Do U

(album: Bobby Digital: Digital Bullet - 2001)

[sampled singer singing "Do, Do U" repeats all
throughout the song]

[Intro: RZA (Method Man)]
Come on my niggas, yo..
Put your guns in your right hand and hold it down towards the floor
Point all your guns down towards the floor for a minute
Yeah, you could hold 'em, just point 'em down towards the floor
For a sec, aight? (Yo y'all ain't fucking wit the Wu)
We gon' splash like this, all my wild Digi heads
(Y'all niggas is crook) Y'all niggas move a little up to the front
Y'all niggas know what I'm talking about
Word up, my weedheads, y'all play the right for a second
Nahmean? Check it out
All y'all niggas on X, y'all keep y'all asses in the back
Aight? Straight up, in fact, matter of fact
We gon' mingle this shit like mothafucking peas in the mothafucking pot
Straight up Digi Digi style, word up, as we splash you right
(Yeah, yeah, my niggas is crew, now y'all ain't
fucking wit the Wu
Oh now y'all.. come on!)

[RZA]
Walk wit a didi bop ock, you silly pop, Jiffy Pop
Fuck around, son, I'll blow ya face up with fifty shots
Sharp darts, and it pop pop like tarts
Extreme speed like Anakin inside the Pod
Headed for the finish line, BOODOO, watch Bobby cross it
Hoes with the diamonds on your toes, come on and floss it
I be one of those tall skinny cats with the four-nine
Three-eleven that rips through Power-U's and breaks spines
I culture power-tugging boys who be drunk, bugging
Loving loud noise from toys, club thugging
Sweet chocolate deluxe, rugged, sexy buttercup
That don't give a fuck about the cop in the club
Or the bouncer with the flashlight, one walked passed, right?
Some pulled the razor and chopped his ear like he was Mad Mike
I played the cipher in the corner, teaching math
One for one thoughts, a hundred brothers won't last
Because you can't do me.. [x3]

"Do U feel?"

Come on!

[Prodigal]
Yo, son, +Wake Up+! [coughs]
Yo, I gotta do this, man
I gotta get this money, son

Features in the crowd, appearance like, "Black I'm proud"
In the background, no sounds, four pound, we hold ground!
Brooklyn bound, seven initials up in the crown
One man's rambling, officials they shot him down
Supreme, extreme, lean, killing machines
All I wanna do is feed my seed, plus my team
Keep it logical, no games, straight up about Prodigal
Diabolic drums and I run from none
Testimony one, give my life before my only son
Thelonious crumbs, why they wanna press me for guns?
Now I'm in the face of the judge, court case thug
From a race, laced, based on drugs, some made slugs
As +It Was Written+, stroll through any block forbidden
Glock hidden, why they wanna stop precision?
Eighty-five percent of my brothers locked in prison
And we just keep dying for the love of good living
But Do U! Do U! Do U!

"Do U feel?" [x2]

[GZA]
You know those jams in the park, produced the spark
Made me feel words how I read books in the dark
I always took it to heart, loved the art
A lifetime of darts, ripped crews apart
Made their stay real short, I stamped the passport
Couldn't bring through no wack shit of no sort
I walked the borough challenging the best that stood
Torch metal mics, they conduct better than wood
Once I electrify and only expect to die
Rounded Bed-Stuy, ZZZZ, nigga fry
My opponent block, the beat coming from his box
Investment ranker who's a joke in the stocks
Keep a rhythmic pace, maintaining great balance
Moving in steps of unheard of silence
Normally progressioners, they're slow steeping
Niggas wanna light up when there's gas leaking

"Do U feel?"