Clap Lyrics by Wu-Tang Clan

Clap Lyrics

    [Raekwon]
    Call it the Hollow Bone syndrome line
    Select sweet nine, face this, watch his whole face lift
    Bracelets, murder niggas, luxurious, banks I was draped
    Caked out, half a million dollars in coats
    Flows is genetic, the Corleone connection in all
    Selection, stock brokers with coats on
    Make coke suggestion, all twin glizzies
    Fireman, Gucci boots on, sideways action, murder niggas fear me yo
    Cash that he did Clinton, rentin his mother crib out
    We send organize the Bill of Rights get lid
    Drugs that Hendrix was on, conversatin like the Dutch
    Richie Conaway, Goodfellas who honor Rae
    Flows that blow thru your roll and Holland
    Everybody now, trip up niggas, in clicks we posin rhyme black
    Half the year, half my niggas sittin upstairs
    Takin pictures of ya niggas wack gear

    [Chorus: Ghostface Killah (U-God)]
    Listen to the (Clap)
    Real niggas (Clap)
    Rich niggas (Clap)
    My bitches (Clap)
    If you love pussy then y'all niggas (Clap)
    If you love to get ate, then ya ladies (Clap)
    If you real fucked up, then ya'll niggas (Clap)
    If you bare witness to Allah y'all (Clap)
    Aiyo you see me on the big screen y'all niggas Clap
    (Jeans with a gangster lean, y'all Clap)
    Good hats, sloppy automatics that Clap
    (Big shit, thunder) Get around that

    [Ghostface Killah]
    Porcelain floors with a dog named Ginger
    Bottle cap niggas that rhyme, we the winners
    Then slide thru your hood in hoods
    Me, Cliff, Patrick, Gary Grice and my man C. Woods
    Holdin up gorilla, two niggas got a hold that shit
    One shot and ya mans on it
    The little kids watch from down the block
    Jury box, murder hop, six stash botch, fit hit the ran spots
    Spit at the statue with cash and throw dough at it
    Fuck bitches raw, why? cuz I'm a pro at it
    Big birds danglin, cameras snatch, flash and pop from every angle and
    2000 Mark Damon'in

    [Hook: Method Man]
    Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap
    Clap, Clap ya hands now, Clap, Clap, Clap ya hands now
    People Clap ya hands

    [Method Man]
    I drink till I'm drunk,
    smoke skunk with my stinkin ass, smell the funk
    Eekin out the pours, cum stain, shitty drawers
    Pissin down ya elevators shaft, no class, writin graf' on ya walls
    It be us, fuck ya law, niggas my cause is "because"
    No yin to my yang, it's a black thing
    Used to be in chains, now we snatch chains
    Took the crack game applied it to the rap game, y'all
    Pop quiz, now, what artist hits the hardest?
    Ya down with the syndrome: retarded
    I think it was them swordsmen,
    place them chess pieces on the boards and
    Take it to square, this ain't no Yakool affair
    Or a New World Disorder, got us, fuckin the coal miner's daughter
    That y'all, but not us

    [Chorus]

    [Outro: kung fu sample]
    During this time, I intend to teach you the Shaolin poem
    The rules and commandments, that void, deceit
    Cruelty and unkindness, always help the weak
    Never despise the poor, always respect yourself

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