Artist: Wu-Tang Clan f/ Streetlife
Album:  Iron Flag
Song:   Rules
Typed by: Tha Masta

[Intro: RZA]
All you ho's be cryin for these bitches
All you niggaz be cryin for these ho's

[Mathematics cuts it up]
"Both hands clusty" -> Ghost
	"Pullin out gats" -> Rae
"The barrel" -> Meth
	"Blew off the burner kinda dusty" -> Ghost
"We pack chrome Tec's" -> Rae
	"Bring it to 'em proper" -> Meth
"Partner" "Comin from the 36th Chamber" -> Meth
	"Math let the plates spin" -> GZA
"Many brothers I be sparkin" -> Ghost
	"Stray shots all on the block, it stays hot" - Deck
"If you fuck with Wu we gots to fuck with you" -> Meth
	"Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang"

[Ghostface Killah]
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacre? Step up now
Where the four planes now, huh? It's U.S.A., bitch
Flew that shit off in my hood and get blown to bits
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head (Yeah)
Understand, we gotta rest yours too, nigga, my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush, sit down, let me charge your wall

[Inspectah Deck]
Yes yes y'all, the I.N.S. bless y'all
Stop hearts like cholesterol, let's brawl
Never fall, tear it down like a wreckin ball
Roll call, where my niggaz? That's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kin folks
Then smoke an ounce as we count mils
Providin you with pure ecstacy without pills

[Chorus: Method Man]
You know the Rules, we don't fuck with fools, man
How the fuck did we get so cool, man?
Never ever disrespect my crew
If you fuck with Wu we gots to fuck with you

[Masta Killa]
Y'all dogs better guard your grills, it's all real
We live from ba-lils, it's the God Ar-ils
Yo wonderful, spark the b-lils
Let me build for the people for the mils
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-ill from Killah Hill
Peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, true and livin snipers
Weight like sixth sense tale, hard to kill

[Streetlife]
"How you're livin Streetlife?", I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serials
Hi-tech street intellect, all Digital
Project original, shiesty individual
New York's bravest, always supply you with the latest
We Hall of Famers and still hit you with the greatest
Took a year hiatus, now you wanna hate us
Thanks to all you haters for all the CREAM you made us

[Chorus]

[Raekwon]
Send 'em letters to try 'em, my cousin in windys on Viacom
@Home is worth money, eye your don
Order your drinks, all real niggaz order your minks
Yo we got the fitted's on, lookin all finked
Daddy heavy, everybody got money from now on
Pay off flash Visa's, livin like Easter everyday
Fuck Benz, rather a 430, that shit that flow through water
Eye ball come up, drop birdies yo

[Method Man]
We can eat right or we can clap these toys
I'm with Streetlife, ain't never been a Backstreet Boy
Who y'all kiddin? Tryin to act like my shoe fittin
Confused with your head up your ass like, "Who's shittin?"
It's Hot Nixon, same team, same position
Battin average .357 and still hittin
Y'all still bitchin, still aim and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin and still kickin
Cuz I'm HARD, hah, hard like a criminal
Love like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Mef
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck

[Allah Math' cuts it up]
"Comin from the 36th Chamber" -> Meth
	"Bring it to 'em proper" "Partner" -> Meth
"Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang"

[Method Man]
It's Wu-Tang rushin yo' game, crushin again
Where them thugs? Clutchin their chain, hand-cuffin their gang
Who get strange? Gassed up playin with flame?
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin?

[Chorus]

[Allah Math' cuts it up]
"Always a nigga real" -> Street
	"Huh!" "Uh" -> Ghost
"Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang"
	"Huh!" "Uh" -> Ghost (x5)

{*sounds of fighting*}