歌手:Wu-Tang Clan
专辑:《Disciples of the 36 Chambers: Chapter 1 [live]》

作曲 : Corey Woods/Robert Diggs
He looks determined without being ruthless
Something heroic in this man, there's a courage about him
Doesn't look like a killer
Comes across so calm, acts like he has a dream
Full of passion
You don't trust me huh?
Well you know why
I do, we're not supposed to trust anyone in our profession anyway
Intro Two:
Raekwon the
Chef Knock *******z out the box all the time
************ on my mother******* records
Pah Big ones, yeah, big ******s
Straight up, ******* your whole team
Yeah bust it
Yo, yo, fly
G.I. *******z
Chorus: Raekwon the
Chef Now yo yo, whattup yo, time is runnin out
It's for real though, let's connect politic - ditto!
We could trade places, get lifted in the staircases
Word up, peace incarcerated scarfaces
Verse One:
Raekwon the
Chef Thug related style attract millions
Fans, they understand my plan
Who's the kid up in the green
Land? Me and the
RZA connect, blow a fuse, you lose
Half-ass crews get demolished and bruised
Fake be frontin, hourglass heads *******z be wantin
Shuttin down your slot; time for pumpin
Poisonous sting which thumps up and act chumps
Raise a heavy generator
But yo, guess who's the black
Trump? Dough be flowin by the hour's
Wu, we got the collars, scholars
Word life, peace to power and my whole unit
Word up! Quick to set it, don't wet it
Real *******s lick shots, peace kinetic
Chorus Verse
Two: Raekwon the
Chef Chef'll ************ne like marble, rhyme remarkable
Real *******z raise up, spend your money, argue
But this time is for the uninvited
Go head and rhyme to it, big ******* mics is gettin fired
M******e chicks be burnin like chlorine
*******z recognize from here to
Baltimore to
Fort Greene
But hold up,
Moet be tastin like throw-up
My mob roll up, dripped to death whips rolled up
Ya never had no wins, slidin in these dens wit
Timbs Wit
Mac-10's and broke friends
Ya got guns, got guns too, what up son, do you wanna battle for cash and see who
Sun too? I probably wax, tax, smack rap *******z who fax *******z lyrics is wack *******
Can't stand unofficial, wet tissue, blank bustin
Scud missles
You rollin like
Trump, you get your meat lumped
For real, it's just slang rap democracy
Here's the policy, slide off the ring, plus the
Wallabees
Check the status, soon to see me at
Caesar's Palace eatin salads
We beatin mics and the keys to
Dallas I move rhymes like retail, make sure ************t sell
From where we at to my man's cell
From staircase to stage, minimun wage
But soon to get a article in
RapPage But all
I need is my house, my gat, my
Ac Bank account fat - it's goin' down like that
And pardon the
French but let me speak
Italian Black
Stallion, dwellin on
Shaolin That means the island of
Staten And *******z carry gats and mad police from
Manhattan
Chorus Verse
Three: Raekwon the
Chef I do this for barber shop *******z in the
Plaza Catchin asthma,
Rae is stickin gun-flashers
Well-dressed, skatin through the projects wit big ones
Broke elevators, turn the lights out, stick one upstairs, swithc like a chameleon
Hip Brazilians, pass the cash or leave your children
Leave the buildin
*******s, yo they be foldin' like envelopes under pressure
Like Lou Farigno on coke
Yo, Africans denyin *******z up in yellow cabs
Musty like funk, wavin they arms, the
Arabs Sit back, coolin like
Kahlua's on rocks
On the crack spots, rubberband wrapped on my knots
You ************ who ******* dreds on
Sudafeds ************'s hurtin, they did it for a yard for the
Feds Word up cousin, *******,
I seen it
Like a 27-inch
Zenith - believe it!
Chorus ...politic ditto ...get lifted in the staircases