Letras
Yeah
Ten G mics and shit
Mics and men, books and pen
Decent rhymes, hooks and lines
One time, where do we begin?
The gritty rugged lands of Shaolin
Where proud men went from moving crack rocks to moving mountains
Moving crowds and making mothers proud now
Walk out of places where our people wasn't allowed in
I took a high-hat, a snare, and a kick drum
A bass, a G-note, turned it into hit songs
Now every we make forty G's, nigga please, Killa Bees
Pay a quarter mill for the emcees at night, aight?
I kick it like a Nike flight
25 years later, who thought that we could be greater?
The name of Wu-Tang gets spread on both sides of the equator
The RZArector grew to be a movie director
Still smoke blunts with the Meth and rock mics with Inspectah
Still crash bars with Shallah
And my brother Devon, he still push the flyest cars
But he added a yacht to his repertoire
And they marvel how does youngin' still cake with Tony Starks
While The RZA and U-God still shake the fatal darts
Cappadonna try to put a hole inside your heart
Jamal Ari push that chess piece across the board
With the sound of a sword bein' released from its sheath
And Ol' Dirty Shimmy Shimmy Ya from beneath
And Power still got that rugged gear in the streets
It's Wu-Tangs, mics and men, we killer bees
Mathematics stay craft-matic on the beats
I'm in the MKX with the opposite sex
Trying to take her from the suburb back to the projects
Money, chicks, fast cars, that's my obsess
I ain't obligated to nothing except contracts
Honey do you do dirty, niggas is still contacts
Lovin' the babes daily, feedin' 'em, bubble baths
Can't let nothing walk by with a bubble ass
Get money, pop bottles, then we double the cash
Slip baberbshop, all them niggas in Far Rock'
See Divine on the ocean in the yacht
Flip money bags when that Hulu shit pop
Ferragamo belt with the Gucci bop