| Song | Severe Punishment - Explicit Version |
| Artist | Wu-Tang Clan |
| Album | Wu-Tang Forever (Explicit) |
| 作词 : Wu Tang Clan | |
| I despise your killing, and raping | |
| You're... despicable | |
| Are you, my judge? | |
| It's just... you should be punished | |
| I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready? | |
| Verse one: u-god | |
| Yo, yeah, yo, yo | |
| Yo, yeah | |
| Check these high hats sting things moving through the rubbish | |
| Party robust, rec room style for you brothers | |
| Time's ticking, eruptments conduct | |
| Entering one funk before the drum dry up | |
| Dial, style, jab vocab slow | |
| Alphabet run, construction voice might blow | |
| Tap dance swelling hemingway novel model | |
| For a breather, dirty reefer hide your bottle | |
| Cut down, come with something that's round and profound | |
| Blood brothers people of colors we get down | |
| Watch this fly, force feed things being said | |
| Nine diagram acid black evil red left his | |
| Mic half a dangle, seriouser man | |
| My mic clapper def wish, everlasting plan | |
| Heavenly god body, know me as the cleaner | |
| Night champion, old villain style seem a | |
| Kiss of spider, to god saga why bother | |
| Godfather talk drama, fly swatters | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| Verse two: the genius/gza | |
| This wu shit be hard to kill and full blown | |
| Rhymes filtered through the net before words hit the chrome | |
| Pro tools editing tracks that's rough | |
| Cause a jam without a live mc isn't enough | |
| So we attack this, and grab all within reach | |
| Throw a scrap back to niggaz - perfect your own speech | |
| Shit is copper, it ain't worth the mic stands | |
| Used by backup singers in atlantic city bands | |
| Niggaz look on, and get hooked on this mic line | |
| Real thin and shift through the pipeline | |
| Lp's delivered with style and potential | |
| Niggaz flowin smoothly in a sequential | |
| Order, revealin hidden tape recorders | |
| Stashed inside pockets of those who lack aura | |
| Verse three: raekwon the chef | |
| Twist the dac up, them niggaz with math is back up | |
| Watch he act up, fifty-two block track we slap up | |
| Playground maneuver, jet to vancouver like this | |
| Two kahluas one chick she's german luger | |
| Get the shit on, light a fresh pack, bust it open | |
| With the seal on dunn, deal on this, with the real on | |
| Next, rocky, ring, call it to decatur | |
| Slang soufleer home decorater, player | |
| Mic immigrants, nine of us formed resemblance | |
| Somethin flashy, god dead-armed is nasty | |
| Peep the ornaments enough to make shorty-wop stare at me yo | |
| He killed the god might as well throw a chair at me | |
| Verse four: prince rakeem/rza | |
| Yo mc's wonder what's hip-hop thunder | |
| Tell you the truth it's just one nation under a groove | |
| Gettin down for the funk of it | |
| Like fred sanford in the biz... | |
| Yo one held his paraphenalia, a wu memorabilia | |
| Mailed by the fortune teller, tried to tell ya | |
| Bout the group recruit we scoop up cream like breyer's | |
| Then spread across the globe like telephone wires | |
| Thirty-six assorted, shaolin imported | |
| Chambers been recorded, you're fuckin with the loops | |
| Time for royalty audit | |
| Fabulous establishment metabolism, blackfoot indian | |
| Cherokee started out smaller than amphibian | |
| Then grew to a physical body with five meridians | |
| As the pendulum swings closer to the millenium | |
| Two thousand, wickedness is spread amongst my citizen | |
| I got a muscle the industrial to make a hustle | |
| And politic with leo and russell | |
| When niggaz is still rushin we'll brush you | |
| He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives | |
| Verse five: masta killa | |
| Thoughts are contained in the trenches of the brain | |
| Ignite, blowin the mic to arabian heights | |
| As i recite this medley, niggaz couldn't fuck with the | |
| Deadly ground i hold down | |
| Classical gangland style, shots hit the ceiling | |
| Panic and confusion echoes through the building | |
| Continuing to build, i strive for perfection | |
| Driven by the will to live, glocks i hold | |
| Shots i give, while searchers of rescue teams | |
| Look for means of survival and who's liable | |
| For this harrowing experience | |
| You scream for the extreme, fiend for the cap | |
| And proceeds of the wu-tang academy | |
| To fuck up your anatomy with assault and battery | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives | |
| Number one, yen chang wa | |
| He's an adulterer, don't trust him | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| He's a womanizer, but he's an expert at throwing knives | |
| I despise your killing, and raping | |
| You're... despicable | |
| Are you, my judge? | |
| It's just... you should be punished | |
| I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready? | |
| I despise your killing, and raping | |
| You're... despicable | |
| Are you, my judge? | |
| It's just... you should be punished | |
| I'm going to chop off your arm, so are you ready? |
| zuò cí : Wu Tang Clan | |
| I despise your killing, and raping | |
| You' re... despicable | |
| Are you, my judge? | |
| It' s just... you should be punished | |
| I' m going to chop off your arm, so are you ready? | |
| Verse one: ugod | |
| Yo, yeah, yo, yo | |
| Yo, yeah | |
| Check these high hats sting things moving through the rubbish | |
| Party robust, rec room style for you brothers | |
| Time' s ticking, eruptments conduct | |
| Entering one funk before the drum dry up | |
| Dial, style, jab vocab slow | |
| Alphabet run, construction voice might blow | |
| Tap dance swelling hemingway novel model | |
| For a breather, dirty reefer hide your bottle | |
| Cut down, come with something that' s round and profound | |
| Blood brothers people of colors we get down | |
| Watch this fly, force feed things being said | |
| Nine diagram acid black evil red left his | |
| Mic half a dangle, seriouser man | |
| My mic clapper def wish, everlasting plan | |
| Heavenly god body, know me as the cleaner | |
| Night champion, old villain style seem a | |
| Kiss of spider, to god saga why bother | |
| Godfather talk drama, fly swatters | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| Verse two: the genius gza | |
| This wu shit be hard to kill and full blown | |
| Rhymes filtered through the net before words hit the chrome | |
| Pro tools editing tracks that' s rough | |
| Cause a jam without a live mc isn' t enough | |
| So we attack this, and grab all within reach | |
| Throw a scrap back to niggaz perfect your own speech | |
| Shit is copper, it ain' t worth the mic stands | |
| Used by backup singers in atlantic city bands | |
| Niggaz look on, and get hooked on this mic line | |
| Real thin and shift through the pipeline | |
| Lp' s delivered with style and potential | |
| Niggaz flowin smoothly in a sequential | |
| Order, revealin hidden tape recorders | |
| Stashed inside pockets of those who lack aura | |
| Verse three: raekwon the chef | |
| Twist the dac up, them niggaz with math is back up | |
| Watch he act up, fiftytwo block track we slap up | |
| Playground maneuver, jet to vancouver like this | |
| Two kahluas one chick she' s german luger | |
| Get the shit on, light a fresh pack, bust it open | |
| With the seal on dunn, deal on this, with the real on | |
| Next, rocky, ring, call it to decatur | |
| Slang soufleer home decorater, player | |
| Mic immigrants, nine of us formed resemblance | |
| Somethin flashy, god deadarmed is nasty | |
| Peep the ornaments enough to make shortywop stare at me yo | |
| He killed the god might as well throw a chair at me | |
| Verse four: prince rakeem rza | |
| Yo mc' s wonder what' s hiphop thunder | |
| Tell you the truth it' s just one nation under a groove | |
| Gettin down for the funk of it | |
| Like fred sanford in the biz... | |
| Yo one held his paraphenalia, a wu memorabilia | |
| Mailed by the fortune teller, tried to tell ya | |
| Bout the group recruit we scoop up cream like breyer' s | |
| Then spread across the globe like telephone wires | |
| Thirtysix assorted, shaolin imported | |
| Chambers been recorded, you' re fuckin with the loops | |
| Time for royalty audit | |
| Fabulous establishment metabolism, blackfoot indian | |
| Cherokee started out smaller than amphibian | |
| Then grew to a physical body with five meridians | |
| As the pendulum swings closer to the millenium | |
| Two thousand, wickedness is spread amongst my citizen | |
| I got a muscle the industrial to make a hustle | |
| And politic with leo and russell | |
| When niggaz is still rushin we' ll brush you | |
| He' s a womanizer, but he' s an expert at throwing knives | |
| Verse five: masta killa | |
| Thoughts are contained in the trenches of the brain | |
| Ignite, blowin the mic to arabian heights | |
| As i recite this medley, niggaz couldn' t fuck with the | |
| Deadly ground i hold down | |
| Classical gangland style, shots hit the ceiling | |
| Panic and confusion echoes through the building | |
| Continuing to build, i strive for perfection | |
| Driven by the will to live, glocks i hold | |
| Shots i give, while searchers of rescue teams | |
| Look for means of survival and who' s liable | |
| For this harrowing experience | |
| You scream for the extreme, fiend for the cap | |
| And proceeds of the wutang academy | |
| To fuck up your anatomy with assault and battery | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| He' s a womanizer, but he' s an expert at throwing knives | |
| Number one, yen chang wa | |
| He' s an adulterer, don' t trust him | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| Number two, chao san poi | |
| He' s a womanizer, but he' s an expert at throwing knives | |
| I despise your killing, and raping | |
| You' re... despicable | |
| Are you, my judge? | |
| It' s just... you should be punished | |
| I' m going to chop off your arm, so are you ready? | |
| I despise your killing, and raping | |
| You' re... despicable | |
| Are you, my judge? | |
| It' s just... you should be punished | |
| I' m going to chop off your arm, so are you ready? |