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    [Intro: Ghostface Killah (RZA) {Method Man}]
    Word (These mothafuckin' niggaz, man)
    Yeah, I hear that, you got that shit, right?
    (Yeah, I got it) Lemme hear it
    (I'ma two-way Sunn back right now
    Next time she show up right on time for this shit)
    Word, no doubt
    (Better stop smokin' on that shit)
    Fuck that, hey, don't do it with him
    (Whatever)
    Yo yeah, lemme get that mothafucka's sayin' on this, nigga
    (Yeah, niggaz be buggin' in here
    Nigga don't speak no fuckin' English, word?)
    You get me everything? (I got you a cheese joint)
    {Diamond buscuits, mothafucka!}

    [Break: Method Man (RZA) {Prodical}]
    Now let's see, we don't get down like that
    See, he holds his own, haha, he holds his own
    Haha, he holds his own (Bank!)
    (John Blizzy) {Straight like that}
    He holdin' twenty on this
    (Ghost Deini) {Uh-huh! Yeah!}
    (ShaCronz) {The invincible, baby)
    Bad boys (Suga Bang) {It's like that!}
    (D-Digi!)

    [Method Man (Prodical)]
    Spontaneous combustion got niggaz lustin'
    Fuckin' with this head bustin' track spanker
    Decaffinator, crab sinker, twenty-five
    Tryin' to live to see my forty acher, before I die
    Immaculate conceptions like loaded weapons
    Shootin' up ya rap session in mere seconds (Bluh! Bluh!)
    Ya whole style is undressin'
    Try to hide yaself behind the R&B section
    And got spotted, fuckin' with them fake artists who make garbage
    Now ya like a human target with no direction
    And no protection, rap nigga assed out and no question
    Dead and buried, we holdin' like the military
    Fuck Dog Shit, hide-out beats and hot cherries
    On virgin mic's, style very cri-Tical
    By any means necessary, mad lyr-ical
    The Ghostrider, want vengeance on you style biters
    Ya whole sect got you gassed 'til I sparked the lighter
    And burnt that ass like Dhalsim in Street Fighter
    I play the shadows, scopin' out you lime lighters and Desperados

    [Chorus: Suga Bang Bang (RZA) {Prodical}]
    Killa Beez is ridin' East to West, baby
    See our twenties spinnin' on our trucks, baby
    Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby
    Come on, come on

    [Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]
    {Baby cuz It's Not a Game}
    You see them mothafuckin' twenty-inch chromes spinnin'?
    {Rocked out, baby, ice hangin'}

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    [Ghostface Killah (RZA)]
    Bailed out from drugs, almost retired from bubblin'
    Hammers was the guns under the rug, lift off my publishin'
    Jet to Miami, I chuggle-lug the beat
    Fiends beepin' me, I erase and delete (Come on)
    Surrounded my palm trees and sound-proof condos
    Tryin' out Spanish foods, Roberto's bangin' bongos
    Do whatever, crackin' down weather, it means nice
    Walkin' down the strip, these fat niggaz broke the ice
    Drive it in a host, the trucks, the gate's wide open
    A square box fell out, I'm hopin' it be coke and
    I snatched it, dipped into a parkin' lot and wrapped it
    See diamonds, pearls, rubies, gems, covered with acid
    Heavens to mega-troid, infants'll know I'm paranoid
    What she goes through, I'm on a next flight to St. Croix
    Sneaker boy and Genius, I heard he struck oil
    Him and Masta Killa own Fox and mad loyal

    [Chorus - last two lines only]
    Diamonds, Cubans hangin' from our neck, baby
    Come on, come on

    [Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]
    {The finest, baby, the finest}
    (You see them Linx hangin'?)

    [ShaCronz]
    Yo, yo
    You know I rarely fight, I keep heat plus I'm very nice
    I run with two-eighties on me like Jerry Rice
    I fuck with many birds, not the canary type
    I've seen a lot of happy days and scary nights
    My click hotter than fish grease, kids be diss-free
    Most of these labels can't handle this heat
    I love new twat, scrap ho's on a few blocks
    When my hate grows I let the tools pop
    A lot of these rap niggaz be fast to plea
    Raw cook up, Got the Hook-Up like Master P
    F.G., we don't talk, nigga, fast to squeeze
    Walk up and let a hundred shots crash ya V
    The first to pull out, the first to body somethin'
    I got all the heat all the shorties in ya lobby pumpin'
    Them dudes you standin' with probably frontin'
    Killa Bee Gang got that shit that keep ya hottie jumpin'
    What?

    [Chorus x2]

    [Interlude: RZA {Prodical}]
    {Straight like that, baby, it's nuttin' less, K.B., baby
    Don't forget it, C.C.F.}
    You see the shits spinnin'?
    Come on, nigga! {Clamp on, baby} Come on!
    Yo, yo, tell them niggaz, son
    What? What?
    You see the shits spinnin'? {Yeah}
    Shit hangin', son, they hangin' {Better catch it}
    Come on! Come on!

    [Outro: Prodical (RZA)]
    Straight gangsta
    (Yo, you've just been experiencin'
    Wu-Tang Killa Beez - The Sting)
    Explosive, baby, comin' at you
    (Y'all mothafuckas know..
    The next chamber's the mothafuckin' weather)
    Look out for the Stingers, bab

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Clifford Smith, Diggs Rakeem, Bank, Don Morrocco y Elliott Fyffe

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