Onyx - The Worst Lyrics
Wu-tang, wu-tang, onyx, onyx (x3)[raekwon]Eh, yoStaircases to stage now, major waves tanktopNautica, flippin your daughter 30 waysYeah, who want mine, bent outta shape one timePlay em all starin at your beautiful sunshineWatch my shit shit, niggaz in the back, wigs litYou know the stats god, niggaz in the back, backs litWar drug raps, thug hats and mobb hatsSpit on that cat, this yellow love, nigga *****in with a rich catMy shit now 5 feet 6, with a crisp hatPlus this throwin now on 30 bricks, niggaz is with thatYo, fedrados rock my man, yo300 thousand dollars in a bottle, ***** mad as hollowMy techinique, roller in the road, gold leagueYou know the code read, suitcase money, stole heatRock madbys stole 100 dollar bags, thoughThat nigga grabbed me, gamin himself like milton bradley[fredro starr, (x-1)]Yo, this semi-automatic, glock this and lock thisHeat spots can knock it, its so hot chicks is toplessRims are spotless, chrome rims spin obnoxtiousYou knock this, bust a shotDont miss, you better knock this(x-1 while out and watch thisTil your eyes turn red with blotchesEatin scraps out the garbageUnload a cartridge and bust a capX could never trust a cat, onyx is as hot as it gets*****es *****in for free, is outta the questBlow blood outta your flesh, your body outta your vest)I cross the heat from across the streetFly you up off your feet, you die leaving short but sweetStreet crime, time is money, nigga dont waist mineDispose my 9, throwin your shine, your froze in timeLookin to death, holdin your breath, laided outOn the dance floor, blood and moet, Im blowin your setTrick 20 gs, dont sweat, your goin to deathIm goin for broke, Im blowin out smoke, your catchin strokes(wu-tang and bald head, swis foreheads, leavin you all redX million, fully be on illest, your realest form, bringin the stormFor seein you gone, nothin keepin my calm, but heat in my palmSleepin Im gone, you see what Im onKeepin outta the dark, scatter your partsFrom here to battery parts)Chorus: [odb {sampled from protect ya neck}]First things first man, your *****in with the worst (x3)You cant slam, so let me get fooled on a man[suave]Still master graph, after cash graphed, get staffedSplash your class, mash your staffWhat, nigga get smacked, you aint worth a punchHurt your bunch, get mercked your frontIn the wrong certain punk, mack clever niggazDef wrecker, catch on a delo with mecca and etcha-sketchaShakin, erase, vacatin your space, breakin your faceTwist you, and wont miss you, official master killer beeFull blast, get off, smash, pull fastFor your stash, long as the war last, put up in your assTryin to count more math, bringin the hardcore rap[killa sin]We be the mainstream, supreme rhyme, top of the lineCuisine feens, #1 love for thugs queens sceamin on creamMy whole team love e-cup bras and mobb carsKilla sin known for makin niggaz reach for the starsThis terrorist, lyricist in the mist of the abyssCanibus, evangelist, I impulse with metal fistsWu build like construction and bang like precusionOn the planet battery, backs combustin, malfunction, whatChorus x2[method man, (sticky fingaz)](holy shit, who the ***** is that)Its john, john (sticky fingaz, kid, you got my back)I got your back cousin (I got the mac cousin)And when them niggaz start jumpin, bust back cousin(because its the new year, time for some new shitNowadays rappers dyin over music)Dead on arrival, we raised in the ghetto singin songsFor survival, duckin homicidal, you rival(yeah, onyx, wu-tang on tracks we gang bang, chiti bang bang)Chiti chiti bang bang, hot nicks spit flameLava pump through my vains, caught in the zoneHome on the range(eh, yo you ready for the ferocious, atrociousWe go that supercalfragilisticexbealli...) dose shit(8-ball in the corner pocket)We snatch wallets off the white collegeThe big apple forever rottenNow when it comes to hard target hot nicks(so what the bullet clot)Pop shit, we due to knowledge, to sharp niggas, once bittenMajor swingers, heavy hittin, poly your kitten, throw up your mittenStop *****in, no slippin, no pot to piss inThem meltin pots boilin hot now in mels kitchen(yo, sticky fingaz, one of the illest mother *****ersMy moms dont raise no suckers, I slap rappersTurn em in to singers, touch something of mine and youll have 9 fingers)Enough said, lets make whole *****in town read(and rip their whole crew to a shreadI got cold blood) hold your club (I hold blood) show no love(so bug) shoot your whole club (and shoot up the whole club)We throw slugs (you aint no thugI earn every God damn penny that I gotSon, I roll with a shotgun in the convertibleI wish a nigga with wood, would try to *****inJack me, Ill murder you)ChorusWu-tang, wu-tang, onyx, onyx (x2)
