Wu-Tang Is for the Children

Uh, Ayo
I got this shit nigga
Only pills make me happy, how lonely can lonely be
Should i go OD or ODB
Tryna' get my foot in the door and keep my soul in me
Need to talk to god or Khaled, need that holy key
Either the world going crazy or it’s only me
It’s me, take it or leave it, me I can only be
Got O-C-D, quick to put you niggas in your place
I’m yo' papi this is how i show L-O-V-E
I’m on some jiggy shit, if this was 94' i’m on some biggie shit
Rap Rastafari son of Bob Marley Ziggy shit
‘93 Shaolin rapping, i’m on some GZA shit
I mean how can you blame me when the beats sounding like RZA' shits
Champagne wishes dirty Van white bitches
I mean the shit is, uh fucking ridiculous
And if I said some shit you ain’t feeling
You can kiss my ass both cheeks, nigga like i’m British, bitches
I’m so appalled, you niggas make me bored
Internet critics can hold your opinion and ya applause
My shit so universal you’d have to study abroad
Morgue taking fittings figuring how much coffins would cost
I’m on some killer shit, red leather mike thriller shit
Magic Johnson you won’t find another nigga sick as this
White bitch said she like the color of my skin and shit
And always got a sweet tooth, i hope she like my licorice
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
It’s BACCII!
BACCII on my Ghostface shit, Drinking Yoohoo
Bathropes, niggas in the projects smoking Wu-Lu's
Wanna' see the life that I’m living? Go on youtube
Get my dick sucked in the Hyatt, watching Hulu (Rick & Morty)
Every diamond’s necessary, the shoes is polished
Two tone the Wallabies, bulletproof the wallets
Shades on Chris Wallace, Park Hill the projects
Where Aunt Linda gave birth to Cappadonna prophet
His older brother Lowa took the cocaine route
I’m the children Dirt McGirt was saying Wu-Tang 'bout
Taking pictures with my Grandmother with two chains out
In the ghetto rich or dead the only two ways out
Heard them lame niggas moving wokcy
Who give a fuck? Send a hit through an iPhone while two women wash me
Two goons in the lobby had me spotted probably
I swerved on em' spilled cognac on the car seat
The god be cozy from Peekskill to Marcy
RC car racing dice shaking in the Cosby
Rodney King adversity with foresight from Garvey
Probably rock anything that’s silk suede or costly
36 Chambers of flow and I apply it
Dealing with my cipher I revolve around science
Grandfather from Zion dawg but i ain’t from this planet
Flow wet as embalming fluid get some Horizon Organic, nigga
It’s BACCII!
Yo, uh, yo yo
I’m Hella' woke these other niggas in a codeine sleep
So they could hold this L or hold this D
Like shorty’s pussy, I go oh so deep
Might need a floaty, make her call me Pretty tony like I’m Ghostface B
That’s Iron man she eye ya' man and it’s a closed case see
I’m charged like an ion man, and I ain’t owe no fees
I ain’t no jay-z
But we if really talking rapping
I be Blacking on these albums like its Hov '03
That’s that Jigga shit, change up the clothes dirt off the shoulders big
pimpin' shit
Look like the Chef’s up in kitchen shit get a whiff of this
Protecting the neck wit Cuban Linx, okay we Built 4 this
Inspecting ya' deck you think we fixin' shit
Trees gettin' lifted
Hoes triple my wish list
I mean this shit is, looking like Christmases
I’m coupe whipping with some women friends to get these Benjamin’s
If Cash rules you dudes ain’t in tune with these dividends
I walk-in like Egyptians with the hieroglyphic penmanship
Linguistics intimate, dialect b on some different shit
In Kemet like a Chemist
Mad science in the sentences
Pacific climates wildn on these islands an peninsulas
You get the Jist of it, Purple reign prince my shit
Niggas trippin', I’m the Jimi Hendrix to this hippy shit
Real Field niggas with riches, that’s master killer shit
These lil' niggas feel like Mini me’s
I’m on to bigger shit
I got em' Mont
Chea'
Mylez Meng, let’s go!
I’m from a black hole, where they snatch ya' chain and you can’t get it back
Chicken bags and Similac, you slip and niggas giving naps
Hot sandwiches on EBT, ahk and papi know
Make a movie of my life, I’m winning Oscars and Tony’s
But I ain’t acting nigga
Word to my pigment, I be blacking nigga
Pen game on super max, I actually be rapping nigga
Slap a nigga if his disrespect’s ever directed at me
Make him disappear with the snap of a finger, make its snappy
Bronx born, hold that, du-rag, no cap
I’m from New York so you won’t ever hear me say no cap
Call my 40 Wesley Pipes, yeah that joint blow backs
My mind states on full closet, yeah i need more racks
I’m 'bout that, karma send shooters to where your house at
Careful tho', niggas rat for some cheese that’s a mouse trap
Fresh Butta’s like I work on a construction site
But I ain’t never done construction in my life
That’s your shorty? I be touching on your wife
She be sucking on the pipe, I’m from the Bronx son, that ain’t nothing nice
I don’t write rhymes, I murder beats, let me be precise
I turn heads and scrunch faces everytime that I recite, wait hold up
I pray to god that all of my bars hit you
Spit it hot, once in the pot, it bubble like scar tissue
Mont said give 24 the hour glass is runnin' thin
It’s B. Mylez, he is me and I am him
Waddup?