Wu-Tang Clan - Ghetto Fuck Up

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Текст песни

pharoahe monch
Get the fuck up!
Simon says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)
Queens is in the back sippin ’gnac, y’all wassup?
Girls, rub on your titties (yeah)
Yeah fuck it I said it rub on ya titties
New york city gritty committee, pity the fool that act shitty
In the midst of the calm, the witty

lady luck
Yo shut the fuck up!
Luck said shut the fuck up!
Bitches in the back, like crack get it cut up
I speak on behalf of them broads you call stuck up
Act like a man and get cocked, smacked or fucked up
Pull the truck up, luck you know the name
Assed out in the bleachers stay shittin on the game
I suppose what you’re spittin is flames, cowards
Know your crew was vaginal, I could smell the dooch powder
Summer’s eve, I drop degrees chill
Come four by four, lose one like dru hill
Stay fly till you air sick, now that’s ill
Two choices, either squeeze or peel, now that’s real

pharoahe monch
What the fuck’s goin on here, just a minute now, hold up
Sinister wit hit the time I diminish him finish him, roll up
When i’m, ? cinematography state of mind
My rap trip, rip, clip, say the rhyme
Shit, I spectacular run hit spit bitches venacular
Miraculous rhyme flow, back track to the immaculate
Binaca blast nigga that’s fast, son I’ll box ya
Ladies rub the ta-ta’s, bras, titties and knockers on the floor
Owww! fellas pull ya cock out
On the verge to splurge verbs for third round knock out
Uh I bust a rhyme that dust frustrated rappers
Dust crush competition, lights out like the clapper
The mic ripper, whip a nigga like a slave
Separate him from him from his fam, he don’t know how to behave
Now, drag his ass, bag dun for his loot
Figure me to give a nigger-y twenty-one gun salute
That’s seven shots for tupac
Seven for biggie smalls
Seven for freaky tah up in your neighborhood malls
How’s that, fat action packed rap remain tame
Pharoahe fuckin monch, ain’t a damn thing changed

redman
Yo yo get the fuck up
Funk doctor spot said get the fuck up
I got a bitch named nina and I tuck her
I leave a nigga hangin like ya mom’s muffler
Snuff her, then my boys follow up
Respect like the fonze, you see the collar up
I spit out a bullet, load the barrel up
I kamikaze ya town off a arab bus
Karat cut, yeah mami pull over
I bend ya pussy like for years I knew yoga
I’m too smoked up, I can’t remember me
Off hennesy, that’s why I carry mini-me
I need fifty feet when my performance starts
I push a armored car wit ? lauren harts?
Nineteen inches, I’m not on the charts
Doc turnin dark off a warning shot
Drive off and pop, six in ya hood
monch fuck the limelight, we rhyme tight, plus snatch the goods
Yea-yeah my nigga, one rhyme you fold over
I’m hot-headed cuz I walk wit cold shoulders
Yeah get the fuck up!

pharoahe monch
Simon says get the fuck up!
Throw ya hands in the sky (buck buck buck buck buck!)

redman
Jersey in the back jackin cars now wassup!
Girls, rub on ya titties
(yeah) that’s right I said it, rub on ya titties
Brick city gritty committee
Pity the fool that act shitty, in the midst of the calm, the witty

method man
Yo yo get the fuck up
Yo yeah I said it, get the fuck up
Walk through shaolin after dark, you get stuck up
Seek and destroy, baddest boy when I’m puffed up
Ya know my name, and pharoahe moch, why we came what?
We off the chain, plus we plottin on the chain, what?
Know ya role, by the way tuck ya gold
And you and your mic can ease on down the road
Assholes are like opinions, everybody got to have one
Shootin in the sky tryin to blast sun
Zero to sixty in a second, pull a fast one
Fifty cent flashin they hate us wit a passion
Mashin, still fresh in three-day old fashio