Living In The World Today Lyrics

Living In The World Today lyrics

Intro: RZA

 

 Yo [yeah] Check it out son, check it out son

 Yo, [Wu, can I get a soo] live in the place to be

 You got the capital G

 G to the A-M-C

 Givin a mad shout out to the Ranch Crew from the old school

 And we gonna take y'all back, knowhatI'msayin?

 Lyrical sorcerors right here, the fathers, the cream of the crop son

 [Yo check it]

 

 Chorus: The Genius

 

 Well if you livin in the world today

 You be hearin the slang that the Wu-Tang say

 Niggaz that front we don't handle em

 So we blast em, alright, well OK

 

 Well if you like the way it sound then clap man

 And if the women love it too well then raise your hands

 But only raise your hands if you're Sure

 [Meth] Punk niggaz shatter like a glass jaw, break it

 

 Verse One: The Genius

 

 My rhyme gross weight vehicle combination

 was too heavy for the Chevy's is chased out the station

 Double-edged was the guillotine that beheaded it 

 gassed up, fuckin with some regular unleaded shit

 Heads roll on hillsides behind ropes that

 bind-in, X marks the spot on the scope

 Heavily armed military is necessary, it's a gamble

 MC's bet they best at every

 Powerful parable ditties might harm

 if tampered with, set off and strike like pipe bombs

 Flashbacks to the Duel of the Iron Mic

 Look out for these fatal flying spikes, of massive

 sleep-holds, put strangle on commercial angle

 Microphone cords tangled from being Star Spangled

 Now who could ever say they heard of this?

 My motherfuckin style is mad murderous

 

 Chorus: (in reverse verse)

 

 Interlude: Method Man, Genius

 

 Well what you know about MCin?

 Yo, I know a lot

 Well can you demonstrate somethin nigga?

 Huh, I'd rather not

 I'm talkin bout stacks cousin

 Nigga that's what I got

 Cash Rules the world

 Well Cash Rules the spot

 

 Verse Two: The Genius

 

 My preliminary attack keep cemetaries packed

 of niggaz who think it ain't like that

 MC's are gunned down like being run down with mad trucks

 Them God struck, religious niggaz call it bad luck

 Rap celeb, you got caught up in the web

 now bees are stingin, yo that niggaz em-singin

 I'm just swingin swords strictly based on keyboards

 Unbalanced like elephants and ants on see-saws

 I throw raps that attack like the Japs on Pearl Harbor

 MC's be out like bank robbers

 Fleeing the scene, to be a sole survivor

 DJ the getaway driver

 Tried to dip but he dive I socialize on vocal vibes

 On tracks stabbed up with razor sharp knives

 Criminal subliminal minded rappers find it

 Hard to define it, when narrow is the gate

 for fat tapes and then played out and out of date

 Then I construct my thoughts on site to renovate

 And from that point, the God made a statement

 Draftin tracements, replacements in basements

 materials in sheet-rock, to sound proof the beat box

 and microscopic optics received through the boxes

 obnoxious topic, major labels, flavor tropical

 Punchlines, that's unstoppable

 Ring like shots from glocks that attract cops

 around the clubs and try to shut down the hip-hop

 But we only increase if everything is peace

 Father U C King the police

 

 Chorus

 

 Chorus