Lyrics Clan in da Front - Wu-Tang Clan

Up from the 36 Chambers!
Heheh, it's the Ghostface Killah
Heheheh, Wu-Tang!
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang Killa Beez, we on a swarm
The RZA, the GZA, Ol' Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, U-God
Ghostface Killah, the Method Man, Raekwon the Chef
The Masta Killa, Lord Messiah, LeVon, Power Cipher

12 O'Clock, 60 Second Assassin
The 4th Disciple, the Brown Hornet
K.D. the Down Low Recka
Shyheim a.k.a. The Rugged Child
Du-Du-Lilz, Mr. Hezekiah
Better known as the Yin and the Yang, the True Master
Isham, DJ Skane, the True Robocop comin' through
Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the Civilized
The Shaolin Soldiers, Daddy-O and Popa Ron
Comin' down from the motherfuckin' South end of things

Killa Beez all over your fuckin' planet
36 chambers of death
Three-hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles
Choppin' off your motherfuckin' dome-piece
And every fuckin' borough
Brooklyn, Manhattan, and Queens, Staten Island
The motherfuckin' Bronx, Killa Beez

"The sword? C'mon, give him the sword!"

Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
Niggas on the left, brag shit to death (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Hoods on the right, wild for the night (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what? (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)

The Wu is comin' through, the outcome is critical
Fuckin' with my style is sort of like a miracle
On 34th Street, in the Square of Herald
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a Fitz like Gerald-
-Ine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow
'Cause the ho didn't win, but the sun will still come out tomorrow
And shine shine shine like gold mine
Here comes the drunk monk, with a quart of Ballantine

Pass the bone, kid, pass the bone
Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones
The GZA, one who just represent the Wu-Tang clique
With the game and soul of an old school flick
Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids
Claudine went to Cooley High and had mad kids
So stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin' own
I'll hang your ass with this microphone

Make way for the merge of traffic
Wu-Tang's comin' through with full metal jackets
God squad that's mad hard to serve
Come frontin' hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves

Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
Niggas on the left, brag shit to death (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Hoods on the right, wild for the night (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what? (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)

No response while I bomb that ass
You ain't shit, your wack-ass town had you gassed
Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang crush
Souped-up niggas on a stage get rushed
I don't give a goddamn on the shows you did
How many rhymes you got or who knows you, kid
'Cause I don't know you, therefore show me what you know
I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow
You become so Pat as my style increases
What's that in your pants? Ahh, human feces!

Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper
Next time, come strapped with a fuckin' Pamper
How you sound, B? You're better off a quitter
I'm on the mound, G, and it's a no-hitter
And my DJ, the catcher, he's my man
In a way he's the one who devised the plan
He throws the signs, I hook up the beats with clout
I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike 'em out
So it really doesn't matter on how you intrigue
You can't fuck with those in the major leagues

Clan in da front, let your feet stomp (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Niggas on the left, brag shit to death (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Hoods on the right, wild for the night (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what? (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)

Clan in da front, let your feet stomp (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Niggas on the left, brag shit to death (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Hoods on the right, wild for the night (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what? (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)

Hoods on the right
Punks in the back... to what
Niggas on the left
Hoods on the right
Punks in the back, c'mon... to what
Let your feet stomp
Brag shit to death
Wild for the night (Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
(Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)
(Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu)

Niggas on the left, brag shit to death
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to what?
Clan in da front, let your feet stomp