Do U Lyrics - Digital Bullet - Rza

{*sampled singer singing "Do, Do you" 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 why'all ain't fuckin' wit the Wu) 

We gon' splash like this, all my wild Digi heads 

(Y'all niggas is crook) why'all niggas move a little up to the front 

why'all niggas know what I'm talkin' about 

Word up, my weedheads, why'all play the right for a second 

Nahmean? Check it out 

All why'all niggas on X, why'all keep why'all asses in the back 

Aight? Straight up, in fact, matter of fact 

We gon' mingle this shit like mothafuckin' peas in the mothafuckin' pot 

Straight up Digi Digi style, word up, as we splash you right 

(Yeah, yeah, my niggas is crew, now why'all ain't 

fuckin' wit the Wu 

Oh now why'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-you's and breaks spines 

I culture power-tuggin' boys who be drunk, buggin' 

Lovin' loud noise from toys, club thuggin' 

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, teachin' math 

One for one thoughts, a hundred brothers won't last 

Because you can't do me.. (x3) 

"Do you 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 ramblin', officials they shot him down 

Supreme, extreme, lean, killin' machines 

All I want to 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 want to 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 want to stop precision? 

Eighty-five percent of my brothers locked in prison 

And we just keep dyin' for the love of good livin' 

But Do you! Do you! Do you! 

"Do you 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 challengin' 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 comin' from his box 

Investment ranker who's a joke in the stocks 

Keep a rhythmic pace, maintainin' great balance 

Movin' in steps of unheard of silence 

Normally progressioners, they're slow steepin' 

Niggas want to light up when there's gas leakin' 

"Do you feel?"