Woodchuck

(albüm: Killa Beez: The Sting - 2002)

[Holocaust:]
West Coast, West Coast
Killa Beez

Antlers, hammers and hacksaw, the wizard
Poetry of a man with no name, America
Cement mixer full of boiling ice cream
Holocaust to many, greet with bloody handshake
Wu Empire and colleagues, luxurious
You torn like tape off football helmets, chip
Four cups of crushed bricks, half cup of roses
Smoke a green and yellow candycane
Zombies still move through the cottage with orange teeth
Pistols still pointed at the floor, spinal crumbs
Blood hits snow and hard, scooped up in hand fulls
Bathe in the river, the waterfall runs red
Sasquatch, Yeti, battalion with one head
In a lonely place, dollars, razors and marbles
We break open forearms, Earth the last hour
Out in the tea house playing a hand of spades
Fist full of grenades, blow out the watch light
Convicts rally at moon set, the last
Flow stay smoggy, old carnival witch hunt
Sideshow freaks, belly dancers and gypsies
One of the wood cutters, village Architect
Eighty-eight sandwiches, Thurmos in a lunch box
In a harsh realm, viewing the emerald butterflies
Flutter diamond moths, both with dusty wings
Bodies lay soaked in a desert, throats gouged out
Tongues spit out of their heads, I had a purpose
Will you still love me tomorrow? Architect
Will you still love me tomorrow? Holocaust

[Timbo King:]
Royal Famous, blame us
Yo

My first whip be a Chrysler
So when you see me you say, "Chrys' is comin"
Ice numbin ya neck, throw one of those
Strong notes, Indian pose, flat footed
Yo my back hurts, feel like I'm growing wings
Bless by the Heaven kings, my crown piece seven rings
Money to earn, money to burn
Give some, lend some, take it, fuck it
Be stingy off a stash if you have to
Nigga, what? Flip a pack of if you have to
Cash in, pawn the shit, ya highest bidder
Buy from the streets, cop at wholesale price
Motel models, go tell five-oh
Five-oh follow the black El Dorado

[Crisis (Meko the Pharaoh):]
Who got that real shit niggas blast to, bitches shake they ass to?
Hit you up with the hood when we pass through
Black Knights, Royal Fam got that hot shit (Yo)
Topless in the cockpit of my drop six
In the cockpit of the drop six

[Meko the Pharaoh:]
Yeah, yo

Give me beats like this I start burning
Wack emcees, ya still learning
Just like punk cops that rotate on ya block
Millions of people is gonna hear the North Stars shot
While the worlds rock mental, I hold presidential
Bare essentials, Wu-Tang credentials
Makin niggas catch wind chills when my N.S. windmill
Niggas better get real
Even though I stay pissy drunk, bumpin Kurupt
In a red mini van phat tinted, smokin on that spinach
All funny niggas get printed
I got that Long Beach shit like J. Bennett
The rest of y'all niggas sound like women
Scared of my sword when it's given
Y'all niggas better stop pretendin
Cuz the words that I speak is deep imprinted
Kill or be killed is what I'm representin
Representin

[Cilvaringz:]
Yo, yo, check it, yo

As 7 clouds form a storm
I baffle Gabriel the archangel with death, death to
His first born, Earth mourns Wu Killa Beez on the swarm
From the battleship throw darts that be accurate
We ninjas, we backflip with tactics of antrax
Arise like the novas from earth under canvas
Of the Clan, fist to fist, kamikaze shock this
Like Nazi documents Apache Helicopters strike down
Near the bunker of the Glocksmiths
Shop the Dirty Weaponry, Tecs from the 70's
Gone With the Wind, I slung mines within
My men tackle dikes with the 7 deadly dicks
Neglect my covenant, my government enslaves you to my
Hall of Double Justice and bloodstains your judgement
So prepare to be slain by the truth
It's Blood for Blood When All Hell Breaks Loose son

Wu-Tang Killa Beez from Shaolin, Europe
Black Knights, Royal Fam
It's Cilvaringz, one