{*sampled singer singing "Do, Do U" repeats all

throughout the song*}



[Intro: RZA (Method Man)]

Come on my niggas, yo..

Put your guns in your right hand and hold it down towards the floor

Point all your guns down towards the floor for a minute

Yeah, you could hold 'em, just point 'em down towards the floor

For a sec, aight? (Yo y'all ain't fuckin' wit the Wu)

We gon' splash like this, all my wild Digi heads

(Y'all niggas is crook) Y'all niggas move a little up to the front

Y'all niggas know what I'm talkin' about

Word up, my weedheads, y'all play the right for a second

Nahmean? Check it out

All y'all niggas on X, y'all keep y'all asses in the back

Aight? Straight up, in fact, matter of fact

We gon' mingle this shit like mothafuckin' peas in the mothafuckin' pot

Straight up Digi Digi style, word up, as we splash you right

(Yeah, yeah, my niggas is crew, now y'all ain't

fuckin' wit the Wu

Oh now y'all.. come on!)



[RZA]

Walk wit a didi bop ock, you silly pop, Jiffy Pop

Fuck around, son, I'll blow ya face up with fifty shots

Sharp darts, and it pop pop like tarts

Extreme speed like Anakin inside the Pod

Headed for the finish line, BOODOO, watch Bobby cross it

Hoes with the diamonds on your toes, come on and floss it

I be one of those tall skinny cats with the four-nine

Three-eleven that rips through Power-U's and breaks spines

I culture power-tuggin' boys who be drunk, buggin'

Lovin' loud noise from toys, club thuggin'

Sweet chocolate deluxe, rugged, sexy buttercup

That don't give a fuck about the cop in the club

Or the bouncer with the flashlight, one walked passed, right?

Some pulled the razor and chopped his ear like he was Mad Mike

I played the cipher in the corner, teachin' math

One for one thoughts, a hundred brothers won't last

Because you can't do me.. (x3)



"Do U feel?"



Come on!



[Prodigal]

Yo, son, +Wake Up+! {*coughs*}

Yo, I gotta do this, man

I gotta get this money, son



Features in the crowd, appearance like, "Black I'm proud"

In the background, no sounds, four pound, we hold ground!

Brooklyn bound, seven initials up in the crown

One man's ramblin', officials they shot him down

Supreme, extreme, lean, killin' machines

All I wanna do is feed my seed, plus my team

Keep it logical, no games, straight up about Prodigal

Diabolic drums and I run from none

Testimony one, give my life before my only son

Thelonious crumbs, why they wanna press me for guns?

Now I'm in the face of the judge, court case thug

From a race, laced, based on drugs, some made slugs

As +It Was Written+, stroll through any block forbidden

Glock hidden, why they wanna stop precision?

Eighty-five percent of my brothers locked in prison

And we just keep dyin' for the love of good livin'

But Do U! Do U! Do U!



"Do U feel?" (x2)



[GZA]

You know those jams in the park, produced the spark

Made me feel words how I read books in the dark

I always took it to heart, loved the art

A lifetime of darts, ripped crews apart

Made their stay real short, I stamped the passport

Couldn't bring through no wack shit of no sort

I walked the borough challengin' the best that stood

Torch metal mics, they conduct better than wood

Once I electrify and only expect to die

Rounded Bed-Stuy, ZZZZ, nigga fry

My opponent block, the beat comin' from his box

Investment ranker who's a joke in the stocks

Keep a rhythmic pace, maintainin' great balance

Movin' in steps of unheard of silence

Normally progressioners, they're slow steepin'

Niggas wanna light up when there's gas leakin'



"Do U feel?"




more