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Wu-Tang Clan - Iconoclasts (feat. Bronze Nazareth, Killah Priest & Vast Aire) (Syndaesia and AKS Remix) | Текст песни

[Killah Priest]
I spit at these lyrics, so vivid, they pictures
On project walls, twelve feet tell, hell grease, ya'll
Fire brimstone, the writer, grim poems, Edgar Allen Poe with the flow
Goes the silencer, upon the cold nozzles
Of the four-four caliber, *shot shot*
No more challenger, woolie show like Gallagher
Ink pens in my hand, like a spraypaint caint
You can't resist your mind, the black Michaelangelo
Hands'll sculpt, the Eiffel tote, the mics I broke
Residue leads to a trail, another Priest tale
Death I pulled, the witch-lord-king, that rip off wings
When I spit 16, it gets extreme, explicit scene
No more dreams, just cold screams, happening
Re-occuring rappers wanna perform, they need insurence

[Bronze Nazareth]
My cyclone poem, fix the roof of the Superdome
You crash your plane in my building, just try'nna get on
And it's a vein, cold rain, write my words in propane
Keep the, heat in store, like the stones in Maytag
Carry more blades than grass in your yard, grab your rake
I'm original, man on the take, burning the shake
Roll 'em, blow, the solar fails out the blood bank
The Wu-Fam armory, my beats got bodies
Know the rolly when to grave, with the tip of a shotty
Pasidena lobby, bullet holes from robbery, probably
Veins made of cobblestone, bitches go home wobbly
Capture life like photographs, double stuff hash
Pure mid-serious grim, with verbal whiplash
From the fetus to the oversear, I bleed it
Nigga, your crime'll Crystal Mountain, just to try to go see it
My life is a movie script, John Singleton reading
The blood flow like magnum, harder then traps in Eden
Send shockwaves, I circles, some objects dropped in lakes
I spray phrases, til the brain can't operate
Discombobulate, the populate, Texas Chainsaw lock your grip
Counter row, Wu symbol conglomerate
Team I'd rather far, than be spit in the face
Jesus asked God when I'm dropping my next tape
Nigga, Bronze colored disc, razor blade shape

[Vast Aire]
Pass me the dutch, I'll fill it up
I wrote this rhyme in the corner, like I was a dunce
If I, told ya twice, I told ya once
That's word to the Trina' man, that sold you fronts
You be number nine, I did not stutter
The sun is my dad, the moon is my mother
Look dude, there is no other
Like the Three Wisemen, that came from Persia
To bless Je-sus, peace to Baby Jesus
I'm becoming the Buddha, this is my thesis
I am the chosen, I've walked on water that wasn't frozen
And you can talk shit, but look at your lip, now it's busted
Sorta like burgundy, bubbling custard
I don't wanna discuss it...
I'm on another level, come on, man, look at my mustard
That's Grey Poupon, what planet you on?
You wanna take my oil, I show you my rocket
You wanna take my chain, I'll break ya eye socket
Kamikaze, you can't stop this
Divine wind, I'm climbing
To reach, higher states, to drown in
Sitting on the same corner, frowning
This is L.X.G., microphone clowning

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