WU-TANG CLAN lyrics :
"Cash Still Rules / Scary Hours (Still Don't Nothing Move But The Money)"
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[Raekwon]
Shake them niggaz
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 niggaz
to Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known tone
A Wally kingpin, who also slam and strike edition
Whattup, Corleone smoke the bone Tone phone me
Whattup he tried to slang there, address him with chrome only
Grady with the gray beard, transport for him
Rockin Nike at? Rastafarianburg, pipin that
Switchin Benzes, ten carat nigga with gold lenses
Frontin like he's sittin on a lump he's sittin on junk
You wanna pull a heist, draw guns and robberies
You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies
Names arraigned, the century fox, little glocks
Them niggaz with stocks, wail on your blocks
Rich lifestyle, spoiled like an ordinary white child
But right now, Son is still shine, shed light now
Breakdown, liquidate God, fuck it grab the nickel plate
Spencer for Hire, tension when we mention Dryer
He's a slave cop, behave pop
Blue suits who bay stop us blow that cat
at the Purple Haze spot
[Method Man]
I remember stickin fiends at the one-six-ooh
when we was starvin, duckin five-oh, payin em dues
Times is hard in the slums I'm from, they got us barred in
We warrin and cage dodgin, rippin and robbin
Got the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in
your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron
That's somethin niggaz 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, kickin 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 niggaz on the run, peep my Clan emblem
Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's comin from
Catch us swimmin with these sharks now, you rap villains
(I feel the same way you niggaz feelin)
We feel the same way you feelin, let it be known (let it be known)
[together] What the blood clot you niggaz dealin, you crash dummies
Cash rules, still don't nuttin move but the money
[Ghostface]
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 eighty-eight, started a fight, that can't wait
Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marsey
Blazin that Tad Rossi, up in the Marquis
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 cryin on the stand with Judge Cuffner
Kissed him with art num it's three to nine style
Before he left he flashin his face like Denzel
Richard Dale took his Beaver, off the wall pullin his whip
Mussy dropped and split his wig with the heater
His shape-up was all fucked up, as he had me laughin
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 leakin from his teeth he smiled like he gunned out
Big bolo, stackin his shit financed a Volvo
He copped his shit from a small, coffeeshop in SoHo
He still pussy, he sell his dust up on the Lower East
Posin like he rappin out...
Send "Cash Still Rules / Scary Hours (Still Don't Nothing Move But The Money)" Ringtone to your Cell
Shake them niggaz
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 niggaz
to Queens, Guess jeans she charged thirty-five beans
Hit the cell phone, regulate with well known tone
A Wally kingpin, who also slam and strike edition
Whattup, Corleone smoke the bone Tone phone me
Whattup he tried to slang there, address him with chrome only
Grady with the gray beard, transport for him
Rockin Nike at? Rastafarianburg, pipin that
Switchin Benzes, ten carat nigga with gold lenses
Frontin like he's sittin on a lump he's sittin on junk
You wanna pull a heist, draw guns and robberies
You wanna rock rep, step in yellow Wallabies
Names arraigned, the century fox, little glocks
Them niggaz with stocks, wail on your blocks
Rich lifestyle, spoiled like an ordinary white child
But right now, Son is still shine, shed light now
Breakdown, liquidate God, fuck it grab the nickel plate
Spencer for Hire, tension when we mention Dryer
He's a slave cop, behave pop
Blue suits who bay stop us blow that cat
at the Purple Haze spot
[Method Man]
I remember stickin fiends at the one-six-ooh
when we was starvin, duckin five-oh, payin em dues
Times is hard in the slums I'm from, they got us barred in
We warrin and cage dodgin, rippin and robbin
Got the NARC sabotagin, slippin cracks in
your camoflougin, now you snitchin on the squadron
That's somethin niggaz 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, kickin 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 niggaz on the run, peep my Clan emblem
Iron Lung ain't got to tell you where it's comin from
Catch us swimmin with these sharks now, you rap villains
(I feel the same way you niggaz feelin)
We feel the same way you feelin, let it be known (let it be known)
[together] What the blood clot you niggaz dealin, you crash dummies
Cash rules, still don't nuttin move but the money
[Ghostface]
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 eighty-eight, started a fight, that can't wait
Ask Dorothy, same kid pussy up in Marsey
Blazin that Tad Rossi, up in the Marquis
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 cryin on the stand with Judge Cuffner
Kissed him with art num it's three to nine style
Before he left he flashin his face like Denzel
Richard Dale took his Beaver, off the wall pullin his whip
Mussy dropped and split his wig with the heater
His shape-up was all fucked up, as he had me laughin
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 leakin from his teeth he smiled like he gunned out
Big bolo, stackin his shit financed a Volvo
He copped his shit from a small, coffeeshop in SoHo
He still pussy, he sell his dust up on the Lower East
Posin like he rappin out...
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