"The game of chess, is like a swordfight.

          You must think first, before you move.

          Wu style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon.

          When it's properly used, it's almost invincible."



          Raw me give it to ya, we're no trivia

          raw like cocaine straight from Bolivia.

          My hip hop will rock and shock the nation

          like the Emancipation, Proclamation,

          weak MCs approach with slang that's dead

          you might as well run into the wall and bang your head

          I'm pushin' force, my force your doubtin'

          I'm makin' devils cower through the Caucus Mountains.



          Well I'm a sire, I set the microphone on fire

          rap styles vary, and carry like Mariah

          I come from the Shaolin slum, and the isle I'm from

          is comin through with nuff niggaz, and nuff guns.

          So if you wanna come sweatin', stressin' contesting

          you'll catch a sharp sword to the midsection.

          Don't talk the talk, if you can't walk the walk

          phoney niggaz are outlined in chalk

          a man vexed, is what the projects made me.

          Rebel to the grain there's no way to barricade me.

          Steamrollin' niggas with the eighteen wheeler

          with the drunk driver drivin', there's no survivin'



          Ruff like Timberland wear, yeah

          me and the Clan, and yo the Landcruisers out there

          peace to all the crooks, all the niggaz with bad looks,

          bald heads, braids, blow this hook.

          We got chrome tecs, nickel-plated macs

          black axe, drug dealin' styles in phat stacks.

          I only been a good nigga for a minute though,

          cuz I got to get my props, and win it yo.

          I got beef wit commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth

          lampin in a Lexus eatin' beef.

          Straight up and down don't even bother

          I got fourty niggaz up in here now, who kill niggaz fathers.



          My peoples are you with me? Where you at?

          In the front, in the back, killa-bees on attack.

          My peoples are you with me? Where you at?

          Smokin' meth hittin' caps on the block with the Gats.



          Here I go, deep type flow

          Jacque Cousteau could never get this low, I'm

          cherry bombin' shits . . . BOOM

          just warmin up a little bit, vroom vroom

          rappinin' is what's happenin'

          keep the pockets stacked and then, hands clappin and

          at the party when I move my body

          gotta get up, and be somebody.

          Grab the microphone put strength to the bone

          DEN-DEN-DERN . . . enter the Wu-Tang zone.

          Sure enough when I rock that stuff

          huff puff? I'm gonna catch your bluff tuff

          rough, kickin' rhymes like Jim Kelly

          or Alex Haley im a Muh . . . Beetle Bailey rhymes.

          Comin raw style, hardcore

          niggas be comin' to the hip-hop store.

          Comin' to buy grocery from me,

          tryin to be a hip-hop MC.

          The law, in order to enter the Wu-Tang

          you must bring the Ol Dirty Bastard-type slang.

          Represent the Gza, Abbot, RZA, Shaquan, Inspecta Deck

          dirty hoe gettin' low wit his flow

          introducin' the Ghostface Killer,

          no one could get iller.



          My peoples are you with me? Where you at?

          In the front, in the back, killa-bees on attack.

          My peoples are you with me? Where you at?

          Smokin' meth hittin' caps on the block with the Gats.s



          Speakin' of the devil psych, no it's the God, get the shit right

          mega trife, and yo I killed you in a past life

          on the mike while you was kickin' that fast shit

          you reneged, tried again, and got blasted

          half mastered ass style mad ruff task

          when I struck I had on Tims and a black mask

          Remember that shit? I know you don't remember Jack.

          That night yo I wuz hittin' like a spiked bat

          and then you thought I was brought down, and crazy

          strapped for nonsense, after me became lazy

          yo, nobody budge while I shot slugs.

          Never shot thugs, I'm runnin' with thugs that flood mugs.

          So grab your eight plus one, start flippin' and trippin',

          niggas is jettin' I'm lickin' off Son



          Wu, Tang! Wu, Tang! Wu, Tang! Wu, Tang!



          Homicide's illegal and death is the penalty

          What justifies the homicide, when he dies?

          In his own iniquity, it's the

          Master of the Mantis Rapture comin' at ya

          we have an APB on an MC Killer,

          look like the work of a Master,

          evidence indicates that's it's stature

          merciless like a terrorist, hard to capture.

          The flow changes like a chameleon

          plays like a friend, and stabs you like a dagger.

          This technique attacks the immune system

          disguised like a lie paralyzin' the victim.

          You scream, as it enters your bloodstream

          erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain

          movin' on a nigga with the speed of a centipede

          and injure any motherfuckin' contender.



          My peoples are you with me? Where you at?

          In the front, in the back, killa-bees on attack.

          My peoples are you with me? Where you at?

          Smokin' meth hittin' caps on the block with the Gats.



          "Wu style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon.

          When it's properly used, it's almost invincible."



          "Wu style is immensely strong, and immune to nearly any weapon.

          When it's properly used, it's almost invincible."


          "When it's properly used."