Wu-tang Clan

Wu-tang Clan - Windmill lyrics

rate me

(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

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

What am I supposed to say? Yeeaaah

Somebody tell me what do I do...

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...

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)

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

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

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

Get this song at:  amazon.com  sheetmusicplus.com

Share your thoughts

0 Comments found