Wu-Tang Clan — Duck Seazon

[Intro: Raekwon] We scrape y'all motherfuckers, it's my word When you see us, when you see us flashin' and shinin' and buildin' And addin' on, y'all niggas just watch, hear me? Only ones who we got respect for is the niggas that we say peace to Hear me? Pay attention, put your shoes on, yo [Verse 1: Raekwon] My team be bellyachin', hungry niggas on the swarm again Piranha nigga bite dick, yo, son, it's on again What up? He made a move, try to assist it Listen, kid, yo, you was born to be a pawn, but I'm a bishop Back to the novel, yo son, it's logical How you figure, God? What? Float on the track, flip the obstacle Now my proposal rips the global From California to courts, it's over, God, told taste the soul food Remember baggy jeans, Timberlands in November Shorty called me Santa in December But guess what? My Wallys got messed up Autograph pressed up, what? Blessed enough to blow your rest up We scrape that, Land O' Lake that Mazola rap will get you sent back Represent the gentlemens who bent that Flash medallions like Italians, La Costra Nostra We movin' through your hood like we supposed to, flexin' Lexi Diamonds hold the settlement, Tekitha, bust your gun, boo Like that bad-ass bitch in Dead Presidents Ad on the billboard store, check it now You get the gold dick award, it's like jail and it's the sixth floor Test me, floatin' in the S.E., now, let's see Half of y'all niggas built your vine from my stress tree Faggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than adobo Stay militant, kid, twist ya like Bolo You fuckin' idiot, playin' with my Clan but you be fearin' it Fake one, I'm guaranteed to make you take one Please, y'all niggas money's gettin' low But could you come back, though Set up shop and get the fat glow? Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all So what the deal now? Link up with us or put your shield down, faggot [Interlude: RZA and Raekwon] Fuck around, punk (Seven-fifteen) We battle for cream, nigga (Yo) [Verse 2: RZA] You want a pound, crab? Nah, let his hand swing I ought to punch a hole in his palm with these pointy ass rings No more said, knew your chump ass was dead When I saw the .44 reflectin' off your shiny forehead It's Wu-Tang, nigga, ain't nothing changed, nigga Still shame on a nigga who tried to run game Your version of perversion, fuckin' bitches on Persian rugs Washin' niggas like detergent, it's the surgeon Slugs propels from Bobby Steele's twelve gauge Front page Daily Chronicle reads "Hell up in Gotham, take heed and protect your seeds" You fall like autumn leaves You lack tranquility in your rap utilities to fuck with the abilities Race like a sperm cell to the ovary Microphone post tone like a rotary phone Ancient poems of poetry Old scrolls, explosive head bullets Black hooded, Timberland-footed ninjas With full metal jacket clips and know how to put it in you Surrender your goods and your merchandise for no purchase price I'm certainly a heist for your ice is curtains, advice Come quietly, Wu-Tang Clan rules society Because of variety, so maintain your high anxiety And lead them to defy me, diary, ya irie? I need eighteen points on my next joint This high anointed king to make a deal, I be the one to appoint Steve Rifkind must've been sniffin' To catch somethin' so dope it left Monica Lynch pussy drippin' I fuck hundreds of bitches and spent millions of dollars And built with thousands of scholars My life saga from the hill to the harbor Legal 'caine grind like Nicaragua I gave birth to MCs, thieves and bank robbers We drove expensive whips and took worldwide trips And my dick's been sucked by the finest lips Fancy delicatessens and the world's best refreshment But none of the above compare to the 120 Lessons Or my queen and my seed and the homes that I rest in Enter my zone, get blown in ninety-nine sections [Verse 3: Method Man] This rhyme has no limitation, this time there's no hesitation Collectin' minds at the door You want it, niggas? It's yours, the flavor's raw What the fuck you think I'm flowin' for? It's rhyme and reason Bite the bullet, niggas is fowl and it's duck season We at odds 'til we even, motherfucker Bad asses, high time, lower classes Taste mine, straight shots in dirty glasses Bring it to 'em, room service Under pressure and mad nervy Wavin' guns at the clergy Ticallion, we ain't worried Keep them sick niggas seven-thirty Picture this, watch the birdie These bastards is old and dirty With sharp hymns that be stabbing you Pins and needles, needles and pins 'Nuff said, dick in your mouth like Tempest Bled' As I race track with thoroughbreds, duckin' the Feds [Verse 4: Raekwon] Yo, my ice look fly upon the keyboard, son Niggas ran up on me, lord, praisin' what we do by the laws That's right, exile the fake, hit them niggas like weight Feed 'em food, let the fake evaporate Reconstruction, that's the whole science on my production Y'all niggas guess who stuck, son, left his nuts hung Switch, finger itch, starin' at you like a bitch Maybe y'all niggas snitch You's a loner, Adidas shell top while I sip a Corona Read the Robb Report, then bone her Buy you some jewels, here's some food Not necessarily mean to be rude, boo, check out the analoo We into mushrooms, chase the Heineken, the custom Baggy jeans, thick ropes, god, slidin' through customs Chill, y'all niggas know what time it is James Bond Bimmers behind me on Bacardi Limon Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan, he caught a slug for lying Yeah, you was lying, where the cash? Crying Militia, rollin' in position Casa Blanca Cuban link Christian Lex retali' back whistling Fake fucks [Outro] How dare you rebuild the Wu-Tang Clan against me For that you’re gonna die I may not be the one to stop you, but somebody will very soon Also, the Wu-Tang Clan will rise again There are many of us, all working for the good of the Wu-Tang