"Heaterz" lyrics - WU-TANG CLAN

[Intro: Raekwon]
Hang glide for my nigga Tical
Yo, word to God we run this whole shit son (no doubt)
Right that's my word
Guaranteed you're dealing with the invincible (no doubt)
(I'm specialized in swordsmanship)
That's my word, Persian Legacy one time, one time
That's the science of the black man
Stationary niggas, have fun on this right here
Yo Shorty cross your arms
Gonna rock niggas to sleep this year (throw your leather up)

[Verse 1: Raekwon]
Blade thrower, sword swinga, killa bee ringer
Rocky road roll dark greener
Cream fademas, name your God-U Kareema
Shout out Medina, federaloes Noxzema
Me, jewelery cleaner Million Man March screamers
Ray Catena, cut your joint Wolverine
The Longines, wrapped around the wrist, law seen her
How I got that yo, threw out the macker named Gina
Bust a shot, seen her, it richocheted, tapped Tina
Now I'm out, lampin in Korea with Talima
We moseyin, sweatsuit Adidas, best believe
I got the black heater little joint, probably Moschino
Yo Bobby Robby whattup, Max tried to follow me
Sadaam loungin, clean up collect, like the laundry
It's time yo swerve like the Nike line
Windbreaker Laker throw a jump shot scrape her
Statuary yo floatin that snatch-uary
Aiyyo, blow a hole in your limo, weed pass the dutch

[Verse 2: Inspectah Deck]
Yo this is MC wizardry, killa bee invasion
Men of respect, blessed with wisdom of the ancients
My words are blatant, lacerate necks for statements
I launch like lead projectiles, straight out the basement
I suplex your rep, left ruined like the Aztecs
Parasites, double edge dice your larynx
My hip-hop, is quarantined locked inside the detox
Under key lock, it's like b-block and E-Glocks
You're ill, your trail ends, thoughts are frail
I strike the cypher, and let one survive to tell the tale
Of my state of grace, I raise the stakes on snakes
Knock em off like the big eights for takin up space
Never did fear em, stick em with the truth serum
Who sent em, arrest em before my charge is ended
Designated hitter flows split the transistor
Kinetic globes light when it shine, burns your retina
Urban journal, plus eternal broadcaster
Before and after, I be Self Lord And Master

[Verse 3: Ol Dirty Bastard]
I be the Ironside, get touched, with the chloride
Take walk with the Nine-Finger bandits worldwide
Shaolin hillside, full of homicides
FUCK you dissatisfied the double dyed black brown iodine

[Verse 4: U-God]
Yo, box talk sequence, powerhouse kickout
Eyes dusty, wet, butt-naked with my dick out
I'm direct, golden best, golden chest is blessed
Scarce chapter, snatch a batch of Winterfresh
It sound farfetched, mountain men that be rich
You get buckshot, dummy-clapped, mummy-wrapped and stitched
The Jeffrey Dahmer Notre Dame-r sing the song the strongest
Brute force bullethole straight through your chorus
Shank you with the think tank, harmony cake cut
A can of ass-whoopin', Flurry shake break, you fucks
Struck, love crooks, waffle iron hooks
Chef cocaine cook, a marvelous book
This deathbed doctrine, paper for the youth
What remains, a saber-toothed tiger in the booth

[Verse 5: Cappadonna]
Last night, I took a trip down to Crown Heights
Fast life, females are trife, stay tight
I detect that parasite, satellite
RZA beat makes me wanna fight get hyped
Come to do shows my slang sound write secretary type
Backflip on the mic, I'm the poor black man
Working hard for the grand, I understand clear
Don't fear, peep my new gear it's different from yours
My style drop like drawers, you see me on tours
Don't you wait to say peace, the kid from the street
Put my technology on the track, just then the core attack
Wu article, Cappa, five, CD attack
But my talk stage live killa beehive
Bermuda my life angle, rectangle gold fronts
Bring the gold bangle, never make me throw darts
Check out my arts, when I release my smarts
Hot like Pop Tarts, aim me at the charts

Music stops[Outro: Dom Pachino & some woman]
Dom P: It's gonna stay here. Let you use me
Woman: Yo relax, now just relax for real
Relax, you all tensed up
Act like a motherfucker ready to cut your throat or some shit
Dom P: Nah I'm not gonna let happen
You smell good and all that too man
What you got on?
Woman: Victoria's Secret
Dom P: That's how you get down?
You always do me right, man
A-yo, go down a little bit
Woman: down?
Dom P: Yeah, get down, do it lower
Yeah, yeah, yeah around there damn man
Woman: Your ass is tense
Dom P: I know
Shit-shit is real for a nigga right now, know what I mean?
I'm telling my niggas man
Nobody be doing me like shorty
Every time I go over to shorty lab
She cook me something know what I mean?
Treat a nigga right
Rub me down with that Coco lotion
You doing me right
You doing me right, right now
I'm telling you
Woman: You home nigga
Dom P: Yo, he Shampoo for a nigga right there