Текст песни Wu-Tang: 7th Chamber - Pt. 2 (Wu-Tang Clan) с переводом

Yo Meth, hold up, hold up

Yo Meth, where my Killer tape at, God?

First of all, where my… where the fuck is my tape at?

Yo son, I ain’t got that piece, son

How you ain’t got my shit when I let you hold it, man?

Yo, niggas came over to have 40s and blunts, kid

The shit just came up missing, son

Come on, man, that don’t got nothing to do with my shit, man

Come on, man, go head with that shit, man

Come on, man, I’ll buy you four more fucking Killer tapes, man

Open the door man, what the fuck, man?

Yo, what? What’s up?

Yo, yo God, word is bond, yo

Shameek just got bust in his head two times, God!

Word to mother!

Word life, God. You know Shameek from fucking 212, God?

The nigga just got bucked

Niggas in a black Land, God, word is bond

Came through, God, from out of nowhere, God

Word is bond I’m coming to get my Culture Cipher, God

And they just… word is bond, crazy shots just went the fuck off, God

Niggas let off crazy shots, kid

The nigga laying there like a fucking newborn fucking baby, God

Word up!

Is he dead?

Is he fucking dead? What the fuck you mean is he fucking dead, God?

What the fuck kind of question is that, B? Fuck you think?

The nigga laying there with his fucking…

All types of fucking blood coming out of his fucking…

(sarcastically) Is he is he is he dead?

Yo God, what’s up God? It’s the God, God, word is bond

Yo what’s up I’m ready to fucking lay…

I’m ready to get busy, God, what’s up?

Yo let’s go do what we got…

What’s up, yo?

Yo let’s go do what we gotta do, man, fuck it

Yo, we out or what, man?

It’s the God, God, fuck that, man

You saying we out?

They probably took the tape

What the fuck?

Nigga still sweating the tape, man

What the fuck is you talking about? Get the fuck outta here

Fucking corn

Good Morning Vietnam!

Yeah, good morning to all you motherfucking knotty-headed niggas

Yo to the camouflage large niggas

Bitch, where the fuck is my bottle?

Bring that fucking meth in here

Yo yo yo yo

Now we gonna drink some good Night train

Champion gear that I rock, you get your boots knocked

Then attack you like a pit then lock shit down

As I come and freaks the sound

Hardcore, but giving you more and more like ding!

Nah shorty, get you open like six packs

Killa Beez attack, flipping what, murder one

Fat tracks aight, I kick it like a Nike Flight

Word life, I get that ass robbed on spite

Check the method from Bedrock cause I rock your head to bed

Just like rocking what? Twin Glocks

Shake the ground while my beats just break you down

Raw sound, going to war right now

So, yo, bombing, We Usually Take All Niggas Garments

Save your breath before I vomit

I be that insane nigga from the psycho ward

I’m on the trigger plus I got the Wu-Tang sword

So how you figure that you can even fuck with mine?

Hey, yo, RZA! Hit me with that shit one time

And pull a foul, niggas save the beef for the cow

I’m milking this ho, this is my show, Tical

The fuck you wanna do for this mic piece, duke?

I’m like a sniper, hyper off the ginseng root

PLO Style, buddha monks with the owls

Now who’s the fucking man? Meth-Tical

On the chessbox

«Wu-Tang style»

I leave the mic in body bags, my rap style has

The force to leave you lost like the tribe of Shabazz

Murderous material made by a madman

It’s the mic wrecker, Inspectah, bad man

From the bad lands of the killer

Rap fanatic representing with the skill that’s iller

Dare to compare, get pierced just like your ear

The Shooby Doo-Wop pop strictly hardware

Armed and geared cause I just broke out the prison

Charged by the system for murdering the rhythm

Now lo and behold another deadly episode

Bound to catch another fucking charge when I explode

Slamming a hype-ass verse till your head burst

I ramshack dead in the track and that’s that

Rap assassin, fast and quick to blast and hardrock

I ran up in spots like Fort Knox

I’m hot, top notch, Ghost thinks with logic

Flashbacks how I attacked your whole project

I’m raw, I’m rugged and raw, I repeat

If I die, my seed’ll be ill like me

Approaching me, yo out of respect, chops to neck

I get vexed, like crashing up a phat-ass Lex

So clear the way, make way, yo! Open the cage

Peace, I’m out, jetting like a runaway slave

You’re getting stripped from your garments boy, run your jewels

All the meth got me open like fallopian tubes

I bring death to a snake when he least expect

Ain’t a damn thing changed boy, Protect Ya Neck

Ruler Zig-Zag-Zig Allah jam is fatal

Quick to stick my Wu-Tang sword right through your navel

Suspenseful force being brought through my utensil

The pencil, I bring strong winds up against you

Havoc, then run up through your county like the Maverick

Caps through the tablets, I gots to make the fabrics

A-a-a-ah-ah are you a warrior killer slicing shit like a samurai?

The Ol' Dirty Bastard from the bar

Ol' Dirty clan of terrorists

Coming at your ass like a sorceress, shooting that piss

Niggas be getting on my fucking nerves

Rhymes they be kicking make me wanna kick their fucking ass to the curb

Boy got funky fresh like the Old Specialist

A carrier, messenger, bury ya

This experience is for the whole experience

Let it be applied, Unique drop that science

M-M-My clan is thick like plaster, bust ya, slash ya

Slit a nigga back like a Dutch Master killer

Style jumped off in Killa Hilla

I was the thriller in the Ali-Frazier Manila

I came down with phat tracks that combine and interlock

Like getting smashed by a cinder block

Pow! Now it’s all over

Niggas seeing pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars and green clovers