Clans & Cliks (feat. Smif N Wessun, Rock, Method Man, Raekwon, Inspectah Deck & Foul Monday) - Sean Price

RZA came and got me, this what I came to do, come on Ring the bell so it's time to eat Brick Dog stash weed inta AMI-seats, bomb inside the palm Doc rock a wife beater with me beatin' my wife ass ironed on The front, my pump built like the Klumps To carry it I take the spare out the trunk I stay hungry, I ain't worked for days That's why you see the pump when the curtains raise Blast, don't panic Do I gotta explain how I tame and lock The rap game single-handed? Hell nah I won't tell you son, if I find a wack ID, I sell you one Doc and Hot Nick, Inspectah My lecture's like Hannibal Lector's Where's the ketchup? Don't speak on it, shut ya trap I see ya whole crew yellow like mustard packs Ah woo, Doc in my own zone You say you got the rap games sewn But it's sewn wrong I ride through ya hood in a Mr. Softee truck Then pull a mac out a box of snow cones Yeah, ya little fucks Gimme ya fuckin' money Uhuh, check it I'm hotter than a hundred degrees with my coat on Playing with a dynamite stick, where did I go wrong? Somebody pull the fire along when Jonny stomp If ya lukewarm leavin' ya clothes and boots torn Pro's and con's, megabomb's and so-on's By arid actions try MC's to get their roll on First issue, got issues What is hip-hop to hot nickels? It's like Funk Doc to snot tissues, word Look at my hand and get the third Finger out ya ear hole like "Fuck what you heard" Now, that's what I call hardcore, let's act fool Mr. Fix-It like Handyman I pack tool I been shitty, I'm from the veils of the city And just because my outfit match don't make me pretty Baggy Dun Gurees, dick need room to breathe In a room full of crackers I might cut the cheese Ain't no rules to the game If it is we ain't playin' In your business like EPMD, "So whatcha sayin'?" You co-designin' that bullshit yo man tryin' Chaka chaka cha-ta tatat Slugs flyin' Yo, ya Check, the code echoes from magazines to the big screen Fo' wheel machines like ya wits scream, kids fiend From the urban to sub-urban Roll upon me thirstin' like "Hey, hey, Mister Dream-Merchant" We roll longer than dice in a casino Cee-lo in the 4, 5 or 6 with double 0 Behind the tinted windows I lie low On some hydro tryin' to slide from the 5-0 But now, get wild similar to Ol' Dirty On third time felon just hit with over 30 No worries, style have 'em so thirsty First degree heats are quittin' on me Cold turkey, no mercy I bring the pain of a hundred migraines But a thousand shoutin' my name that's why I came But first bring the cash burst, then the outburst My surround sound pound ya ear like Jevon Kearse I flex muscle outside I find a next hustle Trouble with ya here and face the tec-muscle Even the best buckle win, I take it to the extreme It gets ugly, but it's what a nigga do to get cream This life

Yeah... yeah... Allah Math... Yeah... yo... yo... Y'all ain't never stopping the kid, why y'all knocking the king? Would ya like a shot of liquor or like a shot to the rib? Plus you stay on top of they grills, stay on top of they biz Thinking niggas plotting on hairs, think they not when they is This is Staten Island gully, you dig? It's getting ugly And I ain't found a court that can judge me, the block love me Like nines to the side of the skully, popping they top I'd rather pop bubbly, one for B.I.G. and one for Pac Nigga, trust me, I'm hot as they get, like Al Green Getting hit by a pot of them grits, yo, nahmeen? Y'all don't really want no parts of this, soon as a nigga Start shining, niggas start some shit, my guard lit Like a boss, head nigga in charge, get in these drawers Fitted, nine inches bigger than yours This Meth dude got that food, and he serving it raw Told you before, I bring the pain, and now I'm hurting them, pa Hurting them, pa... Up from the 36, back on that bullshit Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run shit Up from the 36, back on that bullshit Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run shit Aiyo, you fucking with some capital G's, Allah Math Streetlife, Meth Man, plus the Masta and me Soldier I, make it happen, indeed, my sick gift Had the highest paid ho, get it cracking for free Worldwide, still trapped in the P's, Pioneers Like the twenty inch woofers, that's in back of the V Leave ya brain, like you spazzing on E It don't matter who you happen to be, nothing swagger like he Keep a dirty cop close, never talk with no feds Tear the roof off the mother, right along with ya head And I ain't talk unless she talking bout bread You would swear that I'm rocking New Balance, how I'm walking the ledge Son, I'm just a little off of the edge, as I stalk The mean streets, for paused types, callers are read Killa Hill where the warriors bred, I'm a Resident Patient, it's gonna take more than the meds Up from the 36, back on that bullshit Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run shit Up from the 36, back on that bullshit Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run shit Special invited guest, I came to put the rumors to rest Rip the rest of the slugs through your chest Put the chest to the back of your vest Trap your packet, take the money and jet Niggas posted, but you posing no threat Punk, you pussy like the opposite sex Front, see how many shots you will get I'm not asking, I'm demanding respect I'm just a man to respect Watch your step, son, your funeral's next Streetlife is the man in the flesh, I got one hand on your neck The other hand is attached to the tech Your next move could mean life or death Make move, take baby steps Hold that thought, nigga, save your breath We hold courts, in the streets, we rep For Cash Rule, and we came to collect, cock sucker Up from the 36, back on that bullshit Okay, I'm reloaded, strapped with a full clip Staten Island's the borough, Park Hill, we still click Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, that's the Clan, we run shit