view additional image 1
View in a Room ArtworkView in a Room Background
All you hoes, be cryin' for these bitches
All you niggas, be cryin' for these hoes
Both hands clusty
Pullin' out gats
Double barreled
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
We pack chrome TECs
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Math, let, let the plate spin
Many, many brothers y'all be sparkin'
Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
(If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu)
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!
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
Role call where my niggas that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin' you pure ecstasy without pills
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu
Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real
We live from the Hills, it's the God I-Reelz
Yo Wonderful, spark the billz
Let me build with the people for the mills
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, True and Livin' snipers
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill
How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
High-tech, street intellect, all digital
Project original, sheisty 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
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
Sendin' letters to China, my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom
At home, it's worth money, I adorns
Order drinks, all real niggas order your minks yo
We got the fitteds on, lookin' all fink
Daddy everybody get money from now on
Payday flash Visas livin' like, Easter e'ryday
Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430
That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo
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 ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin'?
It's Hot Nixon, same team same position
Batting average three-five-seven and still hittin'
Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin' and still kickin'
'Cause I'm ha-a-ard! Hard like a criminal
Lock like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
It's Wu-Tang, rushin' yo' gang, crushin the game
Pretty thugs, clutchin' they chain, hand cuppin they thang
Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin' is
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
I wish the nigga well
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang

‘Rules’ by Wu-Tang Clan
Songwriters: Dennis David Coles / Jason Hunter / Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Ronald Maurice Bean / Patrick Charles / Elgin Evander Turner


Iron Flag is the fourth studio album by American East Coast hip hop collective Wu-Tang Clan, released on December 18, 2001 on Loud Records. It was certified gold in sales by the RIAA. Iron Flagserved as the group's second lowest-selling album (687,000 copies), as their record label, Loud, was on the verge of shutting down at the time. The album debuted at No. 32 on the Billboard 200 with 153,000 copies sold in its first week of release. It has sold 500,000 copies in the United States, & certified Gold by the RIAA on January 29, 2002. Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard is completely absent from the album.
Source: Wikipedia
All you hoes, be cryin' for these bitches
All you niggas, be cryin' for these hoes
Both hands clusty
Pullin' out gats
Double barreled
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
We pack chrome TECs
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Math, let, let the plate spin
Many, many brothers y'all be sparkin'
Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
(If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu)
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!
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
Role call where my niggas that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin' you pure ecstasy without pills
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu
Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real
We live from the Hills, it's the God I-Reelz
Yo Wonderful, spark the billz
Let me build with the people for the mills
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, True and Livin' snipers
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill
How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
High-tech, street intellect, all digital
Project original, sheisty 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
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
Sendin' letters to China, my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom
At home, it's worth money, I adorns
Order drinks, all real niggas order your minks yo
We got the fitteds on, lookin' all fink
Daddy everybody get money from now on
Payday flash Visas livin' like, Easter e'ryday
Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430
That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo
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 ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin'?
It's Hot Nixon, same team same position
Batting average three-five-seven and still hittin'
Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin' and still kickin'
'Cause I'm ha-a-ard! Hard like a criminal
Lock like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
It's Wu-Tang, rushin' yo' gang, crushin the game
Pretty thugs, clutchin' they chain, hand cuppin they thang
Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin' is
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
I wish the nigga well
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang

‘Rules’ by Wu-Tang Clan
Songwriters: Dennis David Coles / Jason Hunter / Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Ronald Maurice Bean / Patrick Charles / Elgin Evander Turner


Iron Flag is the fourth studio album by American East Coast hip hop collective Wu-Tang Clan, released on December 18, 2001 on Loud Records. It was certified gold in sales by the RIAA. Iron Flagserved as the group's second lowest-selling album (687,000 copies), as their record label, Loud, was on the verge of shutting down at the time. The album debuted at No. 32 on the Billboard 200 with 153,000 copies sold in its first week of release. It has sold 500,000 copies in the United States, & certified Gold by the RIAA on January 29, 2002. Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard is completely absent from the album.
Source: Wikipedia
All you hoes, be cryin' for these bitches
All you niggas, be cryin' for these hoes
Both hands clusty
Pullin' out gats
Double barreled
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
We pack chrome TECs
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Math, let, let the plate spin
Many, many brothers y'all be sparkin'
Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
(If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu)
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!
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
Role call where my niggas that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin' you pure ecstasy without pills
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu
Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real
We live from the Hills, it's the God I-Reelz
Yo Wonderful, spark the billz
Let me build with the people for the mills
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, True and Livin' snipers
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill
How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
High-tech, street intellect, all digital
Project original, sheisty 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
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
Sendin' letters to China, my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom
At home, it's worth money, I adorns
Order drinks, all real niggas order your minks yo
We got the fitteds on, lookin' all fink
Daddy everybody get money from now on
Payday flash Visas livin' like, Easter e'ryday
Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430
That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo
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 ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin'?
It's Hot Nixon, same team same position
Batting average three-five-seven and still hittin'
Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin' and still kickin'
'Cause I'm ha-a-ard! Hard like a criminal
Lock like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
It's Wu-Tang, rushin' yo' gang, crushin the game
Pretty thugs, clutchin' they chain, hand cuppin they thang
Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin' is
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
I wish the nigga well
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang

‘Rules’ by Wu-Tang Clan
Songwriters: Dennis David Coles / Jason Hunter / Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Ronald Maurice Bean / Patrick Charles / Elgin Evander Turner


Iron Flag is the fourth studio album by American East Coast hip hop collective Wu-Tang Clan, released on December 18, 2001 on Loud Records. It was certified gold in sales by the RIAA. Iron Flagserved as the group's second lowest-selling album (687,000 copies), as their record label, Loud, was on the verge of shutting down at the time. The album debuted at No. 32 on the Billboard 200 with 153,000 copies sold in its first week of release. It has sold 500,000 copies in the United States, & certified Gold by the RIAA on January 29, 2002. Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard is completely absent from the album.
Source: Wikipedia
All you hoes, be cryin' for these bitches
All you niggas, be cryin' for these hoes
Both hands clusty
Pullin' out gats
Double barreled
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
We pack chrome TECs
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Math, let, let the plate spin
Many, many brothers y'all be sparkin'
Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
(If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu)
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!
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
Role call where my niggas that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin' you pure ecstasy without pills
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu
Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real
We live from the Hills, it's the God I-Reelz
Yo Wonderful, spark the billz
Let me build with the people for the mills
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, True and Livin' snipers
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill
How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
High-tech, street intellect, all digital
Project original, sheisty 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
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
Sendin' letters to China, my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom
At home, it's worth money, I adorns
Order drinks, all real niggas order your minks yo
We got the fitteds on, lookin' all fink
Daddy everybody get money from now on
Payday flash Visas livin' like, Easter e'ryday
Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430
That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo
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 ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin'?
It's Hot Nixon, same team same position
Batting average three-five-seven and still hittin'
Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin' and still kickin'
'Cause I'm ha-a-ard! Hard like a criminal
Lock like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
It's Wu-Tang, rushin' yo' gang, crushin the game
Pretty thugs, clutchin' they chain, hand cuppin they thang
Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin' is
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
I wish the nigga well
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang

‘Rules’ by Wu-Tang Clan
Songwriters: Dennis David Coles / Jason Hunter / Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Ronald Maurice Bean / Patrick Charles / Elgin Evander Turner


Iron Flag is the fourth studio album by American East Coast hip hop collective Wu-Tang Clan, released on December 18, 2001 on Loud Records. It was certified gold in sales by the RIAA. Iron Flagserved as the group's second lowest-selling album (687,000 copies), as their record label, Loud, was on the verge of shutting down at the time. The album debuted at No. 32 on the Billboard 200 with 153,000 copies sold in its first week of release. It has sold 500,000 copies in the United States, & certified Gold by the RIAA on January 29, 2002. Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard is completely absent from the album.
Source: Wikipedia
All you hoes, be cryin' for these bitches
All you niggas, be cryin' for these hoes
Both hands clusty
Pullin' out gats
Double barreled
Blew off the burner kinda dusty
We pack chrome TECs
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Math, let, let the plate spin
Many, many brothers y'all be sparkin'
Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot
(If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu)
Who the fuck knocked our buildings down?
Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now
Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch?
Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits!
No disrespect, that's where I rest my head
I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead
America, together we stand, divided we fall
Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war!
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
Role call where my niggas that's one for all
And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse
Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk
Then smoke a ounce as we count mills
Providin' you pure ecstasy without pills
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu
Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real
We live from the Hills, it's the God I-Reelz
Yo Wonderful, spark the billz
Let me build with the people for the mills
I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville
Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous
Twenty-five to lifers, True and Livin' snipers
You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill
How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals
Serial killers tote guns without the serial
High-tech, street intellect, all digital
Project original, sheisty 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
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
Sendin' letters to China, my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom
At home, it's worth money, I adorns
Order drinks, all real niggas order your minks yo
We got the fitteds on, lookin' all fink
Daddy everybody get money from now on
Payday flash Visas livin' like, Easter e'ryday
Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430
That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo
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 ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin'?
It's Hot Nixon, same team same position
Batting average three-five-seven and still hittin'
Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken
I'm still here, one leg missin' and still kickin'
'Cause I'm ha-a-ard! Hard like a criminal
Lock like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you
It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth
I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck
Comin' from the 36th chamber
Bring it to 'em proper, patnah
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
It's Wu-Tang, rushin' yo' gang, crushin the game
Pretty thugs, clutchin' they chain, hand cuppin they thang
Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames
Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin' is
Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga
I wish the nigga well
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang!
Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang

‘Rules’ by Wu-Tang Clan
Songwriters: Dennis David Coles / Jason Hunter / Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Ronald Maurice Bean / Patrick Charles / Elgin Evander Turner


Iron Flag is the fourth studio album by American East Coast hip hop collective Wu-Tang Clan, released on December 18, 2001 on Loud Records. It was certified gold in sales by the RIAA. Iron Flagserved as the group's second lowest-selling album (687,000 copies), as their record label, Loud, was on the verge of shutting down at the time. The album debuted at No. 32 on the Billboard 200 with 153,000 copies sold in its first week of release. It has sold 500,000 copies in the United States, & certified Gold by the RIAA on January 29, 2002. Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard is completely absent from the album.
Source: Wikipedia
140 Views
1

VIEW IN MY ROOM

‘Comin' from the 36th Chamber’ Painting

Philip Leister

Painting, Acrylic on Canvas

Size: 48 W x 48 H x 1.5 D in

Ships in a Crate

info-circle
$1,600

check Shipping included

check 14-day satisfaction guarantee

info-circle
Primary imagePrimary imagePrimary imagePrimary imagePrimary image Trustpilot Score
140 Views
1

Artist Recognition

link - Artist featured in a collection

Artist featured in a collection

About The Artwork

All you hoes, be cryin' for these bitches All you niggas, be cryin' for these hoes Both hands clusty Pullin' out gats Double barreled Blew off the burner kinda dusty We pack chrome TECs Bring it to 'em proper, patnah Comin' from the 36th chamber Math, let, let the plate spin Many, many brothers y'all be sparkin' Stray shots, all on the block that stays hot (If ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu) Who the fuck knocked our buildings down? Who the man behind the World Trade massacres, step up now Where the four planes at huh is you insane bitch? Fly that shit over my hood and get blown to bits! No disrespect, that's where I rest my head I understand you gotta rest yours true, nigga my people's dead America, together we stand, divided we fall Mr. Bush sit down, I'm in charge of the war! 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 Role call where my niggas that's one for all And all for one, we draw the guns on impulse Cash in the envelope, spend it on kinfolk Then smoke a ounce as we count mills Providin' you pure ecstasy without pills Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu Y'all dogs better guard ya grills, it's all real We live from the Hills, it's the God I-Reelz Yo Wonderful, spark the billz Let me build with the people for the mills I'm rollin with the Rebel I-Ill from Killa Hill, peace to Brownsville Brothers that'll kill for the will of the righteous Twenty-five to lifers, True and Livin' snipers You wait like "Sixth Sense" 'til hard to kill How you livin' Streetlife? I'm surrounded by criminals Serial killers tote guns without the serial High-tech, street intellect, all digital Project original, sheisty 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 Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga Sendin' letters to China, my cousin in Wendy's on Viacom At home, it's worth money, I adorns Order drinks, all real niggas order your minks yo We got the fitteds on, lookin' all fink Daddy everybody get money from now on Payday flash Visas livin' like, Easter e'ryday Don't fuck Benz, rather a 430 That shit that float through water, eyeball come up, drop birdies yo 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 ya head up yo' ass like who's shittin'? It's Hot Nixon, same team same position Batting average three-five-seven and still hittin' Y'all still bitchin, still lame and still chicken I'm still here, one leg missin' and still kickin' 'Cause I'm ha-a-ard! Hard like a criminal Lock like a tennis shoe, throw slug to finish you It's the Method Man, for short Mr. Meth I can tell this motherfucker ain't Wu, look at his neck Comin' from the 36th chamber Bring it to 'em proper, patnah Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang! It's Wu-Tang, rushin' yo' gang, crushin the game Pretty thugs, clutchin' they chain, hand cuppin they thang Who get strange, gassed up playin with flames Let a nigga take off his shades, see what I'm sayin' is Y'all 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 ya fuck with Wu, we gots ta fuck witchu, nigga I wish the nigga well Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang! Wu! Tang ‘Rules’ by Wu-Tang Clan Songwriters: Dennis David Coles / Jason Hunter / Clifford Smith / Corey Woods / Ronald Maurice Bean / Patrick Charles / Elgin Evander Turner Iron Flag is the fourth studio album by American East Coast hip hop collective Wu-Tang Clan, released on December 18, 2001 on Loud Records. It was certified gold in sales by the RIAA. Iron Flagserved as the group's second lowest-selling album (687,000 copies), as their record label, Loud, was on the verge of shutting down at the time. The album debuted at No. 32 on the Billboard 200 with 153,000 copies sold in its first week of release. It has sold 500,000 copies in the United States, & certified Gold by the RIAA on January 29, 2002. Rapper Ol' Dirty Bastard is completely absent from the album. Source: Wikipedia

Details & Dimensions

Painting:Acrylic on Canvas

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:48 W x 48 H x 1.5 D in

Shipping & Returns

Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.

I’m (I am?) a self-taught artist, originally from the north suburbs of Chicago (also known as John Hughes' America). Born in 1984, I started painting in 2017 and began to take it somewhat seriously in 2019. I currently reside in rural Montana and live a secluded life with my three dogs - Pebbles (a.k.a. Jaws, Brandy, Fang), Bam Bam (a.k.a. Scrat, Dinki-Di, Trash Panda, Dug), and Mystique (a.k.a. Lady), and five cats - Burglekutt (a.k.a. Ghostmouse Makah), Vohnkar! (a.k.a. Storm Shadow, Grogu), Falkor (a.k.a. Moro, The Mummy's Kryptonite, Wendigo, BFC), Nibbler (a.k.a. Cobblepot), and Meegosh (a.k.a. Lenny). Part of the preface to the 'Complete Works of Emily Dickinson helps sum me up as a person and an artist: "The verses of Emily Dickinson belong emphatically to what Emerson long since called ‘the Poetry of the Portfolio,’ something produced absolutely without the thought of publication, and solely by way of expression of the writer's own mind. Such verse must inevitably forfeit whatever advantage lies in the discipline of public criticism and the enforced conformity to accepted ways. On the other hand, it may often gain something through the habit of freedom and unconventional utterance of daring thoughts. In the case of the present author, there was no choice in the matter; she must write thus, or not at all. A recluse by temperament and habit, literally spending years without settling her foot beyond the doorstep, and many more years during which her walks were strictly limited to her father's grounds, she habitually concealed her mind, like her person, from all but a few friends; and it was with great difficulty that she was persuaded to print during her lifetime, three or four poems. Yet she wrote verses in great abundance; and though brought curiosity indifferent to all conventional rules, had yet a rigorous literary standard of her own, and often altered a word many times to suit an ear which had its own tenacious fastidiousness." -Thomas Wentworth Higginson "Not bad... you say this is your first lesson?" "Yes, but my father was an *art collector*, so…"

Artist Recognition

Artist featured in a collection

Artist featured by Saatchi Art in a collection

Thousands Of Five-Star Reviews

We deliver world-class customer service to all of our art buyers.

globe

Global Selection

Explore an unparalleled artwork selection by artists from around the world.

Satisfaction Guaranteed

Our 14-day satisfaction guarantee allows you to buy with confidence.

Support An Artist With Every Purchase

We pay our artists more on every sale than other galleries.

Need More Help?

Enjoy Complimentary Art Advisory Contact Customer Support