| I call this the wild style | 
| It’s inherited from Wu Mei | 
| The Huang style founder | 
| Hahahahaha, what else have you got? | 
| Wu-Tang | 
| INS your highness | 
| Golden Arms | 
| The booth with the ground wire | 
| Where I control my empire, thugs call me sire | 
| To roam my kingdom, you must spit fire | 
| Bars of fifty, what the crown requires | 
| A few good men stand up, motivated to do shit | 
| They know how to file the blueprint | 
| You getting this exclusive | 
| Stamped and packaged for your personal usage | 
| A shot of this is ruthless | 
| Inmates salute this, young kids root for this | 
| The whole world waits upon a Goldie exclusive | 
| I stay secluded and think about the process | 
| Stay submerged, similar to Loch Ness | 
| Surface when the time is right, or my soldier night | 
| Rebel music, Geto Boys in the spotlight | 
| Keep everything in hindsight, living the lime life | 
| Sharp on a, just keeping my mind right | 
| And watch what you say around a chick | 
| She spread last through the click like Ebola on the tip | 
| Atop of the highest mountain, the epicenter of rap | 
| They yell, «Wu forever across the map» | 
| No question, your dude is live | 
| I line 'em up like the song sell two for five | 
| It’s all love, you can hate, you can scrutinize | 
| Fuck with me, boy, that’s suicide, foolish pride | 
| I spent every form of cash, bagged mad exotic hotties | 
| Like I just became a made man, how they mob me | 
| Started from the lobby, Rebel get it shaking like the dice hand | 
| Flying a rag, no flight plan | 
| Overtime with the grind 'cause I’m working late | 
| Murder on the first tape, first 48 | 
| Hotter than Hell’s Kitchen | 
| I lay my head where the shells ripping | 
| Mama knew I was a threat so she named me Jason | 
| Take your pick, either Bourne, Voorhees, or Statham | 
| My flag waving | 
| Atop of the highest mountain, the epicenter of rap | 
| They yell, «Wu forever» across the map | 
| Slick down bread was spread, it’s in the envelope | 
| 36 pounds of shit under the microscope | 
| They knew my horoscope, they know I’m lactose | 
| They know I bust the sheet, slam out the cantaloupe | 
| They had the periscope slammed down my tonsils | 
| They tried to hit me with some decoyed sponsor | 
| I’m in the market every time I spark it | 
| I live to with the concrete carpet | 
| I was in Rikers when you was in diapers | 
| Run the guards from the circle and created a cypher | 
| I grew 'em up, we elevated to the tour bus | 
| Masculine, adrenaline | 
| Running through your veins like dope in a tenement | 
| Where I became a resident | 
| Hooked up with the God and we became venomous | 
| Atop of the highest mountain, the epicenter of rap | 
| They yell, «Wu forever» across the map | 
| New Bentayga with 50 keys | 
| Driving off the road Narco style, they caught me in Belize | 
| Fingerprints burned, Asics on | 
| Made a u-turn, pulled at the weed spot | 
| Glock on me, new rock on me | 
| Maybach beige Nikehead | 
| Tracksuit got special powers, these guns carry dollars | 
| Mutilating chumps by the lumpsum | 
| Jump if you want something | 
| I be in the front with the pumps company | 
| Yeah, yeah, them niggas with fresh kicks | 
| Caught up in the mix, stress quick then we dress whips | 
| All the hoes give 'em the best tips | 
| We floating the best ships, throw your ass over like dead fish | 
| Yeah, for real, it’s all hood Bible shit | 
| Mike Tysonal, all us on our tribal shit | 
| Atop of the highest mountain, the epicenter of rap | 
| They yell, «Wu forever» across the map |