Do U

{*sampled singer singing "Do, Do you" repeats all throughout the song*} [Intro: RZA (Method Man)] Come on my niggas, yo.. Put your guns in your right hand and hold it down towards the floor Point all your guns down towards the floor for a minute Yeah, you could hold 'em, just point 'em down towards the floor For a sec, aight? (Yo why'all ain't fuckin' wit the Wu) We gon' splash like this, all my wild Digi heads (Y'all niggas is crook) why'all niggas move a little up to the front why'all niggas know what I'm talkin' about Word up, my weedheads, why'all play the right for a second Nahmean? Check it out All why'all niggas on X, why'all keep why'all asses in the back Aight? Straight up, in fact, matter of fact We gon' mingle this shit like mothafuckin' peas in the mothafuckin' pot Straight up Digi Digi style, word up, as we splash you right (Yeah, yeah, my niggas is crew, now why'all ain't fuckin' wit the Wu Oh now why'all.. come on!) [RZA] Walk wit a didi bop ock, you silly pop, Jiffy Pop Fuck around, son, I'll blow ya face up with fifty shots Sharp darts, and it pop pop like tarts Extreme speed like Anakin inside the Pod Headed for the finish line, BOODOO, watch Bobby cross it Hoes with the diamonds on your toes, come on and floss it I be one of those tall skinny cats with the four-nine Three-eleven that rips through Power-you's and breaks spines I culture power-tuggin' boys who be drunk, buggin' Lovin' loud noise from toys, club thuggin' Sweet chocolate deluxe, rugged, s*xy buttercup That don't give a fuck about the cop in the club Or the bouncer with the flashlight, one walked passed, right? Some pulled the razor and chopped his ear like he was Mad Mike I played the cipher in the corner, teachin' math One for one thoughts, a hundred brothers won't last Because you can't do me.. (x3) "Do you feel?" Come on! [Prodigal] Yo, son, +Wake Up+! {*coughs*} Yo, I gotta do this, man I gotta get this money, son Features in the crowd, appearance like, "Black I'm proud" In the background, no sounds, four pound, we hold ground! Brooklyn bound, seven initials up in the crown One man's ramblin', officials they shot him down Supreme, extreme, lean, killin' machines All I want to do is feed my seed, plus my team Keep it logical, no games, straight up about Prodigal Diabolic drums and I run from none Testimony one, give my life before my only son Thelonious crumbs, why they want to press me for guns? Now I'm in the face of the judge, court case thug From a race, laced, based on drugs, some made slugs As +It Was Written+, stroll through any block forbidden Glock hidden, why they want to stop precision? Eighty-five percent of my brothers locked in prison And we just keep dyin' for the love of good livin' But Do you! Do you! Do you! "Do you feel?" (x2) [GZA] You know those jams in the park, produced the spark Made me feel words how I read books in the dark I always took it to heart, loved the art A lifetime of darts, ripped crews apart Made their stay real short, I stamped the passport Couldn't bring through no wack shit of no sort I walked the borough challengin' the best that stood Torch metal mics, they conduct better than wood Once I electrify and only expect to die Rounded Bed-Stuy, ZZZZ, nigga fry My opponent block, the beat comin' from his box Investment ranker who's a joke in the stocks Keep a rhythmic pace, maintainin' great balance Movin' in steps of unheard of silence Normally progressioners, they're slow steepin' Niggas want to light up when there's gas leakin' "Do you feel?" --- Do U - GZA, Bobby Digital, RZA and Prodical