Welcome to the New York State of Mind tour everybody.
Downloaded from YTS.MX
I go by the name of DJ Maceo from De La Soul.
Official YIFY movies site: YTS.MX
Can everybody please stand up, put your hands up for 50
years of hip hop music.
Everybody, everybody.
Everybody, hands up.
Hands up.
Let's get it.
Wave, come on, wave, come on, wave, come on, wave,
come on, wave, come on, wave.
Come on, y'all.
You want the real.
Talk with us.
Talking to certified.
Talk to us.
Once we're all mass killed.
Talk to us.
Origina rock and roll.
Talk with us.
The ones who know how to play.
Talk with us.
There ain't nothing else to say.
Talk with us.
When it's us, you know it's us.
We were never the meant to be.
Trapped in a lane around all your memories.
Swerve through, watch your interview.
Stuck to your past the whole week.
Thank you.
We're the future want to make you.
We stay at this.
Run through drills and practice, strategies, suicide, sketches,
showing positions to get past.
Opposition back for the game.
Y'all know the name.
Three decades deep.
Evaluate the rap sheet, earn some scars.
How to earn some stars but never act star studded.
When the pretty eyes recognize who we are,
we follow procedure and acts got credit.
I play the mountain at night.
Normally found as a quote of the week.
Week.
Yeah, I don't give you the weak shit.
Speech ain't one part of the art that's ghost written.
When it gets to that point, be the
first to stand up in the joint that you
know that I'm quitting.
Until then I say day to day for the way the wind.
Always the gym.
I got lyrics stuff, niggas born in the bluff.
Citizen's arrest, throw your ass in the cuff.
Don't play quiet now.
I hit you with the trying now.
You make a run for it.
If you dare, you get tackled.
Shit in a shackle.
Scrape through the foot on your back.
The one, the book input.
Jack.
What's up, y'all?
How you feeling?
How you feel?
Are you listening?
Seattle, are you listening?
If you stan it, let's rock together y'all.
Come on, y'all.
Yo.
I don't cuff mics, I love my stuff
rugged if the girls love it.
To the North Bravo, came in my mic check.
Telling me I left lacerations--
Around my neck.
Domestically the student and you just might
get undisputed with this shit.
When we say vibe, we want y'all to say vibrations.
Come on.
Stakes is high, y'all.
You know those stakes is high.
When we say vibe, we want y'all to say vibration.
Stakes is high, y'all.
Come on, them stakes is high.
When we say vibe, we want y'all to say vibration.
Louder.
Stakes is high, y'all.
You know those stakes is high.
The instamatic focal point bringing damage to your bubble.
We some brothers from the East with the beast
that be thorough.
Brushed Soular gravitation and we're bound to pull it.
Yo, we get down like brothers and fam.
Drop them some bullets.
Gun control means using both hands in my land.
It's all about cautious living in my grave too.
How you form a consequence?
Compliments.
Of strugglin.
Should it be notable to live quietly.
Got some hip quotables.
Second half dance awards show.
Sick of name brand clothes.
Sick of all of these bitches over bullshit.
Cocaine and crack, bringing sickness to Blacks.
Slow hand weapons when they sick and then rap, clapping to gas,
making the whole sick world collapse.
Facts.
Even sycophants take a push to make a bundle to escape.
You see, life can't get all up in your ass.
Baby, you better work it out.
Let me tell you what it's all about.
Skin not considered equal.
Emilio has more right than my people.
And all my people here tonight, help us out y'all.
Come on, come on.
When we say vibe, we want y'all to say vibration.
Stakes is high.
Listen, why don't you all give it a try?
When we say vibe, we will y'all to say--
Vibration.
I need to hear you, motherfuckers.
Come on, come on.
When we say vibe--
Come on.
We want y'all to say--
Vibrations.
Stakes is high, y'all.
You know them stakes is high.
It's about loving them cars.
Loving the fun.
Loving to love men.
Learning to love fun.
Love for opposites, love for fame and wealth.
Love for the facts, no longer loving yourself.
We live in a maze of the man made way.
See, every aspect is vivid.
These brothers no longer talk shit.
These brothers living.
I'm about to give it to you 24/7 on the microphone.
Plug one, translate in the zone.
And no offense to a player, but we don't play.
If you take offense, fuck it.
You gotta be that way.
I'm going to point my hand over here this way like--
Recipes plug to true goy.
Make some noise for the legendary De La Soul.
Make some noise for my brother the legendary Talib Kweli.
Come on, y'all.
I'm from Brooklyn, New York.
You are now at the New York State of Mind tour.
If you love hip hop music, make some fucking noise.
Come on, come on.
Everybody.
Get em up, get em up.
Everybody, get em up, get em up.
Come on.
Everybody, get em up, get em up.
What's with the melodrama?
Fellas want to hover in my center like a helicopter.
Like it's a special honor.
Sell bomb jams rapper make the ghetto holla.
Taking you highly, skydiving.
We spark original caveman crunch for my fire.
Come on.
My desire to try this new shit.
Record executives keep telling me, y'all stupid.
Are they right?
Shut the fuck up.
Revolutionary, throw your guns up.
Whether you were bougie, broad, pack the
stuck up on some ignorant to muthafuckers.
You ain't the clever.
We go.
Y'all feel this, break your spirit,
y'all fake that realness.
Bring it in, bringing it in.
Come in new millennium, the way after that.
I call these calves rebels cause they plastic wrap.
Kill all the yapping, let's make it happen.
- Yeah. - Cats ain't real.
Y'all just a reenactment.
Better yet, dramatization.
Soon as the director say action, you start faking.
Oh, I start to break.
Yeah.
The whole joint starts shaking.
Come on.
Cause every time I play for you, it proves to them.
Seattle, where you at?
Move something.
Seattle, make some noise.
Everybody take your hands.
Both hands.
Shake it out like this.
Shake out all the demons.
Shake out all the negative energy and the hate.
Let's go.
We sell.
And out the back of a home, another mosque of the dusk
in the crack of the door.
Go through episode two like Attack of the Clones.
Shall we break our backs?
Can you hear the crack of the boat to get by, just to get by.
Just to get by, just to get by y'all.
Computer spirits ain't mute while your ego spread rumors.
We survive a last turn to consumers.
Just to get by, just to get by, just to get by, just to get by.
People got to live in a trailer cause like I said,
I'll paint a picture with the pen like Norman Mailer.
Mia Bella raised three daughters all by herself.
Yeah.
I think about her struggle and I find a strength in myself.
These words not in my mouth, they high.
Like the jail cell in the cell before my nigga Curry for me
y'all to get by, just to get by, just to get
by, just to get by y'all.
If you represent Seattle and you know you fly,
wave your hands in the goddamn sky.
Let's go.
This morning, I woke up feeling brand new.
I jumped up, feeling my high and my lows in my soul.
To stop smoking and stop drinking.
I've been thinking, I've got my reasons.
Just to get by, just to get by, just to get by, just to get by.
Raise your hands if you're having a good fucking time.
Word up.
Y'all look good, man.
Seattle, how you feel?
How you feel?
I'm not sure.
How you feel tonight?
How you feel?
It's very important.
Feeling is very important.
It's a feeling, word.
Hip hop is a culture.
But some of us wasn't necessarily born
in the blast radius of where it started from.
But when you felt it and you heard it for the first time,
it gave you a feeling.
That's what it is all about, a feeling.
So yo, right now we're going to do a song
that we feel invokes a feeling.
All right?
This is from our Grind Eight album.
The name of this shit is called Rock Cocaine Flow.
MF DOOM fans, where y'all at?
And it's produced by one of your own, Jake
one, who's standing over there on the side.
Shout out to Jake one in the house.
Word up.
So look.
We going to do this shit like this.
Are you ready?
Well yo.
We going to rock it like this, y'all.
With the help of my man, Maceo.
We about to-- with the--
got the-- come on.
We go hey, hey, hey.
We go up in the five star teles.
Two mic rhyme time.
I like that.
We grabbed them, so systematically
inclined and not without.
Produce his name all over the track.
Yeah, I said it.
What you need to do is go back to--
Give me the credits.
One more motherfucking time, check it out.
With the help of my man Maceo.
Let's go.
Hey, hey, hey, hey.
It go up in the five star tellies.
Two mic rhyme' time.
I like them.
We grabbed them, so systematically inclined.
Now we know.
Producer's name all over the track.
Yeah, I said it.
What you need to do is go back to reading credits.
One more motherfucking time, party people.
With the help of my man Maceo.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey.
And a, yo.
Check it out, yo.
We go up.
Two mic rhyme.
How did you see that?
I liked that.
We are systematically inclined, but not without.
Producer's name all over the track.
Yeah, I said it.
What you need to do is go back to reading credits.
Let's go.
Party people.
If you are here to party and you know you are somebody,
help me out.
Let me hear you say party.
Party.
We're about to bite into a song that's called
and for me, myself, and I. Mirror, mirror on the wall.
Tell me mirror, what is wrong?
What is wrong?
My De La clothes.
Is it crazy?
What we do ain't make believe.
People think I sit and try to be in De La Soul.
It's just me, myself, and I.
Sing that shit.
I don't hear you motherfuckers.
Come on.
I need to hear you.
Sing that shit, please.
That sounds good.
And for me, myself, and I. Now you tease my fluff, one step.
And me without my spectacles.
You say fluff one and two are hippies.
No we're not.
That's bull.
Always push that, formed an image.
There's no need to lie.
When it comes to being plug one, go.
It's just me, myself, and I. Hey, sing that shit.
I hear the ladies.
Fellas, help them out.
Come on, y'all.
Come on, come on.
Sing that shit.
Look.
This side only.
Say de la la la la.
De la la la la la.
Say de la la la.
Over here.
Say de la la la la.
Say de la.
In America today, people think they know the way of the soul.
De la is on the road.
They can clear the hate.
Behind the line of inner fire, we explain this time and time.
Daisies don't mean anything.
Daisies don't mean a fucking thing.
But the word itself when broken up wears just a larger pat.
D-A stands for T-H-E. I is thinner.
S is sap.
Y is y'all.
The inner sound will help you breathe.
But still we swore to help the South when we have to explain.
Yeah.
The legendary De La Soul.
Make some noise.
Three is a magic number.
Party people.
This song is dedicated to our brother, David Jolicoeur.
Plug two.
Somewhere in the ancient mystic--
I need you to say, thank you Dave.
Thank you, Dave.
And now, put three fingers in the air like this.
Put them up.
These three fingers right here, it represents magic.
Listen up, y'all.
Come on.
Three is a magic number.
Yes it is.
Come on.
Yes it is.
Come on.
Yes it is.
Come on.
Yes it is, yes it is, yes it is.
Difficult is possible pleasure.
Pleasure and preaching stats in the heart.
Jump in as soon as the music in the desert.
Music breaks in three parts.
Casually doing soul.
Seeing it doing an action monkeys.
Doing it but also no rock and roll.
Stop looking.
Listen to the brain.
Don't get mad because I'm fucking your daughter.
Just a minute now, sit.
Usually stands for baby production.
Stands for the inner sound, your younger band.
Everybody wants to be a DJ.
Everybody wants to be a D. No more, no less.
You don't have to guess.
Get my feet consist of three and that's the magic number, bitch.
Now you may try to subtract it, but it just won't go away.
Three times one.
What is it?
Y'all motherfuckers needs to learn math.
Peace out, y'all.
We love y'all.
That's the magic number.
Rest in peace to my brother Dave.
Everybody, welcome to the New York State of Mind tour.
Get ready for the Wu-Tang clan.
One, two, one, two.
One, two, one motherfucking two.
Let me tell y'all the story.
It was in 1986 before we had ever made a hit.
I was still in my crib, late at night.
I was trying to make my beats come out tight like bang, bang.
Then I felt this sound.
Bang bang.
And it shook the ground.
Bang bang.
It was that Wu-Tang sound.
Bang bang.
And we chose to shoot them now.
Let me tell y'all what happened.
Check it out.
Seasons changed and time went by, and hip hop culture,
it grew worldwide.
The rappers rapped and the DJs played.
Then 36 chambers came and changed the game.
Who turned that sound?
Wu-Tang, the kings of the underground.
Wu-Tang is back in your motherfucking town.
Wu-Tang, and we come to shoot them about.
Up on the 36th chamber.
Yo.
Let me feel your energy, Seattle.
Let's go.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
It's what?
A swarm.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
It's what?
A swarm.
The Wu-Tang killer bees.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
It's what?
A swarm.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
It's what?
A swarm.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
The Wu-Tang killer bees.
Let me get a Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu.
It's on your brain.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
It's what?
A swarm.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
It's what?
A swarm.
Wu-Tang killer bees.
The Wu-Tang killer bees.
I think y'all ready.
Come on.
And he did it.
Come on, man.
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu.
Welcome folks to the stage, my brother, your brother.
The greatest MC of all times.
The Inspectah Deck!
Seattle.
Seattle, what's good?
Eyes purple haze.
When they rate, the airways, cap, this rap pays.
I glide like hovercraft on the Everglades.
Boy master with the best of blades.
Trap slasher.
Main effect upon bones rapture.
Limited edition competition for addiction.
Keep your own distance.
Dominant, intelligent.
Who original?
Two colors.
Most try to get close by, over no
hide with they hopes up high.
Signaling the tri-state by breaking beyond the ring.
Blasted the Black when they spot this live up.
You can't throw it out before purple high these eyes
in the eyes of a Lisa Thompson.
Probably that Cochrane and Sharpton, never watch it.
The bad tickets all by Roberta Flack,
attack like a British bulldog and understand.
Everybody say Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang.
Welcome to the stage.
Yo, yo, yo, yo.
This is Beirut, try to comprehend.
Check out my new suit.
God's plan.
I ain't take my indigestion.
Disappear from here.
My gear, dropping stupid LPs everywhere.
Falling out of the sky, talk sniper.
Rats by Cappadonna in the countryside.
Laundry whirlpool, we produce article exception to the rules.
We the Black men that stop oil.
The hard boil.
Gas that made them one again spoil.
The heavy handed.
Knock down standard with Siamese, blue panties.
Stick inside the club, no lies.
Low down dirty, 12 many nights.
Off the wall.
Basketball gun brawlers.
Thank goodness for 9, 7.
Nine nine.
Market.
Come on.
Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang.
Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu, Wu.
Wu.
Wu-Tang.
Wu.
Hey, hey.
The Wu is on your brain.
On your brain, baby.
50 Years of Hip Hop, what's good, y'all?
Seattle, made some noise.
What's going on, Seattle?
Make some fucking noise for real hip hop.
Put your hands in the air.
Let's get this show started right now.
Yo, say do that shit.
Do that shit.
Do it.
Come on, y'all.
Come on.
Do that shit.
Do it.
Let me talk to you.
Now, yo, yo, what up, yo?
Time is running out.
It's for real though.
Let's connect.
Politic, ditto.
We could trade places.
Get lifted in the staircases.
Word up, peace.
Incarcerated scarfaces.
Thug-related style, attract millions.
Fans, they understand my plan.
Who's the kid up in the green land?
Me and the RZA connect, blow a fuse.
You lose.
Half-ass crews get demolished and bruised.
Fake be fronting.
Hourglass- heads niggas wanting.
Shutting out your slot, time for pumping.
Poisonous sting, which thumps up and act chumps.
Rae's a heavy generator.
But yo, guess who's the Black Trump?
Dough be flowing by the hour.
Woo, we got the collars scholars, word life, peace
to power and my whole unit.
Word up. Quit to set it.
Don't wet it.
Real niggas lick shots, yo.
Yeah, yo, yo.
What up, yo?
Time is running out.
It's the real dough.
Let's get that--
Politic, ditto.
We could trade places, get lifted in the staircases.
Word up, peace.
Incarcerated--
Scarfaces.
What's up, my people?
Make some fucking noise.
[BARKING]
We came to get busy tonight.
Yeah.
We came to get busy.
Take one hand and put it in the air like this.
Just one hand.
We're gonna use this hand as an ax.
And we're going to chop down all the bullshit in the world
together as I bring out my brother U-God, better
known as the Golden Arms!
Let's go.
Chop, chop, chop.
Chop it up.
Chop chop chop chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
Hey, take the high hat, ding ding.
Moving through the rubbish.
Party rec room, rec room staff of your brothers.
Time ticking.
Erupt, misconduct.
Before the drum dry up.
Now, now, Jab vocab slow.
Alphabet run voiced by blow.
Tap dance run, Hemingway novel model.
For Ariba, dirty people, hide your bottles.
Always come with something that's round and profound.
Blood brother, people of color, we getting down.
Watch us fly.
Force feed things-- - Come on.
--being said.
Nine diagram, that's a black evil red.
Serious a man.
My mic clipping levels.
Everlasting clan.
Heavenly god body.
Old champion, old Philly style steamer.
Kicked the cigar.
What?
Garth overtook drama.
That's why they go to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
We going to chop it up.
Chop, chop, chop, chop.
Ah.
This is hip hop, y'all.
Give me some love, motherfuckers.
Put the W's in the air.
Yeah.
Put the W's up.
Come on.
If you know this fucking song, we got
to tear this building apart.
RAPPER: Sing along.
Get it in, y'all.
Let's go.
Y'all know this shit.
Sing this shit.
All y'all motherfuckers let's go.
RAPPER: Raw, I'm a give it to you with no trivia.
We're like cocaine.
AUDIENCE: Straight from Bolivia.
My hip hop will rock and shock the nation
like the Emancipation--
RAPPER: Proclamation.
Weak emcees approach with slang that's dead.
You about to run into the wall.
Bang your head.
I'm pushing force.
My force you're doubting.
I'm making devils cower to the Caucus Mountains.
A sire.
Set the megaphone on fire.
Rap styles vary and carry like Mariah.
I've come from the Shaolin slum the isle I'm from is
coming through, my nigga.
RAPPER: And nuff guns.
So if they want to come sweating,
stressing, contesting, you'll catch a sharp sword
to your midsection.
Don't talk the talk if you can't walk the walk.
Phony ones get outlined in chalk
I'm mad vexed.
It's what the projects made me.
Rebel to the grain, no way to barricade me.
Steamrolling niggas like an 18-wheeler with a drunk driver
driving.
There's no surviving.
Rough like Timberlane wear.
Yeah.
We and the Clan.
Yo, the Landcruisers out there.
Peace to all the crooks, all my niggas with bad looks,
bald heads, braids, blow this hook.
Tecs, nickel platted Macs, Black Acs, drug dealing styles, fats
stacks.
I only been a good nigga for a minute,
though, cause, because I got to get my props and win it, yo.
I got beef, commercial-ass niggas with gold teeth lamping
in the Lexus eating beef.
Straight up and down.
Don't even bother.
Got 40 ninjas up in here now fathers.
My peoples, are you with me? Where you at?
In the front, in the back. Killer bees on the track.
- Yo. - My people, are you with me?
Where you at?
Smoking, let's go.
Here I go.
Deep type flow.
Jacques Cousteau could never get this flow.
Cherry bombing-- ooh.
Just warming up a little bit.
Vroom, vroom.
Rappining is what's happening.
Keep the pockets stacked and then hands clapping
and at the party, when I move my body, got to get up.
AUDIENCE: And be somebody.
Grab the microphoen for strenght.
Here come the Wu Tang zone.
Sure enough, when I rock the top,
I'm going to catch your bluff tuff rough.
Kicking it rhymes like Jim Kelly.
Ah.
Coming raw style, hardcore.
Niggas me coming to the hip hop store.
Coming to buy grocery from me.
Living to be a hip hop MC.
The law-- in order to enter the Wu Tang, you must bring--
The Ol' Dirty type slang.
Represent GZA, Abbot, RZA, Shaquan, Inspectah Deck.
Dirty Ol' getting low wit his--
introducing--
Ghost--
RAPPER: --Face Killah!
Yeah.
- No one could get iller. - My peoples, are you with me?
Where you at? - In the front, in the back.
Killer bees on attack. - Hey, yo.
My people, are you with me? Where you at?
Smoking meth.
HItting cats on the block with the gats.
Oh.
Homicides is legal.
Death is a penalty.
One justifies the homicide when he dies in his own iniquity.
It's the Masters of the Mantis Rapture coming at you.
We have an APB on an MC--
RAPPER: Killer.
Looks like the work of a master.
Evidence indicates that his stature,
merciless, like a terrorist.
Hard to capture.
The flow changes like a chameleon,
blends like a friend, and stabs you like a dagger.
Look.
This technique attacks the immune system.
Disguised like a lie, paralyzing the victim.
You scream.
As it enters your bloodstream.
Erupts your brain from the pain these thoughts contain.
Moving on a nigga with the speed of a centipede and injure.
Any motherfucking contender.
My peoples, are you with me where you at?
In the front, in the back.
Killer bees on attack.
- What? - My peoples, are you with me?
Where you at?
Smoking meth hitting cats on the block with the gats.
Come on.
yeah!
Yeah.
RAPPER: Seattle.
RAPPER: You.
Seattle, baby.
Yeah.
Uh oh.
If you love real hip hop tonight, make some noise.
We're here for y'all.
RAPPER: Yeah.
Get em talk.
Talk to them.
Oh, oh, oh.
RAPPER: Come on.
Look.
Hey,
When I say hip, y'all say hop.
- Hip. - Hop.
Come on.
When I say don't, y'all say stop.
Don't. - Stop.
- Don't. - Stop.
Look.
You said the t was never coming home.
Grandma in a nursing home.
My mind is blown.
I'm no longer alone, but my fam is deep.
We all love heat.
Military, all marine, submachine gun.
Legend of Brooklyn, master craftsman.
Lord, when you dropping?
No said date.
Throught premeditated, well-calculated.
The air's been tested.
The people can't wait.
So, ah, we agreed to send one to swim from lost and found.
Truth be the life preserver.
You can't drown.
Drunk with the victory, the Wu cavalry.
Bomb the seminar.
The last hoo-ra for chivalry.
Classical Yo-Yo Ma.
Laced in the bulletproof fabric.
Crafted and mastered in space.
What better place of birth than the Earth?
With a star is born but the path is narrow.
Float across the Verrazano, stack your ama.
Hit them while we got the muscle.
In the streets, we hustle for survival.
What the God reign.
Build me a brain.
Support it with a physical frame.
Imperial Asiatic material.
Yeah.
Yo, when I say hip, y'all say hop.
Hip.
Hop.
Hip hop.
Come on.
When I say don't, y'all say stop.
Don't. - Stop
- Don't. - Stop.
When I say hip, y'all say hop.
Hip. - Hop.
RAPPER: Hip.
Hop
When I say don't, y'all say stop.
Don't. RAPPER: Stop.
Don't.
AUDIENCE: Stop.
Stop it law mathematics.
- Yes. - Yes.
RAPPER: Yes.
Hey, yo, Raekwon.
Yeah.
We got a brother in the back that normally wears a mask.
RAEKWON: They know him very well.
Some call him the wallabee champion.
One of the GOATs in the game.
Some call him Tony Stark's the Iron Man.
Yeah.
RAPPER: His fucking pen is amazing.
We call him--
RAPPER: The greatest.
--the Ghostface Killah!
Yeah.
What's up, y'all?
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Hey.
Bring the motherfucking Ruckus.
RAPPER: Yo, bring it on.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Yo, Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse.
Glock burst, leave in a hurse, I did worse.
I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk.
Your head rush, fly like Egyptian musk.
Aw shit.
Wu Tang Clan spark the wicks and however, I master
the trick just like Nixon.
Causing terror, quick damage your whole era.
Hardrocks is not the fuck up or found shot.
PLO style.
RAPPER: Get him.
Hazardous because I wreck this dangerous.
I blow sparks like Waco, Texas.
I watch my back like I'm locked down, hardcore.
Hitting sound, watch me act bugged and tear it down.
A literate type asshole, songs going gold, no doubt.
And you watch corny niggas fold.
Yeah, they fake and all that.
Carrying gats.
Yo, my Clan rolling like 40 Macs.
So you know you act convinced.
I guess it makes sense.
Yo, Wu Tang, yo.
Sew represent.
Wait for one to act up.
Now I got him back up.
Gun to his neck now.
React, what?
And that's one in the chamber.
Wu Tang banger, 36 styles of danger.
Bring it on.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Come on.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
RAPPER: Bring it on. - I can't hear you.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Come on.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Yeah.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Yeah.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
I rip it hardcore like porno flick bitches.
I roll with groups, ghetto bastards with biscuits.
Check it, method on the microphone banging.
Wu-tang slang, I leave your headpiece hanging.
Bust this, kicking like Seagal, "Out For Justice."
The rough shit, yes, the rudeness.
Redrum, I verbally assault with the tongue.
Murder one, my style shot your knot like a stun gun.
I'm hectic.
Wreck it with the quickness.
Set it on the microphone and competition
get blown by this nasty ass nigga what my nigga.
The RZA.
Charged like the bull and got pull like a trigger.
So bad, stabbing up the pad with the vocab.
Crab, I scream on that ass like your dad.
Bring it on.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus.
Bring the motherfucking ruckus
Hey, bring it on.
Woo!
Make some noise!
Seattle in this bitch.
RAPPER: Uh, uh, uh, come on.
So bring it on.
Yeah.
RAPPER: Bring it down.
Yeah.
You are now in a New York state of mind.
RAPPER: Welcome.
Welcome.
Yeah.
He looks determined about being ruthless.
Something's heroic.
There's a courage.
Doesn't look like it, though.
Comes across so confident.
Acts like he has a dream, or a passion.
You don't trust me, huh?
You know, boy.
I'm supposed to trust everyone.
Yeah.
Continue the fly shit.
Everybody, light your motherfucking reefer.
Grown folks only.
One of the illest.
Matter of fact, one of the greatest.
I know him very well.
It's my brother.
What's up, guys?
Seattle, what up?
Through the lights, cameras, and glamour, glitters,
and gold, I Unfold the scroll.
Plant seeds to stampede the globe.
Deceased-- by then, the beast will rise like yeast.
Conquer peace, leaving savages running the streets.
Live on the run.
Police paying me to give them my gun.
Trick my wisdom with the system that imprison my son.
Smoke a gold leaf.
Hold heat nonchalantly.
Raunchy, things I do is real, it never haunts me.
Wow.
Funny style, people roll in the pile.
Roster heads profile on a bus to Rikers Isle.
Holding weed inside their pussy with their minds.
Pretty things in life.
Props is a true thug's wife.
It's like a cycle.
Niggas come home.
Some'll go in.
Do a bullet, come back, do the same thing again.
From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable.
Guns salute life rapidly.
That's the ritual.
Raekwon, the chef.
Yeah.
White God.
We can see it through the eyes.
Ghostface, what up?
Kilos disintegrate.
Pyrex pots we break.
Fiends licking plates.
Now in the building, niggas building.
Little children staring.
Them older niggas ain't caring.
Sirens circling fiends, lurking in your baggage.
One, one's gone. Now what?
Smack him in his cabbage.
In the woodwork, crack cells bubble like Woolworth.
The project, real niggas rocking all the real worth.
Police questioning, rooftop cats investing in,
trading in their Lexuses, sending messages.
2 and 2 makes 4, Cristals crazily pour.
Gun wars, my crew phantom like swords.
RAPPER: Green leathers, 100 pound snakes and cakes.
Fiends found in legs.
Jealousy Jake.
What I strive for is what I live for.
Infatuated by material things, and it's wild.
Life for war.
Like somewhere over the rainbow, see a big pot of gold.
Future stacks, so I hold hold.
Thousands of cracks bagged inside a shoe box.
Don't keep jack in my lap.
- Don't want to see Tupac. - Got two stops--
Rest in peace.
--flooded with rocks.
Shootouts making me hot.
Crooked cops, Bad Tony--
And it's all dropped.
In the now, banging niggas for slide time.
Hurry up, Duke. - I'm next.
Show them mine.
And what the fuck is you looking at?
By the way, young blood, hit me off with that Seattle hat.
Watch your back inside the hall.
New niggas slide through like doors.
Yo. - They staring in the mess hall.
The aderenaline runs.
Cigarette niggas is swindling, new jacks surrendering.
Come home not remembering.
Made bail, different size kicks on.
White dress shirt, looking weak in the yard.
And you got hurt.
Flashbacks of the day room, mop ringer style.
Got bashed.
Trying to turn the dial.
You told your boo you was whyling.
Once you heard Wu out of the blue--
Yeah.
High class crooks throw on vestest.
Out of phonebook.
Infirmary niggas are screaming--
I got drugs.
Sharpen toothbrushes, 190 mixed with baby oil and shit.
Your man's in the kitchen stashing-- come on!
And I'm a end it with a big red cherry on top.
Me, Nas, and Rae got the best product on the block.
My whole team is eating off of this good shit.
Good shit, nigga.
Next time, overlook shit.
Keep your eyes open and your wallet in front.
Chef, Chef and Nas, niggas, is the prophet.
What up, baby?
Ha ha ha.
Make some noise for the greatest rapper alive right
here.
I love this--
Make some fucking noise.
The two greatest rappers ever.
Give it up for the greats.
Nas, y'all.
I can't wait to get back to Seattle.
It's no city like it.
Let's go into it.
Oh!
This is a letter to all kings and all queens.
Yeah, you see, you see, I made the fade famous, chain famous.
QB on the chest, match the stainless.
Amazing Grace, I'm gracefull aging without masonry.
More paper to play with.
No rap in my playlist.
Sold dimes on my day shift.
So can I speak?
Can I talk?
Can I breathe?
Can I walk?
Can I floss without you wanting me outlined in chalk?
Family gossiping, pocket watching him.
Jealousy keeps blossoming.
Don't let it box me in.
If you ever heard the "King's Disease" albums,
you can just bob your head.
That's all I need.
Real shit.
I used to be at The Tunnel, 20 deep in the huddle.
Razors on us that makes skin bubble.
Moet, we guzzle.
Chris Lighty let me in with nines.
That's on God.
Wish you would have walked by and bumped me hard or just
looked at me wrong.
My chain on. Book me.
You gone.
Goons, Italian leathers, couple bottles of Dom.
Took risk.
This ain't what you want.
There's rules to this.
Don't get it misconstrued.
My suit game is crisp.
Silk, linen, chiffon, Dior to Diadora.
But I rock custom more.
RAPPER: Yeah.
The hustle aura-- tap in.
Razor cutter, '90s, '80s lover, raised in gutters.
Raised above it.
They made it up out the hood subject.
I made you love it.
Crazy.
I knew this girl who had a blue Benz.
If you know the song, just bob your head.
Oh.
Yes, true story shit.
Come on.
In Kingston, Jamaica, where veteran kingpins bought acres.
Rest in peace, Louis Rankin.
Original Don Dada.
Rest in peace to Louis Rankin, a Jamaican godfather.
Turn it.
Turn it up.
Spicy shit.
Yeah, boss shit.
Your lordship used to run the block.
Now I'm corporate.
What happened now?
You know it's Nas when the doors lift.
Whole squad hide the burners.
Mets hat in the sky lay Bobby Shmurda.
They watch me like a chip courtside at The Rucker.
Flow only getting tougher.
She begging me to cuff her.
Brooklyn Sweet Chick waffles with raspberry butter.
Rock a mink in a roller rink, middle of the summer.
If I can't get it done, soldiers with me to cover.
Queens get the money.
Yeah, yeah.
Upward space get pricy.
Get spicy.
She on demon time.
I got her a timepiece.
Patek.
She not lit, not lightly.
Can't get nothing by me.
My mind in 2090.
Que lo que, everybody pricey.
Cost money, beat the charge money.
Fast money push to start money.
Big money, Escobar money.
Uh.
Somebody make some noise in the building.
Where my OGs at?
OGs.
OG talk.
RAPPER: Yeah.
Project halls, where a nigger seen it all.
RAPPER: For real, for real.
I can see niggas are sly.
I'd better show them the ropes.
Integrity matters the most.
I give the hood hope.
yeah, I gave the hood classics, something to open your mind
instead of going out crashing.
How would you feel when you hate the real?
My nigga, I'm simply asking.
Can't just go up out the plan.
Ain't no pity party for yourself.
You got to get up, rise for your wealth.
Can't spend on that time in your feelings.
Sympathize with yourself.
Don't nobody owe you.
Ain't nobody holding you back.
You're stuck in illusions, attached to something
that ain't even that.
South beach, Nassau, Maldives, same beach.
Unless you are after something that most men can't see.
Shorty off the block, shorty off the runway, same freak.
They all got the answers.
We all got the same key.
OG talk.
I pray we all live to be OGs.
You know, crime, drugs violence.
40 side.
Out of all of this, you got to look for the positive.
OG talk.
Yeah!
This tour is rare.
Your man right here?
A rare.
To everybody out there, we are rare.
Oh, oh.
KD2.
I feel like it's my birthday every day.
Yo, yo.
I'm in rare form.
Niggas speak down on my name like I wasn't here for them.
Talk about back in the days.
This isn't back in the days.
They want me back at my ways.
Chipped tootha nd the fade.
Nah.
See, musically, I'm on Mars walking all over the beat,
putting my feet on the stars.
I rock it like Lenny, thinking like Jimi the first time
he seen the guitar.
Standing in front of where they shot Ahmaud and said
we got to know who we are.
Yeah.
I'm in rare form wearing rare Jordans
straight from Air Jordan.
This is fair warning.
Too many of y'all beef over nothing.
When you get money, you know that it's
coming, tainted homies.
Where you at Seattle?
Let's go!
Oh!
I got my arm to the back.
Y'all already know where we going with the stats.
Hall of Fame only, kings and queens only.
They all be grabbing my style.
But you know they can't hold me.
Yo.
Somebody make some noise in here!
[CHEERING]
Talk that.
Yo.
My thumb struck a lot of lighters, pulled
a lot of all-nighters, banned from some after hour spots,
crew would choose violence, move in silence.
Who knew I'd grow to build an empire?
Streets had me against the ropes.
Yeah.
TEC's on the dresser, money on tech, pushing a Tesla.
Rolled up a fresh one.
It's one IPO to the next one.
Rich from corporate or thugging, expensive mistakes.
It's all a racket, it's the same thing, just the risk
that you take.
Moving too fast, losing your ass.
Boys came through with the task.
Peep through the blinds, you knew it was curtains.
Breadwinner took an L, the whole family hurting.
Seen it a million times, system washed
him out with the verdict.
Oh.
So I'm clean as a whistle.
Yes.
Drinking premium liquor in between two
Argentinian sisters.
They counting up for me until their fingers get blisters.
What I blew that on?
I cannot seem to remember.
The world is yours!
Oh!
Yeah.
Which album is this?
KD II?
- KD II. - All right.
Let's keep going.
If you ever heard King's Disease II,
this one is called Death Row East.
True story now.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.
Right back at this.
Right back. - Right back.
Right back.
Hold up, whoa.
High on life, drunk off dark liquor.
Shit getting eerie like I threw on Thriller.
Bitch I'm a hard hitter, Rolex clocks
and killers holding the order.
I'm praying God delivers.
I have run-ins with Suga.
Niggas would have been shook.
At the height of the beef they started Death Row East.
Damn.
I even saw they tees on some of my Gs.
Notorious label, the story was made in the streets.
The story was made in the streets.
True story.
The story was made in the streets.
Death Row East.
Which album is this?
Oh, we on Magic.
Which Magic is this?
This is Magic I.
If you know about Magic I, what up?
This one right here is called, It's Ugly Outside,
written off real experiences.
Let's go.
It's ugly.
Get ugly.
Yeah.
It's ugly outside.
It's foggy.
It's money outside.
105 Fahrenheit, thunderous skies.
The cloud's shape a clown face about where
they reside, under his eye, a teardrop got the ugliest cry.
They call my city Gotham, opposite of pretty.
Weatherman cannot predict bullets
raining from out the 50.
It's ugly outside.
Big L would be here if it wasn't.
Hell'll freeze over the it doesn't get ugly out.
How can we hug it out after we slug it?
We should be buying acres, adjusting each other's crown.
That was your brother back then.
How could you gun him down?
What's up, Seattle?
[CHEERING]
Can you feel the magic?
Yeah.
It's a real night tonight.
Let's get this right down.
Check.
I'm 23 years past the 27 Club.
It's like I went back into my past then I sped it up.
Robert Johnson, Winehouse, and Morris found where heaven was.
Heaven on Earth, this shit is magic with no fairy dust.
Home of the gully gangsta, gruesome and the scary stuff.
I told my brother Jung, "Fuck 'em.
They gonna go through hell with us.
They don't have the history in the street to compare with us."
Hood niggas, they want to be us, thugs in the St. Regis.
Everything, it's time.
The second internet, number three is this rhyme.
Before security my dawg had to sneak in the nine.
God must be on my side.
I had to eat and provide, my winning streak is divine.
Yeah.
I told Dunn, "Leave the street shit behind.
Don't let 'em hype you, a slow run beats cheating the grind.
Dawg, I'm telling it like it is.
You got to deal with the consequence.
When you're running in nigga's crib, nigga,
you better be ready to sit.
Dope dealers, street hustlers, pop cases,
throw dice on pavement, cops.
Big gamblers, skullies, hide face, gang wars,
hot spots, police raid it.
I left 'em speechless.
Shit.
If you know that Magic I shit.
Yeah, I left 'em speechless.
Yeah.
Here we go.
Seattle, I feel at home.
[CHEERING]
Yeah!
That '70s heroin.
Heroin pressed on.
Yeah!
Let's go!
This side, what's up?
That side, what's up?
I got so many kids in this game, it's like a gender revealing.
I got that feeling, Lionel Richie, dancing in the ceiling.
And Van Gogh when you paint me the villain.
The hate is real but you should know
that the love is way realer.
Crafty with a pen way before I could pack 'em in.
Nasty with dreads, slim teen, young, I was passionate.
A brand new book, crackling sound when you open it.
I drop in it.
It might sound like I'm writing hymns.
Manhattan keeps on making it.
Brooklyn keeps on taking it.
What's with my thuns?
And Queens keep on kicking it.
This for my thuns.
If you ever been to Queens, New York, where I'm from,
this is that energy.
Queens in the house.
KD III.
Not niggas I really met through music shit,
it be the real thugs I grew up with.
Phone calls from the feds, long story told fast, wishing
they come home in a hurry.
It's a of a dying pack of lions, nightmares of the cats.
Thoroughbred surviving, you know.
Queens in the house.
Welcome home, Ronnie Bump, and love the Callie.
That boss order us lobster tails late night in 40.
We was out there trying to rid the stress,
had a beat tape from Stretch, rest,
Black TEC, black vest to match the dark aura.
Hit the city deep in the Explorer.
At The Source, wish I was the cover
story that was coming shortly.
Cars back, the raw back in Rest in peace
a few good men, the guard's stalked him.
I pop a bottle.
We not promised tomorrow.
Showing love is the motto.
Cowboy hat, strapped like desperados.
Let one out the chamber, no eye or fire in a vegetative state
when that man China died.
Stomped out on 12th Street, memory fails me.
Hurt homie was a real G, that's what they tell me.
I was the one to run through the sections.
Rest in peace to my man, Money Bags.
Y'all know the section.
Queens in the house.
Seattle in the motherfucking house!
[CHEERING]
We on fire tonight!
From the Hate Me Now video, it's continual.
All I need is a beat and I'm stitching you.
Stitching these words together.
I'm still getting better, finding the gold as I dig
in the dirt with the shovel.
Got the last laugh, blown away by the backdraft.
I'm on fire.
Don't be scared now.
I'm on fire.
What'd you say?
Don't be scared now.
I'm on fire.
Nas, giving 'em hell now.
We on fire.
Starting to see him sweat.
Don't be scared now.
I'm on fire.
Nah, don't be scared now.
I'm on fire.
Nas giving 'em hell now.
Seattle, what's up!
[CHEERING]
Go.
Go!
Bitch, I'm in a good mood, good groove.
Pour me up.
The plane leaves in 30, fix your life, hurry up.
Fix your life.
Ackee rice, peas, putting curry over duck.
Court rhyme, Curry up.
Smoking weed in a tux, sipping Ricard.
Chilling on Governor's Isle with all the killers,
premiere movies with my man DeNiro.
Johnny Nunez got all the pictures.
Black-grown, Black-owned, Black women be my backbone.
Latin food in the back room.
Big business, I'ma drop a new yak, June.
Yo.
Rich, matte black Rolls, yeah I got 'em seeing ghosts.
27 summers, that wasn't even a goal.
Uh uh.
Blowing kush clouds and we all for the smoke.
Bitch, black Rolls, more Black CEOs.
Bitch, I'm in a good mood, good crew, pour me up.
Mass appeal, movies and music sign with us.
Pacino.
All my nigga's millionaires.
G-Code know what's up.
What up, Seattle?
What the fuck!
Let's go!
Rich, matte black Rolls, yeah, I got 'em see ghost.
What else?
27 summers, that wasn't even a goal.
Blowing kush clouds and we all for the smoke.
Bitch, black card, black Rolls, more Black CEOs.
Magic III.
Happy birthday, hip hop, turning 50 this year.
[CHEERING]
And happy birthday to me turning 50 this year, god damn it!
Early on the wake up, cunning as the father
of the 12 sons of Jacob.
Shake up the world, cake crumbs.
Cover my gold teeth, cufflinks, waiters,
lobster sauce on aprons.
Pardon, that's chef.
Burgundy on the breath.
I was 13 when I stepped, dancing to every song
like it's a contest, singing to Stevie Wonder,
"Happy Birthday," celebrating years
of flows and crazy wordplay.
Seasoned I'm leaving my 40s, I'm a griot.
Deep as Deepak Chopra, dress socks and loafers.
Family only, holding hands with a cold piece.
Bow to the old me.
I'm officially OG.
Might throw a roast me, wonder what will the jokes be.
Watching 'em imitate my cool demeanor.
I'm in the fucking Seattle arena.
Throw the dice in this life and I hit the fever.
Let's go!
Wolf of the NYC.
This is prophecy.
No, this is history.
Evolve constantly.
Half a century.
Put your glasses up, represent for me.
Represent, represent.
Represent for me.
Represent, represent for me.
Fly from infancy to half a century.
Represent, represent, represent for me.
That's six albums in two and 1/2 years.
Shit.
Long time you've been outside.
All I see is blurbs, all I see is
words, nerds talking about what I did, seen, or heard.
And all I see is clones, see you small fuckers
with mixtape players, cause I seeing what they doing.
And all they talk is this.
But they ain't saying shit.
They talk reckless when I do not work for them.
Which one it is, since you such a music whiz?
First thing I heard when you coming up with age,
they stumble in your space, you punch 'em in the face.
The second thing I heard, I was in the second grade,
sliding on to second base, I can orchestrate this game.
The third I heard, if it quacks it's a duck.
The fourth, of course, be upfront what you want.
The fifth was this, keep something lit on your wrist.
Now I'm on album six, top team on your list.
Oh!
Got to grab another hundo.
Industy cuttthroat, watch how I construct though.
Uh.
Concrete jungle.
If rappers were presidents, I would get Trump's vote.
Uh.
I can really stay humble, or I can take it back to Nasty
if I want to, some young, dumb, crazy
motherfucker from the hood.
What's up?
Ah shit.
What's up?
This side, what up?
That side, what up?
What to the back!
Let's go!
Yeah.
A divine creature, ran through dimes, divas.
I turned blocks to beaches by the time you see us.
We just turn tides even.
Cuban links got the largest pieces.
But I'm wild for keeping this on almost half
a century with a crispy lineup.
My peep Sallam said I remind him, Martin Lawrence,
breaking hearts on some real thin.
I'm done with star chicks, survived divorces,
I ain't have to climb back, I climbed in Porches.
Jealous.
I ain't have to climb back.
I was the ill seed, the illest one.
Villainized but I feel free and the field be crazy
way before the drill beef.
Doesn't matter, this is sheer relief.
I feel the breeze, this is superhero
material, rap star status.
Premier album still right happen.
I wonder why Pete Rock would act like that.
And now I can't tell 'em all the good that I did.
It's been hid with they agenda, again, nigga.
I know they all praying I go back to nothing.
Fuck 'em.
See, this is practice, this is magic, history,
havoc, instinct, classic.
This is madness in all fairness.
We been moving all these fuck niggas.
One of y 30 for 30 highlights doing numbers.
Going on 30.
Summers, going on 30 summers.
Going on 30.
It's because of you!
30 summers.
Going on 30 summers.
I ain't seen no nigga do this.
I like to wear numbers.
King.
Salute to all the kings out there!
King.
And my ladies, I salute and I bow to my queens out there!
Queens!
It's a celebration tonight.
Shout out to De La Soul, Wu-Tang Clan, and Seattle,
the perfect city for this tour.
We've been moving on these fuck niggas,
one of my 30 for 30 highlights.
I'm talking about family tonight.
Seattle, we are family!
You hear me?
To many years.
I got bring my brother Raekwon out.
Is that OK with y'all?
Hey, yo.
What's up, bro?
I think we got to do this one for them for real though.
We got to.
As time goes by, an eye for an eye.
We in this together, Rae.
Your beef is mine, Nas.
So long as the sunshine can light up the sky,
we in this together, Lord.
Your beef is mine.
And yo, as time goes by, an eye for an eye.
We in this together.
Sing it, y'all!
Come on.
So long as the sunshine can light up.
Let's go, baby.
We in this together, bro.
Your beef is mine.
A drug dealer's dream.
Stash Key's keys on a triple beam.
500 SL green, 95 nickle gleam.
Condominium, thug dressed like a gentleman, tailor-made ostrich.
Chanel for my women friend.
Thundering numbers on your head while I'm burglaring.
Shank is serving 'em.
What's up to all my niggas swerving.
New York metropolis, the Bridge brings apocalypse.
Shoot at the cloud.
Feel like the holy beast is watching us.
Mad man, my sanity.
Go inside the hourglass.
Gun inside my bad head.
I sliced trying to bag grams.
I got girls that could've-- - Milked you.
- Brothers who could've-- - Killed you.
And styled with my ill crew of psychos.
Nas Escobar moving on your weak production, puppet
corruption in the third world.
We just busting.
And hold up.
Analyze these wildcats, sling crack,
swing an ax, the new routines be my eyes black.
Let's go!
Playing corners, glancing all up in your cornea.
- OK. - Corner ya--
Hey yo!
--seen cats snatch monies up on you.
Hey, you.
But late night candlelight, fiend with a crack pipe.
It's only right, feeling higher than an airplane ride.
Word, yo.
I want to get this money and blow.
Take my time, blast a nine.
If you front, you go.
We sip beers.
- The German one. - And hand my gun--
- --to son. - It's Shaolin--
And Queensbridge.
We robbing niggas for fun.
But still, write my will to my seeds then build.
Mahalia, sing the tale, but the real, we still kill.
As time goes by, an eye for an eye.
Come on, y'all.
We in this together.
Your beef is mine.
So long as the sunshine could light up the sky, we in this--
I see y'all on top. What's up?
Your beef is mine.
As time goes by, an eye for an eye.
We in this the best.
Your beef is mine.
Hey, yo, so long as the sunshine
could light up the sky, we in this together, Rae.
Your beef is mine.
Love.
[LAUGHS]
Yo, this is my heart right here.
Give it up for Nas, y'all!
We like gangstas all the time.
I love y'all.
Real hip hop in the building.
Make some fucking noise.
I think it's time, let's go, Lord.
Come on.
Come on!
Let me you say, ho!
Say ho!
Come on.
Oh, shit.
If you love real hip hop, bob your fucking head.
Bob your head.
Pull your shirts up.
Let's go, baby.
Come on.
Hey, yo.
Say peace to cats who rock mad knowledge.
Knowledge is street astrologist, light up the mic.
God knowledge us.
Flashpoint, carats and points can roll the Motorola.
- Hold up. - Play it, God.
We crack over the shoulder.
Chrome tanks, player like Yanks.
Check the franchise.
Front on my guys, my enterprise--
Rappel on fakes like reflectors.
- Come on! - He had sugar in his ear.
His last crack career.
Yo, we can can him, manhandle him, if you wanna.
Run in his crib-o, get ditto--
Skate like a limo.
Jet to the fliest estate, relate, take a break, bread
down an eighth and then wait.
Drop it like Drake.
Thugs, they be booing and screwing.
We canoing, claim they doing the same shit we doing.
Fuck a unit.
It's the same style, RZA trainable.
Jump the turnstyle.
We on the alley, try to challenge--
God for the new vials.
Especially that, aluminum bat in the hat.
Relax, lay back, sell a grenade a day.
It pays, Black.
The Mac-10 flex white cats like Windex.
Index finger be sore--
Busting them fly scripts.
The Wally can't count crazily, grands with our plans.
Laying with bitches and my--
Man's in Lex land.
We losing 'em.
Jet to the stash.
- And now Jerusalem. - Abusing 'em.
Rocking the jewels while we using 'em.
Low pro star, seven thick wave rock, hold on.
With the older guard.
Build with the sun and the stars.
Sing that shit!
That goes, got that shit that'll rock me.
Come on.
The Wu is here to bring you Shaolin's finest.
But if your shit is weak, you better step up behind us.
Whoa.
[CHEERING]
We here for y'all, man.
Hey, yo, Seattle, man.
Could we get some noise in here for 50
years of fucking hip hop, man?
[CHEERING]
Some shit that they never ever thought
was going to take place, took place.
Hip hop is the most conditional, special shit
in the whole fucking planet.
Music is everywhere, from here to Peru, to fucking Arabia,
to Alaska, all because of us, hip hop shit, man.
But yo, real quick, man.
The rest of y'all, where you at?
I need you to come out here and represent, talk
to the people about hip hop.
Yo.
Do that for me.
What up, Seattle?
[CHEERING]
Talk to him, Rz.
Can I take a toast for hip hop, 50 years?
Absolutely.
Yeah.
Woo.
North, East, West, South.
Hip hop is here for 50 years.
It started in New York City, made its way around the world,
and is now the number one form of music in the entire world!
[CHEERING]
Yeah, yeah.
Facts.
And one thing remains true, Wu-Tang Clan
ain't nothing to fuck with!
Oh, shit.
Energy!
Let's go.
Let's fuck this building up.
Let's fucking destroy this shit.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck with.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't--
Wu-Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck with.
There's place to hide once I step inside the room.
Dr. Doom, prepare for the boom.
Bam!
Aw, man, I slam, jam, now scream like Tarzan.
I be tossing and flossing, my style is awesome.
I'm causing more Family Feuds--
Than Richard Dawson.
And the survey said?
You're dead.
The fatal flying guillotine jumps off your fucking head.
Mister, who is that?
Hey, yo, the Wu is back.
Make a nigga go--
Bo, bo, bo.
Like I'm Super Cat.
We fear no one.
Oh no, here come the Wu-Tang shogun, killer to the eardrum.
Needle to the groove, I get rude.
But, to fuck it up, my carry like a pickup truck.
Cross the clear blue-- - Yonder.
--sea to shining sea.
I slam track like quarterback sacks.
From LT.
So why try and test the rebel INS.
Blessed since the birth, earth-slam your best.
And I bake the cake, here take the cake and eat it too.
My crew, we head state to state.
If you want beef then bring the ruckus.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't--
CROWD: Nothing to fuck with.
Straight from the motherfucking
slum that's busted.
Wu-Tang ain't--
CROWD: Nothing to fuck with.
Seattle, make some noise for our brother, the Method Man!
Yo, the Meth will come out--
CROWD: Tomorrow.
Styles, get busy, bizarre, bizarro,
flow with more afro than Rollo.
Coming to a fork in the road.
Which way to go?
Just follow.
Meth is the legend, niggas are Sleepy Hollow.
In fact, I'm a hard act to follow.
I dealt for dolo.
Bogart is coming on through.
Niggas is like--
Oh my God, not you.
Yes, I, could to get a slice of the punk and the pie,
rather do than die, check my flavor,
coming from the RZA which is short for the--
- Razor. - Ooh.
Made me reminisce you like deja--
Vu.
I'm rubber.
Niggas is like glue.
Whatever you say rubs off me.
It sticks in you, you, you, you.
If you know the song, sing along.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't--
CROWD: Nothing to fuck with.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't--
CROWD: Nothing to fuck with.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't--
CROWD: Nothing to fuck with.
Wu-Tang Clan ain't nothing to fuck with.
Yah!
Yeah.
I see you.
[CHEERING]
Sound nice.
Seattle!
What's crackin'?
[CHEERING]
When I say Ric Flair, y'all say woo!
Ric Flair.
CROWD: Woo!
Ric Flair.
CROWD: Woo!
Ric Flair!
CROWD: Woo!
Let's go.
Roll the dice, man, roll the dice.
This is for all the weed smokers in the building.
Light it up.
Money feel good, you know?
[WU-TANG CLAN, "METHOD MAN"] From the slums of Shaolin,
Wu-Tang Clan strikes again.
The RZA, the GZA--
CROWD: Ol' Dirty Bastard.
[WU-TANG CLAN, "METHOD MAN"] Inspectah Deck.
Raekwon the Chef, U-God, Ghostface Killah and--
M-E-T-H-O-D Man, M-E-T-H-O-D Man, M-E-T-H-O-D Man,
M-E-T-H-O-D. Come on.
Hey, you, get off my cloud.
You don't know me and you don't know my style.
Who be gettin' flam when they come to a jam?
Here I am, here I am, the Method Man.
Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, hey, the Method Man.
Don't eat Skippy, Jif, or Peter Pan peanut
butter 'cause I'm not butter.
In fact, I snap back like a rubber band.
Hey, I be Sam, Sam-I-Am.
And I don't eat green eggs and ham.
Style'll hit ya, wham, then goddamn.
You'll be like, "Oh, shit that's the jam."
Turn it up.
Now hear me get buck w-w-w-wild.
I'm about to blow.
Light me up.
Upside, downside, inside and outside.
Hittin' you from every angle, and there's
no doubt I am the one and only Method Man, the master
of the plan, rappin' shit like Saran wrap with some of this
and some of that.
Hold up.
Wait, I thought I saw a putty cat over there.
Over there, but I think he best to beware of the diggy dog shit
right here.
Yippy yippy yay, yippy yah, yippy yo.
Like Deck said, "This ain't your average flow.
Comin' like rah, ooh-ah, achie-kah.
Tell me, how you like it so far, baby paw?
The poetry's in motion coast to coast and rub
it on your skin like lotion.
What's the commotion?
CROWD: Oh my Lord.
Another corn chopped--
CROWD: --by the Wu-Tang Clan.
Hey, hey, hey-- CROWD: --like Fat Albert.
[WU-TANG CLAN, "METHOD MAN"] It's the Method Man,
ain't no if ands about it.
It's the-- roll that shit.
Light that shit. Smoke it.
Roll that shit. Light that shit.
Smoke it.
Roll that shit. Light that shit.
Smoke it.
Roll that shit.
Light that shit.
I got fat bags of skunk.
I got White Owl blunts.
And I'm about to go get lifted.
Yes, I'm about to go get lifted.
I got--
CROWD: --myself a 40.
And I got--
CROWD: --myself a shorty.
[WU-TANG CLAN, "METHOD MAN"] And I'm about to go and stick it.
Yeah, I'm about to go and stick it.
Give it 'em.
Hey!
[CHEERING]
Make some more fuckin' noise.
Yeah.
Ric Flair.
CROWD: Woo!
Ric Flair.
CROWD: Woo!
Ric Flair.
CROWD: Woo!
Let's go.
[WU TANG CLAN, "ALL I NEED (REMIX)"]
Oh, shit.
This song is for all good relationships.
Any women, lots of love.
Love is for everybody, uh.
Swear to God, I hope we fuckin' die together.
1, 2, 3, dig that shit.
Die together.
Talk to 'em.
Shorty, I'm there for you anytime you need me.
For real girl, it's me in your world, believe me.
Nothing make a man feel better than a woman.
Queen with a crown that be down for whatever.
There are a few things that's forever, my lady.
We can make war or make babies.
Back when I was nothing, you made my brother
feel like he was something.
That's why I'm with you to this day, boo, no frontin'.
Even when the skies were gray, you would rub me on my back
and say, "Baby, it'll be OK."
Now that's real to a brother like me, baby.
Never ever give my pussy away and keep it tight.
Aight?
I'ma walk these dogs so we can live in a fat-ass
crib with thousands of kids.
Word life, you don't need a ring to be my wife.
Just be there for me and I'ma make sure we be
living in effin' lap of luxury.
I'm realizing that you didn't have to funk with me.
But you did.
Now I'm going all out kid.
And I got mad love to give.
You my nigga.
I swear to fuckin' God I hope we die together.
Fellas, fellas, lie together, cry together, I swear to God.
I hope we fuckin' die together. yeah.
Stone Mecca, take 'em to the bridge.
Like sweet morning dew.
Sing it.
I took one look at you.
Come on.
And it was plain to see.
What?
CROWD: You were my destiny.
Keep it goin', y'all.
[WU TANG CLAN, "ALL I NEED (REMIX)"] I dedicate my life.
I sacrifice for you.
Dedicate my life to you.
[CHEERING]
Seattle, one more time for the Method Man!
[CHEERING]
Hey, yo, man.
Yeah?
We out here celebrating hip hop.
Can we take them back to "36 Chambers"
and do a song that features our brother Ol'
Dirty Bastard, but have his first born
son, the Young Dirty Bastard, come
out here and do the lyrics.
Can he do that?
Let's go, man.
Oh, shit.
Yeah.
Uh, turn it up a little bit,
[WU TANG CLAN, "SHAME ON A NIGGA"]
[VOCALIZING]
YDB, what up?
Somebody say, ho.
Say ho.
Say ho, ho.
Then scream.
Uh, uh, uh, uh.
Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga.
Wu buck wild with the trigger.
Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga.
Yo, I'll fuck your ass up!
Hut one, hut two, hut three, hut.
Ol' Dirty Bastard live and uncut.
Styles unbreakable, shatterproof.
To the young youth, you wanna get gun?
Shoot!
Blam!
How you like me now?
Don't fuck the style.
Ruthless, wild-- do you wanna get your teeth
knocked the fuck out?
Then shout.
Yo, RZA, yo, razor--
hit me with the major.
Damage, my clan understand it, be flavor
gunnin', hummin', comin' at ya.
First I'm gonna get ya.
Once I got ya, I gat ya.
You could never capture Method Man's stature
for rhyme and for rapture.
Got niggas resignin', now master.
My style?
Never!
I put the fuckin' buck in the wild, kid, I'm terror.
Razor-sharp, I sever the head from the shoulders.
I'm better than my compet'ta.
You mean competitor.
Whatever, let's get together.
Shame on a nigga who try to run a game on a nigga.
Wu buck wild with the trigger.
I react so click.
And yo, and Chef came blowin' and blew off your headphones,
back.
Rap from, yo, Cali to Texas.
Smoother than a Lexus.
Now's my turn to wreck shit.
Brothers approaching and half step but ain't heard half of it
yet. I bet you're not a fuckin' vet.
So when you see me on the real formin' like Voltron,
remember I got deep like a Navy SEAL.
Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga.
Wu buck wild with the trigger.
Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga.
Come on.
Yo, I'll fuck your ass up.
Get 'em. Go talk to 'em real quick.
Here we go. Yo!
I come put that ol' loco style from my vocal.
Couldn't peep me with a pair of bifocals.
I'm no Joker.
Play me as a joker.
Be on you like a house on--
smoke ya.
Crews be actin' like the gangs, every way.
Be like, "Warriors, come out and play."
Dirty shit.
I let it out like diarrhea.
Got burnt once, but that was only gonorrhea.
Dirty, I keep shit stains in my drawers
so I can get fizzy-funky for ya.
Murder, taste the flame of the Wu-Tang.
Rah!
Here comes the Tiger versus Vrane.
I'll be like wild with my style.
Punk-- you play me, chump, you get jumped.
Wu! is coming through at a theater near you.
And get funk like a shoe.
Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga.
Wu buck wild with the trigger.
Shame on a nigga who try to run game on a nigga.
Yo, I'll fuck your ass up!
Especially if you're white and you say nigga.
Uh-huh.
Make some noise, y'all!
[BARKING]
Yeah.
Nice.
Big dos.
You know what?
We're in an incredible city.
I just got to say this, Seattle.
Y'all gave me a couple of my favorite heroes like Jimi
Hendrix and Bruce Lee and shit.
It's like just an amazing city right here beyond fuckin' all
the Boeings and and fuckin'--
Man, fuck that shit.
He used to dunk in this building, man.
Hell yeah, right?
Real shit, real shit.
It's the glove and shit like that.
This is an incredible fuckin' city.
You got great coffee too.
But, listen, can we take y'all back to our city for a moment?
Seattle, can we take y'all back to Shaolin real quick?
[CHEERING]
WU-TANG CLAN MEMBER: They got to be ready to get on the boat
though.
WU-TANG CLAN MEMBER: --and take that ferry ride, yo.
Hey, yo, this shit is so real, man.
Hey, yo, we're from Staten Island, New York City.
Y'all ever been there?
Well, we're going to take you there right now.
Talk to 'em, Chef.
It's a serious place, a serious place,
so many beautiful people.
But everybody want money.
Everybody need money to survive.
If you need money to survive, put your hands in the air.
Uh, uh.
If you need money to survive, put your hand
up in the motherfuckin' air.
Don't be lazy.
Go out there and get yours.
Put your hand in the motherfuckin' air.
You can get it, trust me.
But we're going to take y'all back.
One of our favorite songs that we did across the world,
we did it many a times and y'all know the record pretty well.
So we're going to need y'all to sing it from head to toe.
Yo, RZA, how the motherfuckin' shit go?
Make money, money, money.
Make money, money.
What is it?
Everybody.
Take money, money, money.
Take money, money.
I like that.
Na, na, na, na.
That's the pain right there.
La, la, la, la.
That's the fucking pain right there.
That part.
Na, na, na,
Ladies and gentlemen.
Seattle.
Let's go.
["C.R.E.A.M." PLAYING]
This is for all the hustlers, man.
Damn.
Shit is fucking amazing.
Where y'all at?
From the stairs to the stage, motherfucker.
What is it?
(RAPPING) Cash rules everything around me,
C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bill, y'all.
- Come on, y'all. - Nice.
I grew up on the crime side, New York Times side.
Staying alive was no jive.
Had secondhands.
So then we moved to Shaolin land.
A young youth, yo, rocking the gold tooth, 'Lo goose.
Only way I begin the G up was drug loot.
And let's start it like this, son.
Rolling with this one and that one, pulling out gats for fun.
But it was just a dream for the teen, was a fiend.
Started smoking woolies at 16 and running up in gates,
doing hits for high stakes, making my way on fire escapes.
No question, I would speed for cracks and weed.
CROWD: That combination made my eyes bleed.
But no question, I would flow off, try to get the dough off.
Sticking up white boys on ball courts.
And my life got no better, same damn 'Lo sweater.
Times is rough and tough like leather.
Figured out I went the wrong route, so I got
with Seattle, motherfuckers.
Catching keys from cross-seas, rolling in MPVS every week.
We made a hundred Gs.
Yo, nigga, respect mine.
Here go the TEC-9.
Yo, move from the gate now.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
Dollar, dollar bill, y'all.
Everybody.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
CROWD: Dollar dollar bills, y'all.
Nice.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
Get your fucking money, y'all.
One more time.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bill, y'all.
Salute.
22 long, hard years, still struggling.
Survival got me bucking.
I'm alive on arrival.
Peep at the shape of the street.
Stay awake to the ways of the world, 'cause shit is deep.
A man with the dream, plans to make cream, which failed.
Went to jail at the age of 15.
Young buck selling drugs and such.
Never had much.
Trying to get a clutch at I could not touch.
The court played me short, now face incarceration.
Pacing.
Going upstate, my destination.
Handcuffed in the back of a bus.
40 of us.
Life as a shorty--
CROWD: Shouldn't be so rough. - Nice.
As the world turned, I learned life
was hell, living in a world no different from a cell.
Every day I escape from Jakes giving chase, selling base,
smoking bones.
Though I don't know why I chose to smoke sess.
Guess that's the time when I'm not depressed.
But I'm still depressed, so I ask what's it worth.
Ready to give up so I seek the Old Earth who explained working
hard helps you maintain, learn to overcome
your heartaches and pain.
We got stick-up kids, corrupt cops,
crack rocks, stray shots all on the block that stays hot.
Leave it up to me while I be living proof to kick
the truth to my Seattle youth.
Shorty running wild, smoking sess, drinking beer.
He ain't trying to hear what I'm kicking in his ear.
Neglected for now, but yo, it got to be accepted.
That what?
CROWD: Life is hectic.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bills, y'all.
Everybody.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
What is it?
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bills, y'all.
Louder.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get your money.
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bills, y'all.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get your money.
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bills, y'all.
Everybody say Wu-Tang.
Wu.
CROWD: Tang. - Wu.
CROWD: Tang.
Wu.
CROWD: Tang. - Wu.
CROWD: Tang.
--is on your brain.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
Dollar, dollar bills, y'all.
Cash rules everything around me, C.R.E.A.M. Get the money.
CROWD: Dollar, dollar bill, y'all.
Seattle, give yourselves a round of applause.
That was beautiful.
Get your money.
Get your fucking money.
Give you chills and shit, you know?
Yeah, yeah.
So since we took them back to Shaolin,
let's take them a little bit further back to our first song
we ever put out.
We want to invite the entire Wu-Tang Clan back on stage.
We want to hear y'all sing along to this one right here.
This is the song that got us on the map.
And the title of this song was true then, and it's true now.
You must always protect your motherfucking neck.
["PROTECT YA NECK" PLAYING]
Protect it.
Hey.
We're going to need y'all to sing this shit.
Let's go.
Day ones, right?
Come on.
(RAPPING) Wu-Tang Clan coming at ya.
Protect ya neck, kid.
Oh, oh.
Watch your step, kid.
The Inspectah Deck.
I smoke on the mic like Smoking Joe Frazier.
Hell raiser, raising hell with the flavor.
Terrorize the jam like troops in Pakistan.
Swinging through your town like a neighborhood Spider-Man.
Yeah, tick-tock, keep ticking.
I'll get you flipping off the shit that I'm kicking.
The Lone Ranger, code red, danger.
Deep in the dark with the art to rip the charts apart.
The vandal, too hot to handle.
Battle, saying goodbye like Tevin Campbell.
Roughneck Inspectah Deck's on the set.
The rebel makes more noise than heavy metal.
The way I make the crowd go wild.
Sit back, relax, won't smile.
Rae got it going on, pal.
Call me the rap assassinator.
Rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger.
And I'ma get mad deep like a threat and blow up
your project, and then take all your assets because I came
to shake the frame in half with the thoughts
that bomb shit like math.
If you want to try to flip, go flip on the next man
'cause I grab the clips and hit you with 16 shots, all I got.
Going war with the melting pot, ah.
It's the Method Man.
For short, Mr. Meth--
CROWD: Moving on your left.
And set it off, get it off, let it off like a gat.
I'm want to break full, cock me back.
Small change, they put shame in the game.
I take aim and blow that nigga out the frame.
And like Fame, my style will live forever.
Niggas crossing over like they don't know no better.
But I do, true.
Can I get Su?
Enough respect due to the 160.
I mean, O. Yo, check out the flow like the Hudson or PCP
when I'm dusting.
Niggas off 'cause I'm hot like sauce.
The smoke from the lyrical blunt, make me-- ah.
Ooh, what, grab these nuts, get screwed.
And ah, here go the Shaolin style.
What?
True.
Bad as ooh, baby U to my crew with the Su.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Come on, baby, baby, come on.
Baby, come on, baby, baby, come on.
Watch your step.
Protect ya neck.
First thing first, man, you're fucking with the worst.
I'll be sticking pins in your head like a fucking nurse.
I'll attack any nigga who's slack in his mack.
Come fully packed with a fat rugged sack.
Shame on you when you step through to the Ol' Dirty
Bastard.
And I'll be damned if I'll let any man come to my center.
You enter the winter.
Straight up and down, that shit is packed jam.
You can't slam.
Don't let me get fool on him, man.
The Ol' Dirty Bastard is dirty and stinkin'.
Ason Unique rolling with the night of the creeps.
Niggas be rolling with a stash, ain't saying cash.
Bite my style, I'll bite your motherfucking ass.
For crying out loud, my style is wild, so book me.
Not long is how long that this rhyme took me.
Ejecting styles from my lethal weapon,
my pen that rocks from here to Oregon.
Here's more again.
Catch it like a psycho flashback.
I love gats.
If rap was a gun, you wouldn't bust back.
I come with shit in all types of shapes and sounds.
Where I lounge is my stomping grounds.
I give order to my niggas across the water to go snatch
up props all around the border.
And get far like a shooting star because 'cause who we are
is living the life of Pablo Escobar.
Point-blank as we kick the square biz.
There it is.
You're fucking with pros, and there it goes.
Chill with the feedback, black, we don't need that.
It's 10 o'clock, ho, where the fuck is your seed at?
Feeling mad hostile, wearing Aeropostle, flowing like Christ
when I speak gospel.
I stroll with the holy robe, then
attack the globe with the buckus style, the ruckus.
10 times 10 men committing mass sin.
You turn the other cheek and I'll break your fucking chin.
We jumped down like an African drum.
We'll be coming around the mountain when I come.
Crazy flamboyant for the rap enjoyment.
My clan increase like Black unemployment.
Yeah, another one there.
Put your W's up in the air.
W's in the air.
W's in the air, and say, oh yeah.
CROWD: Oh yeah.
You best protect your fucking neck.
Love.
[APPLAUSE]
CROWD: Wu-Tang.
Wu-Tang.
DJ GREEN LANTERN: Seattle.
[CHEERING]
I hope y'all having a good time on the New
York State of Mind Tour.
Nah, that ain't loud enough.
Are you having a good ass time tonight on the New
York State of Mind Tour?
That's right.
My name is DJ Green Lantern, and right about now we
about to take a ride through Queensbridge.
["HATE ME NOW" PLAYING]
Hands up everybody, front to back.
Let's go.
Let's get it.
(RAPPING) You can hate me now, but I won't stop now.
Real niggas.
'Cause I can't stop now.
Bravehearts.
You can hate me now, but I won't stop now.
Yeah, 'cause I can't stop now.
Let them know.
You can hate me now.
Let's go.
You can hate me.
Somebody make some noise.
[CHEERING]
Do it now.
Let's go.
Don't hate me, hate the money I see, clothes that I buy,
ice that I wear, flows that I try.
Close your eyes.
Picture me rolling, Sixes, money folding,
honeys swollen to riches.
Nas get in ya.
Critically acclaimed Pulitzer Prize winner, best storyteller,
thug narrator, styles greater.
Model dater, big threat to a lot of these haters.
Commentators ringside try watching my paper.
Almost a decade, quite impressive.
Most of the best is in the essence for the rap shit
that I stand for.
Expanding more to the big screen,
Bill Gates dreams, but it seems they want to see
me in jail, state greens.
Want me off the scene fast, but good things last
like the realist MC still making some mean cash.
First rapper to bring a platinum plaque back to my projects.
They still want to hate, be my guest, I suggest.
Middle fingers up.
Fuck the world.
Do it now.
You can hate me now, but I can't stop.
But I won't stop now.
'Cause I can't stop. 'Cause I can't stop now.
Let them know.
You can hate me now.
Fuck the haters.
But I won't stop now.
Do it now. 'Cause I can't stop now.
What's up, y'all?
You can hate me now.
Fuck the world.
Do it now.
I told you, do it now.
If you want to hate me, hate me.
What can I do?
Keep getting money.
Funny, I was just like you.
I used to hustle hard.
Never give up till I made it.
Now you saying that's a clever nigga, nothing to play with.
Hate on me.
I blew, but I'm the same OG.
["HATE ME NOW" PLAYING] Yo, they warned me.
When you on top, there's envy.
Took my dawgs out the hood, but you
doubt on us, saying we left the hood
but can't get it out of us.
My bad.
Should I step out my shoes?
Give them to you?
Here's the cars and the house.
You can live in that, too.
Criticize when I flow for the street, hate my dress code.
What you expect, yo?
Nickname Esco, took the game to its threshold.
Best flow, I bet the whole US know.
Try to make it like they the realest.
Who the realest?
Seattle, the realest.
You feel us.
Do you feel that?
Seattle, can you feel that?
Do it now.
You can hate me now, but I won't stop.
Cause I can't stop.
Because I can't stop now.
Come on.
You can hate me now.
Fuck every hater.
But I won't stop now.
And we all got haters.
Because I can't stop now.
Let them know.
Never let him stop you.
And I love y'all all right now!
[CHEERING]
["GOT UR SELF A GUN" PLAYING] You got yourself a gun.
Let's go!
Got yourself a gun.
Living in this town behind enemy lines.
I got mine, I hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
You from the hood, I hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
Who want beef now?
Got yourself a gun.
And when I see you, I'mma take what I want.
They tried to front, hope you--
Got yourself a gun.
They not real, hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
Check it out, y'all.
My first album, no famous guest appearances.
The outcome--
What?
He's crowned the best lyricist.
Many years in this professional level.
Why would you question who's better?
The world is still-- - Mine.
Tattoos real, "God's Son" across the belly.
Boss of rap, you saw me in "Belly."
Thoughts like that, take it back to Africa.
Did it with Biggie.
Me and Pac, soldiers of the same struggle.
Your lames could huddle, team's shook,
y'all feel the wrath of a--
Killer.
This is my football field.
Throw a pass from a barrel, shoulder pads, apparel.
But the QB stand for Queensbridge.
Every word is like a sawed-off blast.
They all soft.
I'm the hearse that come and haul y'all's ass--
In.
This for the hood by the corner.
Many try, many, come at Nas.
If you want a war, get it bloody.
Good job, Seattle!
I got mine, hope you--
Got yourself a gun.
America, I hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
USA, I hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
And when I see you, I'mma take what I want.
I tried to front, hope you--
Got yourself a gun.
They not real.
Got yourself a gun.
They not real!
What's your name?
I'm the N, the A, to the S-I-R. If I wasn't--
hey, yo, the kid got a chipped tooth fixed, hair parted
with a barber's preciseness.
Bravehearted for life, return of the gunslinger,
son of a blues player.
Who were you, player?
Y'all waiting the true savior.
Puffing the tropical, cups of the vodka, too.
Papi chu's, throw up, wake up in the hospital.
Throw up?
Never, I do it through righteous steps.
Judas thought I was gone.
In light of my death--
They been all happy-go-lucky.
Bunch of sambos call me "God's son"--
With my pants low.
I don't die slow.
Put them rags up like Petey Pablo.
This the NASDAQ, though.
In my NASCAR with the Nas flow.
What can beat that?
Rick, Joe, bring it back to Seattle, Washington!
Oh!
I got mine, hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
You from the hood, I hope y'all-- what's up?
Got yourself a gun.
Who want beef now?
Got yourself a gun.
And when I see you, I'mma take what I want.
They try to front, hope y'all--
Got yourself a gun.
They not real!
Got yourself a gun.
They not real.
Hope you got yourself a--
[FIREWORKS]
[CHEERING]
How you feeling tonight?
[CHEERING]
Happy birthday.
Anybody's birthday tonight?
Last night?
Next week?
Libras, where you at?
Oh!
Let's take it back.
Yeah!
Let's take it to 1994!
Who was there?
Let's take it back like hey!
Ho!
Hey!
CROWD: Ho!
Hey!
CROWD: Ho!
Oh!
["IT AIN'T HARD TO TELL" PLAYING] It ain't hard to tell.
I excel, then prevail.
The mic is contacted, I attract clientele.
The mic check is life or death, breathing the sniper's breath.
Exhale the yellow smoke of Buddha through righteous steps.
Deep like "The Shining," sparkle like a diamond.
Sneak a Uzi on the island army jacket lining.
Hit the Earth like a comet, invasion.
Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian.
In my physical, I'll express, delete
stress, then extend strong.
Drink Moet with Medusa, give her shotguns in Hell.
Everybody, bring it back!
Hip-hop hooray!
It ain't hard to tell!
Hey!
CROWD: Ho!
Hey!
CROWD: Ho!
Hey!
CROWD: Ho!
Yeah, it ain't hard to tell.
If you ever had any of my music on cassette tape,
I love you more!
Let's groove!
The Buddha monk's in the trunk, turn the bass up.
Not stories by Aesop.
Place the loot up, parties I shoot up.
Nas, I analyze, drop a jew-el, inhale from the L. School
a fool well.
You feel it like Braille, it ain't hard to tell.
Kick a skill like Shaquille holds a bill.
Vocabulary spills, he's ill, plus Matic.
Freak beat slammin like Iron Sheik.
Jam like a TEC with correct--
Technique.
To analyze me.
Surprise me.
Can't magnetize me.
Scanning while you're planning ways to--
Sabotage.
I leave you froze like heroin in your nose.
Nas will rock well.
CROWD: It ain't hard to tell.
Yeah!
Let's go!
It's time to represent!
Yeah.
It's time to represent.
Seattle, represent--
It's time to represent.
BOTH: Let's go!
Represent, represent!
["REPRESENT" PLAYING] Say what!
CROWD: Represent, represent!
Say what!
CROWD: Represent, represent!
Say what!
CROWD: Represent, represent!
Straight up, shit is real.
And today could be your last in the jungle.
Get murdered on the humble, guns'll blast, tumble.
Corners is the hot spot full of criminals who don't care.
Guzzling beers, we all stare at the out-of-towners who better
break north before we get the--
Four pounders--
And take their face off.
The streets is real.
And the countless homicides chasing brothers.
D's on the roof trying to watch us and knock us.
Killer coppers coming through in helicopters.
I drink a little vodka, spark a L and hold a--
The fronters--
Wanna ill ones and spot runners,
thinking it can't happen till I drop them and clap
them and leave him done.
Won't even run.
I don't believe in all that whack shit.
Facts are backwards.
Nas is a rebel at a street corner,
pulling a TEC out the dresser.
Everybody help me out!
Represent, represent!
Say what?
CROWD: Represent, represent!
Say what?
CROWD: Represent, represent!
Say what?
Represent, represent, represent, represent!
["SWEET DREAMS" PLAYING] Oh, street
dreams are made of these.
And shawties push Bimmers and 300 Es.
A drug dealer's destiny is reaching a key,
and everybody's looking for something.
Street Dreams are made of these.
And shorties on their knees for players with big cheese.
But who am I to disagree?
With everybody looking for something.
It goes one--
One.
Two--
Two.
One, two, three, bring it back.
Come on!
Hey!
Now, now, now, now.
When I say "hip", y'all say "hop."
Hip!
CROWD: Hop!
Hip!
I said when I say "hip," y'all say "hop."
Hip! CROWD: Hop!
Up top!
I see you!
Hip!
Let's go!
Up top, I see you!
["NAS IS LIKE" PLAYING] Freedom or jail, clip's inserted.
Baby's being born same time a man is murdered.
Beginning and end, as far as rap go,
it's only natural I explain plateau
and also what defines my name.
First it was Nasty, but times have changed.
Ask me now, it's just an artist, hardcore, my sign's for pain.
Spent time in the game, my mind on fame.
Saw fiends shoot up, do lines of cocaine.
So my close friends shot, flatline, am I sane?
Depends, carry MAC-10s to practice my aim.
Rooftops, tape CD covers on trees.
Line the barrel up with the album cover, the squeeze.
Street scriptures for lost souls in the crossroad,
to the corner thugs hustle for cars that cost dough.
To the little ones, doing it right.
Pushing big cars, enjoy your life.
It's what you make it.
Suicide, few try to take it.
Belt tied around his neck in jail cells--
Naked.
Heaven and hell, rap legend presents
is felt. And of course--
CROWD: "N-A-S" are the letters that spell--
["THE WORLD IS YOURS" PLAYING] And it's yours!
Whose world is this?
The world is yours, what?
It's mine, it's mine, whose world is this?
The world is yours.
It's mine, it's mine, it's mine.
Whose world is this?
The world is yours.
It's mine, it's mine--
I sip the Dom P, watching "Gandhi" till I'm charged.
Writing in my book of rhymes, all the words past the margin.
To hold the mic I'm throbbing, mechanical movement.
Understandable small shit murderers move with.
The thief's theme.
Play me at night, they won't act right.
The fiend of hip-hop got me stuck--
Like a crack pipe.
The mind activation, react like I'm
facing time like Pappy Mason.
Pens I'm embracing, wipe the sweat off my dome,
split the phlegm of the streets.
J's on the beat.
Keep the cipher complete.
Whether cruising in a cab, a Montero, I can't call it.
The beats make me falling asleep.
I keep falling, but never falling six feet deep.
Hey, yo, I'm out for presidents to represent me!
CROWD: Say what?
Presidents to represent me!
CROWD: Say what?
Dead presidents.
Let's go.
Whose world is this?
The world is yours.
It's your world, Seattle!
Whose world?
The world is-- it's your world!
This world is mine.
It's mine.
Whose world is this?
It's yours.
It's mine, it's mine, it's mine.
Whose world is this? - Yeah.
Yeah.
The world is yours.
It's mine, it's mine, it's mine.
Whose world is this?
To my man Ill Will--
It's yours.
To my people out there, God bless.
I trip, we box up crazy.
Aiming guns at all my baby pictures.
Beef with the house and police release scriptures
that's maybe--
yet I'm the mild money-getting style, rolling foul.
Versatile, honey-sticking, wild golden child.
Dwelling in the rotten apple, you get tackled
or caught by the devil's lasso.
CROWD: Shit is a hassle.
It's no days for broke days when selling smoke pays,
while the old folks pray to Jesús,
soaking their sins in trays of holy water.
Odds against Nas is slaughter.
The word describing my life to name my daughter, my strength.
My son will be my resurrection.
Born in correction, the wrongs that I did
can do the right direction.
How you living?
Large or broke on charge cards and mediocre?
You flipping coke or?
What you want, soldier?
I thought I told you!
It's yours!
It's mine, it's mine.
Whose world-- the world is yours.
Can you believe that?
It's mine, it's mine, it's mine.
Whose world is this?
It's yours.
Do you receive that?
Whose world is this?
The world is yours.
The world is--
CROWD: Yours!
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
Seattle!
How the fuck you feelin' right now, Seattle?
Let's do it!
Y'all look beautiful.
I love every last one of y'all.
We the shit because we here 2000-- all of us--
in 2023.
Make some noise for yourself.
I got a lot of shit I want to say.
This shit would take all night.
Can we do that underground, dirty, nasty shit?
[CHEERS]
That 90s shit?
Let's go.
[NAS, "MADE YOU LOOK"]
Oh!
Get up everybody!
Let's go!
Bravehearts.
What are you?
CROWD: Bravehearts.
What are we?
CROWD: Bravehearts.
What are we?
CROWD: Bravehearts.
What are you?
CROWD: Bravehearts.
Bravehearts, where you at?
CROWD: Bravehearts.
Up top, where you at?
(RAPPING) Now let's get it all in perspective.
For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step with.
Y'all appointed me to bring rap justice.
But I ain't Five-O, y'all know it's--
Hennessy with a whole lot a-- only
describe us as soldiers of--
Stay laced in the best, well-dressed,
with finesse in a black tee.
Wifey.
A thug girl who fly and talks so nicely.
Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze.
We can ride through the city, no doubt.
Don't say the car's topless.
Say what?
Say the titties is out.
Newness, here's the anthem that you hoop with--
Count your loot with.
Push the pool stick in your new crib.
Same hand you hoop with, swing around like you're stupid.
King of the town, we've been that.
You know you click-clack.
Where you, where your mens at?
Do the Smurf, do the Wop, Baseball bat.
Seattle, bring that ill hip hop back.
They shootin'!
Let's go!
Big Money, play 'fore your time's up.
Where them gangsters at?
Where my ladies at?
They shootin'!
Hey!
What's up over here?
Gettin' big money play for ya.
Where them gangsters at?
Where my dimes at?
This ain't rappin'.
This is Street Hop.
Now get up off yo' ass like your seat's hot.
My live thugs lit up the reefer.
Trunk of your car, got the streetsweeper.
Don't start none, won't be none.
No reason for your mans to panic.
You don't want to see no ambulances.
Knock a pimp's drink down in his pimp cup.
That's the way you get Timberland'd up.
Oh!
Let the music defuse all the tension.
Baller convention, free admission.
Hustlers, dealers, killers move swift.
Girls get close, you can feel where the tool's kept.
All my just-coming homies.
Parolees.
Get money, leave the beef alone.
Slowly.
Get out my face.
You people so phony.
Pull out my waste, the Eagle four-forty.
They shootin!
Nah, made you look.
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book, getting big money,
playboy, your time's up.
Where my gangstas at?
Where my dimes at?
They shootin'!
If you ain't scared of nothing, you a Braveheart for life.
And I know y'all brave.
Where we at?
Bravehearts.
What are you?
Bravehearts.
What are we?
Bravehearts.
What are you?
Bravehearts.
[PYRO EXPLOSION]
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
Seattle, y'all are fucking loud tonight!
Welcome to your life.
We all state of mind because it's a state of mind.
There's no turning back.
No matter where we from, we all blood of blood.
Even while--
Kindred souls.
--we sleep.
Spirits are the same.
It is a mind state thing.
We will find you--
Yeah.
--acting on your--
One of my favorite vocalist, Lalah Hathaway--
--best behavior--
--singing a song that just belongs to all of us.
So if you know the song, sing along.
This part here.
It goes--
Everybody wants to rule the world.
[CHEERS]
Yes, Seattle, get your hands up.
- Hands up! - To the sky!
- Get the hands up.
Hands up!
Side to side.
Life, I wonder, will it take us under?
Never!
Imagine smoking weed in the streets.
Imagine going to court with no--
lifestyle, cruisin' blue Bahama waters.
No welfare supporters, conscious of the way
we raise our daughters.
Days are shorter, nights are colder.
Feeling like life is over.
This snake strike like a cobra.
The world's hot, son got knocked evidently.
It's elementary they want us all gone eventually.
Troopin' out of state for a plate, knowledge.
If coke was cooked without the garbage, we'd all have the
Top dollar.
Imagine everybody flashing, fashion designer clothes.
You look good!
People holdin; dough, no parole, no rubbers.
Imagine law with no undercovers.
Just a thought for the mind.
Everybody in here, help me out one time.
If I ruled the world.
Imagine that.
Oh!
Say what?
I'd free all my sons.
CROWD: I love 'em, love 'em, baby.
We love you!
Black diamonds and pearls
Could it be.
If it could be mine.
If I ruled the world.
Up top, I see you!
Living in these days, inner peace.
Paradise, life relaxing.
Armani Exchange, the Range, Cash, Lost Tribe.
Free at last.
Brand new cars the crash then we laugh.
In the iller path.
The Villa house is for the crew.
How we do?
Weed for breakfast, dime sexes, Benz stretches.
Many years of depression make me vision a better living.
Type of place to raise kids in.
Open they eyes history's told foul.
I'm as wise as the old owl plus the Gold Child.
Seeing things like I was controlling,
clique rolling, tricking six digits
on kicks and still holdin'.
Trips to Paris, I'd civilize every savage.
Just give me one shot, I turn trife life to lavish.
Political prisoners set free!
Stress free!
No work release, purple M3s, and jet skis.
Feel the wind breeze in West Indies.
Let Coretta Scott, mayor the city,
reverse fiends to Willies.
It sound foul, but every girl in here will go down-town.
I'd open every cell in Attica, send 'em to Africa.
If I ruled the world
Imagine that, y'all!
Say what?
I'd free all my sons.
You know what?
CROWD: I love 'em, love 'em, baby.
I love ya.
Black diamonds and pearls.
Could it be?
If we--
If I ruled the world.
Still living for today, hey, yeah.
We'll walk right up to the sun hand-in-hand.
Hand-in-hand!
We'd walk.
Right up to the sun.
Unified.
We won't land.
We'd walk right up to the sun, hand-in-hand.
I got my man on the drums right there.
You ready?
--right up to the sun.
Y'all ready?
Let's walk to the sun!
We'd walk right up to the--
--sun, hand-in-hand.
Yeah!
We'd walk right up to the sun.
We won't land.
We'd walk right up to the--
--sun.
Hey!
Hand-in-hand.
We'd walk right up to the sun.
We won't land!
Somebody make some noise out there!
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
I love y'all!
[CHEERS CONTINUE]
Thank you, babe.
I need your help with calling one of our brothers
back to the stage.
But you got to put your chest into this shit,
because he's a scientist.
He's probably mixing fucking shit back in--
the back.
He got a laboratory back there.
His name is RZA.
[CHEERS]
One of the wisest human beings walking the fucking Earth.
He should do a meet and greet so you can just talk to him
so you can leave fucked up--
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
--by the shit he got to say.
It takes him five seconds to say some shit.
You walk away like, what the fuck?
I love him.
So let's do this, because we all love him.
Let's call him out here.
Let's do it like this.
Hey, yo, RZA, where you at?
[YELLS]
I'm right here, Lord.
People, please welcome to the stage, the RZA!
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
Nas Escobar!
Love, love, love.
Wow, God.
Yes!
Hey, yo, I gotta say, the fucking line-up of the music
tonight was fucking banging!
[CHEERS]
That shit had me--
I forgot I was not--
I was a fan, dawg.
I do the same shit, I'm like, God, I'm on--
I'm on tour with Wu-Tang.
This shit's crazy.
It's a Bamalama.
And the drummer, Haze.
Can we get some light on Haze up here?
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
Aw, man, y'all.
[LAUGHS] He was crazy-- those drums.
Love!
RZA, talk to your family, man.
Well, check it out, family.
When Pastor Nose came out here earlier,
he said that there's only one thing that we must do.
And he said, we must have a good time.
How many people is having a good time?
Make some noise.
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
Respect.
Hip hop has given us all many years of good times.
[CHEERS AND APPLAUSE]
Thank y'all for that.
The thing is-- the thing is, y'all, hip hop is a culture
that brought us all together.
Even the two hands that you had up, right?
You had them separated.
Look what happens when you bring them together.
Shaolin Kung-Fu to survive, must now
be taught to more young men.
We must--
OLD MAN (VOICEOVER): Must expand, get more pupils--
RAPPER: Yeah.
OLD MAN (VOICEOVER): --so that--
RAPPER: Oh, put them up.
Put them up.
RAPPER: Hey, hey.
It's Wu, motherfucker.
Wu!
RAPPER: Wu Tang, motherfucker.
Wu!
It's Wu, motherfucker.
Wu Tang, motherfucker.
It's Wu, motherfucker.
Wu!
Wu Tang, mother fucker.
Hey, Wu Tang.
Wu Tang.
Yeah.
Hey, M-E-T-H-O-D. M-E-T-H-O-D. M-E-T-H-O-D. M-E-T-H-O-D. Cash
rules everything around me.
CREAM.
Get the money.
Dolla dolla bill, y'all.
Cash rules everything around me.
CREAM, get the money.
Dolla dolla bill, y'all.
If you you want beef, then bring the ruckus.
Wu Tang Clan ain't--
Nothing to.
Fuck with.
Wu Tang Clan ain't--
AUDIENCE: Nothing to fuck with.
It's Wu, motherfucker.
Who?
Wu Tang, motherfucker.
Yeah, it's Wu, motherfucker.
Who? RAPPER: Wu--
AUDIENCE: --Tang, motherfucker.
Come on.
It's Wu, motherfucker.
Who?
RAPPER: Wu Tang, motherfucker.
There it goes.
It's Wu, motherfucker.
Who?
AUDIENCE: Wu Tang, motherfucker.
Yeah.
Wu Tang, motherfucker.
Yeah.
Before we go any further, we want to thank Amazon
for inviting us here tonight to this beautiful city
of Seattle and this motherfucking clean-ass arena.
Cleanest arena we've been to on the whole tour.
Shit is clean, this motherfucker.
But listen.
Do y'all still got energy?
[CHEERING]
No, no.
I'm talking about that '90s hip hop energy.
Up top.
What's going on?
Up top.
Talk to us.
We see y'all out there.
Know what we're going to do, Chef?
We're going to play a song off the album "Liquid Swords,"
all right?
And when we say jump, you jump.
When we say jump, you jump.
Turn it up.
[MUSIC PLAYING]
Let's go.
Represent.
Seattle, represent.
Everybody, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump.
Everybody just--
RAPPER: Jump, jump, jump, jump.
Uh oh, uh oh, uh oh, uh oh.
No, no, no, no.
You're wrong. You're wrong.
What's up?
I think they can do better, Lord.
Yeah, it was like--
hold on.
Wait, I got-- I got--
I got to ask y'all a fucking question, man.
How many people in this crowd was born in the '70s?
Make some noise.
'70s-- what's good?
Speak.
I understand.
I was born in the '70s, and it's way past our bedtime ain't it?
We need a nap.
Yeah.
That stopped some of them from jumping.
How many people in this crowd was born in the '80s?
Make some noise.
Woo
Transition.
'80s is deep--
Yeah.
'80s babies, your parents smoke crack.
You're a crack baby.
Crack baby, crack baby, crack baby.
RAPPER: That kid is playing some things.
How many people in this crowd was born in the '90s?
Make some noise.
RAPPER: The '90s posse.
What's up?
'90s crew.
I'll fuck with you, '90s babies, but y'all don't brush
your tongue.
You don't take baths, and you don't
wash your feet in the shower.
That's terrible.
Ah shit.
Don't say that fucker's name.
How many people in this crowd was born in the 2000s?
Make some noise.
2000s.
Beautiful.
I love that.
Now, no disrespect, but shut the fuck
up when grown folks is talking.
Listen, now, in all reality, I don't care
if it's the '70s, 80s, '90s, or 2000s,
even the fucking '60s, man.
When we put this shit on, Seattle, show
me your '90s hip hop energy.
And when we jump, you jump.
When We jump you, jump.
Come on.
Let's go.
Come on, y'all.
Turn it up.
Seattle, ya'll in the ring.
Everybody jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump, jump.
Everybody just jump.
Oh shit.
OK.
RAPPER: Hey, hey, hey.
Somebody say fuck that shit.
Say fuck that shit.
Huh!
Woo!
That was nice.
That was fun.
Yeah.
They'll put y'all on TV for that one.
But you know what?
Let's play back.
Show them some real young energy,
and let me see how y'all react when we do a song like this.
Oh yeah.
Come on, y'all.
Sing this shit.
Let's go.
Oh baby, I like it raw.
Raw.
Oh baby, I like it-- RAPPER: Come on.
--raw.
RAPPER: Yeah, baby.
Shimmy, shimmy, shimmy.
Give me the mic so I can take it.
RAPPER: away.
Off on a natural charge.
Bon voyage.
Yeah, from the home of the Dodgers, Brooklyn squad.
Wu Tang killer bees on a swarm.
Rain on your college-ass disco--
For you to even touch my skill, you gotta put--
Come on.
Hey, hey, hey.
Chop that down.
Pass it on.
Lyrics get hard quick.
Cement--
To the ground.
Any 52 states, I get psycho killer.
My producer slam flow is like--
Bam.
Jump on stage.
Then I dip down.
Saying ODB.
ODB.
Say ODB.
Oh baby, I like it raw.
Yeah, baby, I like it raw.
Yeah, baby, I like it--
AUDIENCE: Raw.
- Uh oh, uh oh. - Baby.
Uh oh.
The jacket came on.
--girls, all the pretty--
Uh oh.
All the pretty girls.
Get 'em.
Let's go, let's go.
Ey, ey.
Uh.
Oh shit.
- Ah. - Get him, baby.
- Uh oh. - Ah.
Come on.
Ah.
Come on.
Hey!
Sing it.
Baby I-- don't you worry.
Say hey.
Sing that shit.
All together.
Hey.
RAPPER: You motherfuckers.
Sing that shit.
Let's go, baby.
Talk first.
You give me your number.
I'll call you up.
You act like a pussy, don't interrupt.
I ain't got no problem with you fucking me.
But I got a little problem with you not fucking me.
Baby, you know I'm going to take of you.
And you say you got my baby.
I know it ain't true.
Is it a good thing?
No, it's bad, bitch.
For good or worse, it's making you switch.
So I walk all over my crib style.
Bitch niggs, put away your pistols.
Dirty won't be it in this house.
Because bitch, I'll cripple your style.
Now that you heard my--
Charming voice.
Oh.
If you want to look good and not be bummy,
girl, you better give me that--
Money.
Hey, hey.
Sing it Baby I--
sing it, girl.
Sing it now.
Let's go.
Hey, Dirty.
Sing that shit.
Sing it.
Say what?
Come on.
Hey!
Baby, I--
Want your money.
Don't you--
Worry.
I said, hey.
Baby--
Louder, louder.
Over here.
Hey!
AUDIENCE: Hey!
Baby, I--
AUDIENCE: Got your money. - Don't you--
- Worry. - Woo!
I said--
OK, OK.
Baby, I-- AUDIENCE: Got your money.
Everybody.
Hey!
What?
Baby, I--
AUDIENCE: Got your money.
Don't you--
AUDIENCE: Worry.
Louder.
One more time.
All together.
Hey!
Yeah.
Baby, I got your money.
AUDIENCE: I like that.
I like that, y'all.
Say what?
AUDIENCE: Baby, I got your money.
Give it to them.
Give him that money, man.
Ladies and gentlemen.
Man, fuck that, man.
Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Old
Dirty Bastard's first born son, the Young Dirty Bastard.
RAPPER: Just like his father.
Just like his dad.
Good shit, young man.
Good shit.
Yeah.
I'm getting better, baby.
You get--
Well, one thing for sure is that when you jump,
you jump higher than all of us, my man.
It's that young energy.
For us, it's a pleasure to be seeing
a second generation of Wu Tang Clan share the stage with us,
the YDB.
That's the power of hip hop.
And if you love hip hop like we love hip hop,
when I say hip hop, you say one love.
Hip hop.
One love.
Hip hop.
One love.
Hip hop.
One love.
Seattle, put your Wu Tang W's in the sky
one more time for the night.
Up top, up top.
We see you.
And when I say Wu Tang--
RAPPER: Everybody now. - --you say forever.
- Yeah. - Wu Tang.
Forever.
Wu Tang.
Forever.
RAPPER: Wu Tang.
Forever.
We the Osiris of this shit.
Wu Tang is here forever, motherfuckers.
All right, this '97.
All right, my niggas and my niggarrettes.
We're going through it like this.
I'm a rub your ass in the moonshine.
RAPPER: Let's take it back to '79.
I bomb atomically.
Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses..
I'll be dropping these mockers. lyrically
perform armed robbery.
Flee with the lottery.
Possibly they spotted me.
Battle-scared shogun, explosion when my pen hits.
Tremendous.
Ultraviolet shine, blind forensics.
I inspect view through the future, see millennium.
Killa Beez sold--
60 platinum.
Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics.
Graphic displays.
Melt the like blacksmiths.
Black Wu jackets, Queen Beez ease the guns in.
Rumble with patrolmen, tear gas laced the function.
Heads by the score.
Take flight, incite a war.
Thicks hit the floor.
Diehard fans demand more.
Behold the bold soldier.
Control the globe slowly.
Proceed to blow, swinging swords like Shinobi.
Stomp grounds and pound footprints in solid rock.
Wu got it locked performing live on your hottest block.
As the the world, I spread like germs.
Bless the globe with the pestilence.
The hard-headed never learn.
It's my testament to those burned.
Play my position in the game of life,
standing firm on foreign land.
Jump the gun.
Out the frying pan, into the fire.
Transform into the Ghost Rider.
A six pack and a "Streetcar Named Desire."
Who got my back in the line of fire, holding back.
What?
My peoples, if you with me, where the fuck you at?
Niggas is strapped, and they trying to twist my beer cap.
It's court adjourned for the bad seed from bad sperm.
Herb got my wig fried like a bad perm.
What the blood clot?
We smoke pot and blow spots.
You wanna think twice?
I think not.
The Iron Lung ain't got to take you where it's coming from.
"Guns of Navarone" tearing up your battle zone.
Rip through your slums.
I twist darts from the heart, trued and true.
Loot my voice on the LP.
Martini on the slang rocks, certified chatterbox.
Vocabulary Donna talking.
Tell your story walking.
Take cover, kid.
What?
Run for your brother, kid.
Run for your team and your six can't rhyme groupies.
So I can squeeze with the advantage and get wasted.
My deadly notes reign Supreme.
Your thought basic compared to mine.
Uh.
Domino effect, arts and crafts.
Talk to them.
Paragraphs contain cyanide.
Take a free ride on my thought.
I got the fashion catalogs for all y'all to all praise.
The saga continues.
Wu Tang.
Olympic torch flaming.
We burn so sweet.
The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat.
We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow for Judgment Day cometh.
Conquer.
It's war.
Allow us to escape hell, globe spinning bomb.
Pocket full of shells out the sky, golden arms.
Tunes split the shitty "Mortal Kombat" sound.
The fake false step make the blood stain the ground.
A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum.
A death kiss catwalk, squeeze another anthem.
Hold it for ransom.
Tranquilized with anesthesia.
My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas.
My music Sicily, rich California smell.
The ax killer adventure, paint a picture well.
I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sipping on ginseng.
Righteous wax chaperon, rotating ring king.
March of the wooden sldiers.
C-Cypher punks couldn't hold us.
1,000 men rushing in, not one nigga was sober.
Perpendicular to the saquare, we stand bold like Flare.
Escape from the dragon's lair.
In particular, my beats travel like a vortex up your spine
to the top of your cerebral cortex.
Make you think you bust a nut from raw sex.
Enter through your right ventricle,
clog up your bloodstream.
Heart terminal, like Grand Central Station.
Fat bassline on Novation.
Getting drunk like I'm fucking dunking five year probation.
Yo, war of the masses.
Outcome disastrous.
Many of the victim families save the ashes.
A million names on walls, engraved in plaques.
But those who went back received penalties for their acts.
Another heart is torn as close ones mourn.
Those who stray, niggas get slayed.
Yo, yo, yo.
The track renders helpless, suffers multiple stab
wounds, making sounds heard.
93 million miles away from.
Came one to represent the nation.
This is a gathering of the masses.
Came to pay respect to my Wu Tang Clan.
As we engage in battle, crowd now screams in rage.
The high chief Jamel Irief takes the stage.
Light is provided through sparks of energy
from the mind, travels in rhyme from giving sight to the blind.
The dumb are mostly intrigued-- - By the drum.
Yeah.
Death, only one can save self from.
This relentless attack in the track spares none.
- Spares none. - Spares none.
Yo, yo, yo, fuck that.
Look at all these crab niggas laid back.
Lamping like them gray and black Pumas on my man's rack.
Codeine was forced in your drink.
Had a navy green salamander fiend.
Bitches overheard your scream.
You two-faces, scum of the slum, got his whole body numb.
Blowing like Shalamar in '81.
Sound convincing. - Come on, Ghost.
$1,000 cork pop convention.
Hands, Sonny Liston.
Gly.
I'll unfasten his wig.
Bad luck. I humiliate.
Separate the English from the Dutch.
It's me, Black noble Drew Ali.
Three.
Genovese, sazon season tehse degrees.
It's Earth, 93 million miles.
The rough turbulence, the wave burst.
Split the megahertz.
Ay yo.
That's amazing.
Gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul hawk.
Connect thoughts to make my man walk.
Swift notarizer, Blue Tang.
All up in the high riser.
New York Yank visor, word tranquilizer.
A dosage.
Delegate my clan with explosives while pen blow lines ferocious.
Mediterranean, see y'all.
The number one draft pick.
Tear down the beat, God.
Ah, the swift chancellor.
Flex the white gold tarantula.
Track truck diesel, play the weed God substantiala.
We max mostly, undivided, then slid in.
Sickening-- guaranteed made them jump like Rod Strickland.
Uh. Uh.
Woo!
Uh!
Hip hop.
[BARKING]
Seattle!
[BARKING]
Hey
Yeah.
Seattle, on behalf of DJ Scratch, DJ Green Lantern,
DJ Law of Mathematics, Hayes the drummer, the band Stone Mecca,
Talib Kweli, De La Soul, Nas Escobar, and the Wu Tang Clan,
make some noise!
RAPPER: Love y'all.
Fucking Seattle, baby.
RAPPER: As the God said, this is history in the making.
Hip hop celebrating 50 years.
Started, Kool DJ Herc brings out two turntables
and some speakers, gather people together,
and the culture is born.
But it didn't spread all around the world,
until somebody picked up one microphone
and picked their voice through that.
So right now, Seattle, could you pull your cell phones out?
Light them up to represent that one
microphone as the God Nas Escobar
teach you about this shit.
- Yeah. - Yeah.
One time.
Yeah.
One time.
Yeah.
One time for the real.
Yeah.
Hey.
Yeah, yeah yeah.
Yo, all I need is one mic, one beat,
one stage, one person front, my face on the front page.
Only if I had one gun, one girl, one crib, one God,
show me how to do things his son did.
Pure, like a cup of virgin blood, mixed with 151.
One sip probably made me flip.
See my name in the hieroglyphs.
Mad violence-- that's hood politics.
Acknowledge it.
We been on tricks.
Seeds watch us, grow up, try to follow us.
Police watch us, roll up, try knokcing us.
One knee, I ducked.
Could it be my time is up?
As I got up, the cop shot a--
fiend drops his Heineken.
Ricocheting between the spots I'm hiding it.
Blacking out as I fell back.
Fuck getting hit.
This is my hood.
I'm a rep to the death of it until everybody come home.
Little brothers is grown.
Hootrats, don't abortion your womb.
We need more warriors soon.
Sent from the stars, sun, and the moon.
In this life, police chases, street sweeper, coopers.
Stick-up kids with no conscious leaving victims with doctors.
If you really think you're ready to fly,
this is what Nas is about.
Wu Tang about.
One mic.
One.
On God.
RAPPER: Put them up.
All I needed was one mic.
RAPPER: The most illest MCs ever right here.
NAS: All we needed was one mic, two DJs, and most of all you.
One mic to spread our voice to the whole world.
We love you, Seattle.
Yeah.
We thank you.
Woo!
Love.
RAPPER: We thank you.
RAPPER: Yeah.
RAPPER: How y'all feeling out there?
Make some noise for yourself, y'all.
This shit is packed the fuck out.
That way.
Hip hop shit.
Hey, yo, RZA.
Hold up, RZA.
What happened to peace?
RZA: Everybody put the peace sign up like this.
Yeah.
Up top, we see you.
Ric Flair!
Woo!
That's for my boy Johnny. Put the peace on up like this.
On the count of three, we're all going to say peace.
1, 2, 3.
Peace.
1, 2, 3.
Peace.
Uno, dos, tres.
Peace.
Wu Tang, Nas, De La Soul.
We love y'all.
Peace
Oh. Oh.
- Hey! - Yo?
Yo, what's up, my brother?
You know what, brother.
Yeah.
We got a lot of people out there.
Hell yeah.
Let's keep it rocking.
Let's go.
1, 2, 1, 2, 3, somebody say ho.
AUDIENCE: ho.
Say ho, ho.
AUDIENCE: Ho, ho.
Say, ho, ho, ho.
AUDIENCE: Ho, ho, ho.
Now scream.
[SCREAM]