Wu Tang Clan Triumph – Audio, Mp3 & Lyrics (Download)

Wu Tang Clan – Triumph

Download another hot old mp3 free audio song by Wu Tang Clan and this amazing music is titled “Triumph”.

Actually this amazing music is popped out of an old album which is titled ‘Wu-Tang Forever’ and it was released in the year 1997.


Music Video below!.



Triumph Download


Wu Tang Clan Triumph Lyrics


What y’all thought y’all wasn’t gon’ see me?

I’m the Osirus of this shit

Wu-Tang is here forever, motherfuckers

It’s like this ninety-seven

Aight my niggas and my niggarettes

Let’s do it like this

I’ma rub your ass in the moonshine

Let’s take it back to seventy-nine

I bomb atomically, Socrates’ philosophies

And hypotheses can’t define how I be droppin’ these

Mockeries, lyrically perform armed robbery

Flee with the lottery, possibly they spotted me

Battle-scarred shogun, explosion when my pen hits

Tremendous, ultra-violet shine blind forensics

I inspect view through the future see millennium

Killa Beez sold fifty gold sixty platinum

Shackling the masses with drastic rap tactics

Graphic displays melt the steel like blacksmiths

Black Wu jackets Queen Beez ease the guns in

Rumblin’ patrolmen tear gas laced the function

Heads by the score take flight incite a war

Chicks hit the floor, die hard fans demand more

Behold the bold soldier, control the globe slowly

Proceeds to blow swingin’ swords like Shinobi

Stomp grounds I pound footprints in solid rock

Wu got it locked, performin’ live on your hottest block

As the world turns, 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 Ghostrider, or Six Pack

In 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 want to think twice, I think not

The Iron Lung ain’t got ta tell you where it’s coming from

Guns of Navarone, tearing up your battle zone

Rip through your slums

I twist darts from the heart, tried and true

Loot my voice on the LP, my team is on to 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 camp rhyme groupies

So I can squeeze with the advantage, and get wasted

My deadly notes reigns supreme

Your fort is basic compared to mine

Domino effect, arts and crafts

Paragraphs contain cyanide

Take a free ride on my thought, I got the fashion

Catalogs for all y’all to all praise to the Gods

The saga continues

Wu-Tang, Wu-Tang

Olympic torch flaming, we burn so sweet

The thrill of victory, the agony, defeat

We crush slow, flaming deluxe slow

For, judgment day come’th, conquer, it’s war

Allow us to escape, hell glow spinning bomb

Pocket full of shells out the sky, Golden Arms

Tune spit the shit immortal combat sound

The fake false step make, the blood stain the ground

A jungle junkie, vigilante tantrum

A death kiss, cap off squeeze another anthem

Hold it for ransom, tranquilized with anesthetics

My orchestra, graceful, music ballerinas

My music Sicily, rich California smell

An axe killer adventure, paint a picture well

I sing a song from Sing-Sing, sippin’ on ginseng

Righteous wax chaperon, rotating ring king

Watch for the wooden soldiers, see-cypher punks couldn’t hold us

A thousand men rushing in, not one nigga was sober

Perpendicular to the square, we stand bold like Flare

Escape from your Dragon’s Lair, in particular

My beats travel like a vortex, through your spine

To the top of your cerebral cortex

Make you feel like you bust a nut from raw sex

Enter through your right ventricle clog up your bloodstream

Or terminal, like Grand Central Station

Program fat baselines, on Novation

Getting drunk like a fuck I’m duckin’ five-year probation

War of the masses, the outcome, disastrous

Many of the victim family save they ashes

A million names on walls engraved in plaques

Those who went back, received penalties for their acts

Another heart is torn, as close ones gone

Those who stray, niggas get slayed on the song

The track renders helpless and suffers from multiple stab wounds

And leaks sounds that’s heard

Ninety-three million miles away from came one

To represent the Nation, this is a gathering

Of the masses that come to pay respects to the Wu-Tang Clan

As we engage in battle, the crowd now screams in rage

The High Chief Jamel-Ah-Rief take the stage

Light is provided through sparks of energy

From the mind that travels in rhyme form

Giving sight to the blind

The dumb are mostly intrigued by the drum

Death only one can save shell from

This relentless attack of the track spares none

Yo! Yo! Yo, fuck that, look at all these crab niggas laid back

Lampin’ like them gray and black Puma’s on my man’s rack

Codeine was forced in your drink

You had a Navy Green salamander fiend, bitches never heard you scream

You two-faces, scum of the slum, I got your whole body numb

Blowing like Shalamar in eighty-one

Sound convincing, thousand dollar court by convention

Hands like Sonny Liston, get fly permission hold the

Fuck up, Allah fasten your wig, bad luck

I humiliate, separate the English from the Dutch

It’s me, Black Noble Drew Ali

Came in threes we like the Genovese

Is that so? Caesar needs the greens

It’s Earth, ninety-three million miles from the first

Rough turbulence, the wave burst, split the megahertz

Hey yo that’s amazing, gun in your mouth talk, verbal foul off

Connect thoughts to make my man Shai walk

Swift notarizer, Wu-Tang, all up in the high-riser

New York gank adviser world tranquilizer

Just the dosage, delegate my Clan with explosives

While, my pen blow lines ferocious

Mediterranean, see ya, the number one traffic

Sit down the beat God, then delegate the God to see God

The swift chancellor, flex, the white-gold tarantula

Track truck diesel, play the weed God, substantiala

Max mostly, undivided, then slide it, it’s sickening

Guaranteed, mad em jump like Rod Strickland

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