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Wu Tang Clan
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Severe Punishment
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Letra actual de la canción
I despise your killing, and raping<br />You're... despicable<br /><br />Are you, my judge?<br /><br />It's just... you should be punished<br />I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?<br /><br />[Verse One: U-God]<br /><br />Yo, yeah, yo, yo<br />Yo, yeah<br />Check these high hats sting things moving through the rubbish<br />Party robust, rec room style for you brothers<br />Time's ticking, eruptments conduct<br />Entering one funk before the drum dry up<br />Dial, style, jab vocab slow<br />Alphabet run, construction voice might blow<br />Tap dance swelling Hemingway novel model<br />For a breather, dirty reefer hide your bottle<br />Cut down, come with something that's round and profound<br />Blood brothers people of colors we get down<br />Watch this fly, force feed things being said<br />Nine Diagram acid black evil red left his<br />mic half a dangle, seriouser man<br />My mic clapper def wish, everlasting plan<br />heavenly God body, know me as the cleaner<br />Night champion, old villain style seem a<br />kiss of spider, to God saga why bother<br />Godfather talk drama, fly swatters<br /><br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br /><br />[Verse Two: The Genius/GZA]<br /><br />This Wu shit be hard to kill and full blown<br />Rhymes filtered through the net before words hit the chrome<br />Pro tools editing tracks that's rough<br />Cause a jam without a live MC isn't enough<br />So we attack this, and grab all within reach<br />Throw a scrap back to niggaz - perfect your own speech<br />Shit is copper, it ain't worth the mic stands<br />used by backup singers in Atlantic City bands<br />Niggaz look on, and get hooked on this mic line<br />Real thin and shift through the pipeline<br />LP's delivered with style and potential<br />Niggaz flowin smoothly in a sequential<br />order, revealin hidden tape recorders<br />Stashed inside pockets of those who lack aura<br /><br />[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef]<br /><br />Twist the DAC up, them niggaz with math is back up<br />Watch he act up, fifty-two block track we slap up<br />Playground maneuver, jet to Vancouver like this<br />Two Kahluas one chick she's German Luger<br />Get the shit on, light a fresh pack, bust it open<br />with the seal on Dunn, deal on this, with the real on<br />Next, Rocky, ring, call it to Decatur<br />Slang soufleer home decorater, player<br />Mic immigrants, nine of us formed resemblance<br />Somethin flashy, God dead-armed is nasty<br />Peep the ornaments enough to make Shorty-Wop stare at me yo<br />He killed the God might as well throw a chair at me<br /><br />[Verse Four: Prince Rakeem/RZA]<br /><br />Yo MC's wonder what's hip-hop thunder<br />Tell you the truth it's just one nation under a groove<br />Gettin down for the funk of it<br />Like Fred Sanford in the biz...<br />Yo one held his paraphenalia, a Wu memorabilia<br />Mailed by the fortune teller, tried to tell ya<br />bout the group recruit we scoop up CREAM like Breyer's<br />Then spread across the globe like telephone wires<br />Thirty-six assorted, Shaolin imported<br />chambers been recorded, you're fuckin with the loops<br />Time for royalty audit<br />Fabulous establishment metabolism, Blackfoot Indian<br />Cherokee started out smaller than amphibian<br />Then grew to a physical body with five meridians<br />As the pendulum swings closer to the millenium<br />two thousand, wickedness is spread amongst my citizen<br />I got a muscle the industrial to make a hustle<br />and politic with Leo and Russell<br />When niggaz is still rushin we'll brush you<br /><br />He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives<br /><br />[Verse Five: Masta Killa]<br /><br />Thoughts are contained in the trenches of the brain<br />ignite, blowin the mic to Arabian heights<br />As I recite this medley, niggaz couldn't fuck with the<br />deadly ground I hold down<br />Classical gangland style, shots hit the ceiling<br />Panic and confusion echoes through the building<br />Continuing to build, I strive for perfection<br />Driven by the will to live, glocks I hold<br />Shots I give, while searchers of rescue teams<br />look for means of survival and who's liable<br />for this harrowing experience<br />You scream for the extreme, fiend for the cap<br />and proceeds of the Wu-Tang Academy<br />To fuck up your anatomy with assault and battery<br /><br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives<br /><br />Number one, Yen Chang Wa<br />He's an adulterer, don't trust him<br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives<br /><br />I despise your killing, and raping<br />You're... despicable<br /><br />Are you, my judge?<br /><br />It's just... you should be punished<br />I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?<br />I despise your killing, and raping<br />You're... despicable<br /><br />Are you, my judge?<br /><br />It's just... you should be punished<br />I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?
Letra nueva de la canción
I despise your killing, and raping<br />You're... despicable<br /><br />Are you, my judge?<br /><br />It's just... you should be punished<br />I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?<br /><br />[Verse One: U-God]<br /><br />Yo, yeah, yo, yo<br />Yo, yeah<br />Check these high hats sting things moving through the rubbish<br />Party robust, rec room style for you brothers<br />Time's ticking, eruptments conduct<br />Entering one funk before the drum dry up<br />Dial, style, jab vocab slow<br />Alphabet run, construction voice might blow<br />Tap dance swelling Hemingway novel model<br />For a breather, dirty reefer hide your bottle<br />Cut down, come with something that's round and profound<br />Blood brothers people of colors we get down<br />Watch this fly, force feed things being said<br />Nine Diagram acid black evil red left his<br />mic half a dangle, seriouser man<br />My mic clapper def wish, everlasting plan<br />heavenly God body, know me as the cleaner<br />Night champion, old villain style seem a<br />kiss of spider, to God saga why bother<br />Godfather talk drama, fly swatters<br /><br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br /><br />[Verse Two: The Genius/GZA]<br /><br />This Wu shit be hard to kill and full blown<br />Rhymes filtered through the net before words hit the chrome<br />Pro tools editing tracks that's rough<br />Cause a jam without a live MC isn't enough<br />So we attack this, and grab all within reach<br />Throw a scrap back to niggaz - perfect your own speech<br />Shit is copper, it ain't worth the mic stands<br />used by backup singers in Atlantic City bands<br />Niggaz look on, and get hooked on this mic line<br />Real thin and shift through the pipeline<br />LP's delivered with style and potential<br />Niggaz flowin smoothly in a sequential<br />order, revealin hidden tape recorders<br />Stashed inside pockets of those who lack aura<br /><br />[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef]<br /><br />Twist the DAC up, them niggaz with math is back up<br />Watch he act up, fifty-two block track we slap up<br />Playground maneuver, jet to Vancouver like this<br />Two Kahluas one chick she's German Luger<br />Get the shit on, light a fresh pack, bust it open<br />with the seal on Dunn, deal on this, with the real on<br />Next, Rocky, ring, call it to Decatur<br />Slang soufleer home decorater, player<br />Mic immigrants, nine of us formed resemblance<br />Somethin flashy, God dead-armed is nasty<br />Peep the ornaments enough to make Shorty-Wop stare at me yo<br />He killed the God might as well throw a chair at me<br /><br />[Verse Four: Prince Rakeem/RZA]<br /><br />Yo MC's wonder what's hip-hop thunder<br />Tell you the truth it's just one nation under a groove<br />Gettin down for the funk of it<br />Like Fred Sanford in the biz...<br />Yo one held his paraphenalia, a Wu memorabilia<br />Mailed by the fortune teller, tried to tell ya<br />bout the group recruit we scoop up CREAM like Breyer's<br />Then spread across the globe like telephone wires<br />Thirty-six assorted, Shaolin imported<br />chambers been recorded, you're fuckin with the loops<br />Time for royalty audit<br />Fabulous establishment metabolism, Blackfoot Indian<br />Cherokee started out smaller than amphibian<br />Then grew to a physical body with five meridians<br />As the pendulum swings closer to the millenium<br />two thousand, wickedness is spread amongst my citizen<br />I got a muscle the industrial to make a hustle<br />and politic with Leo and Russell<br />When niggaz is still rushin we'll brush you<br /><br />He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives<br /><br />[Verse Five: Masta Killa]<br /><br />Thoughts are contained in the trenches of the brain<br />ignite, blowin the mic to Arabian heights<br />As I recite this medley, niggaz couldn't fuck with the<br />deadly ground I hold down<br />Classical gangland style, shots hit the ceiling<br />Panic and confusion echoes through the building<br />Continuing to build, I strive for perfection<br />Driven by the will to live, glocks I hold<br />Shots I give, while searchers of rescue teams<br />look for means of survival and who's liable<br />for this harrowing experience<br />You scream for the extreme, fiend for the cap<br />and proceeds of the Wu-Tang Academy<br />To fuck up your anatomy with assault and battery<br /><br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives<br /><br />Number one, Yen Chang Wa<br />He's an adulterer, don't trust him<br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />Number two, Chao San Poi<br />He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives<br /><br />I despise your killing, and raping<br />You're... despicable<br /><br />Are you, my judge?<br /><br />It's just... you should be punished<br />I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?<br />I despise your killing, and raping<br />You're... despicable<br /><br />Are you, my judge?<br /><br />It's just... you should be punished<br />I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready?
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