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Correct Duck Season Lyrics
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Artists: W
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Wu-Tang Clan
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Correct Duck Season
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Lyrics:
[Raekwon the Chef] Scrape y'all motherfuckers This is my word, when you see us When you see us flashing and shining And building and adding on Y'all niggaz just watch it, hear me Only ones that who we got respect for Is them niggaz that we say peace to Hear me, pay attention, put your shoes on Yo, my team be bellyaching hungry niggaz on the swarm again Pirahna niggaz 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, you Son, it's logical How you figure God, what, flow on the track, flip the obstacle Now my proposal, it's the global From California to courts, it's over God, so taste the tofu Remember baggy jeans, the Timberlands in November Shorty called me Santa in December But guess what, my Wally's got messed up Autograph presser what, blast enough to blow your rest up We scrape that, Land O' Lake that My dolo rapper get you sent back Represent the gentlemens who bent that Flash medallions like Italians La costra nostra, we moving through your hood like a poster Flex this, Lex and Diamonds hold the settlement So keep the bust the gun Boo Like that bad ass bitch in Dead Presidents Add on, the billboard sloan Check it now, you get the gold dick award It's like jail and it's the sixth floor Test me, floating in the S. E., now let's see Half of y'all niggaz built your rhyme from my sess tree Faggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than a dobo Stay militant kid, push it like bolo You fucking idiot, playing with my Clan but you be fearing it Face one, I'm guaranteed to make you take one Please, y'all niggaz money getting low But did you come back, set up shop, and get the phat dough Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all So what the deal now, blinking with us or put your shield down Faggot, fuck fuck around punk, battle for cream nigga [Rza] You want to 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 four four reflecting off your shiny forehead It's Wu-Tang nigga, ain't nothing changed nigga Still shame on a nigga, who tried to run game Get virgin and perversions, fucking bitches with Persian Bugs watching niggaz like the turgeon, it's the surgeon slugs Still pounds when Bobby Steels 12 gauge gonna pay deadly chronicles We, held up in Gotham take heed and protect your seeds We fall like all the leaves, who lack tranquility In your rap utility to fuck with the abilities Raised like a sperm cell to the ovary Microphone post tone like a rotary phone Age of poems and poetry, old sloans Explosive head bullets, black hooded Invalid footed ninjas, who 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 and curtains and vice Come quietly, Wu-Tang Clan rules society Because of variety, so maintain your high anxiety And lead them to defy me, diary... I need 18 points for my next joint This high and mointed king, to make a deal I be the one to appoint, Steve Ripken must have been sniffing To catch something so dope, it left minor c-lits pussy dripping I fuck hundreds of bitches, and split millions of dollars And built with thousands of scholars My life saga from the hildred of horor Legal kid brown in Nicaragua Gave birth to mc's, seeds and bank robbers We drove with pistol whips into world-wide trips And my dick's been sucked by the finest lips Stand to tell the contestants, in the world's best repressment But none of the above compare to the one-twenty lessons Or my queen and my seeds, in the home that I rest in Enter my dome get blown to 99 sections [Method Man] This rhyme has no limitations, this time there's no hesitation Collecting minds at the door, you want it niggaz it's yours The flavors raw, what the fuck you think I'm flowing for It's rhyme and reason, bite the bullet Niggaz is foul in this duck season We add odds till we even motherfucker Bad asses, high times, lower classes Taste mine, straight shots in dirty glasses Bring it to him, room service, under pressure And mad nervous, waving guns at the clergy Ticallion, we ain't worried Keep them sick niggaz seven-thirty Picture this, watch the birdy This bastards is rolling dirty With sharp pins that be stabbing you Pins and needles, needles and pins Nuff said, dick in your mouth Like pimp was bled, as I race track with thoroughbreds Ducking the feds [Ghostface] Yo, my ice slow fly up on the keyboard son Niggaz ran up on me law, praising what we do by the lords That's right, exile the fake, hit them niggaz like weight Feed a fool, let the fake evaporate Reconstruction, that's the whole science of mine Production, ya'll niggas guess who stuck son Left his meth son, switch, finger itch Staring at you like a bitch, maybe y'all niggaz snitch Youse a loner, Adidas shell top with lye Sipping Corona, read the rev report then bone her Buy you some jewels, here's some food Not neccessarily mean to be rude boo, check out the analoo We in the mushrooms, chased the high neck in the custom Baggy jeans, thick ropes god, sliding through customs Chill, y'all niggaz know what time it is James Bond Beamers behind me, on Bacardi Lime and Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan He cought a slug for lying Yeah you was lying, where's the cash, crying Militia, rolling in position Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian Lex the tally back whistling, fake fucks
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