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Wu-Tang Clan – Windmill

Wu-Tang Clan
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исполнитель Wu-Tang Clan

правообладатель SRC Records

жанр Старая школа рэпа,Классический рэп

длительность 04:31

размер 10.35 MB

битрейт 320 kbps

загружено Universal Music Group

Windmill
04:31
feat. Cappadonna [Intro: Raekwon (samples)] (Make me yours) He get out of line, break his fucking arm... You know how it go (What am I supposed to say? Yeeaaah) You know, word up, not playing the games, with these niggaz, man (Somebody tell me what do I do...) None at all, man... hit 'em off, none of that, man [Raekwon] Aiyo, jump out the Acura, crazy heavy, what's popping? Us locking the game, word to every hand on the lockmen Street gwop, everybody eats, sweep blocks This is a message, ain't go no grams, we gon' beatbox Study like lessons, niggaz in the game biting the grain You knowing where it came from, stop it You thought we wasn't coming? You dumbing, you blunted again Watch Lex get that dough out ya pocket, rhyme all 'pallegic Can't nothing move when I rhyme, when I drop lines it's law out in Egypt Love ups, don't need no batteries now, what? The only niggaz that'll glow'll be us Yo, throw me in Sin City, leave me with the vultures and bats Then give me two weeks to bubble like Kim titties Dirt Dog, we miss you, now it's time to murder the game Cuz if things change, you know it ain't against Wu [Chorus 1.5X: sample] What am I supposed to say? Yeeaaah Somebody tell me what do I do... [GZA] We keep it hot, keep the heat on the block We never stop, drawing water up until it begin to drop Raining with the patchwork of puzzles That was written in the year of the dragon More raw than you could ever imagine How much of a great blessing to a rap city Where the youth is organically fed, from the Witty Unpredictable, Talent And Natural Game is lyrical Analyze the picture, the portrait, the visual A Cuban Link Chef cooks spaghetti that's untied RAGU nigga whose tomatoes are sundried He gave y'all niggaz whiplash from bling bling But my rhyme'll give ya hot flash and moodswings Math shed light on divine secrets, then science leaked it For the lower level creatures that can't peep it I observe MC's, regardless From a neighboring world which is ten times the sharpness... [Chorus] [Masta Killa] Let the track wind and ya mind flow free Remain conscious on this ride to ya best ability Infinity, back to the source of which it came Energy, see it change forms, atoms being born, never ending On and on and on and, travel with me Not trying to convince the pack, that it's a fact For those who can't adapt, I lived it, shitted it back We have agreed, you'll feel the impact of the truth when I'll squeeze The brain feels something pop, hip hop, locked in texts Fat checks, fly whips, jewelry, chicks Enough kicks, fitted crown, buttoned down Underneath the white T lies the four pound This is forty-five minutes of menacing Dismantling, any MC opponent stepping in the zone Get ya face blown (Get ya face blown) [Chorus] [Inspectah Deck] Observe the word, when I speak, get the truth's heard True to the curb, Wu classic is the new birth Spreading the blessing across seven continents Arm of the trench, there's no form of defense Entertainment, nine swords swing rapid Check the techniques, first bow to The Abbott Witty Unpredictable, gritty individual Valid, if it's Actual, Talent and it's Natural Game, rugged like the train, pump it in ya vein I and I ride or die under the name W-U, the primary, ya secondary Definitely not necessary, the legendary You printed the blueprints to do this shit Moving the youth in the bricks Spit poison tipped darts that rip hearts Through the chest, when I manifest my sick art [Method Man] Speaking my mind, fall in line when I spit mine Still in my prime, still'll shine til it quit time If this is a crime, find me guilty, I'm so sublime So rapid with rhymes, same slacking is assonine Revealing the truth, catching feelings, it's still the Wu Gorilla the booth, body armored, them killa proof In living proof, I'm the Wittiest Unpredictable Most Talented rap muthafucker you ever listened to [Cappadonna] I'm a hustler, I grind til my pack is done Give a seed, mad knowledge til they cracked and run Can't nobody fuck with me, I'm just too nice Smack niggas in they head everytime I write Yo, I'm straight from Park Hill where the guns is popping Where them little black kids do they grocery shopping Go to school fucked up, it's Africa Island We poor in the bricks but inside it's nothing but talent
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