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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | Do You Really (Thang, Tang) |
Album: | The W | Genres: | Rap/Hip Hop |
Year: | 2000 |
Length: | 322 sec |
Lyrics:
Yo, this is a wu-banger two thousand and one noise maker Off the hook guerilla anthem This is dj kay slay, from around the way And i'll smack the shit outta any of you dj's That front on this shit.. think i'm playin?
[hook x2 (method man)] I heard you ladies got them thang thangs Do you really? I heard you niggas like to bang bang Do you really?
[streetlife] I never been a fan of the fame I got love for the game Never lust for the dames I got dust in my veins Hit 'em off in the brain Kid talks but its lame Sniffed a little blow with the rap eddie kane Spent a lot of dough, its so hard to explain And i fucked a lot of bitches off the strength of the name Wu tang see me in the next lex with the game Snowboarding down a ski range, its a blue and grey frame Keep, pointing the finger, i'm that nigga to blame The main reson why you duck the chain Self proclaimed, got a lotta profit to gain And i'm leaving the rap game the same way i came
[method man] Now creep with me, as i roll through the stat Little meth got my back, little pinky fat-fat Let me hit that (draws), contact, learn how to act Before you bring that drama the end; i'll fade to black Positive, i hate kids who tell me lies Despise guys that wanna get high but never buy Got 9 lives, 9 wives that dont listen Bitchin' their biological clocks is tickin' Wu limited edition hot off the presses I guess its, curtains for competition Method, runnin' 'em out, gun in my mouth The kid your momma warned you about, tear down the house After midnight eatin' emcees chase through suburbia You tremblin', behind a crumblin' wall, surrenderin' Thats what you get, for rushin' in the direction i was bustin' Polish your sword, your shit is rustin'
[hook x2]
[masta killa] 1,2, testin', testin', mic check wreckin' Step into the session Automatic weapon off safety Dont play me Butt brings all them things with silencers My clans liver than your average '85er Strive to stay alive I play for keeps in the streets Cos its real on the battlefield Shells hit the ground from the steel Bullets travel, sun set fire to your mind Words combine when i rhyme to feed the blind Prepare my queen for battle and walk down I drink from the wine of violence, no tolerance Game word bond, sword silenced Me in military fatigues bulletproof underneath Buy enough ammunition,go round and sweep the streets Of brooklyn, central, sugar-whipped the rental While i'm lickin out the window at y'all Fuck y'all
[hook x2]
[inspectah deck] Yo, We thrive on street life We strive to eat right They blindin' these sight We tried to be nice They talk the small talk We walk the long walk We lost, they all thought They forced to fall short We rock for hard rock Rocked the hot blocks Shop and cop rocks Watch the top notch in action Begin to make your head spin Wu tang my bredren We bang like veterans They came for record spins, taste the medicine Or face the double m, we came to trouble them Hustle them for their 20 mill then buckle them Enough to spin out the blue, bitches lovin' them Dozen men with force of a hundred-ten Stumblin' thug passions, it must've been
[hook x4]
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