Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to
Geraldine Ferraro, who's full of sorrow
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
With the game and soul, of an old school flick
Let your feet stomp
Choppin' off your motherfuckin' dome
Wu-Tang killa beez, we on a swarm
Peace and every fuckin' borough
Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death
Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
Due Due Lilz, Mista Hezakiah better known as the Yin and the Yang
Shyheim AKA the Rugged Child
Souped up niggaz on a stage get rushed
I don't give a goddamn, on the shows you did
How ya sound B? You're better off a quitter
Wild for the night
Make way for the merge of traffic
On 34th street in the Square of Herald
Here comes the drunk Monk, with a quart of Ballentine
Fuckin' wit my style is sort of like a miracle
Niggaz on the left
Thirty six chambers of death
Wu-Tang's comin' through with full metal jackets
Claudine went to Cooley high and had mad kids
Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death
Scientific Shabazz, my motherfuckin' man Wise the Civilized
Face
Next time come strapped with a fuckin' pamper
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
I throw the rhymes to the mic and I strike 'em out
The True Master, Ason, DJ Skane, the True Robocop comin' through
Killah
So stop, the life you save may be your motherfuckin' own
Like the Mack and Dolemite, who both did bids
Egos is somethin' the Wu-Tang crush
I come sharp as a blade and I cut you slow
Comin' down from the motherfuckin' South end of things
Pass the bone, kid pass the bone
The response while I bomb that ass, you ain't shit
'Cuz the hoe didn't win but the sun will still come out tomorrow
Wu-Tang killa beez, we on a swarm
Wu-Tang
Wu-Tang killa beez, we on a swarm
Anyway he's the one who devised the plan
Hoods on the right
Come frontin' hard, then Bernhard Goetz what he deserves
Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
So, it really doesn't matter on how you intrigue
Your wack ass town had you gassed
Brag shit to death
Let's get on this mission like Indiana Jones, the Gza
How many rhymes you got or who knows you kid?
One who just represent the Wu-Tang click
Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death
Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
Twelve o'clock, Sixtysecond Assassin, The Fourth Disciple
Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death
The motherfuckin' Bronx, killa beez
The Brand White, K.D. the Down Low Wrecka
Wu-Tang killa beez, we on a swarm
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to
The Rza, the Gza, Ol Dirty Bastard, Inspectah Deck, U God
God squad that's mad hard to serve
I'm on the mound G and it's a no hitter
Hoods on the right, wild for the night
You become so pat as my style increases
'Cuz I don't know ya therefore show me what you know
The Wu is comin' through, the outcome is critical
The Shaolin soldiers, Daddy O and Poppa Ron
Killa beez all over your fuckin' planet
What's that in your pants ahh human feces
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to
And my DJ the catcher, he's my man
Hoods on the right
You can't fuck with those in the major leagues
Three hundred and sixty degrees of perfected styles
To what?
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to
And shine, shine, shine like gold mine
Clan in da front, let your feet stomp
To what
I gamed Ella, the bitch caught a fitz like Gerald
Punks in the back
Throw your shitty drawers in the hamper
Raw Desire, Levon, Power Cipher
The sword, c'mon, give him the sword
He throws the signs I hook up the beats with clout
Niggaz on the left, brag shit to death
Ghostface Killah, The Method Man, Raekwon the Chef, The Masta killa
Crooklyn, Manhattan, Queens, Staten Island
Punks in the back, c'mon and attract to
Punks in the back
I'll hang your ass with this microphone
