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Iron Flag, Wu-Tang Clan
Iron Flag
Release type: Album
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Duration: 55:16  
Size, Mb: 76,06  


Price for album: ˆ0.96 (discount 20%)  

Title / Artist     Duration Bitrate Size (Mb) Price Download
In The Hood Lyrics 04:11 192 5,74 ˆ0.10
Rules Lyrics

All you hoes, be cryin for these bitches
All you niggaz, be cryin for these hoes

*scratched samples*
"Both hands clusty" - Ghost, "Pullin out gats" - Raekwon
"Double barreled" - Meth, "Blew off the burner kinda dusty" - Ghost
"We back, don't test" - Raekwon, "Bring it to em proper, potnah" - Meth
"Comin from the thirty-six chamber" - Meth
"Math, let the plate spin" - GZA, "Many brothers y'all be sparkin"
"Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot" - Inspectah Deck
"If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu" - Method Man

Ghostface Killah
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!

Inspectah Deck
Yes yes y'all, the I-N-S bless y'all
Stop hearts like cholesterol, let's brawl
Never fall, tear it down like a wreckin ball
Role call where my niggaz that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin you pure ecstasy without pills

Chorus: Method Man
Y'all know the rules, we don't fuck with fools man
How the fuck did we get so cool man?
Never ever disrespect my crew
If ya fuck with Wu we gots ta fuck witchu

Masta Killa
Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real
We live from Balilz, it's the God I-Reelz
Yo wonderful, spark the blillz
Let me build with the people for the mills
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, true and livin snipers
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill

How you livin StreetLife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
High-tech, street intellect, all digital
Project original, sheisty individual
New York's bravest, always supply you with the latest
We hall of famers, and still hit you with the greatest
Took a year hiatus, now you wanna hate us
Thanks to all you haters for all the cream you made us


Raekwon the Chef
Sendin letters to (?), my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom
At home, it's worth money, I adorns
Order drinks, all real niggaz order your minks yo
We got the fitteds on, lookin all fink
Daddy everybody get money from now on
Payday flash Visas livin like, Easter e'ryday
Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430
That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo

Method Man
We can eat right, or we can clap these toys
I'm with StreetLife, ain't never been a Backstreet Boy
Who y'all kiddin? Tryin to act like my shoe fittin
Confused with ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin?
It's Hot Nixon, same team same position
Battin average three-five-seven and still hittin
Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin and still kickin
Cause I'm haaaaaaaaaaaard! Hard like a criminal
Love like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck

"Comin from the thirty-six chamber" - Meth
"Bring it to em proper, potnah" - Meth - "Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang"

Method Man
It's Wu-Tang, rushin yo' gang, crushin the game
Pretty thugs, clutchin they chain, hand cuppin they thang
Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin is..

03:53 192 5,35 ˆ0.10
Chrome Wheels Lyrics
Chrome Wheels

Hook: Madame D
Woke up this morning, smoked some sticky green to get me started
Choclate thai, all in my eye, I'm never broken-hearted
Bang us in ya cars, bang us in ya Jeep, bang that shit retarded

12 O'Clock (RZA)]
(Bob Digi) Sun Zeini
(P. Sunn) 12 O'Clock
Two On Da Road on this (12 O'Clock)
I love my brother to death
(That old hip-hop, catch this)
(Hot Nix', you know? Big tits)

12 O'Clock
I love my brother to death, nigga pussy to the rest
Shared a pair of Guess and an Eddie Bauer vest
A bitch named Celeste
I met her when I was goin to cash a Def Jam check
She had some big ass breasts
I had to catch her like a shortstop on the Mets
A nigga high off a dime from Gates and Best
Remember grandmother live on Louis and Lex
I remember Dirt Dog crashed his white Lex
I remember me and Meth won a dice game against Ghost and Deck
Remember Portland had Clyde Drex'
Remember 12 O'Clock is a vet
Big Dogs we put 'em to sleep, keep 'em on a leash
I move like days in a week
Niggaz don't know the face and names on my teeth
Niggaz carry a cold piece, and separate the heat
Ain't scared of the motherfuckin police

Yo, yo
Guns jammed up, I'm cramed up in my lab
Six niggaz, six bitches, two fifths and eight bags
One toilet, three weedheads, an alcoholic
And two niggaz hooked on pussy
And in the corner, was this brother who would study his lessons
And learned how operate the Smith and the Wesson
Still cut class and played hookey
Threw freshmens in garbage cans, gave 'em nookies
Rolled the, back of the bus with a gun in his socks
Big forehead, had ears like Spock
He was mightier than a truckload of gats
And bound to make a bitch cum in six minutes flat

What up kid? Stay livin
Seen you look good, you look live in ya linen
And you survived ninth innin
The hood got us off the prop without women
All my niggaz that ride that provide to the end of this

[Mdame D
Ain't nothin but the real, yeah
Ain't nothin but the real
Ain't nothin but the real, yeah
Million dollar deals, rollin on Chrome Wheels

Yeah, uh-huh, yeah (Ain't nothin but the real)
This one's on P. Sunn, word up? Yeah, uh-huh

We gamble the dice, remain humble, scramble through the jungle of life
While the we rumble with the foul and trife
Shots fired on the block in threes like Glen Rice
Made men think twice about the sacrifice
Black on white, write it for the world to hear
Write it for my fam who not here who do care
Glance and stare, why when you can't compare?
From the bottom of my feet to the end of my hair
Move rear, cop the blue steel bare, groove to the snare
Bass and drums, see my face in the slums
Pedia Brown, media surround my sound
When you see me in the hood of ya town, respect my sound
Sample with black, criminal, mechanical rap
Assemblin hat, laced in a suit from Phat
Two On Da Road, got them bitches screamin, "Who Dat?"
Two with the plaques, two with the gats, it's like that


Madame D
Two On Da Road, Bobby Digital
He's a gangsta, yeah
No, no, no, no, no, no
Live it up, live it up
Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no


[Prodical *over Madame D's singing*
Bang us in ya Jeeps
Shaolin! Bobby Digital
Uh-huh, Sunn who?
Haha! Yeah!
Get that money y'all
Get that money y'all
Get that money y'all
Shout in pain
Uh-huh, yeah
Weed blazin, cocoa hazin, cocoa hazing
7 days in week
04:15 192 5,83 ˆ0.10
Soul Power (Black Jungle Featuring Flavor Flav) Lyrics 04:52 192 6,70 ˆ0.10
Uzi (Pinky Ring) Lyrics 05:20 192 7,33 ˆ0.10
One Of These Days Lyrics 04:14 192 5,80 ˆ0.10
Ya'll Been Warned Lyrics 04:15 192 5,85 ˆ0.10
Babies Lyrics
[Intro/Chorus: Madame D]
Light is shinin.. beauty sunshine
Here comes one-time.. the ball was so fine
Heat is blazin.. the kids were playin
His partner was shady.. tryin to slave the babies

[Ghostface Killah]
Aiyyo they didn't know the cop was crooked, he had blow out in Brooklyn
All this while he let the fiends cook it
The baseheads stirred it up, plus they got to blow it up
Dropped it off in the PJ's and they bigged it up
Then one day, shit jumped off real crazy
The middle of a bathroom they find an old lady
No clothes, half of her tongue, ear missin
The killer had to be mad smart, he wore mittens
Even though her leg was bitten
Crackheads point the finger at Detective Slick Morris Gittins
Paleface cop who done popped the desk
And got the chop on his neck from when he knocked Celeste
It was a slug, drug, he pressured everybody on the block
Some niggaz know him as the Godson of Gotti
And his black partner, he was scared to speak
He saw how they planted weapons on these kids in the street
He saw like over fifty bodies in like fifty-two weeks
He saw his colleague pick up money before leavin his beat
They call him desk duty, Robocop
Younger dudes call him Freddy Krugs from the way he walk on the block


[Raekwon the Chef]
Heard the disturbance out the window, oh shit they got my son
Pulled over his Tempo, Brenda dropped the endo
Had her little nephew with her yo she didn't care
They always harassed her, until she blew the captain with a razor
His partner turned red in his waist, Mase done smacked her
with the walkie, yoked her then slammed her on her face
He bugged on her like she was drugged, plugged one in her
The fifth relaxed her like a big thug pistol whipped her
Heard she was dusted, musta been the way they threw the cuffs on her
She broke the shits, went and rushed the kid
Wavin her hands, she had a half an axe, all in her tracks
He grabbed her by the air, she broke his jaw it cracked
More cops arrived, they both bloodied down by the five
Wildest niggaz just smilin cause it look live
They gave her forty years in New Orleans, callin me (?)
Shorty was young, by three days had a great bid


You're just worms in the worst part of the apple that's rotten
You squirm and you turn from the right, still plottin
All slimy cause you stay grimy, petty crimey cat
You sometime me, don't need to remind me about
livin in the core, with the scramblers in front of the store
The bum holdin the door, the mugging no one saw
We played ball in the alley where dope was shot raw
And the school they kept flawed, plus the lowest test scores
Small percentage determined to strengthen they position
Transformation from critical to, stable condition
But it still be obstacles on niggaz that's optical
Watchin you like salt-water sharks that's tropical
The money was the root and it's the instinct to make it
With they pockets and fridge naked, many aim to take it
Whether - hold up, set up, stabbin or a wet up
Just to know it was the kid next door fizzucked your head up
Once he fell short, frequently visit the courts
And for some, another way out, is music and sports
That's why I, keep the rhyme just as fly as a shot
that won the championship, with just 0 on the clock

[Chorus - repeat 2X]
05:07 192 7,04 ˆ0.10
Radioactive (Four Assasins) Lyrics 03:30 192 4,80 ˆ0.10
Back In The Game (Featuring Ron Isley) Lyrics 04:34 192 6,28 ˆ0.10
Iron Flag Lyrics 06:25 192 8,81 ˆ0.10
Dashing (Reasons) Lyrics 04:45 192 6,53 ˆ0.10