Dangerous lyrics

by

Wu-Tang Clan


[Intro: Raekwon]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
You know the deal, n*gga
Sha, what's good n*gga?
Lex Diamond, your big brother here, you know?
Let's work this sh*t out, man
Yeah, yeah, yeah, aiyo, aiyo

[Verse 1: Raekwon]
Fresh out the jungle where the blue boys run
We carry rugers, smoking toast on your throat like oolas
Hitting reefer, playing my square, windbreaker jacket
Holding my beer, rock and roll in my lear
I have to eat, gun carefully, let the cocaine bling
Strings is nothing, get your ho clapped, king
We hundred burners, onion turners, all this, came out the yard
With twenty five to lifers, loving my squad
You know the gun show off, whips is gleaming, clean as a f*ck
In dirty hallways, the ninas'll cluck
This is crime station, my obligation is to look raw as ever
Feed my little sons and patients
Cuz they hungry, shining, bullet fly right through the lining
Catch me on the plane, humble and wining
Feeding me, fresh n*ggas, downtown, Brooklyn in them brook lands
Is Timbed up, looking for them jookes, with my miss and
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, the streets is a part of me
What you witnessing now is don archery
Pack a lambskin hostler, one of these rocks'll slump you over
You ain't nothing, you'se a b*tch ass poser
Bleeding from your face, on a T-shirt, thinking that you M.V.P
Underneath'll be R.I.P
That's what you get, yo, for being so c*cky
Two guns, thumbs up, for me and my posse

[Verse 2: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, what's the science, little n*gga? Yo, you beefing too hard
I throw five in your Champ hood, and envy your squad
You try to stick out your f*cking hand, nah, I don't want no dap, n*gga
f*cking lucky you ain't get glammed
b*tch ass n*gga, you wrong, yo, you mingle with rats
The other day you got caught with the gat, n*gga
How you home, n*gga? Why you even up in my square?
Like you get busy, got the block hot and stare
Fresh coffins fast, they spitting, ya'll fake b*tches
Snitches get mad love, hundred and eight stitches
My condolences, word life, if they can find you a real killa
Someone close is singing like the Jonases
Crime Stoppers, the tips keep pouring in
For a G, you be suprised who's going in
Block huggers, the ones who be holding they jock
Can suck my c*ck, the real c*ck lovers
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, the streets is a part of me
What you witnessing now is don archery
Pack a lambskin hostler, one of these rocks'll slump you over
You ain't nothing, you'se a b*tch ass poser
Bleeding from your face, on a T-shirt, thinking that you M.V.P
Underneath'll be R.I.P
That's what you get, yo, for being so c*cky
Two guns, thumbs up, for me and my posse

[Verse 3: Method Man]
Ya'll can call me cook up or come back
My flow hot, my hood hot, cuz of one rap
My block on fire cuz of one match
I stick to paper like thumbstacks, these cougars wanna play with these
Young cats
With pus*y, turning boys to men, so I resort to the pen
But at the same time, avoiding the pen
And now it's game time, n*gga, you in? You better thicken your skin
Move with your peoples through the thick and the thin
I watch for po-po, they raiding the crib
And I ain't trying to get jammed, and have the next man raising my kids
God forbid, dudes be hating on his, because a n*gga go hard
And hit 'em harder then they saying they is
But that's just New York, I carry the torch, just long enough
To light a Newport and carry this thought
f*ck what you thought, the bigger the boss, bigger the cost
They don't know about the Tribe of Shabazz, n*ggas is lost
[Chorus: Ghostface Killah]
Yo, the streets is a part of me
What you witnessing now is don archery
Pack a lambskin hostler, one of these rocks'll slump you over
You ain't nothing, you'se a b*tch ass poser
Bleeding from your face, on a T-shirt, thinking that you M.V.P
Underneath'll be R.I.P
That's what you get, yo, for being so c*cky
Two guns, thumbs up, for me and my posse
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