Artist: Wu-Tang
Clan
Song: Da Mystery
Of Chessboxin'
Album: Enter The
Wu-Tang [36 Chambers]. 1993
Corrections by:
Joe Berhan. Note: These corrections are focused on capturing the M.C.'s true
intentions. Although there are numerous errors in the lyrics entered in the
Hip Hop Archives, Joe has focused only on significant errors in word choice,
etc. 3/22/01
The game of chess
is like a sword fight. You must think first before you move.
Wu style is immensely
stron', and immune to nearly any weapon.
When it's properly
used, it's almost invincible.
Verse One: U-God
Raw imma give
it to ya, with no trivia
raw like cocaine
straight from Bolivia.
My hip hop will
rock and shock the nation
like the Emancipation
Proclamation.
Weak MC's approach
with slang that's dead
You might as well
run into the wall and bang your head.
I'm pushin' force;
my force you're doubtin'.
I'm makin' devils
cower to the Caucus Mountains
Verse Two: Inspector
Deck
Well I'm Messiah.
I set the microphone on fire.
Rap styles vary,
and carry like Mariah.
I come from the
shaolin slum, and the isle I'm from
Is comin through
with nuff niggaz, and nuff guns.
So if you wanna
come sweatin, stressin contesting
You'll catch a
sharp sword to the midsection.
Don't talk the
talk, if you can't walk the walk.
Phony niggaz are
outlined in chalk.
I'm mad vexed,
that's what the projects made me.
Rebel to the grain,
there's no way to barricade me.
Steamrollin niggas
like a 18 wheeler;
with the drunk
driver drivin, there's no survivin.
Verse Three: Raekwon
the Chef
Ruff like Timberland
wear, yeah,
me and the Clan,
and yo the Landcruisers out there,
peace to all the
crooks, all the niggaz with bad looks
bald heads, braids,
blow this hook.
We got chrome
Techs, nickel plated Macs
Black Acs, drug
dealin'styles in fat stacks.
I only been a
good nigga for a minute though,
cuz I got to get
my props, and win it yo.
I got beef wit
commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth
Lampin in a Lexus
seat, and B.
Straight up and
down don't even bother
I got forty niggaz
up in here now who kill niggaz fathers.
Chorus: Method
Man
My peoples are
you with me where you at?
In the front,
in the back killa-bees on attack.
My peoples are
you with me where you at?
Smokin meth, hittin
cats on the block with the gats.
Verse Four: Ol
Dirty Bastard
Here I go, deep
type flow.
Jacque Cousteau
could never get this low.
I'm cherry bombin'
shits...BOOM
Just warmin up
a little bit, vroom vroom
Rappinin is what's
happenin.
Keep the pockets
stacked and then hands clappin and
at the party when
I move my body
gotta get up,
and be somebody.
Grab the microphone.
Put strength to the bone.
DUH-DUH-DUH...enter
the Wu-Tang zone.
Sure enough when
I rock that stuff
huff puff. I'm
gonna catch your bluff tuff.
Rough, kickin
rhymes like Jim Kelly
or Alex Haley
im a Mi-..Beetle Bailey rhymes.
Comin raw style,
hardcore
Niggas be comin
to the hip-hop store.
Comin to buy grocery
from me,
Tryin to be a
hip-hop MC.
The law, in order
to enter the Wu-Tang
You must bring
the Ol Dirty Bastard type slang.
Represent the
GZA, Abbot, RZA, Raekwan, Inspecta Deck .
Dirty hoe gettin
low wit his flow.
Introducin' the
Ghostface Killer.
No one could get
illa.
Chorus
Verse Five: Ghost
Face Killer
Speakin of the
devil, syke, no it's the God, get the shit right.
Mega trife, and
yo, I killed you in a past life.
On the mic while
you was kickin that fast shit
you renegged,
tried again, and got blasted.
Half mastered
ass style, mad ruff task,
When I struck
I had on Tims and a black mask.
Remember that
shit? I know you don't remember jack.
That night,yo
I wuz sitting like a spiked bat,
and then you thought
I was bugged out and crazy,
Strapped for nonsense.
After me became lazy.
Yo, nobody budge
while I shot slugs.
Never shot duds,
I'm runnin with thugs that flood mugs,
So grab your eight
plus one, start flippin and trippin
niggas is jettin
I'm lickin off son.
[Wu, Tang, Wu,
Tang, Wu, Tang, Wu, Tang!!!!]
Verse Six: Master
Killer
Homicide's illegal
and death is the penalty.
What justifies
the homicide, when he dies?
In his own iniquity
it's the
Master of the
Mantis Rapture comin at cha.
We have an APB
on an MC Killer.
Look like the
work of a Master.
Evidence indicates
that's it's stature
Merciless like
a terrorist hard to capture.
The flow changes
like a chameleon,
Plays like a friend,
and stabs you like a dagger.
This technique
attacks the immune system.
Disguised like
a lie paralyzin the victim,
You scream, as
it enters your bloodstream,
Erupts your brain
from the pain these thoughts contain,
Movin on a nigga
with the speed of a centipede
and injure ANY
MOTHAFUCKIN CONTENDERS
Chorus