Duck Seazon

Duck Seazon easy guitar chords by Wu-tang Clan

N/A
Guitar
Tuning

E A D G B E

Capo

Fret 4

Capo

Transpose

0

Capo
  • Am

  • G#m

    4
  • E

  • Am

  • G#m

    4
  • E

  • Intro 1
    Am

    G#m

    Am

    G#m
    G#m

    Verse 1
    Am

    Yo, my
    Am

    team be bellyaching hungry nig gas on the swarm again

    Pirahna niggas bite dick,

    yo Son, it's on again
    G#m

    What up, he made a move, try to assist it

    Listen kid yo, you was born to be

    a pawn but I'm a bishop
    Am

    Back to the novel, you Son, it's logical

    How you figure god, what,

    flow on the track, flip the obstacle
    G#m

    Now my proposal rips the global

    From California to courts,

    it's over God so, taste the soul food
    Am

    Remember baggy jeans,

    the Timberlands in November

    Shorty called me Santa in December
    G#m

    But guess what,

    my Wally's got messed up

    Autograph pressed up what,

    blessed enough to blow your rest up
    Am

    We scrape that, Land O' Lake that

    My dolo rapper get you sent back

    Represent the gentlemens

    who bent that
    G#m

    Flash medallions like Italians,

    la costra nostra

    We movin through your hood like
    Am

    we supposed ta, flexin'

    Lex and Diamonds hold the settlement

    So keep the bust the gun Boo

    Like that bad ass bitch in

    Dead Presidents
    G#m

    Add on, the billboard sloan

    Check it now, you get the gold dick award

    It's like jail, and it's the sixth floor
    Am

    Test me, floating in the S.E.,

    now let's see

    Half of y'all niggas built your vine
    G#m

    from my stress tree

    Faggots, homos, yo,

    my flavor liver than adobo

    Stay militant kid, twist ya like bolo
    Am

    You fucking idiot,

    playing with my Clan but you be fearin' it

    Fake one, I'm guaranteed to
    G#m

    make you take one

    Please, y'all niggas

    money's gettin' low

    But could you come back though,

    set up shop, and get the fat glow?
    Am

    Tired of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all

    So what the deal now, link up with us,
    G#m

    or put your shield down

    Faggot (bitch), you fuck around

    punk (seven fifteen)
    G#m

    We battle for cream nigga
    Am
    You want a pound
    Verse 2

    crab? Nah

    let his hand swing

    I ought to punch a hole in his palm
    G#m

    with these pointy ass rings

    No more said,

    knew your chump ass was dead

    When I saw the four four reflecting

    off your shiny forehead
    Am

    It's Wu- Tang nigga,

    ain't nuttin' changed nigga

    Still shame on a nigga,

    who tried to run game
    G#m

    Your version of perversion,

    fuckin bitches on Persian rugs

    Washin niggas like detergent,

    it's the surgeon
    Am

    Slugs propels from Bobby

    Steele's 12 gauge

    Front page, "Daily Chronicle" reads

    "Hell up in Gotham,

    take heed and protect yo' seeds"
    G#m

    You fall like autumn leaves,

    you lack tranquility

    In your rap utilities,

    to fuck with the abilities
    Am

    Race like a sperm cell to the ovary

    Microphone post tone like

    a rotary phone

    Ancient poems and poetry,
    G#m

    old sloans

    Explosive head bullets,

    black hooded

    Timberland footed ninjas, who

    full metal jacket clips
    Am

    And know how to put it in you

    Surrender your goods

    and your merchandise

    For no purchase price, I'm certainly a heist
    G#m

    For your ice and curtains

    and vice

    Come quietly,

    Wu- Tang Clan rules society

    Because of variety,
    Am

    so maintain your high anxiety

    And lead them to defy me, diary, ya Irie?
    G#m

    I need 18 points for my next joint,

    this high annointed king

    To make a deal, I be the one to appoint
    Am

    Steve Rifkind must have been sniffin'

    To catch somethin so dope,

    it left Monica Lynch pussy drippin'
    G#m

    I fuck hundreds of bitches,

    and split millions of dollars

    And built with thousands of scholars
    Am

    My life saga from the hill to the harbor

    Legal kid brown in Nicaragua

    Gave birth to MC's, thieves

    and bank robbers
    G#m

    We drove ex pensive whips

    and took worldwide trips

    And my dick's been sucked
    G#m

    by the finest lips
    Am

    Fancy delicatessens, and

    the world's best refreshment

    But none of the above compare

    to the one- twenty lessons
    G#m

    Or my queen and my seeds,

    in the home that I rest in
    Verse 3

    Enter my zone get blown to 99 sections
    G#m
    Am

    This rhyme has no limitations,
    Am

    this time there's no hesitation

    Collecting minds at the door,
    G#m
    G#m

    you want it niggas it's yours

    The flavors raw,
    G#m

    what the fuck you think I'm flowing for
    Am

    It's rhyme and reason, bite the bullet
    Am
    Am

    Niggas is foul and it's duck season

    We at odds 'til we even motherfucker
    G#m

    Bad asses, high times, lower classes

    Taste mine, straight shots
    G#m

    in dirty glasses
    Am

    Bring it to him, room service,

    under pressure

    And mad nervy,
    G#m

    wavin guns at the clergy

    Ticallion, we ain't worried

    Keep them sick niggas
    G#m

    seven- thirty

    Picture this, watch the birdy
    Am

    These bastards is Ol an
    Am

    d Dirty

    With sharp pins that be stabbing you

    Pins and needles, needles and pins
    G#m

    Nuff said, dick in your mouth
    G#m
    G#m

    like Tempest Bled'
    G#m

    As I race track with thoroughbreds,
    G#m

    duck in the feds
    Am
    Yo, my
    Verse 4

    ice look fly up on

    the keyboard son

    Niggas ran up on me law,
    G#m

    praising what we do by the lords

    That's right, exile the fake,
    G#m

    hit them niggas like weight

    Feed 'em food, let the fake evaporate
    Am

    Reconstruction, that's the whole science on my,

    production

    Y'all niggas guess who stuck son,
    G#m

    left his nuts hungs

    Switch, finger itch,

    starin' at you like a bitch

    Maybe y'all niggas snitched
    G#m
    Am

    Youse a loner, Adidas shell top while I

    Sip a Corona, read the Robb Report,

    then bone her
    G#m

    Buy you some jewels, here's some food
    E
    G#m

    Not necessarily mean to be rude boo,
    Am

    check out the analoo

    We in the mushrooms,

    chased the high neck in the custom

    Baggy jeans, thick ropes god,
    G#m

    sliding through customs

    Chill, y'all niggas know what time it is
    E

    James Bond Beamers behind
    G#m

    me on Bacardi Limon
    Am

    Check out the pitch like Nolan Ryan

    He caught a slug for lyin'

    Yeah you was lyin',

    where's the cash, cryin'
    G#m

    Militia, rollin' in position

    Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian

    Lex retali' back whistlin' fake fucks

    How did you like the song?

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