Wu-Tang Clan - Crushed Egos

You've practiced 20 years?
You must be extremely good then
Perhaps, you'll try with me?

Come and taste my seasonin', Chef, the cooking that is marvelous
Back over a stove, makin' your mouth water, you starve for this
Exclusive sneakers with hard denim, heavyweight
A neighbor illustrated Alex Haley with paper
Waves spinnin' like the Titanic, come take a float on
Silky, like King Henry the eight robe in lace frame
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 tea tree 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 5 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
These devilish MC's 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
These devil they come see me, cannot fuck with us, Lord

Rifles out, bear like the Russian
Octagon tuggin' silk drawers frontin', while her head stuntin'
Mo' sanes 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 sharks
Everybody run 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
These devilicious see me, cannot fuck with us, Lord

Where is the money?

Written by:
Robert F. Diggs, Corey Woods, Adrian Godfrey Younge

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Downtown Music Publishing

Lyrics powered by Lyric Find