9 MILLI BROS.feat.Wu Tang Clan

作詞D.Coles, D.Dumile, D.Hills, E.Turner, C.Smith, C.Woods, R.Diggs, G.Grice, J.Hunter
作曲D.Coles, D.Dumile, D.Hills, E.Turner, C.Smith, C.Woods, R.Diggs, G.Grice, J.Hunter
The burner's in the stash
We bout the cash
We got females we got it like that
The Golden Childs that bone the crowd
See niggas in the place that bit my style
Well I'm a singer dancer we bulletproof brothers
Wu-Tang got the answer 'cause if I had the chance
To do it again I will still keep the heat in my pants uh.

Y'all be nice to the crackheads
Everybody listen up
I shot one of my bitches
The hole ain't trick enough
Word life the big screen don
Tapping dust bones out with star write ups
It's like I fucked Celine Dion
Stuck everything that's the gods honest beyond
We airing niggas out that's the type shit that we on
Official Wu-Tang head banger
Flood your space with big waves like it did Sri Lanka

Yo, Yo I drink heavy gallons of Cru'
Play the big part
Niggas got squid on the grill selling kids Clark
Finesse notes yo the Guess on
With the vest post yellow suede one
Matching hat with the gray gun
Niggas be rhyming for nothing
Then my team pull up
We all Wu 'ed down y'all
Broke niggas stay fronting
Lines come digital stupid
Plus ain't got no jewelry on
Bet I'm still live and I'm Couping
Two of my silverbacks run through a pack of your wolves
Front on you yap you sipping Cognac
Blue 'Lacs duke know I'm with these cracks duke

[Dirt McGirt]
One two one two yo
Dirt McGirt solid tone smith with six shots
Lick shots leave your head
Like a Shaolin monk with six dots
Brooklyn Zoo (yo) Brooklyn Zoo (yo)

It's the return of Bin Laden grab your armor
Smash pretty boy niggas crush their karma
Eat bones with alligators roll deep with my entourage
My whole crew is fresh out the barge
Diggler, aka the cab driver
Drop them off in the middle of fire
Dirty island drag bodies to the murder land
Knock niggas out hurting my hand


[Inspektah Deck?]
We grinding down to the bone
My name grounded in stone
I'm Mr. Foulness we lounging with chrome
Mr. Foulness we lounging it's home
Hit the housing on roam
Shining like a hundred thousand in stones
Move mountains with poems
Got a Jones for a DeNiro
One-six-zero my zone
We throwing elbows the hoes cling
Show thing we known kings
Only dime types with mind right
We choose queens

[Masta Killa]
Yea we wild like rock stars who smash guitars
Yo son steel his face with the toast
He ain't Ghost it's no joke
Iron coat rifle with the scope
One tote brain float shot to the throat
Before the smoke hit witness the killing
Seen the crime scene body on the block
Eyes open from the shock of being pop
In the neck yet he still
Held a lit cigarette between his fingers
Danger when you stepping in the chamber
With the master disaster that'll blast you
'Cause I have to

The rat pack is back from the Island of Stat
Where you cursed us 'cause we worship the gat
The first one to snap drunk off the Smirnoff
Blow the bouncer ears off let him floss
He the boss handcuffed to the turntables
Like wizard Theodore see it's pure
Let it rain pealy ounces
Banging with the thing that hang from the trousers
You don't want no drama I'm flaming fast
That nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash...


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