Box In Hand (feat. Method Man & Street)

Lyrics

featuring Raekwon, Method Man
 *sung*
 Wu Tang will survive, no no no-no no no
 Wu Tang will survive
 Cause every time they flip a party
 You know the party screams and shouts
 Cause you... DAMN! Aw, TC that was the bomb...
 (Ghostface)
 Get all my peoples, get all my peoples headphones
 All of em
 Lay em a death warrant
 Aaaah, yo, show it off, kid, show em, what, what
 Let em have it, bust it, hey yo, hey yo
 One: Raekwon
 Blend wine, who want to win mine
 Shorty get a ten-round for floatin
 With the richest, huh
 Flexed out, Flinstone style
 Your criminal pen pal kidnapped Loud, jetted the
 Moseying, posing for them niggaz up in Poland
 Rollin wax style museum, G 'em
 Them richest niggaz bless this like Russian cut VVS's
 Slide the hatchback, black were finessing this
 Them niggaz over there know, Gazelle goggles
 And them Lottos, 88 style, throwing bottles (bottles)
 Scenario rap, rap imperial, material (uh, yo yo, yo, yo)
 Murdering cats is like that real
 Two: Ghostface
 Yo come do me something word to Michelob peep the Land Rov'
 Sleeper hold club faggots lay your dome on a stove
 It's like space kid, the whole world is pitch black, granola rap
 Dough got smaller famous team, walked up in Photomat
 Black down, numerous rounds, boots is brown
 Getaway driver, this white bitch from out of town
 We love horse races shaking Jakes and high-speed chases
 Porno stations, drinking violations, God relations
 90 minute Maxwell tapes, instrumental breaks
 Banging earaches, lay my verse down in two takes
 The speaker pops, the Winchester rifle's in the kitchen
 Murder the DJ's eyes twitching, woofer hissing
 Interlude: Raekwon
 Yo, he's strong arming, manipulating niggaz, scraping niggaz
 Taking play from niggaz, hate faking niggaz, yo you hear me?
 The whole shit's like wrestling
 What you dare me? Back the fuck up kid, we flexing
 Three: Method Man
 This rap shit bust yo' gums, and leave you stunned
 Pull your plug, now you can't function
 There's no total or sum to this equation, you frozen
 Many may come but few are chosen
 Pretty niggaz want to play the war posing
 When the ruckus come, they be the first to get their shine stolen
 Do or die, it be I, Meta-physical Man
 Holding court from my Wu, indivisible Clan
 I see your thoughts and your hand reaching
 It's getting deep in this mud
 Cats heat seeking, for one blood
 Nameless thugs with aimless slugs, shooting at these stank bitches
 Less he gon' bring this above, I make switches
 From the lamp I grant three wishes
 Johnny be parleying, I Blaze britches, then I roll
 One hundred percent mind, one hundred percent body
 One hundred percent soul, individual
 Assholes tend to run
 From this PLO extortion to the one
 The next chamber, you fucking with the star spangler
 To the dawn's early light with this head-banger
 Boogie, represent this shit fully
 Like I'm constantly at war with the town bully
 Who want that pressure, about to get smacked silly
 Like a fat bitch in Spandex, 'Free Willy'!
 We on some milli, check the joint, engine number nine
 Niggaz wasting time worrying about me and mine
 Get your own shit

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
03:14
Key
7
Tempo
91 BPM

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