歌曲 | Triumph |
歌手 | Wu-Tang Clan |
专辑 | Disciples of the 36 Chambers: Chapter 1 [live] |
(Ol Dirty Bastard) | |
What y'all thought y'all wasn't gon' see me? | |
I'm the Osirus of this shit | |
Wu-Tang is here forever - motherfuckers | |
It's like this ninety-seven | |
Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes | |
Let's do it like this | |
I'ma rub your ass in the moonshine | |
Let's take it back to seventy-nine | |
(Inspectah Deck) | |
I bomb atomically, Socrates' philosophies | |
and hypotheses can't define how I be droppin these | |
mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery | |
Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me | |
Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits | |
tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics | |
I inspect view through the future see millenium | |
Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum | |
Shckling the masses with drastic rap tactics | |
Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths | |
Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in | |
Rumblein patrolmen tear gas laced the function | |
Heads by the score take flight incite a war | |
Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more | |
Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly | |
Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi | |
Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock | |
Wu got it locked, Performin live on you hottest block | |
(Method Man) | |
As the world turn, I spread like germs | |
Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hard-headed never learn | |
It's my testament to those burned | |
Play my position in the game of life standing firm | |
on foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire | |
Transform into the Ghostrider, or Six Pack | |
In a Streetcar named Desire, who got my back? | |
In the line of fire holding back, what? | |
My people if you with me where the fuck you at? | |
Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer cap | |
It's court adjourned, for the bad seed from bad sperm | |
Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood | |
clot, we smoke pot, and blow spots | |
You wanna think twice, I think not | |
The Iron Lung ain't got ta tell you where it's comng from | |
Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone | |
Rip through your slums | |
(Cappadonna) | |
I twist darts from the heart, tried and true | |
Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks | |
Certified chatterbox, vocabulary 'Donna talking | |
Tell your story walking | |
Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid | |
Run for your team, and your six camp rhyme groupies | |
So I can squeeze with the advantage, and get wasted | |
My deadly notes reigns supreme | |
Your fort is basic compared to mine | |
Domino effect, arts and crafts | |
Paragraphs contail cyanide | |
Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion | |
catalogues for all y'all to all praise to the Gods | |
(Ol Dirty Bastard) | |
The saga continues | |
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang | |
(U-God) | |
Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet | |
The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat | |
We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow | |
For, judgement day cometh, conquer, it's war | |
Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb | |
Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms | |
Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound | |
The fake false step make, the blood stain the ground | |
A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum | |
A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem | |
Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics | |
My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas | |
My music Sicily, rich California smell | |
An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well | |
I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin on ginseng | |
Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king | |
(RZA) | |
Watch for the wooden soldiers, C-cypher punks couldn't hold us | |
A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober | |
Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare | |
Escape from your dragon's lair, in particular | |
My beats travel like a vortex, through your spine | |
to the top of your cerebral cortex | |
Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex | |
Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream | |
or terminal, like Grand Central Station | |
Program fat baselines, on Novation | |
Getting drunk like a fuck I'm duckin five-year probation | |
(GZA) | |
War of the masses, the outcome, disaterous | |
Many of the victim family save they ashes | |
A million names on walls engraved in plaques | |
Those who went back, received penalties for their acts | |
Another heart is torn, as close ones gone | |
Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song | |
(Masta Killa) | |
The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds | |
and leaks sounds that's heard | |
ninety-three million miles away from came one | |
to represent the nation, this is a gathering | |
of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan | |
As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage | |
The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief take the stage | |
Light is provided through sparks of energy | |
from the mind that travels in rhyme form | |
Giving sight to the blind | |
The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum | |
Death only one can save shell from | |
This relentless attack of the track spares none | |
(Ghostface Killah) | |
Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back | |
Lampin like them gray and black Puma's on my man's rack | |
Codeine was forced in your drink | |
You had a navy green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream | |
You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb | |
Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one | |
Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention | |
Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold tha | |
fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck | |
I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch | |
it's me, Black Noble Drew Ali | |
came in threes we like the Genovese | |
Is that so? Caesar needs the greens | |
It's Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first | |
Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz | |
(Raekwon) | |
Aiyyo dat's amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off | |
Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk | |
Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser | |
New York gank adviser world tranquilizer | |
Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives | |
While, my pen blow lines ferocious | |
Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic | |
sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God | |
The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula | |
Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substatiala | |
Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it's sickening | |
Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland. |
Ol Dirty Bastard | |
What y all thought y all wasn t gon see me? | |
I m the Osirus of this shit | |
WuTang is here forever motherfuckers | |
It s like this ninetyseven | |
Aight my niggaz and my niggarettes | |
Let s do it like this | |
I ma rub your ass in the moonshine | |
Let s take it back to seventynine | |
Inspectah Deck | |
I bomb atomically, Socrates philosophies | |
and hypotheses can t define how I be droppin these | |
mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery | |
Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me | |
Battlescarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits | |
tremendous, ultraviolet shine blind forensics | |
I inspect view through the future see millenium | |
Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum | |
Shckling the masses with drastic rap tactics | |
Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths | |
Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in | |
Rumblein patrolmen tear gas laced the function | |
Heads by the score take flight incite a war | |
Chicks hit the floor, diehard fans demand more | |
Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly | |
Proceeds to blow swingin swords like Shinobi | |
Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock | |
Wu got it locked, Performin live on you hottest block | |
Method Man | |
As the world turn, I spread like germs | |
Bless the globe with the pestilence, the hardheaded never learn | |
It s my testament to those burned | |
Play my position in the game of life standing firm | |
on foreign land, jump the gun out the frying pan, into the fire | |
Transform into the Ghostrider, or Six Pack | |
In a Streetcar named Desire, who got my back? | |
In the line of fire holding back, what? | |
My people if you with me where the fuck you at? | |
Niggaz is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer cap | |
It s court adjourned, for the bad seed from bad sperm | |
Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm, what the blood | |
clot, we smoke pot, and blow spots | |
You wanna think twice, I think not | |
The Iron Lung ain t got ta tell you where it s comng from | |
Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone | |
Rip through your slums | |
Cappadonna | |
I twist darts from the heart, tried and true | |
Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to slang rocks | |
Certified chatterbox, vocabulary Donna talking | |
Tell your story walking | |
Take cover kid, what? Run for your brother, kid | |
Run for your team, and your six camp rhyme groupies | |
So I can squeeze with the advantage, and get wasted | |
My deadly notes reigns supreme | |
Your fort is basic compared to mine | |
Domino effect, arts and crafts | |
Paragraphs contail cyanide | |
Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion | |
catalogues for all y all to all praise to the Gods | |
Ol Dirty Bastard | |
The saga continues | |
WuTang, WuTang | |
UGod | |
Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet | |
The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat | |
We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow | |
For, judgement day cometh, conquer, it s war | |
Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb | |
Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms | |
Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound | |
The fake false step make, the blood stain the ground | |
A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum | |
A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem | |
Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics | |
My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas | |
My music Sicily, rich California smell | |
An axekiller adventure, paint a picture well | |
I sing a song from SingSing, sippin on ginseng | |
Righteous wax chaperone, rotating ring king | |
RZA | |
Watch for the wooden soldiers, Ccypher punks couldn t hold us | |
A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober | |
Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like flare | |
Escape from your dragon s lair, in particular | |
My beats travel like a vortex, through your spine | |
to the top of your cerebral cortex | |
Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex | |
Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream | |
or terminal, like Grand Central Station | |
Program fat baselines, on Novation | |
Getting drunk like a fuck I m duckin fiveyear probation | |
GZA | |
War of the masses, the outcome, disaterous | |
Many of the victim family save they ashes | |
A million names on walls engraved in plaques | |
Those who went back, received penalties for their acts | |
Another heart is torn, as close ones gone | |
Those who stray, niggaz get slayed on the song | |
Masta Killa | |
The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds | |
and leaks sounds that s heard | |
ninetythree million miles away from came one | |
to represent the nation, this is a gathering | |
of the masses that come to pay respects to the WuTang Clan | |
As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage | |
The High Chief JamelAhRief take the stage | |
Light is provided through sparks of energy | |
from the mind that travels in rhyme form | |
Giving sight to the blind | |
The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum | |
Death only one can save shell from | |
This relentless attack of the track spares none | |
Ghostface Killah | |
Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggaz laid back | |
Lampin like them gray and black Puma s on my man s rack | |
Codeine was forced in your drink | |
You had a navy green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream | |
You twofaces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb | |
Blowing like Shalamar in eightyone | |
Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention | |
Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold tha | |
fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck | |
I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch | |
it s me, Black Noble Drew Ali | |
came in threes we like the Genovese | |
Is that so? Caesar needs the greens | |
It s Earth, ninetythree million miles from the first | |
Rough turbulence, the waveburst, split the megahertz | |
Raekwon | |
Aiyyo dat s amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off | |
Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk | |
Swift notarizer, WuTang, all up in the highriser | |
New York gank adviser world tranquilizer | |
Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives | |
While, my pen blow lines ferocious | |
Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic | |
sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God | |
The swift chancellor, flex, the whitegold tarantula | |
Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substatiala | |
Max mostly, undivided then slide it, it s sickening | |
Guaranteed, made em jump like Rod Strickland. |