It's Yourz - Live in San Bernadino, CA - 2019 Remaster

Machine gun rap, all my niggas in the back

Stadium packed, line back a nigga flashback

See through yellow line, rock a fly jersey in the summertime

Like Trokus, coming at your crab ass

Dope ass, snatch your ice off, chillin' in the back

Know the lights off, waves water blend where I float slow motion

Stick steer, hear it like a snail in the ocean

What's your wish? To pringle like Cris

Melodic single shot stab a nigga just like Chris

You fucked up, some rich nigga you done test yo

Select the wrong department and niggas pulled up to dress

Snap, molest that, put down chain nigga where your vest at?

Flexing make me wanna wet that Jones

The dope Wu sang nigga like the torch we flame nigga

Autograph that, Black Norman ain't nigga

It's yours, the world in the palm of your hand

It's yours, 23 million of youthful land

It's yours, the seed of the black woman

It's yours, double L people Wu-Tang Clan

It's yours

Super freak physique like Robbie of the Chic

Baby love to dodge a leaf every day of the week

Super friends wake up, deluxe gourmet treats

Tonight is right, I might find me a squeak

It's a quarter full moon, I ride woman swoon

Well groomed, dance on back room

Lady move, peep the climb, peep the zoom

Keep a strive, smoke the lye, smoke the wool

Feel the fumes, consume toxic tunes

Hell bound, pieces for the altar fool

The ultraviolet ray machine move your body clutch

Go to pole wobble off 'til the jaw rush

Beams of light stop your breathing, it's hunting season

Honey I'm more than devil no reason

Got it close, play post winding right slow

Take your mind along 'cause tonight it's yours

Start to fade off the rap, hit my watts in my pre-amp

The champ has to be that your shit get played

At full throttle, I let propel through all my cosmos

I pack your skull like bottles, I leave you sniffing models

You fag, you couldn't pull one drag off my blunt

You couldn't place me I have a wet paper bag

What's this in your hand? Work, bitch, Mr. Rizza

I stand close to walls like number four collision

The challenge you hold up paddles blast cold flame over candles

Rap vandals, I stomp your ass like wahoo in the canyons

These cockers fan you dogs can't fuck

I pitch your lights out and leave your brain as out

It's only natural, actual facts are thrown at you

The impact blow trees back and crack statues

Million dollar rack, who's foe? Check the six inch

Listen, crystallized around so you can sniff it

We live this, fitted hats low conceal a crooked eye

No surprise verbal stick up, put 'em high

Rebel eye outlaw, split second on the draw

Blow the door off the shit like bricks of C4

It's yours, the world in the palm of your hand

It's yours, 23 million of youthful land

It's yours, the seed of the black woman

It's yours, double L people Wu-Tang Clan

It's yours