WU-TANG CLAN

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Cobra Clutch Lyrics

Lyrics Font

Wu-Tang Clan : Cobra Clutch Lyrics

Songwriters: N/A

. Send "Cobra Clutch" Ringtone to your Cell .

Yo, yeah bitch Aiyyo, motherfucker Aiyyo, swallow it Aiyyo we dazzle off this bloody version of 'Glaciers' Say no more, my back be parked against the wall Slang shot threw a gem in his mouth, swallowed his razor (wsssht) Take off the bracelets, don't get blinded by the ice Boo Trooper square holding, 'Face don't give a fuck about the law It's not cool, Veronica slept, plus the decimal Look at my jumper logo look familiar? It's Power (Where is he?) Yo every fine snitch knocks an inch off Eddie Bauer No cock-blockin, supreme clientele, till I'm droppin Gucci sneaker rockin just another form of 'Chessboxin' Kangol slanted, Ghost'll ran with it, hippie hung-out Club bandit never empty-handed when I brand it Mark callin Austin, Mark callin Austin down in Boston Both of them dead, cop in the loft and Street whylin, Role' with the four-finger glidin big chain swingin nigga, Matchbox car drivin Watch him, scorchin with spells and top toxin Switched from Pert Plus, escrow on the side throw in sun trust Amoxins til the stock skyrocket, Bobby Mocassin yo word up, born-to-be right behind the curtain with her nose out Ghost'll keep shinin til the sun bust Featherhead heathens, teethin on mic dicks When thy said, "Let the kids die for your bread nigga!" Sixty center get the Rover out 'Who is these righteous motherfuckers with they flags out?' Yo, promoters don't want us in clubs because we spaz out Allah's best, puttin on the hits is no contest Stapleton Projects, recognize you're lookin at NOW, who the hypest in New York City? WU-TANG! Radio stop shittin on me! Now if they all get bitch troubles I starve "I got fifty men out in the street Is that it? Is that what you're tryin to tell me?" [Superfly] Hold it down honey-shallah rock the half man Gumby Aiyyo, the moccasin money, one man behind the plate Twisted, the mime of the floods, niggaz spell drama one oh five point six llama Cosmetic classical, slum is shield, Milagro Beanfield Watch me inhale half of you, new attributes Teletronics, DBX, one sixty X with jasmine bits, five hundred rap battin average Compression with the A and sharp press Extract bass in which the gooey dew drips, vanilla suckle One taste the bowl and blow up magic, Houdini escapes Speaking to the First of April's, deep in the rap game from the fermenting hell halls of tragic Erasial, Excedrin head bredderns catch facials Get off on the ?Clove? Exit, knees dirty, chick now Side orders, one telephone for take out Stomp your man half to death rob him then we break it with low leverage, watch it how she lick the head of me Cause it's law, order today, we pay dues New Tomorrow's, Rubik's Cube money in a tube Deck the Halls, crush salary dice that's in ? hall Hey y'all Peppermint Pattie's, slum my Peter Paul Wrangler, straight laid the track when it's sag with one banger, interlude loop caused me to hang up Standin in the rain and can't find they whips Ticklish, Crunchberry niggaz at the flicks pissed off Suckers! Motherfucker! Yo Yo, promoters don't want us in clubs because we spaz out Stapleton Projects, recognize you're lookin at 'Who is these righteous motherfuckers with they flags out?' NOW, who the hypest in New York City? Allah's best, puttin on the hits is no contest WU-TANG! Radio stop shittin on me!