Wu-tang Clan - Clap lyrics

rate me

[Raekwon]

Call it the Hollow Bone syndrome line

Select sweet nine, face this, watch his whole face lift

Bracelets, murder niggas, luxurious, banks I was draped

Caked out, half a million dollars in coats

Flows is genetic, the Corleone connection in all

Selection, stock brokers with coats on

Make coke suggestion, all twin glizzies

Fireman, Gucci boots on, sideways action, murder niggas fear me yo

Cash that he did Clinton, rentin his mother crib out

We send organize the Bill of Rights get lid

Drugs that Hendrix was on, conversatin like the Dutch

Richie Conaway, Goodfellas who honor Rae

Flows that blow thru your roll and Holland

Everybody now, trip up niggas, in clicks we posin rhyme black

Half the year, half my niggas sittin upstairs

Takin pictures of ya niggas wack gear

[Chorus: Ghostface Killah (U-God)]

Listen to the (Clap)

Real niggas (Clap)

Rich niggas (Clap)

My bitches (Clap)

If you love pussy then y'all niggas (Clap)

If you love to get ate, then ya ladies (Clap)

If you real fucked up, then ya'll niggas (Clap)

If you bare witness to Allah y'all (Clap)

Aiyo you see me on the big screen y'all niggas Clap

(Jeans with a gangster lean, y'all Clap)

Good hats, sloppy automatics that Clap

(Big shit, thunder) Get around that

[Ghostface Killah]

Porcelain floors with a dog named Ginger

Bottle cap niggas that rhyme, we the winners

Then slide thru your hood in hoods

Me, Cliff, Patrick, Gary Grice and my man C. Woods

Holdin up gorilla, two niggas got a hold that shit

One shot and ya mans on it

The little kids watch from down the block

Jury box, murder hop, six stash botch, fit hit the ran spots

Spit at the statue with cash and throw dough at it

Fuck bitches raw, why? cuz I'm a pro at it

Big birds danglin, cameras snatch, flash and pop from every angle and

2000 Mark Damon'in

[Hook: Method Man]

Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap

Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap, Clap ya hands now

People Clap ya hands

[Method Man]

I drink till I'm drunk,

smoke skunk with my stinkin ass, smell the funk

Eekin out the pours, cum stain, shitty drawers

Pissin down ya elevators shaft, no class, writin graf' on ya walls

It be us, fuck ya law, niggas my cause is "because"

No yin to my yang, it's a black thing

Used to be in chains, now we snatch chains

Took the crack game applied it to the rap game, y'all

Pop quiz, now, what artist hits the hardest?

Ya down with the syndrome: retarded

I think it was them swordsmen,

place them chess pieces on the boards and

Take it to square, this ain't no Yakool affair

Or a New World Disorder, got us, fuckin the coal miner's daughter

That y'all, but not us

[Chorus]

[Outro: kung fu sample]

During this time, I intend to teach you the Shaolin poem

The rules and commandments, that void, deceit

Cruelty and unkindness, always help the weak

Never despise the poor, always respect yourself