Testo Crushed Egos - Wu-Tang Clan
Testo della canzone Crushed Egos (Wu-Tang Clan), tratta dall'album Rap de la calle
You've practiced 20 years?
You must be extremely good then
Perhaps, you try with me
Come and taste my seasonin', chef, the cooking that is marvelous
Back over the stove, makin' your mouth water, you starve for this
Exclusive sneakers with hard denim, heavyweight
A neighbor illustrated Alex Haley with paper (paper)
Waves spinnin' like the Titanic, come take a float on
Silky like King Henry, the aged robe and lace string
Restaurants with skeleton keys, it's big business
Well-groomed and elegant posture is real dapper
Status is gigantic, culture's alpaca
Meetings in the Vatican, drinkin' scotch with the muscle milk
Praises go to Ason, the dynasty Mr. Russell built
Feed me royal shottas with glocks, clean 'em with GT oil
China dolls from Bangkok, we bang 'em, train 'em and make 'em loyal
Trees stank, she come kiss the top of my Yves Saint
Wise-Universal Tang when I bang
Grizzly with the big bank, it's five stars, y'all, when I call rank
Egos are somethin' that the Wu-Tang trust
These stupid jealous niggas, y'all 'bout to get rust
This ashes to ashes, to dust to dust
This devil they can see, they cannot fuck with us, Lord
Egos are somethin' that the Wu-Tang trust
These stupid jealous niggas, y'all 'bout to get rust
This ashes to ashes to dust to dust
This devil they can see, they cannot fuck with us, Lord
Rifles out, bear like the Russian
Octagon tuggin' silk drawers frontin', while her head stuntin'
More saints flood the garage
Man the goats launchin' charge cards from Africa
Catch me in the hookah lodge
Brains linked, twisted cohibas, say the seeds bang
Coffee pots with graveyard rings, flippin' Gs
Yankee hoodlum on the top of the charts
Dart throwers, they're sharks
Everybody wanna know when my gun barks
Non-athletic, anti-semetic, synthetic rappers get no credit
Pathetic septic lines, incompetent styles not embedded
Wu-Tang slang bangs in your brain, this is not genetic, prophetic
Unadulterated talent while y'all talk that bullshit rhetoric
Egos are somethin' that the Wu-Tang trust
These stupid jealous niggas, y'all 'bout to get rust
This ashes to ashes to dust to dust
This devil they can see, they cannot fuck with us, Lord
Where's the money? Talk, uh
Credits
Writer(s): Robert F. Diggs, Corey Woods, Adrian Godfrey Younge
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