Older Gods Lyrics - Wu-tang Forever - Wu-tang Clan

Aiyyo I roll like a bat out of hell 

Evil acapell's fly spittin out of my grill 

Before I hit the sky with springtime colors 

Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads double dutch this 

They carve it in they wrist, pillsbury blazes 

Straighten the crumbs left on the stove, clothes in my lady hair 

Plus yours the look gold God, the old tainted bald technique 

Got these vegetable lasagna niggas in they whips 

Jumpin out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part II 

We like Dorothy Hamill on ice 

We in your hood we might circle, hats down low in the Range 

Switch lanes, change my tire, peel out 

Real loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your hood kid 

I shitted on your hood, got to your burner too late 

I'm lookin real good, draped out 

Shinin like a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend, c'mere 

Oh shit, you my man's niece, the gourmet pocket twenty 

Bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take place 

We fucked in forty-eight shades might walk up in your studio 

Time slap your engineer, it's lighter fluid to DAT style 

Hand me the matches now 

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Aiyyo rainbow Roley on the wrist, now what's this 

Niggas bless this, eight and a half, Bally banana twist 

E shakes, puffin on lye, feedin the seed's plate 

Pullin out, old dirty eights to rob gates 

Major wake up, the kid telltales, make a nigga head wake up 

Beats break, the nigga would take off his time 

Honolulu status, gladdest 

The rich rock cabbage and dollar vans grands 

That nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of Justice 

Niggas came clumped out 

Just came home, now they bunked out 

Money be longer than triple life 

Til the sun burn out, that's my word 

Move it with the burner out 

Fidel way of thinkin, roll with the Mac bent Ac-10 

Most of my team, Five Percent check what the live said 

Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians yo 

Holdin my nuts, fuckin thousand dollar lesbians 

Photos 

Yo, the Older God put me on and had to rock this 

Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live prosperous 

It only takes a lesson a day, just to analyze life 

one time in the respectable mind 

(repeat 2X) 

Let the shot spark, soon as his pit bull barks 

Tire scars from skid marks leaves from jams in school parks 

Witness, forget his, original statement 

Even in protection programs there's no escapement 

Gunned down, we in town, hit king from seven crowns 

Spent rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge 

Wounded, back in the eighty-three summer heat 

Up in three-oh-nine park, rhymin off the drummer's beat 

I stalk the city streets demonstratin mic wrecks 

All lookin stank, I ain't playin wit a full deck 

And as they nervously stare, I know they scared 

They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in Times Square 

Household name, assassin, killa bee 

Mill to the grain, that posess the Wu, trilogy 

Quick to spot those that bite camoflouge and blend 

Those that got styles, they got identical twins 

Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are finnicky 

Without skills, they master the art of mimicry 

But I go line for line on the whole page 

Your unspotted life on the mic is old age 

{*rocket fired, whistles off and explodes, breaking glass*}