Wu-Tang Clan - Cash Still Rules/Scary Hours (Still Don’t Nothing Move but the Money) lyrics
[Wu-Tang Clan - Cash Still Rules/Scary Hours Still Don’t Nothing Move but the Money lyrics]
Shake them niggas
Scary hours no money out
Smash the Guinness Stout
Play the outfield, Lucille
Switched cracks on shields
She's a rich fiend sacrifice her
Fam shift them niggas to Queens
Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone
Regulate with well known Tone
A Wally kingpin who also
Slam the strike edition
What up? Corleone smoke the bone
Tone phone me
What up? He tried to slang there
Address him with chrome only
Grady with the gray beard
Transporting for him
Rocking Nike Air, Rastafarian bird
Piping that switchin Benzes
Ten carat nigga with gold lenses
Fronting like he's sitting on a lump
He's sitting on junk you wanna pull a heist
Draw guns and robberies
You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies
Names arraigned, they're Century Fox
Little Glocks
Them niggas with stocks, wheelyin' blocks
Rich lifestyle
Spoiled like an ordinary white child
But right now, Sun it still shine
Shed light now breakdown, liquidate God
Fucking grab the nickel plate
'Spencer: For Hire'
Tension when we mention Dryer
He's a slave cop, behave pop
Isuzu Beige Top will blow that cat
At the Purple Haze spot
I remember sticking fiends at the one-six ooh
When we was starving, ducking five oh
Paying 'em dues
Times is hard in the slums I'm from
They got us barred in
We warring and cage dodging
Ripping and robbing
Got the NARC sabotaging, slipping cracks in
Your camouflaging
Now you snitching on the squadron
That's something niggas can't pardon
City overrun by young gun with bad
Intention and Wu Wear garment
So I see no need to mention, the potency
Of a sting from a killa bee
Kicking the battery
Out the back of them wisecracks
Distorted for your get high, you hijack
These friendly skies ain't for you
They for me and mine
This the year of the grimy nigga, ragtime
Keep these niggas on the run
Peep my Clan emblem
Iron Lung ain't got to tell
You where it's coming from
Catch us swimming with these sharks now
You rap villains
(I feel the same way you niggas feeling)
We feel the same way you feeling
Let it be known (let it be known)
What the blood clot you niggas dealing
You crash dummies cash rules
Still don't nothing move but the money
Aiyyo strongarm that kid right
There with wavy hair
Billy Johnson snatched him out his
Whip in Times Square
Took his Pumas, nameplate, dude lost weight
Summer '88, started a fight, that can't wait
Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marcy
Blazing that Ted Rossi up in The Marquees
He lost like a hundred ounces
Jake rushed his houses
Had him on the porch, ass no trousers
This souped up, individual stuck
The new stuff same kid crying on the
Stand with Judge Kuffner
Kissed him with odd numbers
Three to nine style
Before he left he flashing
His face like Denzel
Richard Dale took his Beaver
Un threw up all in his whip
Mussy dropped and split his
Wig with the heater
His shape-up was all fucked up
Heze had me laughing
God you see how he was laid out in the grass
With dirt in his mouth
Slim woke him up told him he wild out
Blood leaking from his teeth he
Smiled like he gummed out
Big bolo, stacking his shit, financed a Volvo
He copped his shit from a
Small coffee shop in SoHo he still pussy
He sell his dust up on the Lower East
Posing like he rapping out
Scary hours no money out
Smash the Guinness Stout
Play the outfield, Lucille
Switched cracks on shields
She's a rich fiend sacrifice her
Fam shift them niggas to Queens
Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone
Regulate with well known Tone
A Wally kingpin who also
Slam the strike edition
What up? Corleone smoke the bone
Tone phone me
What up? He tried to slang there
Address him with chrome only
Grady with the gray beard
Transporting for him
Rocking Nike Air, Rastafarian bird
Piping that switchin Benzes
Ten carat nigga with gold lenses
Fronting like he's sitting on a lump
He's sitting on junk you wanna pull a heist
Draw guns and robberies
You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies
Names arraigned, they're Century Fox
Little Glocks
Them niggas with stocks, wheelyin' blocks
Rich lifestyle
Spoiled like an ordinary white child
But right now, Sun it still shine
Shed light now breakdown, liquidate God
Fucking grab the nickel plate
'Spencer: For Hire'
Tension when we mention Dryer
He's a slave cop, behave pop
Isuzu Beige Top will blow that cat
At the Purple Haze spot
I remember sticking fiends at the one-six ooh
When we was starving, ducking five oh
Paying 'em dues
Times is hard in the slums I'm from
They got us barred in
We warring and cage dodging
Ripping and robbing
Got the NARC sabotaging, slipping cracks in
Your camouflaging
Now you snitching on the squadron
That's something niggas can't pardon
City overrun by young gun with bad
Intention and Wu Wear garment
So I see no need to mention, the potency
Of a sting from a killa bee
Kicking the battery
Out the back of them wisecracks
Distorted for your get high, you hijack
These friendly skies ain't for you
They for me and mine
This the year of the grimy nigga, ragtime
Keep these niggas on the run
Peep my Clan emblem
Iron Lung ain't got to tell
You where it's coming from
Catch us swimming with these sharks now
You rap villains
(I feel the same way you niggas feeling)
We feel the same way you feeling
Let it be known (let it be known)
What the blood clot you niggas dealing
You crash dummies cash rules
Still don't nothing move but the money
Aiyyo strongarm that kid right
There with wavy hair
Billy Johnson snatched him out his
Whip in Times Square
Took his Pumas, nameplate, dude lost weight
Summer '88, started a fight, that can't wait
Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marcy
Blazing that Ted Rossi up in The Marquees
He lost like a hundred ounces
Jake rushed his houses
Had him on the porch, ass no trousers
This souped up, individual stuck
The new stuff same kid crying on the
Stand with Judge Kuffner
Kissed him with odd numbers
Three to nine style
Before he left he flashing
His face like Denzel
Richard Dale took his Beaver
Un threw up all in his whip
Mussy dropped and split his
Wig with the heater
His shape-up was all fucked up
Heze had me laughing
God you see how he was laid out in the grass
With dirt in his mouth
Slim woke him up told him he wild out
Blood leaking from his teeth he
Smiled like he gummed out
Big bolo, stacking his shit, financed a Volvo
He copped his shit from a
Small coffee shop in SoHo he still pussy
He sell his dust up on the Lower East
Posing like he rapping out