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RZA

Grits (Feat. Allah Real, Masta Killa) – RZA

Lirik lagu: Grits (Feat. Allah Real, Masta Killa)

[Hook: Allah Real]
When I was small
We had nothing at all
We used to eat Grits, for dinner
It was pain
almost drive a man insane
what we could find for
to survive another day
but I said nah…

[RZA]
An old killa bee once hummed me a tune
Stay up at night, don’t sleep on ya moon
Four seeds in the bed, eight seeds in the room
Afternoon cartoon, we would fight for the spoon
Old Earth in the kitchen, yell “it’s time to eat”
Across the foyer, ya hear the gather of stampeding feet
One pound box of sugar, and a stick of margarine
A hot pot of Grits got my family from starvin’
Loose with the welfare cheese, thick wit’ the gravy
used to suck it, straight out the bottle as a baby
Steamy hot meal serve less than five minutes
Big silver pot, boilin’ water, salt in it
House full of brothers and sisters, the pop’s missin’
Pillsbury box on the stove in the kitchen

[Hook]

[Masta Killa]
Young shorties in my hood started hustlin’
Packin’ bags at the neighbourhood associate
Growin’ up, not as fortunate to have that fly shit
I’m too young, no jobs’d hire me legit
You walkin’ down the street with ya gun in ya hand
Drinkin, thinkin’ of a masterplan
Your Old Earth can’t afford what ya friends got
So you roll up to the spot, with ya thing ‘pon cock
And it seems worth the takin’, stomach achin’
Morning star Reggie makin’ go good with the Grits
Now let’s take it back for real
when we used to build at ghetto big wheels
with the shoppin’ cart wheels, and wood to nail the seat on
Girls skippin’ rope in the street
the Summer heat, left the jelly prints stuck to they feet
Skelly chief, flippin’ baseball cards for keeps
Momma said it’s gettin’ late, and it’s time to come eat

READ  Drop Off (Feat. Daddy-O, Division) - RZA

[Hook]

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RZA

Throw Your Flag Up (Feat. Black Knights, Ms. Roxy) – RZA

Lirik lagu: Throw Your Flag Up (Feat. Black Knights, Ms. Roxy)

[Intro: RZA]
Eh-yo, Kinetic
What up God? You got that glock cleaned?
Soaked those bullets in oil?
So yo, I’ma call the Black Knights up
and North Star from down in the Westside
KnowwhatImean?
Eh-yo, they gon’ come and blast this shit over
YouknowImean?
Think we don’t need no Shaolin cats for the job
Take it to the Wild Wild West
[beat kicks in]
BOODOODOO..

[Intro Pt. II: Crisis (RZA) {Ms. Roxy}]
Yeah.. (Come on son)
The one and only.. sharpshooter..
(Spark these niggas my nigga)
Yo I speak to be heard {Digital}
The truth shall set you free {Digital}
(Set them niggas free God)
You in a Chamber, in the Chamber {Bobby, Bobby, Bobby..}
(BOODOODOO.. Darkness, you know? Must come to light)

[Crisis (RZA)]
Eh-yo, it’s the sharpshooter
One and only, guarenteed, I ain’t trippin’
Yo it ain’t no comparin’ me to nuttin’ else
Untraceable, like a stealth bomber on your radar
There they are, take a look, yo I spit the uncontainable
Highly flammable, unexplainable, Game Pro
Crisis show you how to tame a hoe, show you how the game should go
So you lames can know, Black Knights equals nuttin’ but dope
So what you workin’ wit? You bitch niggas ain’t hurtin’ shit
Spittin’ commercial shit, we rhyme for different purposes
I spit for the cause, you spit for the broads
I spit for the streets, you spit for the geeks
I spit for North Long Beach and all of my peeps
Holdin’ it down, I spit for the meak
We holdin’ the crown, you savage niggas had your chance
So now it’s on us, it’s just us, you get your bones crushed
You got against us, resist us?
I thinks not (thinks not), it’s impossible [echoes]

READ  Drop Off (Feat. Daddy-O, Division) - RZA

[Break: RZA]
If you live for the blood, +Throw Your Flag Up+
If you got the love in your heart, +Throw Your Flag Up+

[RZA]
Rollie Fingers in the back, son rolled the bag up
Street had the pen and the pad, he threw a tag up
Uncooked beef in the street, they tagged the rag up
Goldie got the clip from the closet and filled the gat up
Bobby sharpened the razor, oiled the bat up
Let the dogs out the basement, pulled the rap up
Somehow the Brown cats about to get clapped up
Pussy high nigga off coke tried to act up
Against the world’s greatest mind, Bob Digital
Might throw a Shaolin Hand-block or a fifty-two
My young son Big Un don’t fuck with Patty Cake
Bound to walk through the woods barefoot, choke a rattlesnake
While his brother Mel ???, dissect it
Up in the project life, the street’s be hectic
The gun burst, son shot his tongue first
Should’ve shot his tongue first, should’ve shot the gun first
Now chew on the Sunburst, bitch, it’s Bobby’s day
Lyrics for the out, click click, like shotti’s spray
Tear through flesh/bone, get lodged up in your ass cheek
Cuz you came talkin’ that same bullshit last week
Fuckin’ cokehead nigga, what? Your brain numb?
I used to wonder where these pussy-clats came from
Up in the thirty-six cell block I Shadowbox
Ship on weed grass and build up like a male ox

[Break: RZA (Monk)]
If you love for the glock, +Throw Your Flag Up+
If you got love for the Gods, +Throw Your Flag Up+
If you live from the heart, +Throw Your Flag Up+
Don’t cause the beef, I might tie the rag up
All my Digihead niggas, roll the bag up
BOODOODOODOO.. and +Throw Your Flag Up+
(If you come from Long Beach, +Throw Your Flag Up+
If you come from Compton, throw your rag up
If you come from the West then throw your hood up
If you come from the block then +Throw Your Flag Up+)

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[Monk]
I spit the flavor for the ear, shit for the streets
Rollin’ in the cutty about five niggas deep
One SK, two Tec-9’s and two sticks
Ready to trip on these fools around my way poppin’ shit
Like the Black Knights don’t air them things out
Knuckle up in the spot ’til someone get drops
Stomped, get passed out
Passed out off a pint of that pah, ready to mic brawl
Clean sweep, took the first pitch, knocked the homerun
Black Knights known to grab mics, leave the spots full blown
You know motto, the +Knights or Nuttin’+, so stop frontin’
Like you ain’t heard this high pitch through your twelve-inch
Don’t care which Alpines, I keep those six-by-nines thumpin’
+Jumpin’ Jumpin’+ like Destiny, I laced it with the Rugged recipe
You know my technique on a Ra’ beat
Speak the Digi slurred speech but aggressive with the mic
On mine, it’s strictly Black Knights
Steal the spotlight, show niggas how to rock mics
the right way, spit like a K, M-o-n-k
The conqueror, smash your sponsor
Learn the lesson from the Black Knight lethal +Silent Weapon+

[Outro x2: Ms. Roxy]
Digital, Digital, Digital..
Bobby, Bobby, Bobby..
Digi, Digi, Digi.

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RZA

N.Y.C. Everything – RZA

Lirik lagu: N.Y.C. Everything

[RZA/Bobby Digital:]
Yo, yo, yo
From the heart of Medina to the head of Fort Greene
Now-Y-C/Now I see Everything
Niggas who sling, Shaolin cats throw inside a bing
Bobby Digital got the golden seal sting
Rhyme star, I write a hundred thousand dollar bar
My pinstripe comma deletes your power bar
Dr. Octopus tentacles, same as different song
Bob Digital instrumental, nothing’s indentitcal
You biter, non-writer, Mr. Potato Head or Ida
Deep-fried crinkle cut, one nickel cup fucked your whole LP up
You must be stupid you liar
I’m the purifier, live wire, hip-hop reviver
A suicide mission you’re committin, go against the Wu-Tang henchmen
Perfect precision marksman, spit darts an, flip charts ‘an
Archery, shots aimed at your heart then
Daffy Duckest will still +Bring Da Motherfuckin Ruckus+
Project Killa Hill be the buckest
Smoke blunts drink Bud Light beer wit Buzz Lightyear
Wet from here to infinity for them white hair
Bobby Digital, overthrow your whole citadel
Mista pitiful, your whole shrap stack is dispicable
Undernourished, your shit cannot flourish
Cherish every moment of his love before you perish
Bitch, chicka chicka chich, watch me switch
Lookin for a bird, I can hitch, into your atmosphere
Take your pussy out like a pap smear
Make you smile, at the same time crack a tear
Smack ya rear, vagina saliva, Trojan wear, rough rider
Up inside ya, dick applehead, opens up your clit wider
Taste the apple cider, you become strong, then become a ?prider?
(Bobby Bobby Bobby, Digi Digi Digi)
Stuck to your ass like a Victoria’s Secret wedgie
Heart of Medina to the head of Fort Greene
Now-Y-C/Now I see Everything
Niggas who sling, Shaolin cats thrown inside the bing
Bobby Digital got the killa bee sting
From the heart of Medina to the head of Fort Green
Now-Y-C Everything, niggas who sling
Shaolin cats is thrown inside the bing
Bobby Digital got the killa bee sting

READ  Wu-Wear: The Garment Renaissance (Feat. Cappadonna, Method Man) - RZA

[Method Man:]
Drink a Heineken, as we go inside the mind again
Nevermindin men droppin gem, can he shine again
Most definate, let this be my last willing testament
For the pesimist, exercise for the Exorcist
Johnny Treacherous, like Three, I’m supposed to be
Perpetuous, desimate the poetry cuz everything is close to me
The lectorous, Jonathan, king of the seven seas, battle wit Leviathan
The Methodist, poly to your deficit, hit it up
If I can’t live it up somebody gotta give it up
John J., blow em out the water adopt the Bombay
Your bitch look like Strange’, look at me the wrong way
Burn one and sautee, bringin you different ways to sword play
They bustin Bullets Over Broadway, Deep Cover
I’m like Larry when the Fish-burn, I burn rubber
Cuz I’m not an easy lover
To the midnight, butt naked wit a knife
Ask my a-alikes, I’ve been crazy all my life
Hardtime homicide, time flys, do or die
Crooked ass and crooked eye, scripture from the darkside
Johnny 5, I reside, in the killa bee hive,
only the strong gon’ survive
From the depths of the killa to the top, we’re now born
Wildin on Staten Island be the poet John John
Can’t forget Bobby, if I did I’d feel gyp
Like my sandwich ain’t a sandwich without Miracle Whip
From the depths of the killa to the top, we’re now born
Wildin on Staten Island be the poet John John
Can’t forget Digi, if I did I’d feel gyp
Like my sandwich ain’t a sandwich without Miracle Whip

READ  The Grunge (Feat. Beretta 9) - RZA
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RZA

Take Sword Pt. I (Feat. Beretta 9) – RZA

Lirik lagu: Take Sword Pt. I (Feat. Beretta 9)

[Intro: “Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang” sample]
“Take the sword”
“The sword?”
“Come on, give me the sword”
“Huh?”
“Heh, you Wu-Tang are never gonna win”
“My lord, don’t be afraid of the Wu-Tang techniques”
“Pick up the sword!”

[RZA:]
Yo, aiyo, chumps are in trouble, boy, tongue pay double, boy
I’m trump tight, you better go home, and cuddle, boy
I leave you ducks in a puddle, buried under cuz of rubble
Turn your body, to sparks and stubbles
Hot lead from the cylinder, from my two-shot dillinger
Put that hot steel in ya, bigger not feeling ya
Bio hazard, to ya flesh and ya fabric
No need to scratch your hair, son, the clean to my static
Strange apparatus and gadgets, my bullets got magnets
Pop pop pop, we attract to that crab shit
Super superior stamina, there’s a Clan of us
All of what bulldozers, hard hats and jack hammers
And leather Old Testament copies, I’ll probably
Give you a out of body experience, then hide your body
So there’s no return, so burn, baby, burn
My click fucking sick, nigga, learn, baby, learn
I got Milwaukee chicks like Shirley and Laverne
They bite ya dick off, after swallowing your sperm
And slice ya fucking throat while you lay there in sperm
They related to the judge, to the case, to the germ
You chumps are in trouble, boy, I said tongue pays double, boy
I”m trump tight, you better go home, and cuddle, boy
I put your head in a puddle, buried under cuz of rubble
Turn your body, to sparks and stubbles
Frickles and fragles, nigga, get too fragile
Pump the fuck up, my brain, is on Scrabble

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[Beretta 9:]
Aiyo, back for this annual conference, confronted on
You wack MC’s, it’s duck season, the hunt is on
What B9 squeezing and game is locked, a run upon
Thinking that you were the shit, nah, that’s once upon
I doubt my run while you sit, I bust my gun from the hip
Why even make you a song, and when you ain’t worth a skit
My niggas kill for the sum, and the’ll be cursed for the flick
Probably til midnight until, scheeming on pussy to split
And then we back like crack, nigga, take a swig of that
Twist a twenty sack of black, figure, oh he a good kid
Such a nice smile he had, oh one more state
Then I whip it on that, slip slipping in the grass
Sip sipping on the glass, now I’m dipping down the ave.

[Outro: “Shaolin Vs. Wu-Tang” sample]
“Take the sword”
“The sword?”
“Come on, give me the sword”
“Huh?”
“Heh, you Wu-Tang are never gonna win”
“My lord, don’t be afraid of the Wu-Tang techniques”

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