Wu-Tang Clan feat. Busta Rhymes - The Monument текст песни

Текст песни The Monument - Busta Rhymes , Wu-Tang Clan



Yeah, yeah, yeah, now, what the fuck now?
Flipmode, Wu-Tang shit, what the fuck now?
Yeah, yeah, yeah, historical an' monumental shit
What the fuck now? Yeah, yeah, yeah
Straight smack a nigga right in the face like this was handball
Or make a mural out his face, up on a damn wall
Niggaz play hard an' shit, if you know what's best for you
Y'all niggaz better safeguard your shit
Even though we rep brass knuckle rap
Fuck with street geniuses an' bowlegged chicks who walk with a gap
Street niggaz now the corporate boss
Still go to y'all restaurant for steamed fish an' Irish moss
An' y-yo, the way we do it an' you see how my shit bomb
Your whole show wack an' I'm a cancel your sitcom
Fuck a nigga broad 'til she tired an' real calm
You ain't knowin' my name tattooed on your bitch arm
The way we blow shit is a shame
Casually bust my gun an' celebrate bustin' a cork on the champagne
Wrote you with a whole new approach that lead a whole team of niggaz
Y'all should know I only ball like a coach, now
Check out the light fixture, freak lines like white bitches
Let the mic lines, hang that slang is ridiculous
Emperor of warlords, big gun only fuck with sawed offs
That's my specialty, more to bust
Shot out my bed parrot, keep it gangster, Lord
I analyze your work, those that got merked were not established
Texture look classy, arm baby, 2000 raspberry
S 5, blowin' through Asbury
Soon to own steakhouses, glowin' like make over thousand
Them, them niggaz, robbin' from Pinkhouse's
Show an' prove, knockin' off cab drivers
God, sodomize money, ring two hundred thousand
See the color of the carved out Wu emblem
Baby, it's all designers, tailor-made Wu gooses
Limousine, automatic new Uzis in 'em yo
Relax cousin, just cruise through, jewels with him
Move up the block, giant box blast my song
Non-stop, strictly hip hop, march on
Doo rag hang long, metal tape is high bias
Graphics, captured with the colorful iris
I zoom in, while the listeners tune in
Some assumin' they paid dues an' joined the union
Lost nigga couldn't rumble in this wild jungle
Quick to crumble, type to be on the stand an' fumble
Divine master, threw on the track that made 'em bleed
He produce at unattainable rains of top speed
This powerful magnet, that left 'em stagnant
Was unlikely in cameras in larger fragments
Unfilled rifle, scout sniper, shots precise
Starlight scope with the night vision device
Splendid marksman that'll shoot the one off the dice
Split a grain of rice, in one shot we kill 'em twice



Авторы: C. Woods, R. Diggs Jr., G. Grice, T. Smith, D. Coles, J. Reid


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