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wu-tang clan - k.b. ridin' كلمات الأغنية

[intro: ghostface k!llah (rza) {method man}]
word (these mothaf-ckin’ n-ggas, man)
yeah, i hear that, you got that sh-t, right?
(yeah, i got it) lemme hear it
(i’ma two-way sunn back right now
next time she show up right on time for this sh-t)
word, no doubt
(better stop smokin’ on that sh-t)
f-ck that, hey, don’t do it with him
(whatever)
yo yeah, lemme get that mothaf-cka’s sayin’ on this, n-gga
(yeah, n-ggas be buggin’ in here
n-gga don’t speak no f-ckin’ english, word?)
you get me everything? (i got you a cheese joint)
{diamond buscuits, mothaf-cka!}

[break: method man (rza) {prodical}]
now let’s see, we don’t get down like that
see, he holds his own, haha, he holds his own
haha, he holds his own (bank!)
(john blizzy) {straight like that}
he holdin’ twenty on this
(ghost deini) {uh-huh! yeah!}
(shacronz) {the invincible, baby)
bad boys (suga bang) {it’s like that!}
(d-digi!)

[method man (prodical)]
spontaneous combustion got n-ggas l-stin’
f-ckin’ with this head bustin’ track spanker
decaffinator, crab sinker, twenty-five
tryin’ to live to see my forty acher, before i die
immaculate conceptions like loaded weapons
shootin’ up ya rap session in mere seconds (bluh! bluh!)
ya whole style is undressin’
try to hide yaself behind the r&b section
and got spotted, f-ckin’ with them fake artists who make garbage
now ya like a human target with no direction
and no protection, rap n-gga -ssed out and no question
dead and buried, we holdin’ like the military
f-ck dog sh-t, hide-out beats and hot cherries
on virgin mic’s, style very cri-tical
by any means necessary, mad lyr-ical
the ghostrider, want vengeance on you style biters
ya whole sect got you g-ssed ’til i sparked the lighter
and burnt that -ss like dhalsim in street fighter
i play the shadows, scopin’ out you lime lighters and desperados

[chorus: suga bang bang (rza) {prodical}]
k!lla beez is ridin’ east to west, baby
see our twenties spinnin’ on our trucks, baby
diamonds, cubans hangin’ from our neck, baby
come on, come on

[interlude: rza {prodical}]
{baby cuz it’s not a game}
you see them mothaf-ckin’ twenty-inch chromes spinnin’?
{rocked out, baby, ice hangin’}

[ghostface k!llah (rza)]
bailed out from drugs, almost retired from bubblin’
hammers was the guns under the rug, lift off my publishin’
jet to miami, i chuggle-lug the beat
fiends beepin’ me, i erase and delete (come on)
surrounded my palm trees and sound-proof condos
tryin’ out spanish foods, roberto’s bangin’ bongos
do whatever, crackin’ down weather, it means nice
walkin’ down the strip, these fat n-ggas broke the ice
drive it in a host, the trucks, the gate’s wide open
a square box fell out, i’m hopin’ it be c0ke and
i sn-tched it, dipped into a parkin’ lot and wrapped it
see diamonds, pearls, rubies, gems, covered with acid
heavens to mega-troid, infants’ll know i’m paranoid
what she goes through, i’m on a next flight to st. croix
sneaker boy and g*nius, i heard he struck oil
him and masta k!lla own fox and mad loyal

[chorus – last two lines only]
diamonds, cubans hangin’ from our neck, baby
come on, come on

[interlude: rza {prodical}]
{the finest, baby, the finest}
(you see them linx hangin’?)

[shacronz]
yo, yo
you know i rarely fight, i keep heat plus i’m very nice
i run with two-eighties on me like jerry rice
i f-ck with many birds, not the canary type
i’ve seen a lot of happy days and scary nights
my cl!ck hotter than fish grease, kids be diss-free
most of these labels can’t handle this heat
i love new tw-t, scr-p ho’s on a few blocks
when my hate grows i let the tools pop
a lot of these rap n-ggas be fast to plea
raw cook up, got the hook-up like master p
f.g., we don’t talk, n-gga, fast to squeeze
walk up and let a hundred shots crash ya v
the first to pull out, the first to body somethin’
i got all the heat all the shorties in ya lobby pumpin’
them dudes you standin’ with probably frontin’
k!lla bee gang got that sh-t that keep ya hottie jumpin’
what?

[chorus 2x]

[interlude: rza {prodical}]
{straight like that, baby, it’s nuttin’ less, k.b., baby
don’t forget it, c.c.f.}
you see the sh-ts spinnin’?
come on, n-gga! {clamp on, baby} come on!
yo, yo, tell them n-ggas, son
what? what?
you see the sh-ts spinnin’? {yeah}
sh-t hangin’, son, they hangin’ {better catch it}
come on! come on!

[outro: prodical (rza)]
straight gangsta
(yo, you’ve just been experiencin’
wu-tang k!lla beez – the sting)
explosive, baby, comin’ at you
(y’all mothaf-ckas know..
the next chamber’s the mothaf-ckin’ weather)
look out for the stingers, baby

- wu tang clan

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