Protect Your Neck / Wu-Tang Clan


Caller: “So whassup man?”
DJ: “Coolin’ man”
C: “Chillin’ chilin’? Yo, you know I had to call, you why right?”
DJ: “Why?”
C: “Because, you, I never ever call and ask you to play somethin’ right?”
DJ: “Yeah”
C: “You know what I wanna hear, right?”
DJ: “Whatchu wanna hear?”
C: “I wanna hear that Wu-Tang joint”
DJ: “Wu-Tang again?”
C: “Ahh yea, again and again!”

[Inspectah Deck]
I smoke on the mic like smokin’ Joe Frazier
The hell-raiser, raising hell with the flavor
Terrorize the jam like troops in Pakistan
Swinging through your town like your neighborhood Spiderman
So uhh, tick tock and keep ticking
While I get you flipping off the shit that I’m kicking
The Lone Rangercode red: danger!
Deep in the dark with the art to rip the charts apart
The vandal, too hot to handle
You battle, you’re saying goodbye like Tevin Campbell
Roughneck, Inspectah Deck’s on the set
The rebelI make more noise than heavy metal

The way I make the crowd go wildsit back relax, won’t smile
Rae got it going on palcall me the rap assassinator
Rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger
And I’mma get mad deep like a threatblow up your project
Then take all your assets

Cause I came to shake the frame in half
With the thoughts that bomb shit like math

So if you wanna try to flip, go flip on the next man
Cause I grab the clip, and hit you with 16 shots and more, I got
Going to war with the melting pot hot

[Method Man]
It’s the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
Moving on your left
And set it off, get it off, let it off like a Gat
I wanna break fool, cock me back
Small change, they putting shame in the game
I take aim and blow the nigga out the frame

And like Fame, my style will live forever
Niggas crossing over but they don’t know no better
But I do
true, can I get a “suuue”

Nuff respect due to the one-six-ooh
I mean ohh
yo check out the flow
Like the Hudson
 or PCP when I’m dustin’
Niggas off
because I’m hot like sauce

The smoke from the lyrical blunt makes me eughck

Ooh, what, grab my nut, get screwed
Oww, here comes my Shaolin style
True B-A-ba-B-Y-U
To my crew with a “suuue!”

[Ol Dirty Bastard]
C’mon baby baby c’mon baby baby c’mon baby baby c’mon

Yo, you best protect ya neck!

[Ol Dirty Bastard]
First things first, man, you’re fucking with the worst
I’ll be sticking pins in your head like a fucking nurse
I’ll attack any nigga who slack in his mack
Come fully packed with a fat rugged stack
Shame on you when you step through to
The Ol’ Dirty Bastard straight from the Brooklyn Zoo
And I’ll be damned if I let any man
Come to my center, you enter the winter
Straight up and down, that shit is packed: jam
You can’t slam,
 don’t let me get fool on him, man

The Ol’ Dirty Bastard is dirty and stinking
Ason Unique rolling with the night of the creeps

Niggas be rolling with a stash, ain’t saying cash
Bite my style I’ll bite your motherfucking ass!

[Ghostface Killah]
For crying out loud, my style is wild, so book me
Not long is how long that this rhyme took me
Ejecting styles from my lethal weapon
My pen that rocks
 from here to Oregon

Here’s more again, catch it like a psycho flashback
I love Gats, if rap was a gun, you wouldn’t bust back
I come with shit in all types of shapes and sounds
And where I lounge is my stomping grounds
I give a order to my peeps across the water
To go and snatch up props all around the border

And get far like a shooting star
Cause who I are is living the life of Pablo Escobar
Point-blank as I kick the square biz
There it is, you’re fucking with pros and there it goes

Yo chill with the feedback, black, we don’t need that
It’s 10 o’clock, ho, where the fuck’s your seed at?
Feeling mad hostile, wearing Aéropostale
Flowing like Christ when I speaks the gospel
Stroll with the holy robe
 then attack the globe
With the buck us style, the ruckus

Ten times ten men committing mad sin
Turn the other cheek and I’ll break your fucking chin
Slang boom-bangs like African drums
(He’ll be) coming around the mountain when I cum
Crazy flamboyant for the rap enjoyment
My clan increase like black unemployment
Yeah, another one down, G-g-genius
Take us the fuck outta here

The Wu is too slammin’ for these Cold Killin’ labels
Some ain’t had hits since I seen Aunt Mabel
Be doing artists in like Cain did Abel
Now they money’s getting stuck to the gum under the table
That’s what you get when you misuse what I invent
Your empire falls and you lose every cent

For trying to blow up a scrub
Now that thought was just as bright as a 20-watt light bulb
Should’ve pumped it when I rocked it
Niggas so stingy they got short arms and deep pockets
This goes on in some companies
With majors, they’re scared to death to pump these
First of all, who’s your A&R?
A mountain climber who plays an electric guitar?
But he don’t know the meaning of dope
When he’s looking for a suit-and-tie rap that’s cleaner than a bar of soap

And I’m the dirtiest thing in sight
Matter of fact, bring out the girls and let’s have a mud fight

You best protect ya neck!
You best protect ya neck!
You best protect ya neck!
You best protect ya neck!

  • このエントリーをはてなブックマークに追加



  1. この記事へのコメントはありません。

  1. この記事へのトラックバックはありません。