Wu-Gambinos (feat. Ghostface Killah, Method Man, RZA & Masta Killa) - Hidden Chambers Remix

And in our line of work, we need all the help we can get

Tony Wing's the name, he works for a drug ring in Central America

Who wants to kill him?

No information, say yes or no

One point five million

Alright, you get what you want, money's no object

They're all clean, no serial numbers, untraceable

And they're explosive head bullets, your favorite

Come here, son

Come here, for a minute

Hold up, hold up, hold up, hold up

Yo, send Bobby to the store for some more baking soda

Yo, yo, yo, get your fuckin', yo this made of glass, man

Get your big Avias off my mom's table man

The fuck is wrong with you, man?

Nah, nah, see, yo, chill, man, yo, pass the Cristal man

Fuck is wrong with you, man?

Niggas is greedy man, damn

Big ass shits

Yo man, you ain't smoking no more weed in here, man

Chill man

Bobby Steels

Somebody go to the store, man, fuck that shit

Sup kid?

Get baking soda

Yo

Let's cut the pie five ways

We came off with two mil, kid

Noodles

Fast

Rollie Fingers, no doubt, coming through

La Cosa Nostra

Johnny Blaze

Lou Diamonds

Represent for my peoples

Word up, kid

Tony Starks

Universal frontier

Original bloodclaat bad boys

Who come to get you, none, they want guns

I be the first to set off shit, last to run

Wu roll together as one

I call my brother son 'cause he shine like one, check it

Scriptures hit the body like sawed-off shotty

Like my hair knotty and my nosepiece snotty

Fuck a nigga hottie, that whole pussy probably

Burn like the deserts of Mogabi, for real

Ain't nothing fraudulent here, we pioneer

Commandeer a new frontier, this be the Wu, yeah

36 Chambers of fear, huh, you lost it

Information leaking out your faucets, hmm

Time to forfeit your crown and leave the grounds

There's a new sheriff in town holding it down

It's the two holster, six-shot smoker

Wanted dead or alive, bounty on the poster

Wild in the West, a student of my culture

And life is the test, hold up

Let a nigga catch his breath

I'm still paying dues and the last one is death

Back to the essence with that shit you stressing, this rap profession

Now peep Tical, the son of the Shaolin

Isle, bless my style, criminology pays

The last times and days, Johnny fucking Blaze

This goes for niggas who know

Wu will glow like yayo, lay low

Plus cooling in Barbados

Ricans be giving me much shit to touch shit

Stay cool papa, see you with enough shit

Back at the lab-a, crack's bagged up

Yo niggas act up, what? Blow up their workers if they have to

Señoritas, fucking up a storm buying Gods margaritas

Sucking his dick, up in the whip long

Designed for rhyme crime, nigga, jail time jiggas

Them niggas up in hype Vigors lighting niggas

Silks Wally wear Figaro chain, yeah

Jakes beware of black rap millionaires

Rock Airs, leather goose, bears blowing this year

1-800-GAMBINO niggas, yeah

Wu roll together as one

I call my brother son cause he shine like one

Solid gold crown is shining, we're blinding like some diamonds

I'm reclining in the sky on a cloud with silver lining

Double breasted, bullet proof vested, well protected

The heart, the rib cage, the chest and solar plexus

Casting stones, cracking two-hundred and six bones

And watch your ass get blown to a sea of fire and brimstone

How dare you approach it with them poems

The overfiend, light nova beam green, show 'em what soldier mean

The grand exquisite imperial wizard or is it

The RZArector come to pay your ass a visit

Local bio-chemical, universal giant, the black general

Licking shots at Davy Crockett on the bicentennial

Happy Millennium two thousand microchips two shots of penicillin

Goes up your adrenalin, son, it's time for bouting

It's a model you're resembling the niggas who like following

Trapped inside your projects like a genie inside the bottle and

God stepping forth upon holy down of the track

It's the sound that surrounds and hurts me like I'm under attack

So I decided to bite down on the mic

So the pain of the track won't deny the fact that I'm the master

For what lurks, is an expert that hurts

The individual who tries to visualize under

'Cause I strike, like thunder

Niggas couldn't stand my heat, it's unbearable

My wisdom fucks up your respitorial

Systems are fractured by the killer tactics

Style is ragged and thoughts are mad jagged

Enter the entity, my vicinity

Is three hundred and sixty degrees of humidity

Represent the school of hard knocks and Glocks my

Clan is hostile and got mad moss for blocks so

Feel the force of impact from the iron side of

The gat as I attack the track

From the blind side of the pack, Starks pass the chrome

Watch a nigga get blown out his motherfucking dome-piece

Deceased, laid to rest

Who come to get you, none, they want guns

I be the first to set off shit, last to run

Wu roll together as one

I call my brother son 'cause he shine like one

Yo, ayo, I got to serve them my way, move give me room

Holding up your saloon, clean sweep, like a broom

Full moons make me howl like a wolf out of breath

Soley on Wu cords you heard Genius on Gef

So step back to the lab at high velocity

My team make hand-to-hand sales, we're like a pharmacy

Fuck Geraldo, Pablo's plan bro is Bravo

Goodfellas we know, best sellers become novels

The man rocking head bands, silk scarves and jams

Early 80's British Walkers, playboys, mocks and shams

The laser beam vocalist does well at symphonies

Bad days, watch me snatch ice right outta Tiffany's

Remember them kids that came off with eight million

Robbed the Brinks and I labelled in royal pavilions

Them flower heads must have been stupid

Tell me how the fuck black niggas get caught with all that loot, kid

There's jet money, underground money

Submarines and rings, too bad you fucked up, dummies

Cosa, Cosa

Come on