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(Make me yours) |
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He get out of line, break his fucking arm |
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You know how it go, word up |
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Ain't playing no games with these niggaz man |
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None at all, man, no more, none of that |
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Aiyyo, jump out the |
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Acura, crazy heavy, what's popping? |
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Us locking the game, word to every hand on the lock men |
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Street gwop, everybody eats, sweep blocks |
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This is a message, ain't go no grams, we gon' beat box |
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Study like lessons, niggaz in the game biting the grain |
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You knowing where it came from, stop it |
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You thought we wasn't coming? |
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You dumbing, you blunted again |
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Watch Lex get that dough out your pocket |
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Rhyme all 'pallegic can't nothing move when |
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I rhymeWhen |
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I drop lines it's law out in |
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EgyptLove ups, don't need no batteries now, what? |
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The only niggaz that'll glow'll be us |
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Yo, throw me in |
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Sin City, leave me with the vultures and bats |
|
Then give me two weeks to bubble like |
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Kim titties |
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Dirt Dog, we miss you, now it's time to murder the game' |
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Cuz if things change, you know it ain't against |
|
WuWhat am |
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I supposed to say? |
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YeahSomebody tell me what do |
|
I doWhat am |
|
I supposed to say? |
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YeahWe keep it hot, keep the heat on the block |
|
We never stop, drawing water up until it begin to drop |
|
Raining with the patchwork of puzzles |
|
That was written in the year of the dragon |
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More raw than you could ever imagine |
|
How much of a great blessing to a rap city |
|
Where the youth is organically fed |
|
From the witty, unpredictable talent, natural game is lyrical |
|
Analyze the picture, the portrait, the visual |
|
A Cuban Link |
|
Chef cooks spaghetti that's untied |
|
Ragu nigga whose tomatoes are sun dried |
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He gave y'all niggaz whiplash from bling bling |
|
But my rhyme'll give you hot flash and mood swings |
|
Math shed light on divine secrets then science leaked it |
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For the lower level creatures that can't peep it |
|
I observe |
|
MCs, regardless from a neighboring world |
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Which is ten times the sharpness |
|
What am I supposed to say? |
|
YeahSomebody tell me what do |
|
I doLet the track wind and your mind flow free |
|
Remain conscious on this ride to ya best ability |
|
Infinity, back to the source of which it came |
|
Energy, see it changed forms |
|
Atoms being born, never ending |
|
On and on and on and travel with me |
|
Not trying to convince the pack that it's a fact |
|
For those who can't adapt, |
|
I lived it, shitted it back |
|
We have agreed |
|
You'll feel the impact of the truth when |
|
I'll squeeze |
|
The brain feels something pop, hip hop, locked in texts |
|
Fat checks, fly whips, jewelry, chicks |
|
Enough kicks, fitted crown, buttoned down |
|
Underneath your white |
|
T lies the four pound |
|
This is forty-five minutes of menacing |
|
Dismantling any |
|
MC opponent stepping in the zone |
|
Get your face blown |
|
What am I supposed to say? |
|
YeahSomebody tell me what do |
|
I doObserve the word, when |
|
I speak, it's the truth that's heard |
|
True to the curb, |
|
Wu classic is the new birth |
|
Spreading the blessing across seven continents |
|
Arm of the trench, there's no form of defense |
|
Entertainment, nine swords swing rapid |
|
Check the techniques, first bow to |
|
The Abbott |
|
Witty, unpredictable, gritty individual |
|
Valid if it's actual, talent and it's natural |
|
Game, rugged like the train, pump it in your vein |
|
I and I, ride or die, under the name |
|
W-U, the primary, your secondary |
|
Definitely not necessary, the legendary |
|
You printed the blueprints to do this shit |
|
Moving the youth in the bricks |
|
Spitting poison tipped darts that rip hearts |
|
Through the chest when |
|
I manifest my sick art |
|
Speaking my mind, fall in line when |
|
I spit mine |
|
Still in my prime, still'll shine 'til it quit time |
|
If this is a crime, find me guilty, |
|
I'm so sublime |
|
So rapid with rhymes, same slacking is asanine |
|
Revealing the truth, catching feelings, it's still the |
|
WuGorilla the booth, body armored, |
|
I'm killa proof |
|
In living proof, |
|
I'm the wittiest, unpredictable |
|
Most talented rap motherfucker you ever listened to |
|
I'm a hustler, |
|
I grind 'til my pack is done |
|
Get a seed mad knowledge so they crack and run |
|
Can't nobody fuck with me, |
|
I'm just too nice |
|
Smack niggas in they head every time |
|
I writeYo, |
|
I'm straight from |
|
Park Hill where the guns is popping |
|
Where them little black kids do they grocery shopping |
|
Go to school fucked up, it's |
|
Africa Island |
|
We poor in the bricks but inside it's nothing but talent |
