Wu-Tang Clan - Rushing Elephants lyrics

Yo, yo, yo, what up kid?
Yo, these niggas is back, son
(yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
I'm telling you, spit that, done it nigga
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, I seen
It like a Zenith, man
You hear me man? Word up, man
Ya'll know what it is
It's on again, man, for real, Top Gun
What what

Aiyo, we came through thumping like elephants
The new Range is super-charged
I remains intelligent
Back to the formula, lord, hard grammar
This is God school
Make sure the lobby ain't jammed up
Excalibur swords, T-Rexes, bibles of rhymes
We in the lunchroom
We eat veggies for breakfast
Polo campus, sicker lances, the crisp


Hundred dollar kick niggas
That be showing you dance steps
Back to the dormatory, where niggas
Broke my forearm and index finger
Now you write glory true holding my flag
It's all engraved in my blade
So when I wave it, you gon' say Rae mad
Now it's 28 Days Later, now
Wu's up, do something, you can't
It's blood in my eye, I might get amped
To rip something down
The billboard holders is back
So when you see me, you gon' say he gets down

From darkness to DNA, I move with my brother
And we resonate, energy that shifts in colors
Bringing MC's punishment
Then I'm done with it
The meter leave way on the fast break
I run with it
It was not a hobby, but a childhood passion
That had started in the lobby
And was quicky fashioned
Every line to line, bar for bar is clockwork
Hazardous and powerful enough to
Have your block hurt
Check the total amount of MC's inflicted
With torture
From moving with work that's restricted
We criticize producers til they
Joints are right
Then acupuncture the track with
Pinpoints of light hitting them from well
Conceiled firing positions
With explosiveness that'll make
The deaf listen drastic, pyroclastic
Connected with the same old
Down the dangerous slopes of
An active volcano

Blitz like the Green Bay Packers
Sack like the linebackers
Hang with niggas, like redneck crackers
Strangle cold bottles of Beck's
Like a vexed German
Duck low behind the car, my tech burning
Neck burning, from eight karats of sunlight
Absorbed, in the grill, Big Pun like
Lord of the Wu Tang sword
Know what that means?
Like JR tolkien, it's the Lord of the Rings
This is my man, Chef, auto
Like Grand Theft Auto the 18th letter
Followed by the mark of Zorro
Plus A, not for apple, but I pack an apple
Shorty try to buck back
And knock me off the saddle
Caramel, pecan, sundae, praline
Plump breasts, was filled with saline
Her big booty cousin, nasty Nadine
Get you on the floor
Whore tried to double team

Is he still that nucca? Is he
In the hood like that?
Is he really strapped? Will he
Really split yo' shit?
I thought you said he rap?
Pull up in the yard, ten sets
He ain't flexing, microphone ripping
Heat holding
Who testing? Rope-a dope his black lotus
Can't quote this, chat with the sword tongue
Duck when the axe is swinging
Wild Apache drum
Crazy Horse kicking his thoughts
He won't quit
Can't tell 'em nothing, he grown
Give the man room space was demanded
Beat banging through the speaker
Voice, heat seek missle
Guided at the listener swing to the gospel
Catch up and wet at the brothel
Unstoppable, direction of my flow, optional
To the ear, depending on the current of air
The crowd's in