in the yard, ten sets | |
He ain't flexing, microphone ripping, heat holding | |
Who testing? | |
Rope-a-dope his black lotus | |
Can't quote this, chat with the sword tongue | |
Duck when the axe is swinging, wild | |
Apache drum | |
Crazy Horse kicking his thoughts, he won't quit | |
Can't tell 'em nothing, he grown, give the man room | |
Space was demanded, beat banging through the speaker | |
Voice, heat seek missle, guided at the listener | |
Swing to the gospel, catch up and wet at the brothel | |
Unstoppable, direction of my flow, optional | |
To the ear, depending on the current of air, the crowd's in |
zuo ci : Diggs, Grice, Hunter, Turner ... | |
Yo, yo, yo, what up kid? | |
Yo, these niggaz is back, son Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah | |
I' m telling you, spit that, done it nigga | |
Yeah... yeah... yeah, yeah, | |
I seen it like a | |
Zenith, man | |
You hear me man? | |
Word up, man, ya' ll know what it is | |
It' s on again, man, for real, | |
Top Gun, what what Raekwon | |
Aiyo, we came through thumping like elephants | |
The new Range is supercharged, | |
I remains intelligent | |
Back to the formula, lord, hard grammar | |
This is God school, make sure the lobby ain' t jammed up | |
Excalibur swords, | |
TRexes, bibles of rhymes | |
We in the lunchroom, weed and veggies for breakfast | |
Polo campus, sicker lances, the crisp | |
Hundred dollar kick niggas, that be showing you hand steps | |
Back to the dormatory, where niggas | |
Broke my forearm and index finger, now you write glory | |
True holding my flag, it' s all engraved in my blade | |
So when I wave it, you gon' say | |
Rae mad Now it' s 28 | |
Days Later, now | |
Wu' s up, do something, you can' t | |
It' s blood in my eye, | |
I might get amped | |
To rip something down, the billboard holders is back | |
So when you see me, you gon' say he gets down GZA | |
From darkness to | |
DNA, I move with my brother | |
And we resonate, energy that shifts in colors | |
Bringing M | |
C' s punishment, then | |
I' m done with it | |
The meter leave way on the fast break, | |
I run with it | |
It was not a hobby, but a childhood passion | |
That had started in the lobby and was quicky fashioned | |
Every line to line, bar for bar is clockwork | |
Hazardous and powerful enough to have your block hurt | |
Check the total amount of | |
MC' s inflicted | |
With torture, from moving with work that' s restricted | |
We criticize producers til they joints are right | |
Then acupuncture the track with pinpoints of light | |
Hitting them from well conceiled firing positions | |
With explosiveness that' ll make the deaf listen | |
Drastic, pyroclastic, connected with the same old | |
Down the dangerous slopes of an active volcano RZA | |
Blitz like the | |
Green Bay | |
Packers, sack like the linebackers | |
Hang with niggas, like redneck crackers | |
Strangle cold bottles of | |
Beck' s, like a vexed | |
German Duck low behind the car, my tech burning | |
Neck burning, from eight karats of sunlight | |
Absorbed, in the grill, | |
Big Pun like | |
Lord of the | |
WuTang sword, know what that means? | |
Like J. R. | |
Tolkien, it' s the | |
Lord of the | |
Rings This is my man, | |
Chef, auto, like | |
Grand Theft | |
Auto The 18th letter, followed by the mark of | |
Zorro Plus | |
A, not for apple, but | |
I pack an apple | |
Shorty try to buck back, and knock me off the saddle | |
Caramel, pecan, sundae, | |
Pregline Plump breasts, was filled with saline | |
Her big booty cousin, nasty | |
Nadine Get you on the floor, whore tried to double team Masta Killa | |
Is he still that nucca? | |
Is he in the hood like that? | |
Is he really strapped? | |
Will he really split yo' shit? | |
I thought you said he rap? | |
Pull up in the yard, ten sets | |
He ain' t flexing, microphone ripping, heat holding | |
Who testing? | |
Ropeadope his black lotus | |
Can' t quote this, chat with the sword tongue | |
Duck when the axe is swinging, wild | |
Apache drum | |
Crazy Horse kicking his thoughts, he won' t quit | |
Can' t tell ' em nothing, he grown, give the man room | |
Space was demanded, beat banging through the speaker | |
Voice, heat seek missle, guided at the listener | |
Swing to the gospel, catch up and wet at the brothel | |
Unstoppable, direction of my flow, optional | |
To the ear, depending on the current of air, the crowd' s in |
zuò cí : Diggs, Grice, Hunter, Turner ... | |
Yo, yo, yo, what up kid? | |
Yo, these niggaz is back, son Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah | |
I' m telling you, spit that, done it nigga | |
Yeah... yeah... yeah, yeah, | |
I seen it like a | |
Zenith, man | |
You hear me man? | |
Word up, man, ya' ll know what it is | |
It' s on again, man, for real, | |
Top Gun, what what Raekwon | |
Aiyo, we came through thumping like elephants | |
The new Range is supercharged, | |
I remains intelligent | |
Back to the formula, lord, hard grammar | |
This is God school, make sure the lobby ain' t jammed up | |
Excalibur swords, | |
TRexes, bibles of rhymes | |
We in the lunchroom, weed and veggies for breakfast | |
Polo campus, sicker lances, the crisp | |
Hundred dollar kick niggas, that be showing you hand steps | |
Back to the dormatory, where niggas | |
Broke my forearm and index finger, now you write glory | |
True holding my flag, it' s all engraved in my blade | |
So when I wave it, you gon' say | |
Rae mad Now it' s 28 | |
Days Later, now | |
Wu' s up, do something, you can' t | |
It' s blood in my eye, | |
I might get amped | |
To rip something down, the billboard holders is back | |
So when you see me, you gon' say he gets down GZA | |
From darkness to | |
DNA, I move with my brother | |
And we resonate, energy that shifts in colors | |
Bringing M | |
C' s punishment, then | |
I' m done with it | |
The meter leave way on the fast break, | |
I run with it | |
It was not a hobby, but a childhood passion | |
That had started in the lobby and was quicky fashioned | |
Every line to line, bar for bar is clockwork | |
Hazardous and powerful enough to have your block hurt | |
Check the total amount of | |
MC' s inflicted | |
With torture, from moving with work that' s restricted | |
We criticize producers til they joints are right | |
Then acupuncture the track with pinpoints of light | |
Hitting them from well conceiled firing positions | |
With explosiveness that' ll make the deaf listen | |
Drastic, pyroclastic, connected with the same old | |
Down the dangerous slopes of an active volcano RZA | |
Blitz like the | |
Green Bay | |
Packers, sack like the linebackers | |
Hang with niggas, like redneck crackers | |
Strangle cold bottles of | |
Beck' s, like a vexed | |
German Duck low behind the car, my tech burning | |
Neck burning, from eight karats of sunlight | |
Absorbed, in the grill, | |
Big Pun like | |
Lord of the | |
WuTang sword, know what that means? | |
Like J. R. | |
Tolkien, it' s the | |
Lord of the | |
Rings This is my man, | |
Chef, auto, like | |
Grand Theft | |
Auto The 18th letter, followed by the mark of | |
Zorro Plus | |
A, not for apple, but | |
I pack an apple | |
Shorty try to buck back, and knock me off the saddle | |
Caramel, pecan, sundae, | |
Pregline Plump breasts, was filled with saline | |
Her big booty cousin, nasty | |
Nadine Get you on the floor, whore tried to double team Masta Killa | |
Is he still that nucca? | |
Is he in the hood like that? | |
Is he really strapped? | |
Will he really split yo' shit? | |
I thought you said he rap? | |
Pull up in the yard, ten sets | |
He ain' t flexing, microphone ripping, heat holding | |
Who testing? | |
Ropeadope his black lotus | |
Can' t quote this, chat with the sword tongue | |
Duck when the axe is swinging, wild | |
Apache drum | |
Crazy Horse kicking his thoughts, he won' t quit | |
Can' t tell ' em nothing, he grown, give the man room | |
Space was demanded, beat banging through the speaker | |
Voice, heat seek missle, guided at the listener | |
Swing to the gospel, catch up and wet at the brothel | |
Unstoppable, direction of my flow, optional | |
To the ear, depending on the current of air, the crowd' s in |