Cash Still Rules/scary Hours (still Don't Nothing Move But The Money) Lyrics - Essential Wu-tang Clan - Wu-tang Clan

Shake them niggaz 

Scary hours no money out, smash the Guinness Stout 

Play the outfield, Lucille, switched cracks on shields 

She's a rich fiend, sacrifice her fam, shift them niggaz 

to Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans 

Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known tone 

A Wally kingpin, who also slam and strike edition 

Whattup, Corleone smoke the bone Tone phone me 

Whattup he tried to slang there, address him with chrome only 

Grady with the gray beard, transport for him 

Rockin Nike at? Rastafarianburg, pipin that 

Switchin Benzes, ten carat nigga with gold lenses 

Frontin like he's sittin on a lump he's sittin on junk 

You wanna pull a heist, draw guns and robberies 

You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies 

Names arraigned, the century fox, little glocks 

Them niggaz with stocks, wail on your blocks 

Rich lifestyle, small like an ordinary white child 

But right now, Son is still shine, shed light now 

Breakdown, liquidate God, fuck it grab the nickel plate 

Spencer for Hire, tension when we mention Dryer 

He's a slave cop, behave pop 

Blue suits who bay stop us blow that cat 

at the Purple Haze spot 

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I remember stickin fiends at the one-six-ooh 

when we was starvin, duckin five-oh, payin em dues 

Times is hard in the slums I'm from, they got us barred in 

We warrin and cage dodgin, rippin and robbin 

Got the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in 

your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron 

That's somethin niggaz can't pardon 

City overrun by young gun with bad intention, and Wu-Wear garment 

So I see no need to mention, the potency 

of a sting from a killa bee, kickin the battery 

out the back of them wisecracks 

Distorted for your get high you hijack 

These friendly skies ain't for you, they for me and mine 

This the year of the grimy nigga, ragtime 

Keep these niggaz on the run, peep my Clan emblem 

Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's comin from 

Photos 

Catch us swimmin with these sharks now, you rap villains 

(I feel the same way you niggaz feelin) 

We feel the same way you feelin, let it be known (let it be known) 

What the blood clot you niggaz dealin, you crash dummies 

Cash rules, still don't nuttin move but the money 

Aiyyo strongarm that kid right there with wavy hair 

Billy Johnson, snatched him out his whip in Times Square 

Took his Pumas, nameplate, dude lost weight 

Summer eighty-eight, started a fight, that can't wait 

Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marsey 

Blazin that Tad Rossi, up in the Marquis 

He lost like a hundred ounces, Jake rushed his houses 

Had him on the porch, ass no trousers 

This souped up, individual stuck, the new stuff 

Same kid cryin on the stand with Judge Cuffner 

Kissed him with art num it's three to nine style 

Before he left he flashin his face like Denzel 

Richard Dale took his Beaver, off the wall pullin his whip 

Mussy dropped and split his wig with the heater 

His safe butt was all fucked up, as he had me laughin 

God you see how he was laid out, in the grass 

with dirt in his mouth, Slim woke him up told him he wild out 

Blood leakin from his teeth he smiled like he gunned out 

Big bolo, stackin his shit financed a Volvo 

He copped his shit from a small, coffeeshop in SoHo 

He still pussy, he sell his dust up on the Lower East 

Posin like he rappin out...