Letra 9 MM Feat. Wu Tang Clan de Ghostface Killah original

(feat. Wu-Tang Clan)Drop him off in the middle of fireDirty Island, drag bodies to the murderlandKnock niggas out hurtin' my handMethod Man>I remember in the elevators when we was playin' cornersNow we play the corners and the cops is stayin' on us, (uh)Staten's where the war iswhere the court system's running out of warrantsWhere TNT be jumping out the TaurusFor real I can't call ityou see I love Lucy cuz she LawlessExactly like that 1-0-3-0-4 isSnitch niggas swallow your tongueAlready know the island I'm fromAnd y'all don't want no problems with themGenius/GZA>We got a history, full of lightning victoriesConceptual breakthrough it ain't no mysteryLong vision, from giants in every wayRap czars, magnificent flows for every dayFrom the East to the ville, from the West to the hillsIncredible rhymes, encouraging skillFrom rat packs, the smallest crews were enormousThey hit 'em fast, with an effortless performanceMCs start fleeing in flocksEspecially those that's more sensitive to heat and shockInspektah Deck>We grindin', down to the boneMy name grounded in stoneI'm Mr. Violence we loungin' with ChromeMr. Violence we lounge in his home, hit the housing on RomeShining like a hundred thousand in stonesMove mountains with poems, got a jones for dinero1-6-zero my songs we throwin' elbowsThe hoes cling, sho thing, we know kingsOnly dime dikes, with minds right, we choose QueensMasta Killa>Yeah we wild like rockstars who smash guitarsYo son split his face with the toast, he ain't GhostIt's no joke iron coat rife him with the strokeOne toke brains float, shot to the throatBefore the smoke hit, witness the killingOn the crime sceneBody on the blockEyes open from the shockOf being popped in the neckYet he still had a lit cigarette between his fingertipsDanger when you step into the chamber with the masterDisaster, gotta blast ya, cuz I haftaU-God>The rat pack is back from the island of Stat'Leave you cursed off, cuz you worship the gatThe first one to snap drunk off the SmirnoffBlow the bouncer's ear off, let him floss he the bossHandcuffed, to the turntables like, Wizard TheodoreSee it's pure, let iy rain curly ouncesBang him with the thing that hang from the trousersYou don't want no drama, I'm flaming fastThat nigga jumped up and did the Damon Dash (Dash..)GUNSHOT>